Chapter 226: The Moon Is Beautiful, But the Morning Light Is Warm

The silver-white moon slowly climbed into the sky. The shadows on the floor shrank inch by inch, yet the moonlight appeared all the more brilliant.

In the dark room, there was only silence. Only a few faint breaths echoed within.

"Heh..." Kushida Kikyo laughed. Turning her head to the side, her expression was unreadable in the darkness. "No wonder you hesitated so much yesterday when faced with my demand that you drop out. I thought your obsession with rising to Class A was only at this level. The main reason was this, wasn't it?"

"It... it was both..."

The cool, clear voice rang out with clarity in the silent room. Having already spoken the words aloud, Horikita Suzune, in this moment, found her heart unexpectedly calm. Silently, she raised a hand and pressed it over her chest, confessing in a low murmur.

"But... without a doubt—at that time, I did indeed subconsciously place his importance above rising to Class A—even above my own dropping out. How truly laughable." Horikita spoke with self-deprecation. "Clearly, at the very beginning, I was desperately trying to rise to Class A. And yet, not even two full semesters have passed, and it's already come to this."

She tilted her head back and gazed at the pitch-black ceiling above, carrying a trace of bewilderment.

"Perhaps... even I myself don't clearly know what I'm really thinking. But if I were made to drop out now—I'm afraid the blow I'd suffer would be greater than any before..."

"Haah..." Kushida exhaled a long breath. Her voice betrayed neither joy nor anger, as though she were trying to expel every last pent-up frustration from her chest. "As I thought... we're destined to be unable to coexist."

"It seems that way." Horikita's tone had reverted to its usual unruffled calm. If neither side was willing to let go, then the only option was to find a way to force the other out.

"Horikita Suzune—are you really that confident you can defeat me?" Kushida's voice abruptly dropped low.

"I... don't know. But I won't let go. No matter what—no matter what schemes you use, Kushida-san—in this exam, I absolutely must take first place. The kind where I get a perfect score."

"So even after fighting with me, you were still doing practice tests..." Kushida seemed to have suddenly understood something. In a dazed murmur of sudden realization, her voice was tinged with several shades of indescribable emotion. "That's true. After all, that's your way of doing things. Giving everything your all in every endeavor. Once you've set your sights on a goal, never looking back. Even things you're not good at—you'll practice over and over until you've mastered them..."

"..."

Horikita pressed her lips together and did not reply. The entire room once again sank into silence.

After a few seconds of stillness, in the darkness, Kushida suddenly spoke.

"Horikita Suzune."

"Mm?" Horikita followed the sound and looked over.

"Is there something wrong with your brain?!" Her volume abruptly spiked. The curse exploded within the room. Immediately after, several muffled yet not-too-loud thuds came from the direction of the sofa.

A gentle breeze swept past, lifting the balcony curtains.

In the cool, clear radiance of the moonlight—Kushida, barefoot, stood upon the sofa. The white chiffon blouse stretched taut over her full bosom. Her brown strands of hair cascaded down, veiling her expression. Her face was dark and stormy, like a beautiful female ghost. With a tiger's pounce, she launched herself onto Horikita's bed.

Pressing down on top of Horikita, she immediately began grappling and tangling with her.

"Bitch. Dead face. Shameless woman. Woman who'll never be able to get married in the future..." All manner of unpleasant names spilled incoherently from Kushida's mouth. Extending both hands, she reached straight for Horikita's face.

Horikita, with swift eyes and swift hands, quickly seized Kushida's wrists. Lowering her volume, she spoke. "Kushida-san, keep your voice down. Don't wake him."

Kushida's voice rose another few degrees, suddenly tinged with a choking sob. "Piss off! Let that damn dog get up! I'll beat him up too! Scumbag! Pervert! Cyber stinking rat! Make him get up!" Her body trembled violently. Even her seized wrists twitched and spasmed from sheer agitation.

"Kushida-san, you..." Horikita's eyes widened slightly. Subconsciously, she released Kushida's wrists.

With a sharp whoosh, Kushida seized the front of Horikita's clothes. Using every ounce of strength in her body, she yanked her upright. Lowering her head, her voice thick with tears, she shouted with all her might:

"Horikita Suzune! Why is it always you?! How come you're always there every single time?! Just what kind of grudge do we have from our past lives?! Every time, it's you popping up and ruining things for me!"

"..." Horikita opened her mouth and stared blankly at Kushida—who now seemed like a completely different person—yet could not utter a single word.

"Clearly, ever since elementary school, I was always first! Why did you—with that dead face of yours—show up in middle school and steal my first place?! And act like it was only natural! Why—when I was clearly working so hard—did I end up unable to match you in anything—studies, physical ability, organizational skills?! I could only rely on my social skills to earn others' praise! And in the end, it led to that kind of incident!"

"Clearly, I wanted to leave the past behind and come to Advanced Nurturing High School—a place where no one knew my past! I wanted a fresh start! Why—why did I have to run into you again—this woman—and even get placed in the same class?! Just why are you so damn relentless?!"

"Horikita Suzune! Say it! Just what is the reason?! Aren't you great at analyzing things?! Say it!"

She questioned and interrogated him, sentence after sentence. Yet her body, along with her shouting, gradually drained of strength. From the initially fierce, dominating posture, she had shifted into a position where she was practically collapsed on top of Horikita.

Drip... drip...

Her shouting voice grew feeble. Her cascading hair veiled her entire face. A few crystalline teardrops, beyond her control, spilled from her eyes. In large, heavy drops, they dripped onto Horikita's collarbone. The warm sensation made Horikita's body tremble.

"In the end... I accepted it. I already accepted it. Fine, you're stronger than me. Fine, you're prettier than me. I accepted all of it. But... why does this guy—this one single person who could accept me—why do you have to fight me for him too?!"

Time, in this moment, seemed to be stretched beyond all measure.

In the silence, Horikita gazed at Kushida—now collapsed powerlessly on top of her. Her lips faltered a few times. Finally, slowly, she extended her arm and lightly patted her trembling shoulder.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know... you've always looked at me this way."

"Who asked for your sympathy?!" Kushida abruptly raised her head. Haphazardly, she wiped at the tear stains on her face with the back of her hand. Carrying several uncontrollable sobs, she spoke with forced bravado. "This is the path I chose myself. What business is it of yours?! I just like this way of living—is that not allow—"

Her voice came to an abrupt halt. Kushida suddenly turned her head and discovered that she had already been gathered into someone's embrace.

Fuyuji Mikage tightened his arms around the girl in his embrace. In a low voice, he spoke. "I'm sorry. I never once considered what you were truly thinking deep down inside..."

"Who wanted you to know what I was thinking deep down?!" Kushida's body first stiffened. Then, like a lit firecracker, she pounded her fists against Fuyuji's chest, blow after blow. "I asked you to help me expel Horikita Suzune—not to sit here holding me together with her, you scumbag! Human trash! Two-timing pervert! Guy without a single honest word in his mouth!" Crying and crying, she suddenly laughed, carrying a thick nasal tone. "Damn bastard. So you were lying on the floor playing dead this whole time."

"I'm sorry."

Fuyuji lowered his head and extended his other arm, gathering Horikita into his embrace as well.

Horikita, who had been lightly patting Kushida's shoulder, stiffened for a moment—then, just as swiftly, relaxed. Her cheek drew close to Fuyuji's chest.

"I truly couldn't think of a way to reconcile the two of you. Yet I didn't want either of you to drop out. But if your relationship remained this rigid—sooner or later, it was bound to erupt anyway."

"Who do you think you are?! You think I'll listen to you?! You actually dared to toy with me like this! Just wait—tomorrow I'll make you pay!" Kushida's voice was muffled within his embrace.

"Then we'll talk about it tomorrow." Fuyuji's cheek brushed and nuzzled against the crowns of both their heads.

"I will absolutely make her drop out." Kushida dried her tears on the fabric of his chest. Raising her head, her eyes and the tip of her nose still red, she spoke with stubborn determination. "In this exam, you will lose, one hundred percent. Also—you bastard Fuyuji, you're not allowed to help her! Otherwise, I'll say you molested me, and the two of us can drop out together!"

"But..." Fuyuji felt somewhat awkward. According to his original plan—in truth, it was Kushida who was supposed to win.

"I have no intention of running away," Horikita drew a deep breath. "But regarding this contest—I absolutely will not lose. No matter how difficult the questions. No matter what kind of schemes and tricks."

"Heh..." Kushida's shoulders quivered. Sneering coldly, she spoke. "As confident as ever, aren't you."

"Kushida-san." This time—Horikita's fair, unadorned palm proactively extended and grasped Kushida's hand. Struggling with all her might, the corner of her mouth curved into a faint smile. "I am absolutely certain—I will not lose. But before that—Kushida-san—we can first try... being friends."

"Get lost! Who wants to be friends with you?!" Kushida, as though scalded, abruptly tried to pull her hand back—only to find she couldn't shake it off no matter what. "Before, no matter how many times I called out to you, you never responded. Now, on the contrary, you're shamelessly coming up to me. Horikita Suzune—are you a masochist?!"

"Perhaps that really is a possibility." Fuyuji grinned.

"You're the masochist." Horikita drove an elbow into his stomach without the slightest courtesy. "It's just... I suddenly feel... compared to that Kushida-san who can perfectly handle her relationships with everyone—this Kushida-san makes me feel more at ease."

"Ha?! Before, when I wanted to help you, you ignored me. Now that I want to expel you, you come running over instead. You really are a masochist!"

"Ha ha. Told you so."

Horikita was starting to grow exasperated. "I already said I'm not!" She raised her hand, wanting to elbow Fuyuji again, but he dodged away with a laugh.

"In truth, Kushida-chan—I happen to have some big secrets about Suzune here. Listen—last time, while she was cleaning, she stuck her hand into—"

"Fuyuji-kun!" The chill within his embrace was seeping and billowing outward.

"Cough, cough... I'll tell you quietly next time. I even have photos."

"What's there to be afraid of?! Say it now! A mere Horikita Suzune—what of it!"

"Don't you dare!"

"You think just because you say 'don't' I won't?!"

"In any case—don't you dare!"

"Tch~"

...

Gradually, the three of them—arguing, laughing, speaking with solemn seriousness—began to grow airy and drifting. Their volume dropped. Habitually, over and over, they bickered and squabbled. The taut air seemed like a punctured balloon, silently leaking away all its pressure. Exhaustion, like the tide, crested over the embankment.

Finally, their eyelids grew heavier and heavier. After a full day of emotional highs and lows—a full day's accumulated fatigue—at the moment the three of them relaxed, it came surging forth like the tide, washing back and forth against their fragile nerves.

The sound of their bickering grew softer and softer, transforming into vague, indistinct mumbling. In the end, all that remained was the sound of even, unhurried breathing...

The cool, clear moonlight flowed soundlessly. Passing through the enormous glass window, it gently covered the three figures locked in each other's embrace.

Kushida Kikyo curled up on Fuyuji's left side. Her cheek was pressed tightly against his chest. Upon her lashes still clung tiny teardrops, refracting faint glimmers under the moonlight. One arm stubbornly wrapped around his waist. The other hand unconsciously clutched the hem of his clothes. Her rapid breathing had calmed and settled. All that remained was the sound of even, unhurried exhalation.

Horikita Suzune rested quietly against his right side. Her sleeping posture still carried a touch of that straightforward, direct style of hers. Her spine was straight. Only her head gently pillowed against the hollow of Fuyuji's shoulder. Her jet-black hair and Kushida's brown strands silently intertwined beneath the moonlight. A few strands brushed past her cool, clear profile.

Fuyuji remained frozen in place. Both arms still maintained their embracing posture. He lowered his head slightly. His gaze drifted back and forth between two utterly different yet equally captivating sleeping faces.

On his left—the "grade social expert," having shed all pretense, cried out, and sunk into slumber. On his right—the "unreachable flower," having cast aside her icy mask, for once revealing a rare, tender side.

Finally—the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. Slowly, he closed his eyes.

The moonlight gilded them in a hazy, silver border. Time itself seemed to freeze in this very moment.

The light, shallow breaths of the three intertwined and wove together, swirling low within the silent room, forming a strange rhythm. Even the wind outside the window seemed to lighten and soften its steps. The sway of the curtains grew gentle. The moonlight shifted silently, inch by inch illuminating the floor, illuminating the scattered clothing, illuminating the contours of the low table, gently spilling across the room...

Until, at the eastern edge of the sky—a faint sliver of fish-belly white quietly crept forth. The first light of dawn, dim and hazy, gently drove away the deep blue veil of night. The very first ray of golden-red light quietly slipped into the room, tracing the outlines of the three figures.

Kushida Kikyo, in her sleep, unconsciously burrowed just a little deeper into Fuyuji's embrace. Letting out a vague nasal hum, her cheek rubbed and nuzzled against his chest, seeking out a warmer spot. That chiffon blouse—at the collar—had, during her slumber, come undone just a little more, revealing her delicate collarbone and a small patch of fine skin. Beneath the morning light, it gleamed with a pearl-like luster.

Horikita Suzune's brow, in her sleep, seemed to habitually want to furrow and crease. Yet in the end, it merely twitched faintly. Her breathing remained steady and unhurried. One hand, at some unknown point, had also lightly come to rest upon Fuyuji's arm. Her fingertips curled inward gently.

The sunlight thoroughly illuminated the room.

The old night had passed. A new day had begun.

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