Zenkichi leaned back in his seat, his chair creaking under the weight of his casual posture, a smirk playing on his lips as he surveyed the classroom. The bell had just rung, and the teacher, Mr. Tanaka, was still scribbling something on the chalkboard, unaware of the impending chaos. Zenkichi's eyes slid over the room, looking for his next target.
It wasn't that he didn't have anything to do. He had plenty of homework he could ignore, plenty of friends who were already laughing about some inside joke. But today was special—today, Akane Fujiwara had chosen the seat directly across from him.
Akane Fujiwara. The class's golden girl. Silent, studious, and annoyingly perfect. The girl who acted like she was too good for anyone. Zenkichi had made it his mission to break that icy exterior, to poke fun at her so often she'd crack. He'd been at it for weeks now, and it was almost too easy.
Her desk was neat—far too neat, Zenkichi thought, his eyes narrowing in mock distaste. It looked like something out of a commercial for academic perfection. He snickered to himself as he watched her pull out her notebook, clicking the pen with the precision of a surgeon. She hadn't even acknowledged his existence yet. But that would change, of course.
"Hey, Fujiwara," he called out, his voice loud enough for her to hear but soft enough to get everyone's attention. "I think you're in the wrong class. This is 2-B, not the library. You might want to find your way back to the 'nerd zone.'"
The room fell silent for a beat.
Akane didn't even look up from her notebook. She just clicked her pen once more. Zenkichi's smirk widened. This was the part he loved. She was always so... composed, so cool. It was like a game to him now—how far could he push her?
"Aw, come on," he pressed, leaning forward slightly, resting his chin in his hand. "If you don't stop studying so much, you'll end up with glasses by the end of the semester. At least I'll get to laugh at you for that too."
Finally, Akane lifted her eyes to meet his. Her gaze was cool, unbothered—if anything, it was a little... disappointing. He wanted the fire, the flare of irritation. He was hoping for a reaction.
Instead, she let out a soft sigh, as though his words barely registered. "You really need to find a new hobby, Zenkichi," she said, her voice even, her eyes back on her notebook. "Maybe try doing something productive for once."
The class erupted into laughter, but Akane's calm dismissal didn't bother him. In fact, it made him want to poke even more.
"Productive?" Zenkichi laughed, as though the word was a joke in itself. "Who needs productivity when you're already a walking study machine?" He shot her a wink. "Don't worry, Fujiwara. I'll be sure to send a sympathy card when you fail your next exam. I'm sure it'll be heartbreaking."
Akane finally gave him a glance—brief but sharp—and then turned back to her desk. "You're funny," she said, her tone dry, almost sarcastic. "Like, the kind of funny that makes you cringe halfway through a joke but you keep going anyway. Do you practice it, or does it just come naturally?"
The room fell silent again, this time with a stunned kind of energy. Zenkichi's eyes widened for a moment, a brief flash of surprise.
Akane Fujiwara. She was fighting back. It was rare. He liked it.
He leaned back in his chair, grinning even more widely. "Ooh, Fujiwara, I didn't know you had a sense of humor. I thought you were too busy studying to know what a joke was."
She didn't answer, but the briefest twitch of her lips told him she was far more aware than he gave her credit for.
---
Later, the bell rang again, signaling the end of class. As the students packed up, Zenkichi grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder, eyes scanning the room. Akane was already up and walking toward the door, her back straight, her steps measured and deliberate.
He couldn't help but watch her. There was something about the way she carried herself—like she knew exactly where she was going, like nothing in the world could ruffle her.
And that, he decided, was the challenge.
---
A few days later...
The next class session started as expected, and Zenkichi was back at it. But this time, his focus wasn't just on teasing Akane. There was something different in the air—he was getting a little more creative in his attempts to throw her off balance.
"Hey, Fujiwara," he began again, leaning toward her just enough to catch her attention. "I've got a bet for you."
She didn't look up. "I'm not interested."
"Oh, come on," Zenkichi insisted, leaning in further. "It'll be fun. If I win, you have to agree to eat lunch with me tomorrow. If you win... well, I'll let you pick the next seat in class. Sound fair?"
Akane paused, and for a split second, Zenkichi thought he saw her hesitate.
"You're really desperate, huh?" she said, finally meeting his eyes. "Trying to bribe me with lunch now? You're pathetic."
"Guess I'll take that as a yes?" he smirked, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth.
Akane rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll humor you. What's the challenge?"
---
As the rest of the class watched the back-and-forth between the two, the tension in the room grew. It was clear that Zenkichi wasn't about to stop trying to break through Akane's exterior, and she wasn't going to let him have the satisfaction.
But what neither of them knew was that this game—the rivalry that had just begun—was about to take them both on a journey neither expected.