Mai Sakurajima stood there, her gaze fixed on the floor as if she had just wagered her entire soul on a single sentence. She had asked to stay. It was the kind of high-stakes, breathless confession that should have sent shockwaves through the room, yet Rin Kuga didn't so much as blink.
He reached for a small bowl of miso soup, lifting it with a slow, deliberate grace. He took a quiet sip, the steam curling around his sharp features, before placing it back on the lacquered wood with a soft click. He remained silent, letting the heavy ticking of the clocks fill the void.
The silence was a physical weight. Mai's composure began to fray at the edges, her expression darkening as the seconds stretched into an eternity.
"Say something," she bit out, her voice trembling with a mix of vulnerability and burgeoning irritation. "Is it... is it not allowed?"
At that moment, she looked utterly fragile—a stark contrast to the unshakeable national idol the world knew. To see a woman of such fierce independence reduced to such visible distress was a rarity, a sight reserved only for those who had truly breached her inner sanctum.
Only then did a faint, maddening smile touch Rin's lips. He looked at her, his eyes carrying a hint of dark amusement. "So, even the great Bunny-senpai has a face like that," he remarked, his voice a smooth, low drawl.
Thwack.
Mai's brow furrowed instantly. Beneath the table, her foot found Rin's and slammed down on his instep with pointed aggression. She didn't possess a vocabulary for vulgarity, nor did she care for shouting; instead, her fury manifested in these physical punctuations.
"You haven't answered the question!" she snapped, putting her weight into the heel of her shoe.
Despite the force of the strike, Rin's expression remained a mask of cool indifference. He didn't flinch, nor did his pulse quicken. After a beat, he finally spoke.
"Of course you can. Though, I have to ask—does this mean you're planning on sharing my bed tonight?"
The sheer audacity of his deadpan delivery caught her off guard. Mai's face ignited, the crimson flush spreading rapidly until she looked like a sun-ripened apple. "What on earth are you talking about—?!"
She stopped mid-sentence. Seeing the glint of victory in his eyes, she realized she'd been baited. He was playing with her, treating her existential crisis as a game.
"You insufferable brat," she hissed, her foot pressing even harder against his. To think a mere underclassman had the nerve to tease her like this.
Later that evening, as the hum of the city faded into a low drone, Mai stood at the threshold of the bathroom. She held a change of clothes close to her chest, her heart fluttering with a nervous energy she couldn't quite suppress. She cast a sharp look back at Rin.
"You... stay right where you are. Absolutely no peeking. Understood?"
Rin didn't even look up from his seat. He gave a curt, almost bored nod, his tone dripping with a dismissive arrogance. "Please. I have better things to do with my time."
Slam!
The bathroom door shut with a resounding boom, nearly rattling the frames of the clocks on the wall.
Left alone in the dim light of the shop, Rin let his head fall back against the sofa. He raised a hand to rub his temples, the weight of the day finally pressing down on him. Adolescence Syndrome... what a nonsensical phenomenon.
He reached into the void of his personal sub-space, manifesting the Ohma Zi-O Driver. The gold was cold against his palms, the belt radiating a faint golden glow. He traced the intricate filigree of the crown-like faceplate. It was an instrument of absolute power.
And yet, that was the problem.
I could rewrite the laws of the world this instant, he thought, his gaze narrowing. I could force every mind in this city to acknowledge her existence through sheer causal weight. But what happens to the timeline if I use the power of a King to fix a teenage girl's insecurity?
He sighed, the golden belt dissolving back into digital particles as he dismissed it. He wasn't ready to drop a nuclear bomb on a problem that might just need a scalpel.
Inside the bathroom, Mai stood behind the frosted glass door. She paused, her eyes searching the blurry silhouette of the room beyond. No shadow moved toward the door. No one lingered outside the glass.
A faint, illogical pang of disappointment flickered in her chest. "He... he really didn't come," she murmured to herself.
She caught her reflection in the steamed mirror and shook her head violently, sending droplets of water flying from her damp hair. What is wrong with me? Why would I even think that?