After school, Tatsuya, with Miyuki in tow, stood outside the second-year classroom. Technically, it wasn't quite after school yet, but Tatsuya had long since finished his assignments, and Miyuki had no qualms about skipping class if it meant being with him. Not that cutting class early was a grave offense, but still…
Azusa, meanwhile, had noticed their presence but was too diligent to leave before the official end-of-class signal. Her nervous fidgeting betrayed her anxiety, yet she waited dutifully.
The moment the signal sounded, Tatsuya and Miyuki entered, and Azusa froze, unable to move. Fleeing would look odd, and her kind nature made her hope this wasn't about what she feared.
"Nakajou-senpai," Tatsuya called.
Azusa's shoulders twitched, but Tatsuya paid it no mind.
In this day and age, no narrow-minded boy would complain about underclassmen entering their classroom, and Tatsuya's reputation kept troublemakers at bay. Still, his popularity among the girls was undeniable, and several envious glances followed Azusa as he addressed her.
"Could you spare a moment?" Tatsuya asked.
"Uh, I have something to do today…" Azusa mumbled, trying to deflect.
"Alright, we can reschedule," Tatsuya replied, backing off with surprising ease.
His quick retreat caught Azusa off guard. She'd braced for a more forceful approach and felt oddly deflated. But Tatsuya's withdrawal had a ripple effect—Miyuki's expression darkened. She was irritated by the girls edging closer to Tatsuya, eager to catch his attention, and saw through Azusa's flimsy excuse.
"N-no, I mean… a few minutes is fine," Azusa stammered.
"Five minutes, then?" Tatsuya suggested.
"Y-yes…" Azusa agreed, wilting slightly.
Tatsuya hid a smirk. Everything was going according to plan. He'd brought Miyuki because Azusa was unusually attuned to her emotions, more so than most.
As Tatsuya, Azusa, and Miyuki left the classroom together, onlookers could only see it as Azusa being marched off under escort.
At the café, Azusa and Miyuki secured a table while Tatsuya fetched drinks for the trio.
"Um, Shiba-san…" Azusa ventured.
"Yes, Nakajou-senpai?" Miyuki replied, her tone polite but icy.
"N-never mind…" Azusa faltered, dropping her gaze under Miyuki's enigmatic, archaic smile.
"Sorry for the wait," Tatsuya said, returning with the drinks.
"T-thank you," Azusa said, her voice overly enthusiastic, relieved to escape the tense air of being alone with Miyuki. That relief, however, briefly made her forget how her reaction might worsen Miyuki's mood.
"Let's get to the point," Tatsuya said. "Are you cold, by chance?"
"No… why?" Azusa asked, puzzled.
"You seemed to be trembling," Tatsuya observed.
Only then did Azusa realize she was shaking, likely picking up on Miyuki's subtle displeasure without consciously registering it.
"I'm fine," she said quickly. "Please, go ahead."
"Alright," Tatsuya said. "Nakajou-senpai, you should run for student council president."
"I can't!" Azusa protested. "There are better candidates…"
"Is that so?" Tatsuya said, his tone neutral.
His sigh made Azusa waver, her eyes darting nervously. They met Miyuki's, still fixed in that unreadable archaic smile, and Azusa felt as if she were being swallowed whole. She quickly shifted her gaze to Tatsuya, only to find his piercing stare.
"A-ah…" she whimpered, looking down again.
Another sigh from Tatsuya reached her ears. "Are you sure?" he asked. "You're okay with repeating the tragedy from five years ago?"
"What!?" Azusa gasped.
"There's footage from back then, isn't there?" Tatsuya continued. "Injuries caused by magic… not a pleasant sight, I'd imagine."
As student council secretary, Azusa had seen that footage. Its visceral impact had nearly made her ill, and the thought of witnessing such chaos in person—not just on a screen—sent a shiver of dread through her. She was visibly shaken.
"W-what am I supposed to do?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Run for president," Tatsuya said simply. "You can do it, senpai."
Tatsuya's words carried a hint of menace, while Miyuki extended a reassuring hand. It was a textbook carrot-and-stick approach—borderline yakuza tactics—but it worked on Azusa.
"B-but someone else could run…" Azusa tried, grasping for an escape.
"You know President Saegusa's methods better than anyone," Tatsuya countered. "You and Hattori-senpai studied under her for a year. But with Hattori set to become the next federation head, you're the best choice."
Tatsuya systematically dismantled her excuses. As Azusa scrambled for another, he decided it was time to deploy the ultimate carrot.
"By the way," he said casually, "I happen to have two monitor units of FLT's flight device, set to release in a couple of months."
"What!?" Azusa's eyes widened. "You mean the Silver Model? The one optimized for flight magic!?"
Her earlier fear forgotten, Azusa's face lit up, her pale complexion now flushed with excitement.
"They're non-commercial prototypes, so no serial numbers," Tatsuya continued, "but they perform just as well as the production models."
Azusa's expression practically screamed, "I want it, I want it, I want it…" Tatsuya had known this would hook her.
"I was thinking of offering one as a congratulatory gift for becoming president," he added.
"Really!?" Azusa shot to her feet, her chair clattering loudly to the floor. Oblivious to the stares she drew, she stood resolute, a stark contrast to her usual timid demeanor.
"Absolutely," Tatsuya said. "Miyuki's been in your care, so it's the least I can do."
"I'm in!" Azusa declared. "I'll run for student council president, and I won't lose, no matter who's against me!"
"I'll handle the paperwork, then," Tatsuya said smoothly.
With Azusa's commitment secured, Tatsuya immediately contacted Mayumi. Azusa, meanwhile, was already gearing up to face imaginary rivals, completely forgetting she'd been strong-armed into this.
"Onii-sama, all according to plan," Miyuki said with a sly smile.
"Don't make it sound so sinister," Tatsuya replied. "I was going to give her the device anyway."
The Silver Model had been promised last semester, and while Tatsuya used it as leverage, he'd always intended to hand it over, deal or no deal.
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