However, before the two could take any action, several passing students began greeting Ichihana Honami one after another.
It was Friday, and the school building entrance was crowded with people coming and going. Standing in such a conspicuous spot, they were bound to attract attention—soon, a few boys who were unmistakably from Class 1-B approached, their gazes subtly sweeping over Shimizu Akira with faint traces of wariness before naturally gathering around Ichihana, as if silently shielding her.
This popular girl, well-known throughout the school, had no shortage of acquaintances.
Seeing this, Shimizu Akira realized it wasn't the right time to continue their conversation, so he took out his phone and sent her a message.
Shimizu Akira:You're busy now, so we can talk later. This matter isn't urgent—it can wait.
Shimizu Akira:I owe you one. If you ever need anything, just say the word.
Not far away, Ichihana Honami felt the vibration in her pocket. She glanced down at the message, hesitated for a moment, then lifted her eyes to give him a slight nod before turning to respond to the classmates surrounding her.
Shimizu Akira didn't linger any longer and turned to head back to the classroom.
By the time he returned, it was almost 1:30 PM.
His seatmate, Horikita Suzune, was reading an extracurricular book, but her expression was far from pleasant. Her page-turning was noticeably faster than usual, and the way her fingers pinched the edges of the pages carried an unnatural tension.
(This girl… Could she still not have gone to the bathroom yet?)
A wave of exasperation rose in Shimizu Akira's heart—he had warned her so clearly, yet she stubbornly refused to listen! Was it really worth enduring this just to prove her bento was fine?
Before long, the first afternoon class—mathematics—began.
Shimizu Akira's math foundation was solid, so he didn't need to focus intently on the lecture. His gaze inadvertently drifted toward his seatmate.
Horikita Suzune's back had subtly hunched over, her body unconsciously shrinking into her seat. Her complexion was worse than before, her jawline tightly clenched—clearly struggling to endure something unbearable.
Her hand under the desk had already begun moving on its own, fingers lightly curling and uncurling above her knee, as if massaging a particular spot.
After a brief moment of thought, Shimizu Akira understood: She was probably rubbing her stomach.
Given how she was forcing herself to bear the discomfort, it was only natural. After all, if she'd eaten that questionable bento at lunch, of course she'd be pressing on her abdomen to ease the pain.
(He's looking at me again!)
(Did he figure out I'm feeling unwell?)
Horikita Suzune had long noticed Shimizu Akira's gaze—she had always been hypersensitive to others' stares. That was why, on the very first day of school, she had outright confronted Shimizu Akira and Ayanokouji Kiyotaka about why they were watching her.
But right now, she had no energy to spare for his attention.
The cramps in her stomach were growing increasingly severe, so painful that she nearly clenched her fists under the desk.
Looking back, the discomfort had been lingering ever since she finished her bento.
That's right—Shimizu Akira had been correct. Her bento had been problematic.
Among the free ingredients she'd picked up at the supermarket yesterday were sausages, pickled vegetables, and tomatoes. Aside from the rice and the chicken nuggets she'd bought separately, everything else in today's bento had come from those free items.
A pang of regret struck her. If only she'd listened to his warning.
Horikita Suzune bit her lower lip lightly. At the time, she'd assumed he was just making up scary stories because he wanted to eat her bento—after all, the way he'd enjoyed the yakiniku last time couldn't have been faked.
(If only I'd gone to the bathroom right after lunch…)
The regret surged again.
Her stomach hadn't been this bad earlier, but now, in the middle of class, the pain was intensifying. Her body was practically screaming at her to rush to the restroom.
But she couldn't move.
The reason was simple: She had told Shimizu Akira, "I won't need to go to the bathroom because of the bento." If she got up now, wouldn't that mean admitting he'd been right all along? That she'd broken her own word? That her bento had been unsafe?
(He ate my bento too, and he seemed to enjoy it—so why is he completely fine?)
Unable to help herself, Horikita Suzune stole a quick glance at Shimizu Akira, shooting him a faint glare.
He was calmly reading his textbook, his profile utterly composed—apparently, he hadn't been lying. His monstrously resilient constitution had somehow resisted the bento's effects.
Her grip on her pen tightened, a thin layer of cold sweat forming at her temples.
Then—
"Gurgle."
A soft but unmistakable sound came from her stomach.
In the quiet classroom, it was painfully audible.
Horikita Suzune froze.
Her ears burned crimson in an instant, the flush spreading to her cheeks.
Humiliating. This is beyond humiliating.
The sound hadn't been loud, but the students nearby had to have heard it.
Her eyes darted first toward Ayanokouji Kiyotaka, but he was still facing the blackboard, posture unchanged—likely oblivious.
But when she turned the other way, she met Shimizu Akira's gaze—he had already looked over, his eyes filled with unmistakable surprise. He'd definitely heard.
She whipped her head back around, even her breathing growing shallow, the back of her neck scalding with embarrassment.
"...I'm hungry," she muttered under her breath, feigning nonchalance.
"What a glutton—is that what you want me to say?"Shimizu Akira replied, eyeing her reddened ears with a mix of amusement and resignation. "Stop pretending and just go to the bathroom already."
"...You—!" She snapped her head up, but a fresh wave of pain cut her retort short.
"No 'you.' Just go," he hissed, leaning closer. "If you don't, I'll tell your brother about this after school. Horikita-san, you surely wouldn't want him to hear about something this embarrassing, would you?"
"...!" Her eyes widened in outrage, but after a tense pause, she finally gritted out, "...Fine! Don't you dare tell him! I'll go—happy now?!"
With that, she snatched a tissue from her desk, shot to her feet, and—voice slightly strained—announced:
"Sensei! I need to use the restroom!"
Before the teacher could even fully nod, she was already speed-walking out of the classroom, her retreat nothing short of fleeing.
(...Did you have to yell it that loud?)
Shimizu Akira watched her near-panicked exit, then glanced at the momentarily stunned teacher and surrounding students.
The girl who usually spoke with icy detachment had just shouted like she was afraid nobody would hear her.
Guess she was at her limit—no room for pride left.
His gaze shifted and accidentally met Ayanokouji Kiyotaka's.
The other boy's eyes held a faint trace of… admiration? As if he were looking at some kind of legendary figure.
(...This guy's definitely misunderstanding something.)