The Tenjōin heiress sat with perfect posture at her desk, chin lifted, golden curls cascading in flawless spirals. To any passing eye, she was calm. Regal. Untouchable.
But Rin and Aya, who had been at her side since childhood, knew better.
Her lace-gloved fingers, usually steady as marble, trembled slightly against the polished wood. Her cheeks carried a faint, traitorous tint of pink that no amount of haughty pride could hide.
Aya leaned closer, whispering carefully, "Saki-sama… are you all right? You've been quiet since this morning's… incident."
Saki's eyes widened, then she snapped her fan open with a dramatic flick."O-ohohoho! Quiet? Me? Impossible! The queen of Sainan High does not... does not falter over something as trivial as... as..."
She trailed off, her laugh cracking into a nervous cough.
Rin crossed her arms, leaning against the wall with her usual stoic calm. "You're blushing, Saki-sama."
"I... I am not!" she snapped, slamming her fan shut with enough force to echo. A ripple of whispers spread across the classroom, but one look from Rin silenced them immediately.
Aya blinked behind her glasses. "But… it was quite romantic. The way Kujou-kun caught you… like a prince saving a princess..."
"Silence!" Saki shot up so fast her chair squealed against the floor. Every head in the room turned. Realizing she'd overreacted, she quickly adjusted her ribbons, cleared her throat, and sat back down, lowering her voice into a hiss meant only for her two closest companions.
"It… it was nothing. He simply… prevented me from a most undignified fall. That is all. That is what any gentleman would do for a lady of my stature!"
Rin's eyebrow quirked. "He didn't treat you like a 'lady of stature.' He treated you like a person. That's rare."
Saki froze.
Aya clapped her hands together dreamily. "And when he said 'You're safe' ahhh, my heart fluttered too, Saki-sama! Truly, like a fairy tale!"
"AYA!" Saki slammed her fan against the desk, but her voice wavered. Her face was burning now, her golden eyes flashing with a storm she didn't understand.
Rin's steady gaze softened ever so slightly. "…Do you like him?"
The words struck Saki like a lightning bolt.
Her lips parted, then closed. She tried to summon her usual haughty retort, but no sound came out. Instead, she clutched her fan tighter, lowering her gaze so they couldn't see the panic swirling in her eyes.
"…Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. I, Tenjōin Saki, have no time for… for ordinary boys."
She said it firmly, almost convincingly, except for the tremor in her voice.
Aya and Rin exchanged a glance. They knew their queen better than anyone.
Saki hid behind her fan, her shoulders stiff. But her heart betrayed her.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him again, steady hands, sharp gaze, the calm words that had melted her for a moment she could never admit aloud.
And against her will, she whispered to herself in the smallest voice, so quiet that neither Rin nor Aya could hear:
"…Why him?"
The room sank into that thick, examination hush: pens scratching, the clock's second hand marching in tiny, tyrannical steps. Even the usual whispers and stifled giggles had been swallowed beneath the weight of the test sheets.
Takane Takamine sat neat and composed in the front row, the picture of poise. Her pencil moved carefully across the paper. For a moment she looked almost human, concentrated, a little tense like everyone else.
Then her eyes flicked up and she felt it: the faint, private awareness that something in the last few seconds hadn't gone quite the way she intended. A tiny misplacement of a number, the barest hesitation in the formula, little things she could not bear to leave unperfected.
She bowed her head for the space of one breath, then slid her hand beneath the edge of her skirt.
It was a private motion made public in an instant. In a practiced motion, she tugged the final thread of restraint free: her panties slipped down, gathering around her thighs, and then fell to the floor with a soft whisper.
A chorus of gasps burst at once. Hearts slammed, pencils froze. A dozen faces turned like flowers following the sun. Even the teacher's stern profile flicked up, eyes wide. For a half-second the classroom held the image, Takane, the immaculate idol, momentarily disarmed.
Then Takane closed her eyes and reached for the nick of power she kept locked away.
She thought the cost with clear resolve. The underwear was the price, the price she'd always paid to seize a clean slate. With one cold little prayer to luck and vanity, she triggered Eternal Virgin Road.
Time slid backward like a film spooled the other way. The second hand on the clock snapped a heartbeat back. The pencil that had fallen leapt up into a student's fingers. Voices knitted themselves back into silence. The panties at her feet were no longer on the floor; the motion of dropping them never happened, xcept that Takane knew it had. She knew because every time she used the power she alone carried the whiplash memory of the outcome she had erased.
Except something was wrong.
Across the room, one pair of eyes did not reset.
Kaito's gaze had met hers during that moment, and instead of being pulled backward with the rest of the class, he remained. He looked at her, calm, level, unshaken, and did not flinch, did not flick his eyes away in the stunned, embarrassed scramble the others wore back on their faces.
Takane felt the sudden, cold jolt of being seen through the thing she had been trying so carefully to tidy away. The thought of being looked at, truly looked at, not simply gaped at, stung in a way she had almost never experienced.
She stole a glance at the floor, saw nothing now where there should have been a scandal, but when she caught Kaito's eyes again they held steady on her like a small, disinterested stone.
Takane's fingers clenched on the hem of her skirt beneath the desk, where the memory of removal still lived in her bones. She forced a small, polite smile that was meant for the outside world and for the students who had no idea what had just been undone.
Then she noticed something else: Kaito's look did not carry the usual charge, no perverted glee, no rapt attention. He met her gaze for the barest instant and then, as if dismissing a trivial curiosity, his eyes slid back toward his test paper and his pen resumed its quiet rhythm.
The indifference was worse than shock. Worse, perhaps, than being ogled. It left Takane reeling in a hush of bewilderment and something dangerously close to intrigue.
Takane swallowed and, for the first time that morning, felt the unsettled suspicion that there might be something about this boy she did not yet understand.
The test time droned on. Pencils scratched again. The clock kept its steady, unstoppable beat. Around them, the world stitched itself back together, except for two small, residual things: a faint, private memory of a cost paid, and a curiosity that had just found a fresh peg to hang on.
The test ended. Chairs scraped, papers stacked, chatter swelled as the tension dissolved. For Kaito, it was just another school hour behind him. For Takane, the silence she carried had become unbearable.
Later, when the halls thinned and the afternoon sun spilled a tired glow across the lockers, she moved with deliberate steps. The click of her shoes echoed like punctuation marks in the corridor.
Kaito was sliding his books into his desk when she appeared beside him.
"Yūki Kaito." Her voice was low, measured. "A word."
He blinked once, turned his head, then shrugged. "Sure."
They ended up in an unused classroom, dust curling in the air, the late sunlight catching on Takane's flawless profile. She closed the door behind them with a deliberate click.
For a moment, she just stared at him, her golden eyes sharp as a scalpel. Then she said, almost softly:
"You saw it. Didn't you?"
Kaito tilted his head, pretending ignorance. "…Saw what?"
"Don't play dumb." Her composure cracked into a sharp edge. "When I activated Eternal Virgin Road. The time reset. Everyone else forgot. But you…" She stepped closer, her fingers grazing the desk. "…You remembered. You're immune."
Kaito's silence was confirmation enough.
So she told him. She told him the truth of her ability, the rewinding of time, the price she paid each time. Her words flowed half like a confession, half like a demand to be acknowledged.
"And now," she finished, folding her arms beneath her chest, "you understand why I need you. My 'closet.'"
"…Closet?" he echoed flatly.
Takane's cheeks colored faintly, but her chin stayed high. "The one who keeps my secret. The one who helps me prepare whenever I must… remove something. Someone reliable, someone I can use without the risk of exposure." Her eyes narrowed. "And I choose you."
Kaito let out a long breath through his nose, studying her the way one might study a stubborn cat trying to knock over a glass. Then he shook his head.
"…No."
Her eyes widened. "…No?"
"I'm not interested in being anyone's closet. Or tool. Or accessory. Find someone else."
Takane's lips parted in disbelief. Rejection was a foreign flavor to her tongue. She stared, and then, slowly, dangerously, her expression hardened into something sharper.
"…So that's your answer," she said softly.
Before Kaito could reply, she did something he didn't expect.
Takane's fingers slipped under her blouse buttons. One by one, she tugged them loose, not enough to expose herself, but enough to give the illusion of something illicit. Then she pulled out her water bottle, uncapped it, and tilted it over her chest. Cool liquid streamed down her collarbone, darkening the fabric, clinging to her skin.
Kaito's brows twitched, his face otherwise unreadable.
"Really?" he muttered.
Then her voice split the silence like glass:
"HELP! SOMEONE!!"
Her scream carried down the hallway. Within seconds, footsteps thundered closer. The door burst open, classmates spilling in, faces flashing with shock as they saw Takane disheveled, wet, trembling, her blouse clinging to her figure.
And there was Kaito, standing mere steps away.
"Kaito?!" someone gasped.
Takane clutched at her chest, eyes brimming perfectly with tears that weren't really there. "H-he… he tried to..." She choked the words, covering her mouth as if she couldn't bear to finish.
The room exploded in whispers, outrage, confusion.
"Call the police!" someone shouted.
By the time the teachers and then uniformed officers arrived, the damage was already done. The handcuffs clicked around Kaito's wrists again, cold steel, binding tight.
He didn't resist. He didn't speak.
He only looked at Takane, who trembled like a porcelain doll shattered by cruelty. To everyone else, she was the perfect victim. To him, she was nothing but an actress rehearsing a role.
"…You've thought this through," he said quietly as they pulled him toward the door. "Even practiced the tears."
For the faintest fraction of a heartbeat, Takane faltered. Her expression, so perfectly fragile, twitched with something rawer, anger, denial, fear? He couldn't tell. She smoothed it over instantly, lowering her lashes.
"Take him away," she whispered.
The officers did. The chatter of students followed them down the corridor like a storm.
And through it all, Kaito didn't struggle. Didn't shout. Didn't plead. He only walked forward, his face unreadable, his silence heavier than any words.
----
Po- Powerstones...? Onegai!!