"Hellooo, senpai~!" Amasawa bounced forward the moment Yukio started walking over, greeting him with exaggerated cheer. "Who would've thought I'd run into you in a place this remote~!"
Yukio didn't bother hiding anything. He casually handed her the note.
"Blame your partner. He's the one who lured me here."
Amasawa froze.
Standing right in front of him, she suddenly couldn't keep that carefree smile on her face. Normally she could joke through anything, but for some reason—thinking about what might happen next—she just couldn't force herself to look happy.
She took the note with a complicated expression. The moment she saw the handwriting, she knew it was Yagami's. Which only made her mood sink further.
Her head dipped, and even her voice came out low.
"Senpai… you really shouldn't have come."
"So." Yukio watched her closely. From the shift in her tone alone, he could already see where this was going. "You were posted here… to deal with me?"
It was weird—really weird.
Yagami sends a note to lure him here, but Amasawa is waiting here to stop him?
The whole thing felt tangled and contradictory.
Amasawa let out a soft sigh. In the end, it all traced back to Yagami.
She had no idea what kind of humiliation he'd suffered, but he'd become obsessively hostile toward Yukio—while refusing to show his face. Instead, he hid in the shadows and pushed her out front to teach Yukio a lesson.
Like he thought that made him look more White Room—like beating Yukio without personally appearing would prove his superiority.
Like it would soothe his ego after getting shut down in the student council meeting… and after that arrow-to-the-heart humiliation during the island's trivia task.
If not for their ten-plus years of friendship—and Tsukishiro's order that nobody could approach the I2 area—Amasawa wouldn't have wanted to throw hands with Yukio at all.
Thinking about everything that had happened so far, she still couldn't bring herself to commit.
She looked up at Yukio with eyes that were almost pitiful.
"Senpai… can you stay here and talk with me for a bit? Just a little. That's all."
She couldn't bring herself to attack him.
And she didn't have confidence she could convince him to leave.
So the only thing she could do was stall—stall long enough for Tsukishiro to finish whatever he was doing.
Yukio was even more surprised.
He could tell she really didn't want to fight, and her internal conflict was obvious.
His expression softened. "Then how about we talk while we walk?"
After all, Ayanokoji was one of Yukio's two main objectives for coming to this school. He couldn't just ignore the I2 situation—he needed to at least confirm what was happening.
Amasawa's face dimmed.
She knew she couldn't stop him.
Why did things always end up like this? Always turning into the one outcome she least wanted?
She'd finally escaped that place. Finally tasted a normal, fun campus life. Finally met a senior who was actually interesting.
With all that… shouldn't her life have become something dreamlike?
So why was it turning into this?
"Senpai…" Amasawa's voice dropped even lower—barely a whisper.
"Hm?" Yukio watched her, waiting to see what she would choose. Her choice here would decide how he treated her from now on.
She hesitated for a long time before speaking. Even she knew how outrageous her request was.
"I… I have a favor to ask."
"Let's hear it." For now, Yukio still had patience for her.
"C-can you… let me see your holy sword?"
Amasawa's cheeks turned red as she stared, dead-on, at the most lethal area of his body.
…What?
Yukio's brain hard-stopped like a tape getting jammed. He stepped back instinctively and tightened his waistband with both hands.
"That's definitely not happening."
"I wanna see! I have to see!" Amasawa practically begged, then went a step further—reaching out with shameless little devil hands, her attack aimed straight for his belt.
In Yukio's head, a thousand alpacas screamed in unison.
This was wild.
And then—he got it.
That request, and the way she kept targeting his belt… it could still be framed as a junior play-fighting with her senior.
Sure, going for the waistband was borderline perverted.
But it revealed her real intent: she didn't want to truly tear things open between them. She didn't want a serious clash.
Yet she had orders. She had to stop him.
So she chose the only "safe" excuse: playful harassment.
Make a request he'd obviously refuse, then use it as a reason to physically intercept him—without making it feel like a real betrayal.
Amasawa just had to do one thing:
Ask something Yukio would never agree to… and then keep grabbing at his belt.
Yukio couldn't help feeling both amused and exasperated.
Typical little devil.
"Too much mischief isn't good, Amasawa."
He raised an arm and blocked her "holy sword" grab.
It was just a simple block, but Amasawa immediately felt the difference. Her strike was like swiping at forged steel—her arm went numb from the recoil, while Yukio's hand didn't even wobble.
One exchange was enough for her to understand. Their physical stats weren't even in the same universe.
If she wanted to stall him, she'd have to rely on White Room combat technique and timing—not brute force.
She switched forms instantly, still keeping up the banter like she was trying to preserve what they had.
"What do you mean mischief? You're the one being stingy! Not even letting me look for one second!"
Because she was shorter than him, she tried to slip-step into his blind spot and go for the waistband again.
Yukio didn't give her even a fraction of an opening.
He pivoted cleanly, kept her in his sightline, and casually brushed her hand away again.
If anyone else saw this, they'd probably be horrified by Amasawa's attack plan.
To an outsider, it would look like she was relentlessly trying to yank down Yukio's pants.
To someone who understood what they were seeing, it was a tense, technical exchange—Amasawa searching for angles, Yukio shutting every door.
Amasawa started to panic.
She decided to take a risk.
She surged in again, using her forward momentum like a starving tiger pouncing—a sacrificial body crash, straight out of White Room training.
But the moment they made contact, her heart jolted.
Yukio didn't budge.
His body was a wall.
Slamming into him felt like ramming herself into stone—her force did nothing. He simply ate the impact without shifting, and because she'd gotten too close…
Yukio reached out like it was effortless and pulled her right into his arms.