Chapter 225: I... Like Him!

By eight o'clock, the moon had climbed above the treetops, fully risen into the sky.

Clear water streamed from the faucet with a rush. Having cleared the dishes from the table, Horikita Suzune stood alone before the stove in her house slippers, washing the bowls and chopsticks. Her originally cascading, waterfall-like black hair was now tied up neatly and efficiently, hanging smoothly down over her slender shoulders.

Under the glow of the incandescent light, that perpetually keep-your-distance expression of hers seemed to soften by a few degrees. For a moment, she even carried a faint trace of the flavor of a virtuous, devoted wife.

On the television in the room, a recently popular prank show was playing. Exaggerated cries of shock and the host's explosive laughter filled the air.

Fuyuji Mikage sat sprawled on the floor in a relaxed posture, gnawing on an apple he'd fished out of the refrigerator, laughing uproariously at the miserable states of one passerby after another.

Regrettably, halfway through his laughter, the image on the television screen abruptly switched. Accompanied by a cheerful opening theme, the program was changed by Kushida Kikyo—seated on the sofa—to a variety show hosted by some popular idol group.

"Fuyuji-kun." Kushida turned her body to the side and directed a smile so sweet it practically dripped honey toward Fuyuji. Her voice was deliberately soft and coquettish. "I've always had the habit of watching this program, you know. You don't mind, do you?"

"..."

Cha-Cha, it's just the three of us here. Could you not lay it on so thick?

Gazing at Kushida—whose smile was growing increasingly sweet, yet whose eyes had begun to emit a faint, chilling light—Fuyuji waved his hand with considerable helplessness.

Seeing as you've sent me so many perks before...

Kushida pressed her palms together, her face blooming like a flower. "Thank you~ As expected of Fuyuji-kun." Then, just as swiftly, she reined in her smile and cast a rapid glance at that upright silhouette beside the sink. "Unlike a certain someone who keeps a stern face all day long, as if the whole world owes her several hundred million. Just looking at her weighs on one's mood."

The clattering of bowls and chopsticks came to a halt. Horikita's movements paused. A cool, clear voice drifted over.

"A reminder, Kushida-san. This is my room."

"Thank you so very much, Horikita-san~ For letting me stay here."

With a crisp crunch, the juice of the apple burst forth in his mouth. Fuyuji shook his head and pulled out his phone, logging into his chat app to play a round with Bro.

Expecting these two not to bicker from now on was unrealistic. The moment they had even a little energy, they'd start right up again.

Still—it was only bickering.

Compared to arguing, the way the two of them were interacting now was more like being in a state of boredom, not knowing what to do. But picking fault with the other was definitely not wrong. So it was just habitual squabbling.

His thoughts reaching this point, Fuyuji slowly furrowed his brow. Raising a hand, he rubbed his chin a few times.

Why did this state of affairs look somewhat familiar?

His expression abruptly darkened.

It was a bit like a strengthened, conflict-enhanced version of how he and Morishita-sama had interacted at the very beginning. Could it be that these two actually, without even realizing it themselves, were deriving some enjoyment from this?

What a complex relationship!

...

The wall clock ticked and turned several more times. The night outside the balcony deepened.

Before the desk, Fuyuji—who had brazenly commandeered Horikita's computer and installed several games on his own—hammered away at the keyboard for a spell, then stretched with an exaggerated yawn. His bones produced faint clicking sounds.

The variety show on the television continued playing, occasionally bursting with exaggerated laughter.

Click—!

The bathroom door was pushed open. Amidst the billowing steam and hot mist, Kushida emerged with a dark, stormy expression. A few strands of damp brown hair clung to the fair, pale curve of her neck, faintly dampening the collar of her shirt.

"Next."

"Understood." Horikita responded with an equally grim expression.

The displeasure of the two was not directed at each other, but rather because...

Suppressing his laughter, Fuyuji let his gaze linger for just a moment on Kushida's full, ample bosom.

The white chiffon blouse—which had originally fit perfectly, flawlessly displaying Horikita's well-proportioned figure—now, worn on Kushida, appeared strained and bulging at the chest. It was as though a whole section had been forcibly cut short. The empty hem fluttered and swayed in the breeze, utterly unable to cling to smooth skin. As she walked, her snow-white belly and adorable navel appeared and disappeared within the drifting chiffon.

It couldn't be helped. Her original dress was already in a state of total battle damage. During the afternoon, the two of them had grappled and tangled together, sweating more or less. No matter what, Kushida was still a girl. She could only hold her nose and put on Horikita's clothes.

Still, judging by the current situation—the psychological impact on Horikita, who had provided the clothes, seemed no less severe than on Kushida, who had been forced to wear them.

The sound of water pattered, steam curled and swirled. Silently, Horikita stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, shutting out the clamor of the television outside and those faint, barely perceptible gazes.

A short while later, it was Fuyuji's turn.

When the final sound of water ceased and his little tune came to an end, Fuyuji emerged, toweling his dripping wet hair. The lights in the room had already been extinguished. Only the cool, clear moonlight streamed in from the balcony, spreading a hazy, blue-grey veil across the floor.

In the center of the living room floor, a simple makeshift bed had been laid out for him.

Horikita slept on her single bed. The blanket was neatly draped over her body, pulled up all the way to just beneath her chin. Both hands rested properly, folded over her flat stomach. Her body was held taut and straight. Even her sleeping posture carried a touch of meticulous, precise correctness. Only the crown of her jet-black hair peeked out from beneath the blanket.

On the other side, Kushida slept on the sofa, her back facing the living room. Wrapped tightly in her blanket, her body sank slightly into the cushions. Her brown strands of hair were scattered across the pillow. Her breathing was deliberately kept very light.

The air was saturated with a silent standoff and an extreme, bone-deep exhaustion.

"..."

Fuyuji silently stretched his lips into a grin. Tiptoeing, he crept over to the bedspread and carefully, cautiously lay down.

The carpet beneath him transmitted a faintly cool sensation. The sheets carried two subtly different textures. Thin threads of delicate fragrance curled and lingered at the tip of his nose, somewhat similar to the scent that usually clung to Horikita.

Probably, there hadn't been enough sheets. And the October weather had begun to turn chilly. That girl had temporarily stitched one together for him using other fabrics.

Suzune—as a friend, she might be somewhat difficult to get along with. But as a wife—she'd be top-tier, first-rate.

Smiling, he pulled the thin blanket up to his chest. Mimicking the posture of the person on the bed beside him, he too placed both hands properly at his sides. Opening his eyes wide, he stared up at the ceiling above.

The room sank completely into silence. Only the occasional sound of the wind sweeping past outside the window, and the light, shallow breaths of the three of them, intertwined in the stillness.

Time crawled slowly through the darkness. Beneath the erosion of exhaustion, their taut bodies finally, bit by bit, relaxed.

Horikita's rigid, straightened spine sank slightly. The sound of even, unhurried breathing at last replaced the previously controlled rhythm.

On the other side, Kushida's perpetually tense shoulders also slackened. Her curled-up body unfurled just a little. Her small, delicate nose flared gently with each steady breath. That chiffon nightgown—just a little too snug for her—had, at the collar, come slightly undone during her tossing and turning, tracing a full, seductive curve beneath the moonlight.

The moonlight shifted silently, tenderly brushing past the three slumbering faces. Like a thin veil, it covered this room—trapped by unforeseen circumstances. It also covered the three youths—sunk deep in slumber amidst exhaustion and tangled, complex emotions.

The night was deep. The wall clock ticked and tocked. An unknown stretch of time passed.

In the darkness, those cool, clear eyes of Horikita Suzune abruptly opened. Like two specks of cold starlight, they gazed quietly at the pitch-black ceiling above—now reduced to nothing but a blurred outline. After hesitating for a moment, she used a breathy whisper, her voice exceedingly soft, to tentatively speak.

"Kushida-san... are you asleep?"

The moment the words fell, an equally deliberately lowered voice—carrying a note of wakeful clarity—immediately rang out from the direction of the sofa in the darkness. Crisp and decisive. "No."

It was Kushida Kikyo.

"You can't sleep either?" Horikita spoke with a trace of dazed bewilderment.

"Yeah." A soft laugh drifted from the darkness. "That bastard, on the other hand, is sleeping soundly."

"Strange. How come you're not continuing to argue with me?"

"Probably because..." Kushida paused for a few seconds. Her voice, for once, carried a rare trace of bewilderment. "Everything that needed to be said... has actually already been said. In truth—I've already spewed out every single vile, venomous word I could possibly think of, all in one go. If I were to repeat them..." She let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Even I would find it tiresome."

Her voice then turned light and buoyant once more, as though wanting to dispel that brief moment of somberness from just now. "Ha ha, how about it? This was my treasured collection, accumulated over who-knows-how-long. I've always found you an eyesore, you know. Every time you expressionlessly rejected my invitations, my mood would inexplicably grow irritated, and I'd curse you viciously in my heart. Day after day, month after month... it piled up to this much."

Horikita let out a small sigh and smiled bitterly. "It truly was quite awful. I always thought I was fairly composed and calm-headed. I never imagined you'd make me lose my cool like that."

"Ha?" Kushida mercilessly scorned her, her tone once again carrying that familiar retort. "Composure? Calmness? What composure? What calmness? With that mouth of yours—forever like a knife, specializing in poking at people's scars?"

"..." Horikita turned over and silently gazed at that figure whose sleeping posture had already begun to deform. "Fine. I admit it." The young girl weighed and measured her words. "Before... my standards toward others were far too harsh. I naively believed that I could walk through this world all on my own."

"Heh... How truly rare. The unreachable flower of our middle school days—actually admitting her own mistakes?" Kushida mocked.

"In truth—I already admitted it yesterday, when I spoke with you." Horikita earnestly corrected this point.

"Is that so." Kushida seemed to pay it little mind. Then, her tone shifted. "Still—I'm rather curious. Yesterday, you didn't seem at all surprised by my hidden side?"

"Because I've never believed that there exists any completely, perfectly good person in this world. Whether it's you, or Ichinose Honami—you must all have sides to you that I don't know." Horikita blinked her eyes, trying hard to make out a certain someone's sleeping posture. "But that hysterical side of yours—that truly did exceed my expectations. Originally, I only wanted to ask you to help me unify Class D. I never imagined things would escalate, step by step, to this point."

"I'm quite at ease. No matter what—my long-cherished wish is about to be fulfilled." Kushida let out a soft laugh.

"Kushida-san—must we really... fight to the bitter end?" Horikita's brows furrowed slightly. A certain someone's sleeping posture had already thoroughly transformed. Limbs splayed in every direction, he lay sprawled across the carpet. The sheet had become wrinkled and crumpled, only a small portion still covering his stomach. "Although we have our differences of opinion... like tonight—aren't we also... able to barely get along?"

"That's because this bastard is here." Kushida immediately cut her off, her voice resolute and unwavering.

Horikita fell into a rare silence for a few seconds. In the darkness, only the sound of her light, shallow breathing remained. A few seconds later, she did not refute. She merely responded in an equally soft, low voice:

"Yeah..."

The murmur rippled outward in a tiny ring, then was swiftly swallowed by the boundless darkness.

Horikita did not continue the thread of conversation. Kushida, too, seemed to have lost the interest to keep talking. She did not reply. The heavy silence once again descended.

The night shift's cool breeze slipped through the gaps in the balcony door and into the room, lifting the curtains. Blurred, indistinct shadows slowly crept across the three of them. Moonlight illuminated every object in the room—the low table, the kitchen cabinets, the desk, the sofa, the pencil case, even the black bow that had fallen who-knew-where during today's scuffle...

The second hand of the wall clock spun who-knew-how-many times. Kushida's calm voice abruptly rang out, once again shattering this deathly stillness.

"Horikita Suzune." The full-name address, in the silence, seemed especially... solemn.

"...What is it?" Horikita's heart inexplicably skipped a beat.

An exceedingly pronounced intake of breath sounded—as though its owner were making some momentous, weighty decision.

"I..." Kushida's voice carried a resolute, unyielding determination. Every single word seemed forced out from between clenched teeth. "I can give up this life-or-death duel with you. I can also abandon the plan to completely expel you from this school." She paused. "I can even—entirely according to your wishes—wholeheartedly help you unify the current Class D—"

Horikita held her breath.

"—so long as," Kushida's voice suddenly intensified, "you agree to one condition."

"What?"

"Give him to me." The girl's resolute voice exploded beside Horikita's ear.

"..."

The surrounding space seemed to freeze solid in an instant.

A series of rustling sounds arose. Fuyuji turned over, flinging off even that last scrap of blanket.

Subconsciously clenching the bedsheet, Horikita pressed her lips together and drew a deep breath, struggling to calm the surging, churning emotions within her chest.

"When did you find out?"

"I've suspected for a long time. I just never dared to admit it." Kushida spoke in a tone of reminiscence. "From the very beginning, when we met at the cafe—I already felt something was strange. Someone like you—actually mixing together with a boy—it practically made my jaw drop. For a long time, I refused to believe it was real. I thought he must have used some trick to deceive me."

The figure lying on the floor paused mid-motion.

"Later, during the uninhabited island exam, I discovered it. You, with that dead face of yours, actually showed none of that cold, indifferent attitude you have toward others when you were in front of him. At certain times, he even had you so suppressed you couldn't lift your head."

"That..." Horikita's face burned hot. She attempted to stubbornly deny it. "I—that—I was letting him have his way."

"Give me a break. You—letting someone else have their way? Ask the students in our class and see if they believe you." Kushida impatiently cut her off. "Even though that guy hasn't worn them, those men's slippers in the shoe cabinet are definitely his. Also—the way he rummaged through your refrigerator just now—that was absolutely not his first time in your room. And someone like you—actually tacitly permitted him using your computer as he pleased..."

"Horikita Suzune." Kushida enunciated every word with deliberate precision. "Do you think there's any other possibility here?"

"..."

Horikita was utterly speechless.

"Still—judging by the look on your face, it seems you also guessed my side of things?"

Exhaling a long breath, Horikita closed her eyes and spoke in an icy tone. "Yes. I guessed that this was a possibility. After all, in front of him, you made no attempt whatsoever to hide your other side. You just started brawling with me, straight and direct, without the slightest worry about your identity being exposed. That could only mean you'd long since accepted that he knew about your other side."

"Your brain really does spin as fast as ever." Kushida's voice suddenly turned vicious. "And also—this damn dog actually wants to have it both ways?! What outrageous, reckless audacity. Isn't he afraid of choking to death trying to swallow an iceberg like you?"

"..." The figure on the floor quietly edged away from the sofa.

"Given his capabilities—it's entirely possible that today's events were orchestrated by him alone. After all—the lock suddenly breaking and the unlocking staff going home at the exact same time—it's all far too coincidental." Horikita calmly analyzed.

"His reason for doing so is also glaringly obvious, isn't it?" Kushida's tone betrayed neither joy nor anger. "Your answer?"

"Kushida-san—he's not an object. There's no such thing as 'giving'—"

"I'm asking for your answer."

The air froze to its absolute limit. Even the sound of the wind outside the window seemed to hold its breath.

Horikita opened her eyes. Her cool, clear gaze stared directly at the figure on the carpet, still feigning deep sleep. Abruptly, she propped up her upper body. The thin blanket slipped from her shoulders, yet she seemed utterly unaware. She suddenly turned her head, her gaze piercing through the dimness and locking precisely onto the blurred silhouette of Kushida in the direction of the sofa.

Then—she opened her mouth. Her voice was not loud, yet it was exceptionally clear. Every word, every syllable, echoed through the deathly still room:

"I refuse. I... like him! I absolutely will not let go!"

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