Takeshi, with his exaggerated and clumsy demeanor that seemed to be his trademark, looked at Yuki as if he were standing before the president of the galaxy. His voice came out almost solemn as he said:
"It's surprising that you also like this kind of stuff, Suou-san."
Yuki, with a smile that seemed capable of lighting up the entire room, responded kindly, like the protagonist of a slice-of-life anime. Her sweet and melodious voice carried a lightness that could disarm anyone.
"Oh, you don't need to be so formal!" She tilted her head slightly, as if to emphasize her point. "We're in the same year, after all."
Takeshi, already knowing he didn't stand a chance, stammered a response while his cheeks turned an almost comical shade of red.
"W-well, if you say so..." he mumbled, clearly embarrassed.
Yuki, however, seemed completely unfazed, continuing with the same gentle smile.
"And yes, of course I eat ramen. It's convenient and delicious."
Takeshi, practically drooling, could barely muster a reply:
"W-wow..."
Meanwhile, Ryan—or rather, Masachika—remained entirely oblivious to the interaction. He continued eating his ramen in silence, clearly unwilling to waste energy on Takeshi's borderline pathetic dialogue. The scene resembled a bad episode of a high school drama, and he wasn't about to waste his attention on it.
Yuki, noticing Masachika's disinterest, turned back toward him, leaning slightly to catch his attention.
"This is really good, though I think it could be a bit spicier..." she commented, tucking her hair behind her ears with a graceful gesture that seemed entirely natural—but Ryan knew it was intentional.
He finally looked up, raising an eyebrow and letting a faintly teasing smile appear. His response was delivered in his usual nonchalant and ironic tone.
"Easy fix: just add more chili."
Yuki blinked once, slightly surprised, but kept her smile. Masachika's straightforward and casual reply seemed to cut through any attempt to create a lighter or more intimate atmosphere. If she had hoped for something more elaborate, she'd picked the wrong person.
Alya, who had been quietly observing, could no longer hold back. Her expression took on a slightly irritated look—something rare for her usually serene face. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow and asked, with a mix of curiosity and something harder to define:
"You two... are friends?"
Before Masachika could think of a reply—or ignore the question entirely—Yuki jumped in. Her voice, soft and almost musical, sounded like a purposeful calm in the growing tension.
"We've known each other since we were kids."
Alya blinked once, surprised, tilting her head slightly as if processing the information.
"Since kids?" she repeated, as though seeking confirmation.
Yuki's revelation sparked interest among the others. Even Takeshi, rarely so attentive, leaned slightly forward, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.
Yuki, however, remained as serene as ever, smiling even more sweetly as she continued:
"Yes, we've been in the same school since preschool." Her explanation was punctuated by that perfect, charming smile that, in any other situation, would have been impossible to ignore.
However, the contrast was almost comical. Sitting beside her, Masachika wore an expression of pure disdain, chewing his ramen with an air so indifferent it seemed he was on the verge of rolling his eyes.
The juxtaposition didn't escape notice, especially from Alya, who pressed her lips together slightly. Her gaze shifted between Yuki, with her almost rehearsed kindness, and Masachika, who looked like he wanted to disappear. The tension was palpable, lingering in the air like a knot no one wanted to untangle.
The conversation between Alya and Yuki began to flow naturally, but for Ryan—Masachika—it was like background noise from a TV: present but easily ignored. He zoned out, focusing on his ramen, though a few keywords from the conversation inevitably caught his attention. The topic seemed to revolve around friendships.
"I don't think having me as a friend would be interesting..." Alya's voice was low, almost hesitant, as if she were fighting her own pride to admit something like that.
Yuki, however, smiled with a kindness that was almost disarming, maintaining the serene air that seemed to be her signature.
"So, that means you're not completely opposed to the idea of us being friends, right?"
The remark, punctuated by a dazzling smile, caught Alya off guard. A faint blush crept up her cheeks as she averted her gaze, unable to hold eye contact while responding, almost in a murmur:
"I suppose not."
The sweetness of the interaction was abruptly interrupted when Takeshi suddenly stood up from the table, as if fleeing from an unbearably radiant scene.
"I'm done eating," he announced, his voice almost mechanical.
As he began to walk away, still looking at the floor, he dragged out his words like a defeated soldier:
"I'm heading out first."
Hikaru, ever the diplomat, stood up right after him with a light smile, clearly trying not to draw attention to Takeshi's emotional state.
"I'm done too." He bid a polite farewell, though it was obvious he didn't want to leave his friend alone in silent defeat.
As Takeshi passed by Masachika, he stopped briefly and whispered with the dramatic tone of someone who had just witnessed something too divine to handle:
"They shine so brightly, I can't take it anymore..."
Masachika stifled a laugh, though the thought came quickly and sarcastically:
"That guy's gonna die with only his hand as company."
As the two friends left, it was impossible not to notice that much of the cafeteria had their eyes fixed on the table. After all, the scene—Alya, Yuki, and Masachika together—felt like something straight out of a high-class teen drama.
Yuki, seemingly indifferent to the spectacle around her, pulled her chair even closer to Masachika, as if to make the conversation more private. The movement made Alya let out a discreet sigh, but the look she cast at the two was telling: there was a hint of discomfort, perhaps even jealousy.
"By the way, Masachika-kun," Yuki began, leaning slightly toward him so their shoulders almost touched. The gesture was casual but carried a certain intentionality.
"Have you considered my offer to join the student council?" Her expression was expectant, the delicate smile clearly waiting for a positive response.
Masachika, without even hesitating, responded with his usual apathy, as if declining an invitation to something trivial:
"No, I haven't thought about it. And even if I had, the answer would still be no."
The response cut Yuki's hopes so directly that even Hikaru, if he were still there, would have grimaced.
Still, Yuki didn't seem ready to give up so easily. She moved a little closer, their shoulders now lightly touching, as she tilted her head in a nearly charming way:
"I think you'd fit perfectly with Alisa-san and me..." She kept her tone sweet and persuasive, but the mention of Alya's name was accompanied by a brief glance at the girl, who was now visibly uncomfortable.
"...After all, you have experience as vice president, don't you?"
Alya couldn't hide her reaction. Her eyes widened, and an almost childlike expression of surprise slipped out before she could stop herself:
"What?"
The tone carried a mix of disbelief and something else more undefinable. It was as if the Alya Masachika knew so well—controlled, almost always unshakable—had been caught completely off guard.
"When we were in middle school, I was president and he was vice..."
Yuki spoke with a hint of nostalgia, but there was something more in her tone—a subtle mischief that didn't go unnoticed, especially by the glances exchanged between her and Masachika.
Alya, surprised by the revelation, looked at Masachika with a suspicious expression and an arched eyebrow. "Really?" Her voice was low, almost skeptical, as if trying to process the idea that he, with his laid-back and distant attitude, had held such an important position in the past.
Masachika, not rushing, adjusted in his chair and responded with the same relaxed, dismissive tone that was his trademark. "Yeah, it happened. But I was kind of out of it back then. I only went because she practically begged me, needed a running mate..." He shrugged, as if it were an irrelevant story, a part of the past he preferred to leave behind.
Yuki smiled, her smile slightly wider now, as if she wanted to make the story even more embellished. "This might be a surprise to you, but Masachika can be very proactive when he wants to." She looked at Alya with a mischievous gleam in her eyes, as if holding a trump card.
Masachika let out a low, almost disdainful laugh, with a touch of provocation. "Especially with his hands." The phrase slipped from his mouth with the ease of someone letting an intrusive thought slip out.
Yuki turned to him with a curious look, her expression softly intrigued. "Hands?" she repeated, the doubt clear on her face.
Masachika, without changing his expression, responded casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "I'm good at writing," he said, looking away with a slight smile, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from any misinterpretation.
Alya quickly averted her gaze, a slight blush rising in her cheeks as she spoke in a sweet and gentle tone. "Even I know that," she said, but there was a small detail: the sentence came out in Russian, with a faint melancholic air.
She picked up her can of Oshiruko and took a sip, trying to hide the slight embarrassment she felt. Even though she knew no one here would likely understand, she couldn't help but wonder if Masachika truly hadn't noticed... Well, she thought not, but something in Ryan...
When they finished their meals, everyone got up and left the cafeteria. Yuki bid farewell to Masachika and Alya with a bow, heading toward her classroom.
After Yuki's departure, Alya turned to Masachika with a doubtful expression, hiding the subtle jealousy that was beginning to take over her face. "So, you two are pretty close, huh?" Her voice sounded somewhat dry, as if the surprise was more a sign of something unexpected.
Masachika turned to her, not changing his expression, and replied with a raised eyebrow. "Why the presumptuous tone, like this is something out of the ordinary?"
Alya looked away, speaking in a cold and distant tone. "Yeah, it's pretty out of the ordinary. Never thought you had any friends..."
Masachika sighed lightly, looking at her with a mixture of weariness and mild reproach. "Oh, you're devaluing it, aren't you?"
Alya turned to him, surprised by his response. "What?" she asked, suspicious, still trying to figure out what he meant.
Masachika let out an ironic laugh and gestured with his hands. "Well, it's kind of stupid to say this because I thought it was obvious... But aren't you and I friends already?" He pointed to Alya as if the answer was simple and evident.
Alya was left speechless for a moment, her cheeks flushed, and finally asked, surprised, "Wait, are we friends?"
Masachika raised an eyebrow and smiled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, I get it. So we're lovers, then?" His voice was filled with an unexpected irony, completely catching Alya off guard.
Alya, now completely red, started walking quickly, taking large steps, trying to hide her embarrassment. "N-no, you're right, we're friends, and stop with those bad jokes!" Her voice was stiff, almost as if she were trying to recover, but the words came out hurried and disorganized. She didn't look back, trying to appear casual while walking quickly.
Masachika—or Ryan, as he knew he was called—watched the scene with a sidelong smile, following Alya's hurried steps. She stopped for a moment before opening the door to the other building and, without looking at him, said softly in Russian, almost embarrassed: "If that's the case, call me your girlfriend... Not your lover, come on..."
Masachika nearly lost his balance, ran a hand through his hair, and thought to himself. "Should I tell her I get it, or let her keep fooling herself? Nah, I'll keep this a secret..."
They both walked to the classroom together. Alya remained silent, her cheeks still flushed from Masachika's teasing comment. He, on the other hand, kept a lazy smile on his face, occasionally throwing glances at her. "Poor little Russian... I think I broke her with that little joke," Ryan thought, enjoying himself internally.
Turning his gaze to the window, he let his thoughts wander as he observed the calm surroundings outside. "You know... I'm always on guard. I've learned to live this way because I was born in the middle of chaos. My first memory was holding a Webley revolver that seemed bigger than my hand. But maybe... maybe it's time to lower my weapons. My new life is literally on easy mode: going back in time like it's a game, with a Russian girl practically in the bag... I'm sure our kids will be beautiful. And she has a face that... she must be amazing at shaking her hips."
Ryan almost lost track of where he was, immersed in his musings. However, he was brought back to reality by the energetic voice of the teacher.
"Students, today I want to introduce to you the newest student in our class!" she said with contagious enthusiasm, immediately grabbing the class's attention.
The announcement caused a buzz of excitement among the students. "New student? I hope she's a cutie," commented a boy, fixing his hair and smoothing his uniform with a hopeful look.
"Are you implying we don't have any pretty girls here?" retorted a classmate sitting nearby, giving him a disdainful look.
The boy raised his hands in surrender, looking terrified. "No way! Alya's right there!" he justified, discreetly pointing to the Russian girl.
Before the conversation could get any louder, the teacher raised her voice, restoring order. "Silence! Let's welcome the new student!"
Alya tilted her head slightly, curious, and tried to peek at the door. "Who's this new student, Kuze?" she asked, leaning a little in her chair.
Masachika, with his usual apathy, replied indifferently. "It's the famous idol Ai, trust me." His tone, heavy with sarcasm, made Alya shoot him a sidelong glance, unsure whether to laugh or reprimand him.
The teacher continued, ignoring the whispers in the room. "Class, please welcome the new transfer student..." Her words echoed in the room as delicate footsteps began to echo from the corridor.
Masachika felt a strange shift in the air, something that made him pull his hand away from his face and turn his attention to the door, intrigued.
"...Yuno Gasai."
The name came like thunder. And then she entered: a striking young woman, flawless pale skin, large hypnotizing pink eyes, and long hair that matched the vibrant hue of her gaze.
Masachika froze, his wide eyes fixed on the figure entering the room. He didn't move a muscle, his face completely still. But the most disturbing thing wasn't his reaction. It was the fact that she was staring at him in exactly the same way.
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