He waited on the sofa for a while.
Soon, the door to the Student Council Room creaked open. In came Fujiwara Chika, her signature black bow bouncing with each step.
"Ugh~ Give me your bento, Sakurai-kun~ I'm starving~" she whined. Despite her dramatic plea, she handed him the bento she had brought.
Sakurai took it without hesitation. "Beg me."
"Please~" she blinked up at him with exaggerated puppy eyes.
"Aww! So cute~ Bystander-chan is now officially Fujiwara-kun's dog! I pledge eternal loyalty to Chika-sama!"
That's not love. That's pure lust. You're a disgrace.
"But look! Her chest is huge! See? See? She's bending over a bit, it's really—look! Right there! So lewd!"
Sakurai wordlessly averted his eyes. He had, unfortunately, trained for this.
"I'll share half with you," he muttered.
Even though it had been her bento to begin with, it was massive—clearly sized for a growing boy with an athlete's appetite.
Sakurai had no such appetite. Sharing was reasonable. At least on paper.
He opened the bento box. Three layers. Top-tier gourmet.
Top: Wagyu beef, sashimi, sea urchin, lobster.
Middle: Tamagoyaki, karaage, tempura.
Bottom: Plain rice.
He stared at it.
"Fujiwara-kun, do you think I'm a pig?" he asked, genuinely confused.
"Idiot! She planned to eat with you from the start! How do you not get that?"
He didn't get it. He didn't want to get it. Playing dumb was a craft. Sakurai Saki had mastered it to such a degree that even a lie detector couldn't tell he was lying. He could fool himself with convincing ease.
Across the room, Shirogane Miyuki quietly eyed his own humble bento. Plain, homemade—but the octopus sausages were carved with care.
His sister's bento, by contrast, was neat, decorative. Fit for a top-tier middle school. But Shirogane had a sense of pride in his bento. It was crafted, not bought.
"You want to try some, President?" Sakurai offered casually.
"Are you stupid?! This is your rare chance to have an intimate lunch with Chika-chan! If Shirogane joins, the mood is ruined!"
Didn't you just say Shirogane was great?
"That was before she walked in. Obviously."
Psychic yuri paranoia: triggered.
Sakurai shrugged. "It's just spoils-sharing. You helped me a lot last year, consider this a thank-you."
It wasn't the first time he'd eaten Fujiwara Chika's cooking anyway.
"Soft rice is delicious! Sakura-chan has a sensitive tummy, only eats soft things~"
True. And when your psychic power only lasts a day, you get treated like a terminal patient. Might as well indulge you.
"Sakura-chan~ Were you sad last night because you couldn't use 'death' as an insult while playing? Because of that Death Note ban?"
I want to die.
In all sixteen years of his life, Sakurai Saki had never wanted to die more than in that moment.
Shirogane still looked hesitant.
Sakurai picked out a few pieces of lobster, dropped them into Shirogane's bento, and took two octopus sausages in return.
"This looks decent. I'm taking it."
"Mmm. Try it. I put effort into seasoning," Shirogane said, relaxing slightly. Accepting gifts wasn't his thing, but trade? That, he could tolerate.
"Good. Delicious," Sakurai admitted after a bite.
The guy cooked every day—of course he was good.
Sakurai could cook too, but he had to admit, Shirogane's touch was next-level.
Just then, Fujiwara Chika's eyes sparkled as she spotted the octopus sausages in Shirogane's bento.
So cute.
Before she could ask, Shirogane casually popped the last one into his mouth and chewed.
A beat passed.
"What's wrong, Fujiwara Secretary?" Sakurai asked flatly.
Without a word, he picked up the octopus sausage he'd just traded for and offered it to her.
Experience had taught him: if she didn't get food, she'd raise hell.
"Hehe~ Delicious~" she chirped, biting down with satisfaction.
"President, did you make your own bento?" she asked cheerily.
"Yes," Shirogane replied, slightly stiff. "It's a small personal hobby."
He glanced at the two across from him, who had just wrapped up their impromptu feeding session.
There was a question he had always wanted to ask:
These two are so close. Why aren't they dating?
Then again, Fujiwara didn't seem to notice anything beyond food and games. As for Sakurai—
Well, imagining him taking the initiative was like trying to imagine Shirogane himself falling in love.
Just didn't compute.
"Super amazing," Fujiwara praised, sincerely.
"Chika-chan is thrilled~ Not because the octopus sausage was good, but because you fed it to her, Sakura-chan!"
"Now that you've uncovered a girl's secret—aren't you moved?"
No.
"There's still plenty of time left in the lunch break~ Want to play games with Chika-chan?" Fujiwara chirped, hands clasped like a hyper idol. "With my help, your win rate is 1000%! Super amazing! Hehe~ Don't praise me too much~ Bystander-chan's just that incredible!"
"Invincible! Strongest! Cutest!"
Annoying. Stupid. Most hated.
Sakurai and Fujiwara finished their bento in synchronized silence, cleaned up their lunchboxes, and ignored the invitation like it had never been spoken.
Take the initiative? Not in this lifetime.
The final period of the day: physical education.
After changing into sportswear, Sakurai joined his newly acquainted classmates on the sports field for warm-ups. Today's activity: table tennis.
After stretching under the blazing afternoon sun, the students of Second-Year Class A filed into the gymnasium, humming with anticipation.
In the corner of the table tennis room, Sakurai stood beside Hayasaka Ai.
His gaze swept across the room.
"Forehand's sloppy. Backhand's worse. Legs like jelly. Reactions slower than loading screens on a 2008 PC. If these guys are the island nation's hope for table tennis glory, I fear for our international reputation."
Hayasaka gave him a side-eye. "They heard you, Sakurai-kun."
"Sodayo~ those guys are all glaring at Sakura-chan right now~"
He didn't flinch.
"Class harmony isn't built on cowardice— but on strength!"** he declared, eyes glowing with delusional grandeur.
Hayasaka stifled a laugh. "Pfft~ You're saying that with such a serious face… Your chuunibyou is reaching critical levels."
"Don't worry! With Bystander-chan on your side this match, you'll definitely win~!"
What are you even talking about? Do I look like I need your help?
Heh. How amusing.
Sakurai narrowed his eyes.
"Shinomiya-san, shall we play?" he called, lifting a paddle and stepping up with an elegant stance that somehow radiated confidence and mockery in equal measure.
A faint smile played at his lips—charming and smug, like the prince in a dating sim with maxed-out charisma stats.
The room froze.
Eyes drifted his way.
Even the ping pong balls seemed to pause mid-bounce.
Kaguya Shinomiya's eyes flicked toward Hayasaka, who subtly nodded.
Understood.
This wasn't just a match now—it was a duel of dignity.
The name Shinomiya would not be taken lightly. She stepped forward, paddle in hand, eyes cold as ice.
"Very well, Sakurai-kun. I accept your challenge."