"What are you writing?"
Shizuka Shizuka tugged at the corner of her mouth, watching Shiro as he typed away on his laptop.
"Just feeling inspired… writing a bit of drama."
Shiro flexed his wrist and said curiously, "Why are you still here, teacher? Anyway, we've already discussed it. I recognize Shiro-san's ability and character. To put it simply, the Assistance Club will have two members from now on…"
"I have no interest in joining a suspicious club."
From a chair five meters away, Shiro spoke coolly. "I have serious doubts about your character, and I'm equally pessimistic about your ability to help others. I have no reason to join a club founded by a dubious person. Teacher, in any case, things are settled—please allow me to establish the Service Club."
Shizuka Shizuka: "Ahahaha… and you, Shiro? What do you say?"
"A hero needs a demon lord to shine, a drama needs conflict to have tension—it seems I'll have a rival club. Not bad."
Shiro shrugged, leaning back in his chair, and said casually, "Even a defeated general should not be underestimated."
Shiro's brow furrowed slightly, then lifted into a smile. "Shiro-san, don't get ahead of yourself. We're debating the reasons for starting our clubs. It's not about who wins. I just feel there's no need to discuss the ocean with a frog."
"Cough, cough… pause!"
Shizuka rubbed her forehead, cutting in. "Regardless of your reasons, your club goals are the same—helping others overcome difficulties. Since that's common ground, I have a simple solution: let actions and results decide the victor. What do you think?"
"Oh? How so?"
Shiro perked up slightly.
"One year."
Shizuka extended a finger decisively. "Use a year to carry out club activities. Whichever side completes more commissions wins. The losing club will merge into the winning club after a year. Simply put, the winner becomes the club president, the loser becomes a member. Clear enough?"
Shiro: "Fine."
Shiro lost interest: "Nope."
"Afraid? Scared of a real contest? Scared of ranking and defeat? Scared of being weak," Shiro said calmly. "Indeed, you're such a despicable person, better dissolve that suspicious club before it becomes some weird organization. Who knows? It might get reported someday."
"Shiro-san, don't misunderstand so recklessly," Shiro said.
Shiro mused: "A beautiful yet fragile crystal flower—fascinating, but only from a distance. Not to be toyed with."
Shiro smiled. "Teacher, can I report him for harassment?"
Shizuka took a deep breath of her already-extinguished cigarette, clenched her fist, and said kindly, "Shiro! Speak properly!"
Shiro answered earnestly, "I want to keep my distance from Shiro-san. Whether she's president or vice president, I have no interest. So teacher, your proposal holds no appeal for me either."
Shizuka nodded. "Is that so? Then the wager is set. In the harsh adult world, results matter, not reasons. Whoever completes more club commissions can keep their club's name and claim this activity room! For now, this room will serve as both of your club spaces."
"Teacher!"
Shiro objected. "Sharing the same space with this boy will give me respiratory diseases. He should hold his suspicious club somewhere else."
Shiro glanced at Shiro by the window, quickly looked away. "First come, first served."
Shiro retorted, "The club room belongs to the school."
Shiro groaned in frustration. "You're handing him a weapon yourself, idiot."
"Exactly! The club room belongs to the school. Teachers have authority here!"
Shizuka revealed her more unpleasant adult side, rapidly declaring: "I have the greatest authority here! So you'll share the room. How you split it is your business. The school wouldn't approve of two minor clubs with the same goal each claiming a room!"
"Misusing public resources is wrong! To settle this, the wager remains valid. I will serve as judge and supervisor. After one year, I'll decide which club survives!"
Shiro sighed. "Teacher…"
Shiro hinted: "The saddest education is one of power, the worst educator wields power."
"In any case, it's decided! I'm leaving. You two, conduct your club activities properly!"
Shizuka, pretending not to hear, quickly left the activity room. The door slammed behind her. Leaning against it, she peered in like a sneaky bear trying to pry open a beehive.
Shiro… should be fine, right?
The activity room fell silent.
Shiro sat by the window, flipping through a paperback, gradually calming down.
Click, click—the crisp sound of keyboard keys echoed from the other side. Shiro glanced up: a boy sat casually, tapping the laptop keys. Each press rang sharp, precise. Occasionally he paused, moving the mouse, apparently struggling with some problem.
Putting aside his terrible personality and exaggerated tone, he could be called handsome. What impressed most was his cleanliness.
His shirt corners neat, hands tidy, nails trimmed. Hair messy but clean, neither greasy nor sloppy.
Writing? Or some other task?
Shiro paused, thinking like a creator reading a mystery novel. To improve understanding, would you first look at the culprit?
The thought passed. Shiro returned to her book.
Hmm… sharing a room with a boy still requires patience.
Shiro leaned back, massaging her temple, gazing out the window. The gentle evening breeze drifted in.
Soft black hair swayed. Focused on her book, her face calm, almost adorable.
Evening sunlight, warm breeze, a poised girl reading, black hair catching the light—time seemed to pause. This scene, even if the world ended, would remain eternal.
She held the book lightly, turning the page.
A gesture interrupted the quiet, capturing Shiro's gaze.
Delicate as snow, not yet dulled by the world's dust. Cherry blossom highlights, not vulgar. Colors of the season, calm and dignified.
Spread these colors on soft, warm bread, outlined with tender white chocolate, sprinkled with sugar—truly beautiful hands.
"Shiro, stop looking at me with such bug-eyed disgust."
Thankfully, these hands belonged to a person.
"I wanted to relax my eyes looking outside, yet you barged into the view."
Shiro smiled, retracting his gaze, adjusting his seat. "Can I ask you a question?"
Shiro marked the page and closed her book. "I'll decide whether to answer—or call the police."
Shiro asked, curious: "If you faced the same situation as elementary school now, what would you do?"
"Face it head-on. Crush it. Destroy it completely."
Shiro brushed her hair aside, bluntly: "I'm not who I was before—whether with force, words, or direct methods, if confronted with that cruelty again, I'll correct it immediately! Whoever stole my shoes, I'll drag them out in public. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth."
Facing wrongdoing properly—that's the right path.
Her bullying experiences didn't trap her in self-pity. She thought beyond herself, deriving a higher principle: help others. Gentle, yet firm.
A bit awkward, though.
Shiro chuckled.
Feeling mocked, Shiro snapped her book shut, preparing to leave.
"Shiro…"
Shiro's voice grew serious.
Shiro paused at the door, glancing at him.
"Let me see your resolve! On this lonely, rugged road, I'll be your greatest opponent! A hero must win—you cannot be defeated!"
Shiro took a deep breath: "Please fix that bizarre habit of over-the-top speech. I'm amazed your friends tolerate your weird ways."
Shiro froze, scoffing: "When did you assume I had any friends?"
Bang!
Shiro left the room, looking at Shizuka outside.
"Uh…" Shizuka blinked. "You two… getting along?"
Shiro smiled brightly. "A president should have the right to command the vice president, right?"
Shizuka tentatively asked, "For example?"
"For example, forbidding talking all day?"
"That's not a command… that's bullying, right?"
Phew…
Without the beautiful girl in the room, it felt peaceful.
Shiro relaxed, pressing her hands tightly against her legs.
Patience. Must have patience.
Once Shiro leaves for home… if they meet outside, she might unintentionally become a stalker.
Stalking, breaking in, performing tricks, wanted online—life over.
Thinking of future after-school hours, probably sharing the room…
Shiro considered seriously. Not impossible.
Shiro is a fine whetstone…
This is a trial. To grow, one must overcome oneself.