"Shimizu-kun..."
Horikita Suzune suddenly extended her slender hand, hovering mid-air with a slight tremble.
Shimizu stared at the unexpected gesture, momentarily stunned—a handshake?
(Out of nowhere... Is this an apology for last night?)
Since she'd offered, he saw no reason to refuse.
As their hands met, he noted how cold her fingertips were, her palm a full size smaller than his.
His grip easily engulfed her four fingers.
"Horikita-san, no need. I've already forgotten about last night." He gave her hand a light shake.
"...I'm not apologizing!" Horikita snatched her hand back, her ears tinged pink. "I'm asking you to be my sole ally! The handshake was our contract. Will you accept?"
She hadn't expected Shimizu to take her hand so readily.
Normally, boys would hesitate at sudden physical contact.
(Typical teenage boy... Can't resist any chance to touch a girl, huh?)
The thought irritated her inexplicably.
More baffling—why did he assume this was an apology?
"...Ally for what?" Shimizu slowly withdrew his hand, already sensing trouble brewing.
"To take Class D to Class A." Horikita met his gaze squarely.
If her brother had Tachibana Akane, she saw no reason to fight alone.
In this entire class, only Shimizu matched her standards in both ability and character.
—And her brother had explicitly told her to learn from him.
This alliance was logical.
"I refuse."
His rejection was instant, cutting her off mid-thought.
Watching her expression darken, he sighed:
"How many times must I say it? I've no interest in pointless struggles. Class A means nothing to me."
His goal was simple—graduate without hassle.
Which class he ended in? Irrelevant.
(Just secure enough points...)
These three years, he wanted peace.
Why chase hollow class glory?
"...How pragmatic." Horikita muttered.
Shimizu smirked. "You're no different. Don't pretend you're doing this for the class—it's all to prove something to your brother, no?"
Horikita froze.
Prideful as she was with words, against Shimizu, she felt like a rookie soldier—outmaneuvered at every turn.
His remarks were surgical strikes, each hitting critical weak points.
"That said—" Shimizu's tone shifted, a sly grin forming. *"For you, Horikita-san, I'll make an exception: 20% discount on all future deals."*
He admired Horikita—her stubbornness, her delicate features.
But admiration aside...
Business was business.
Points were non-negotiable—though he'd cut her a deal for their rapport.
Such was Shimizu Akira's creed.
"...You really only think about transactions!" Horikita's fingers trembled with rage, her fists clenching.
She'd even shaken his hand, yet he'd dismissed her so easily.
But a glance at his toned arms made her swallow her impulse.
(Can't win in a fight...)
With a frosty glare, she turned away, a hissed "hmph!" escaping her.
Outargued. Outmuscled.
Against Shimizu, she felt utterly powerless.
(Transactions? With what?)
Horikita bit her lip.
Her account held under 30,000 points—soon to be seized as class fees, all funneling back to Shimizu's pocket!
Not that she'd dodge payment.
25,000 points for such critical intel was already a steal.
"...Friday. 5:30 PM." She icily reiterated. "Be late, and the tutoring's off."
"Understood." Shimizu nodded.
His Japanese grades needed work—he wouldn't refuse free tutoring.
"...Haa."
A soft sigh came from beside him.
Shimizu turned to find Sakura Airi clutching a notebook, her gaze flickering toward him before quickly dropping.
"Something wrong, Sakura-san?"
"N-Nothing!" Sakura shook her head violently, her chin nearly touching her chest, ears burning red.
(Watching me again...)
Shimizu pretended not to notice.
He wasn't conceited, but her frequent glances were impossible to miss.
—That timid stare, like a startled rabbit, torn between approaching and fleeing.
Especially since she peeked at him 1-2 times per class.
His eyes fell on her clutched notebook. He could guess why.
"Is that notebook... for me?"
"Y-Yes!" Sakura jolted, then thrust it at him.
Flipping it open, Shimizu raised a brow.
Meticulous Japanese notes from every lesson since day one.
While detailed, it felt more like a verbatim blackboard copy than personal insights.
(She's... not great at studying, is she?)
What he needed was Horikita's tailored guidance, not raw lecture transcripts.
But he wasn't tactless enough to say so.
"This helps a lot. Thanks." He closed the notebook with a polite nod.
By accepting it, he balanced the scales—repaying her for that time he'd helped her.
Sure enough, Sakura's tension visibly eased.