Wasn't a normal person supposed to say thank you, wash the handkerchief, and return it? Why was it that, with Ryuen, no matter what Hiyori Shiina chose, she was bound to lose a handkerchief?
"If you want it, you can have it."
Hiyori liked that handkerchief, but she was not so stingy that she could not part with one. What she could not understand was Ryuen's motive. Why did he want her handkerchief so badly?
Without caring that it had been dirtied by his nosebleed, Ryuen stuffed it straight into his pocket.
Unable to figure it out, Hiyori asked him directly, "What do you want my handkerchief for?"
"Maybe I just happen to like it."
Ryuen's tone was frivolous, blatantly teasing. He had built himself up as a delinquent boss, after all. He could hardly start acting like some refined scoundrel now. That would be far too out of character.
"You're obviously not that shallow. Can you stop acting so flippant?"
The quiet Hiyori was clearly irritated now, her cherry-colored lips pursing. It was not because Ryuen had teased her a few times. It was his attitude—the way he toyed with her as if she were prey. She felt disrespected.
"I look like the flippant type, don't I?"
As he spoke, Ryuen reached out and ran a hand through Hiyori's silky hair. Two blue ribbon bows were tied into it. Taking advantage of the moment, he removed one and idly played with it between his fingers.
"I like this too. It'd be even better if it were black."
Hiyori had not expected Ryuen to touch her. She instinctively tried to dodge, but she could not avoid his grasp. When Ryuen reached for the ribbon on the other side, she caught his hand and effortlessly snatched her ribbon back.
"This one definitely isn't yours. And I'm not someone who judges people by appearances. My intuition tells me that you're nothing like the simple, brutish person you pretend to be."
One of Hiyori's arms was still wrapped around her book, so even after reclaiming the ribbon with her free hand, it was difficult for her to tie it back in place.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Ryuen looked thoroughly pleased with himself. He grabbed the hand holding the ribbon. Hiyori tried to resist, but faced with the overwhelming difference in strength, she could only watch as Ryuen pried her fingers open one by one, until the ribbon fell into his hand again.
Hiyori's hand was small, soft, and delicate. Held in Ryuen's large palm, it felt like a puff of cotton warmed by sunlight. He almost could not bring himself to use any force to take the ribbon from her.
"Only shallow people don't judge by appearances."
As he said it, Ryuen helped Hiyori tie the ribbon back into her hair. Unfortunately, he had no experience with such things, and the result was rather crooked.
The masculine presence crowding in on her made Hiyori's face burn. Ryuen might not have been the most handsome boy, but he was certainly the most intensely masculine. Seeing the heat in Hiyori's cheeks, Ryuen casually raised her chin with one finger.
That movement thoroughly startled her. She was only a sixteen-year-old girl. No matter how composed she usually seemed, she could not help panicking now.
Then Hiyori ran. Yes, ran—clutching her book to her chest as she fled. The badly tied ribbon teetered in her hair as its owner vanished from Ryuen's sight.
After running for an unknown amount of time, Hiyori finally stopped, breathing hard. Fine beads of sweat dotted her forehead. She reached for her handkerchief to wipe them away, only to find her pocket empty—and remembered that Ryuen had taken it. For a moment, she felt angry. Then she was simply at a loss.
Standing there and replaying her conversation with Ryuen, Hiyori let the evening breeze wash over her. It dried the fine sweat on her brow, stirred her hair, and sent the ribbon fluttering in the wind.
Then it struck her. Ryuen's final line had been a quote from Oscar Wilde. He knew she had come to evade the task of collecting the class fund. That was why he had teased her and changed the subject. Once tomorrow came and Class C had handed their points over to her, there would be no way for her to refuse that responsibility anymore.
After realizing the truth, Hiyori could only sigh helplessly. She had no desire to participate in the struggle between classes, yet Ryuen had forcibly dragged her onto the battlefield.
After returning to her dorm, Hiyori took a bath. Her graceful silhouette was reflected against the wall. Lying in the tub with her dark hair spread over the water, she stretched an arm into the misty air, as though trying to grasp something—or perhaps grasping nothing at all.
Afterward, Hiyori put the ribbon away in her drawer. She had several ribbons in different colors, but not a single black one. Lying in bed, she thought, "I should find time tomorrow to buy a handkerchief."
She switched off the bedside lamp and drifted to sleep. But her sleep was restless. Hiyori had a nightmare in which Ryuen stole her black ribbon.
With faint dark circles beneath her eyes, Hiyori had barely entered the classroom when a circle of girls gathered around her. They had come to turn in their class funds. Although she was deeply unwilling to take on this job, Hiyori carefully recorded the names of everyone who paid. After that, the boys came over in twos and threes to hand in their contributions as well.
Ryuen was the last student to arrive, though he was not late. Since Hiyori's seat was beside his, she was able to hand him the completed list of students who had not paid.
There were only three boys' names on it. One of them was Kakeru Ryuen, and Hiyori had even marked it for emphasis.
Ryuen looked at the list, then at the girl beside him. Hiyori turned her head away, unwilling to speak to him.
Taking the list with him, Ryuen approached the two boys who had not paid. Just as he was about to give them a little corrective education, one of them raised a question.
"Ryuen, why haven't you paid the class fund?"
The other asked, "Can you guarantee you won't embezzle the points for personal use?"
It seemed Class C was not made up entirely of idiots.
The author's only motivation is feedback from readers. Let me hear what you think.
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