"That will be all for today's class," the teacher announced, signaling the end of first period. He settled the chalk down on the chalk holder.
Suddenly, a beautiful and stylish girl with brown eyes and long strawberry blonde hair tied into short twin tails on each side of her head stood up from her seat. She clasped her hands together politely and said, "Everyone, please stand up!"
The girl in question was Shiraishi—Class 1-F's iconic class representative. If Shimura were to describe her in one sentence, it would be: "A perfect, compassionate, celestial angel who had descended from the heavens above to grace mere mortals." Shiraishi was the textbook definition of what an ideal class representative was. She was kind and patient with everyone regardless of their gender, looks, or social status; constantly at the top of the class; and a hard-working teacher's pet that nobody could bring themselves to hate, no matter how desperately they wanted to.
The class quickly followed her instructions and stood up from their respective seats.
Well… everyone except Tanaka—who had, as expected, dozed off yet again.
As the teacher gave a disapproving look at Tanaka and waited for him to wake up, Ayanokouji gave the leg of Tanaka's chair a light kick—enough to rouse him from slumber but not to knock obver.
"Huh…?" Tanaka opened his mouth, groggy and half-conscious from the sudden jolt.
He slowly opened his eyes to find everyone in class staring at him as if he'd just become a groundbreaking scientific discovery. Glancing at the chalkboard and the teacher standing before it, he realized he had slept through half the class.
Stretching his arms with a long yawn, he finally stood up, ready to bow.
With almost perfect synchronicity, the class bowed together to thank their teacher.
Satisfied with their gesture, the teacher nodded, turned on his heel with his books and papers, and exited the classroom.
After the teacher left, the air of suffocating authority and silence quickly dissipated as it was replaced by the familiar liveliness and lighthearted, carefree energy unique to high school students. Conversations amongst classmates and friends bubbled up almost instantly. Laughter echoed off the walls of the classroom, and the subtle hum of youthful chaos returned.
Some students, particularly Shiraishi and the more diligent members of Class 1-F, immediately pulled out their textbooks and notebooks, sat still in their assigned seats to prepare for the next period. On the other hand, some others left their desks to talk with their friends, eager to squeeze in a few minutes to socialize before class would resume. A handful of girls dove straight into their phones, which they weren't allowed to use while the teachers were teaching, scrolling through the latest trending posts on their "For You" page or watching videos of their favorite content creators across various social media platforms.
Ayanokouji, ever calm and composed, silently retrieved his books from his bag. He placed them neatly on his table but didn't open them straight away. Instead, he leaned back slightly in his chair, his sharp eyes observing the people around him.
Shimura was standing across the classroom, chatting animatedly with another group of boys about the latest chapter in Shonen Jump just released today. Katou, on the other hand, who could usually be seen always next to Shimura, was hunched over Ayanokouji's math notebook, eyes darting across the page as his pencil scribbled in a frantic attempt to copy as many answers as he could with the time he had.
Now that I think about it… Ayanokouji has really nice handwriting for a boy, Katou mused inwardly.
It wasn't the beautiful kind of strokes and letters that could overwhelm someone with the emotions contained in them, but compared to Shimura's chicken-scratch-esque notes, Ayanokouji's notes were practically calligraphy: clean, evenly spaced, and pretty damn easy to follow—it made copying his answers seem less like a chore.
Katou made a mental note: Next time I forget to do homework, I'm going straight to Ayanokouji. Trying to read Shimura's handwriting is like trying to light a campfire in Atlantis—equally pointless, mentally tiring, and a waste of time.
After seeing what Katou and Shimura were doing, Ayanokouji quickly lost interest, turned his head away from their direction, and began to observe Tanaka instead.
Tanaka was seated at his desk with his cheeks resting lazily against the palm of his hand, his elbow propped up to support the weight of his head. His half-lidded eyes stared off into nothingness with a blank, sleepy, and distant expression.
Ayanokouji knew that Tanaka had barely paid attention during the last period, but made no efforts to wake him in the middle of the lecture. It was something the whole class had grown accustomed to. If anything, disrupting his peaceful slumber might've been more detrimental to his focus than helpful—assuming, of course, that he had any to begin with.
From what Ayanokouji had observed for these past few months, around 90% of his classmates genuinely tried to pay attention during classes. The remaining 10% were either whispering amongst themselves, fiddling with their stationery as if they were toys to ease their boredom—or they were just Tanaka. Still, most students, regardless of their good intentions, would eventually get distracted at some point. Not enough to tune the teacher out completely, but just enough to escape reality for a few moments.
After all, it was only natural. They were still just teenagers at the end of the day—some probably had part-time jobs to worry over, others were sleep-deprived, and most simply wanted to do other things than sit through one-hour lectures or solve mentally taxing questions. Ayanokouji didn't particularly mind, and he always made sure to keep up appearances of attentiveness.
He had already learned everything the teacher was trying to teach years ago. But even so, he still strove to maintain a positive image as a respectable student in front of his teachers. Still, even he had to admit that sometimes, his thoughts and gaze would drift away from the chalkboard in front of him.
And part of the reason was because of his seatmate.
Despite almost always appearing lethargic and unmotivated, Tanaka's grades weren't bad. In fact, they were surprisingly decent. He was no honor student, but he wasn't a slouch either. Somehow, without ever seemingly giving his all, his grades consistently hovered just above the passing line.
For someone who claimed to despise hard work and academics, his grades didn't quite reflect that sentiment.
Ayanokouji narrowed his eyes slightly at Tanaka.
Could Tanaka be just like me…?
"Tanaka," Ohta stood up from his seat. "Next period's about to start," he reminded his classmate, hinting at his responsibilities as a student.
Tanaka made no response. Instead, he simply turned his head slightly, blinked once, and met Ohta's gaze with the same vacant, half-lidded expression—showing no signs of moving or reacting in any meaningful way.
"Hey, Tanaka, are you listening—"
Ohta paused, as if a realization had just dawned on him.
He extended his index finger and gently poked his wrist.
This had an immediate effect on Tanaka. His body tensed up and froze before he suddenly began trembling violently, letting out a stifled grunt as a response to Ohta's touch— more like an involuntary and instinctive reaction than a conscious one.
Ayanokouji, noticing Tanaka's animated flailing, turned his chair in their direction, curious enough to momentarily divert his attention, and join in on Tanaka and Ohta's conversation while announcing his presence.
Once Tanaka calmed down, he gave his wrist a small wiggle before opening his mouth to speak.
"It happens pretty often," he said nonchalantly, resting his chin back atop his hands with lazy ease.
"When I sleep with my head on the desk, my arms fall asleep, and I can't move them."
Ohta and Ayanokouji both instinctively pictured the image in their minds—Tanaka slumped over his desk, arms folded like a makeshift pillow, completely motionless except for the rise and fall of his breathing.
"That's probably due to the pressure your head puts on the nerves and blood vessels in your arms," Ayanokouji explained. "It compresses the nerves and interferes with their ability to send signals between your brain and limbs. Plus, it restricts blood flow."
"I see…" Tanaka murmured to himself, treating that piece of information as mere trivia, not as words of caution. "When I try to lean against the window, I misjudge the distance and hit my head really hard. And when I rest my chin on my hand, my posture becomes increasingly awkward, and I end up hurting my wrist."
"Have you ever thought of… maybe not sleeping in class?" Ayanokouji suggested, tilting his head slightly.
"Then how would I find the energy to eat lunch later?" Tanaka replied without missing a beat. "Or better yet, how will I find the energy to walk back home after school? In order for me to function properly, I need at least one nap during school hours. Minimum of thirty minutes… maximum of seven hours."
Isn't that just the entire school day at that point? You might as well just call in sick at that point… Ohta thought, blinking incredulously.
"Maybe it has something to do with your diet," Ayanokouji offered. "If you eat a lot of fast food, fried stuff, or high-sugar snacks, your energy might deplete faster than someone with a more balanced and typical diet."
Ohta froze as he began quietly counting on his fingers, recalling every sugary item he had eaten in the past few days.
Soft cream buns, strawberry mochi, chocolate drenched parfait…
His eyes widened in disbelief. He had been looking forward to the cafeteria's new dessert treats since this morning, and now he wasn't so sure if he should purchase them. If those treats were going to make him feel sluggish and sapped at the end of the school day, it might not be worth it… especially with all the house chores he had waiting for him that only he could do.
"Ah, don't worry," Ayanokouji reassured, noticing the storm of his doubt forming on top of his head. He raised his hand calmly. "Eating sugar in moderation is fine—as long as you balance it out with meals rich in vitamins and nutrients."
"I see… Well, that's a relief." Ohta exhaled, the air full of tension and worry finally out of his lungs.
I guess the strawberry custard danish and caramel muffin are safe for me to eat. For now…
"Well… while I do like sweet treats," Tanaka added, "I don't think I eat them as much as someone like Ohta does. I just eat whatever's convenient—stuff that doesn't take too much effort to chew or swallow. Taste doesn't matter as much."
I see… so Tanaka prefers convenience and texture over flavor, Ayanokouji noted internally.
Tanaka let out a long sigh. "I just want to be able to relax…"
"Listlessness is a riskier process than I thought…" Ohta mumbled to himself, staring at him with neutral but oddly sympathetic eyes.
***
The words "self-study" were scrawled across the chalkboard, with the teacher for said subject nowhere in sight.
Typically, self-study sessions were held for a variety of reasons: to prepare for upcoming exams such as midterms or final exams, when a teacher was absent and no substitute could be arranged to replace them, when the teacher had an urgent meeting to attend, or any justification that would excuse them from being physically available.
Students during this period were expected to either read the assigned textbook pages or complete worksheets given by the teacher (if there were any) related to the current topic of study. In theory, it was time for quiet, independent work where students could fully focus their attention on taking the initiative to garner more knowledge or complete their tasks, in practice, however, the lack of supervision led some students to treat it as free time—eating away time by chatting with friends, playing games, or any other recreational activities you could think of.
To keep things from devolving into further chaos and disorder, Shiraishi, along with a few trusted helpers, was tasked with the responsibility of watching over their classmates. Her job was to make sure the class stayed productive and turned in their work by the end of the period, which she would then collect and submit to the absent teacher.
Still, there was a loophole: if you were able to finish your assignment as early as possible, you were free to do as you pleased for the rest of the time you had left—that is, as long as you stayed in the classroom and didn't disrupt anyone else who was still working.
Ayanokouji quietly lifted his desk, twisted it by 90 degrees, and slid it in front of Tanaka and Ohta's desks, forming a small group of three.
During self-study, students were allowed to work in groups as long as they didn't exceed the three-member llimit. Most people paired up with their close friends, or anyone else who was left unpartnered.
Ayanokouji didn't always work with the same people. Last week, he was in a group with Katou and Shimura. This time, however, he had chosen Tanaka and Ohta. Part of the reason was curiosity—specifically, the intrigue he held toward the black-haired boy seated across from him.
But that could wait.
He needed to finish the worksheet first and foremost.
It took him exactly 15 minutes to complete every question. None of the questions posed any difficulties; in Ayanokouji's eyes, in fact, they were borderline elementary. Still, he chose to let his gaze wander around the room, sneakily observing his classmates. Most seemed to be managing well, but a few wore furrowed brows and troubled expressions. A few had even raised their hands to ask Shiraishi and her helpers for clarifications on certain questions.
To avoid standing out, Ayanokouji intentionally entered the incorrect answers for a handful of questions. He knew how to manipulate his score to fall right where he wanted it to be—just above average, enough to avoid suspicion from others but not enough to draw unnecessary attention.
He could've matched the exact class average if he so desired to, but Matsuo had advised against it.
Matsuo, one of the few people who was aware of Ayanokouji's hidden past, knew that anything taught in a standard high school curriculum was child's play compared to what Ayanokouji had endured in the White Room. He had no doubt the boy could still make something great out of himself even without setting foot into a classroom.
Still, Matsuo had his reasons for enrolling him in a normal high school. It wasn't to further his academic education, physical training, or further overworking him to the brink in exchange for letting him live up to his full potential. If he wanted to do that, then he would have enrolled him in his son's, Eichiro's, private high school or an even more prestigious one. He knew that Ayanokouji was capable of acing the entrance exams if he wanted to.
He wanted Ayanokouji to experience something that he could never in the White Room: a normal youth.
Of course, that didn't mean academics were completely off the hook. Although Matsuo respected his wishes to blend in and try to live life as an ordinary and inconspicuous student, he emphasized the value in at least maintaining an above-average academic performance—not to prove anything, but so he could make the process of getting accepted into a university in the future a lot smoother. Ayanokouji had been instructed by him to aim at lleast around the 50th percentile—not too ambitious, but just enough to open the doors he needed to have a successful future.
As Ayanokouji finished personally analyzing his classmates, his eyes eventually settled on his two friends in front of him. Ohta was still hunched over the upper part of the last page, his pencil moving with hesitance, the lack of confidence in his answers evident. He looked like he was struggling a bit. However, what caught Ayanokouji off guard wasn't Ohta's struggle—but Tanaka's lack of it.
Despite being the self-proclaimed slacker and proud defender of "the beautiful essence of listlessness," Tanaka had nearly completed his worksheet. He was already down to the second-to-last question and appeared to be breezing through it with unforeseen ease.
What perplexed Ayanokouji was the reason behind that ease. Was Tanaka actually knowledgeable about those topics and solving them swiftly? Was he, like Ayanokouji himself, purposefully lowering his grades to mask his true abilities? Or did he simply not have the energy to think and had just written down whatever came first into his mind?
Tanaka was a mystery—an unsolved puzzle that Ayanokouji felt the need to complete to satiate his curiosity. But before he could put the puzzle pieces together, he needed to find them first. He couldn't bring himself to believe that someone could be this lackadaisical without any circumstances affecting Tanaka's behavior.
In the months he had known Tanaka, countless questions had blossomed into Ayanokouji's mind.
Why was he so lazy? Was it because of any past trauma he might have gone through? Maybe something undiagnosed like hypersomnia? Or maybe… it was all an act—a facade to camouflage his prodigious talent behind a mask of sloth, similar to his own charade.
If it was the latter, then Ayanokouji would be satisfied, and would make no attempts to expose him to his classmates. After all, he sympathized with the desire to stay under the radar, to live free from the weight of other people's expectations. If Tanaka was hiding brilliance under those drowsy and passionless eyes, then Ayanokouji was no different and had no right to infringe. He didn't want to unravel Tanaka publicly like opening a gift on Christmas day—he just wanted to understand the "why" of all his actions.
And yet, despite spending a fair amount of time with him, in truth, Ayanokouji still didn't know much about him. He didn't know if he had siblings, where he went to school before Sakura High, why he always seemed drained, or what he spent his days thinking about. There were so many unanswered questions Ayanokouji was eager to learn the answers to.
But there was no need to rush.
He would take things one step at a time over the next three years. He would try to peel all the layers, not only just to solve the enigma that was Tanaka, but maybe—to understand him better as a person and learn what it meant to have a true friend. Maybe, just maybe, through Tanaka, Ohta, and his other friends, he could learn the sincere value of human connection.
Not knowing everything, to Ayanokouji, was strangely exciting. In contrast to the predictability of the White Room, the outside world offered him mystery, uncertainty, and a peculiar sense of wonder. The curiosity and cluelessness he had in this current life provided a kind of stimulation he never could experience as a White Room student.
And for that, he silently thanked Tanaka—for being so unknowable, so complex, so nuanced, and most importantly, so human. These next three years, Ayanokouji vowed he would uncover who Tanaka truly was.
Just what are you hiding, Tanaka… Ayanokouji wondered, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as his eyes lingered on the person in front of him, as though trying to see past the fog of mystique around him.
"Here, Ayanokouji…" Tanaka said nervously, opening his palms to reveal a couple of yen coins and a loose button with a string attached to one of its four holes.
"...Excuse me, what?"
Ayanokouji blinked, clearly befuddled by Tanaka's actions. He didn't remember asking Tanaka for anything—let alone demanding money. Ayanokouji had more than enough money to buy the things he wanted since if he asked, Matsuo would not hesitate to spoil him rotten. And yet, here was Tanaka, giving up his pitiful stash like a single father trying to appease his debt collector.
"It's just that… you've been glaring at me for the past two minutes, and I thought you were still mad about this morning. So, here. Consider it a token of appreciation for helping me. This is all I have right now, so… please take mercy on this lowly subject…" Tanaka looked up at him with emotionless, yet pleading eyes.
Ayanokouji blinked again, realizing he'd once again been merely lost in thought.
Have I been absentmindedly glaring at him all this time? Surely my face can't be that scary… right? A single bead of sweat slid down Ayanokouji's temple.
"Ah, no, Tanaka, I was just—"
"Hey, Ayanokouji," Ohta interrupted, grabbing his worksheet in hand. "Do you know how to solve this number—" He froze mid-sentence as he took in the scene in front of him: Tanaka bowing slightly, hands outstretched, coins and a button gleaming pitifully in the light.
"...Did Tanaka lose a bet to you or something?"
"No, I was just trying to explain—"
"Nothing of the sort, my dearest, Ohta," Tanaka cut in, straightening his posture with the calm dignity of an accused man ready to confess to a crime he didn't even commit. "I just wanted to express my gratitude to Ayanokouji. He looked pretty pissed after I fell asleep in the outer area of the canteen, so I thought this might be enough compensation for being a burden…"
Stop putting words in my mouth that I never even said! If Ayanokouji wasn't raised to basically be an emotionless lab rat, he would've screamed that aloud.
Ohta leaned in and patted Ayanokouji's shoulder solemnly. "I understand, man. Taking care of an abnormal species such as Tanaka can be… bothersome, to say the least. But you don't have to start extorting money out of him for spare change as revenge…"
That's not even what I was doing! Can you please let me finish my sentences?! Ayanokouji sighed internally and facepalmed, desperate to put an end to the rapidly spiraling misunderstanding. He took a breath and calmly explained that he had just zoned out—something that happened to him occasionally.
"So… you weren't extorting me?"
"It deeply saddens me that you think I'm capable of such evil. I'm hurt, Tanaka, truly." Ayanokouji said, deadpan.
"It's hard to feel bad when your tone and face don't match the sorrow in your words…"
You're one to talk, Ohta remarked inwardly, amused by the irony in Tanaka's statement.
A couple of minutes passed after the misunderstanding had been resolved. Tanaka and Ohta both set their pencils down almost at the same time—Ohta nodding in quiet approval, and a faint but genuine smile of satisfaction on Tanaka's face. They had finally completed the worksheet assigned, and now had all the time in the world—well, at least until the end of the period.
"Okay." Tanaka's expression suddenly shifted from content to frighteningly serious. His smile disappeared, his lips flattening into a line as he cracked his knuckles. "Let's do this."
"Do what?" Ohta raised a brow.
"I finished the worksheet, so I can finally take a break. I can doze off as much as I want." His eagerness barely contained, he immediately folded his arms on the desk, rested his head on top, and shut his eyes with a blissful smile on his face, waiting to welcome the sweet embrace of sleep—ready to be taken far, far away from this cruel and unjust world.
Any minute now… Tanaka told himself.
…
But that feeling never came.
He blinked once. Then again. Still, that familiar wave of lethargy refused to arrive. He shuffled a little. Nothing. His brain was wide awake, insultingly so.
Maybe it's the position of my head…
He opened his eyes, tilted his head slightly to the right, and let his chin rest against the desk at an angle that he thought would finally bring salvation. And yet, once again—no trace of drowsiness. Not even a yawn. Salvation had forsaken him.
He lifted his head slowly, blinking in confusion. Something wasn't right.
Ohta and Ayanokouji, having noticed the silent struggle on display beside them, turned their heads. Ohta's expression showed genuine concern. Ayanokouji's expression was more of mild fascination, like a scientist witnessing his guinea pig hitting an invisible wall.
"What's wrong?" Ohta broke the silence.
Tanaka lifted his head again and scanned the room before answering, "Since I moved my desk over here, those people are blocking the breeze." His eyes gestured—without even pointing a finger—towards the two girls chatting idly in front of the open window.
You could at least try to remember their names… both Ayanokouji and Ohta thought in unison.
Ayanokouji squinted toward the window. After a beat, he sighed in defeat.
...Never mind. I don't even know their names, let alone talk to them. I have no right to be speaking.
It wasn't that Ayanokouji was horrible at just talking to girls—no, he was just bad at talking to people. Full stop.
The only girl he could even say he talked to regularly was Shiraishi. And even then, their interactions were limited to brief nods in the hallway, or small talk to avoid awkward silences whenever they were alone with each other. Occasionally, he helped her carry things if she was overloaded. Sometimes, a casual and polite "Good morning!" if they arrived at school at the same time. Nothing more.
"You're pretty sensitive to that stuff…" Ohta said, commenting on Tanaka's complaints. "I thought you could fall asleep anywhere, anytime."
"Tanaka is only human, after all. It'd be more absurdly bizarre if he could sleep on the dirty side of the road with the amount of trucks and cars zooming in on a daily basis," Ayanokouji added.
Tanaka nodded slowly in agreement. "I can't relax today, for some reason... I'm not too far from my usual spot. Maybe that just amplifies the little differences."
It was like refueling an airplane mid-flight but miscalculating the fuel the airplane needed because the unit was in kilograms, not pounds. A seemingly minor and unimportant detail—but one that could spell catastrophe by resulting in a deadly crash and the death of hundreds. Of course, it's not like the school wasn't going to fall into anarchy and chaos just because Tanaka couldn't get his napping time.
…Or would it?
Ayanokouji smirked inwardly, beguiled by the idea. He mentally noted it down as a potential experiment to conduct.
Null Hypothesis (H0): There is no correlation between the amount of sleep Tanaka gets and the school's physical and emotional wellbeing.
Alternative Hypothesis (H1): There is a correlation between the amount of sleep Tanaka gets and the school's physical and emotional wellbeing.
"I see."
"More importantly," Tanaka said sternly, his eyes—usually devoid of any passion—suddenly brimmed with conviction. "This self-study time is an opportunity granted by God himself. I need to face that under optimum conditions, with no compromises. The guilt from knowing how lazy I'm being while students in the other classes are studying hard... I want to savor that feeling."
That is… surprisingly sinister and introspective, Ayanokouji thought, not ruling out the possibility of Tanaka possessing sadistic personality disorder. He could've sworn he saw him flash a wicked smile. Well, wicked by his standards, at least. If he started grinning evilly right after, Ayanokouji would've assumed he was talking to the Grinch in disguise on Christmas Eve—mid scheme, about to steal every last gift Santa delivered to the kids to ruin Christmas.
Ohta just stared at Tanaka blankly, his expression embodying the phrase: Well, that's just Tanaka.
"Hey, Ohta!" Katou called out from behind. "Did you take notes from last period?"
"Yeah, I did!" Ohta answered, grabbing his notebook. "You wanna copy them?"
"Heck yeah!"
"Alright." Ohta stood up from his seat. "I'll be right back."
As Ohta left to give Katou his notes, Ayanokouji spotted Shiraishi in the corner of his eye, collecting worksheets from the students who had finished.
"Tanaka, give me your paper," Ayanokouji said, extending his hand. "I'll turn in yours, mine, and Ohta's to Shiraishi."
"Ah… okay." Tanaka handed over the worksheet. "Thanks, Ayanokouji."
Ayanokouji collected all three papers and walked over to Shiraishi.
"It's over there."
"There? Okay."
As he left Tanaka to his own devices, the girls who had been blocking the breeze near the window had also stood up—presumably to submit their own work as well. With them gone, the once-stagnant air finally began to move. A cool breeze drifted into the room, carrying a faint floral scent, as if invisible flowers had bloomed into the classroom's empty spaces. The wind brushed across Tanaka's face, sending tiny shivers across his arms.
"At last!" Tanaka whispered, raising his fist inwardly in triumph as drowsiness crept back into his body.
This is what I wanted all along... The ultimate in lazy situations! I can finally enjoy the finest of snaps.
Then came a soft creak of a chair, loud enough to draw the attention of multiple people. Ohta, Shimura, Katou, and Ayanokouji all turned their eyes towards the source of the sound.
There they saw Tanaka—his head no longer on the table. Instead, he was slumped dramatically backwards over the edge of his chair, his arms dangling limply at his sides, as his head leaned back in an unnatural angle, as if he had passed out after a demon was exorcised out of him. It wasn't a natural sleeping posture, as it looked more so like a full spiritual surrender to the demon of sloth, Belphegor.
Looks like he was finally able to sleep… Ayanokouji stroked his chin. Still…
The way Tanaka was sleeping was extremely reckless and unsafe. If his body weight wasn't balanced and overwhelmed the strength of the chair, since there were no borders to stop his fall or cushion to soften it, it would almost certainly lead him to banging his head against the floor.
Ayanokouji could probably rush to him quickly, or walk swiftly to prevent him from sustaining an injury.
But…
A loud thump echoed through the classroom.
"T-Tanaka!" Ohta shouted with concern.
"...That's for cutting off my sentences," Ayanokouji muttered, imagining himself smirking and laughing in his head.
"Ow…" Tanaka rubbed his head, still feeling the brunt of the fall. Before he could fully recollect himself, Ayanokouji was already standing in front of him, offering a helping hand.
"You okay, Tanaka?"
"My prince…" Tanaka whimpered with a tone that suggested tears were about to come out, though his eyes—dull as ever—reflected nothing but Ayanokouji's face. "Why did you not come and save me?"
"...I was literally on the other side of the classroom," Ayanokouji replied, unmoved. "I couldn't have predicted you would fall out of your chair and hurt yourself. Even if I did, I doubt I could've made it in time to catch you."
"You could've tried."
"Could've, should've, would've. But who do you think I am, Usain Bolt?"
"But isn't it a prince's job to always be there for his princess in moments of peril?"
"...Tanaka, for the last time, I am not your prince charming."
"You could be."
"I choose not to be.
"Who said you had a choice?"
"Who said I didn't?"
"...Fair enough." Tanaka gave up, ending the banter. Ayanokouji grabbed his hand and attempted to pull him up—only to fail, miserably.
"...Tanaka, I can't just lift you up all by myself. I'm not that strong." The poker faced bastard lied easily as he breathed. "Come on, pull yourself together."
Tanaka sighed. "Fine…" He pushed himself off the ground with minimal energy, and finally stood up, brushing off the dust off his pants.
"Tanaka!" Ohta came rushing over. "Are you okay?"
No bleeding at the point of impact. No visible injuries or lumps. Speech is coherent, meaning no damage done to the brain. Likely no concussion, he'll be fine, Ayanokouji assessed.
"Yeah… I'm okay," Tanaka said, still rubbing his head.
"Be more careful next time," Ohta scolded lightly. "You can't spend the rest of your life napping if you don't have a brain to nap with."
"Ah, but Ohta," Tanaka suddenly brightened, as if he had just experienced a "Eureka!" moment. "If I get hospitalized, I can sleep all day and have people feed and shower me. No school, no homework, no chores…just sweet, unbothered days of slumbering. Maybe I should hurt myself a bit more—"
THUD!
Ohta karate chopped the top of his head.
"Ow…"
"If you've got enough brain cells to make that kind of suggestion, then you're definitely fine." Ohta exhaled and turned to Ayanokouji, lowering his voice and whispering into his ears.
"We've gotta make sure he doesn't try to do anything stupid later during gym class."
"Roger that, captain."
The two exchanged a nod of grim agreement and returned to their seats, preparing to waste away the rest of self-study time.
---
Author's Note
Good day, my dear readers!
I hope chapter 1 left a good impression on you and I hope you enjoyed reading chapter 2.
Just to clear some things up:
1. There is no canonical name for the high school Tanaka goes to. I tried searching from the wiki, to fan pages, to social media, and there was no mention about it. If I am mistaken, please let me know ASAP and send me the link or evidence of the school's name. I went with Sakura High just for the sake of convenience.
2. For those unaware of Matsuo is, he was briefly mentioned in season 2 (I think?) and volume 7 of year 1 of COTE. To keep things short without giving away too much, he's someone who worked for Atsuomi (Ayanokouji's father) as his butler and took care of Kiyotaka for a while.
3. I will be crossposting this fic on Wattpad (and possibly ao3), so make sure you support me there as well if you're willing to.
Anyways, that's all I have to say today. Your support means a lot to me, and any form of praise, criticism, and feedback is appreciated.
EvilNeuori will see you in the next chapter! Buh-bye ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊
Word Count: 5631 Words.