Morning light had long since burned off the dew clinging to cherry blossom petals outside, replaced now by the flat white glare of midday pressing through the club room windows. The scent of chalk dust and instant coffee mingled with sothing softer—Yukino's shampoo, maybe, or the vanilla hand cream Yui kept reapplying.
Hozuki Nozomi slouched in his usual seat, one leg crossed over the other, watching dust motes drift through the sunbeams while Yukino read the notice aloud. Her voice stayed asured, each syllable precise as cut glass, but her fingers had gone white where they gripped the paper.
The general aning was clear enough:
The Service Club must prove its capabilities by assisting the Student Council with manageable tasks. Otherwise, Miss Kaguya Shinomiya—Student Council President—would refuse to recognize the club's existence and demand its dissolution.
Good heavens.
She wanted them to beco Student Council lackeys.
Nozomi had absolutely no intention of agreeing. The Service Club was his sanctuary—afternoon naps with his head pillowed on soft thighs, stolen kisses between howork assignnts, Yukino's cool fingers carding through his hair while she pretended to read. He refused to trade that for endless paperwork and Kaguya's pointed stares.
Yukino set the notice down with deliberate care. When she looked at him, her lips curved into sothing between amusent and accusation.
"Nozomi." Her voice dropped half a register. "Didn't you say you had already convinced Miss Kaguya? What exactly is this?"
He looks like a cat caught knocking over a vase, she thought, watching his expression shift through several unconvincing attempts at innocence.
"Ahem." He cleared his throat. "Well. I think she might not have... fully understood my position. Perhaps I should go convince her again?"
The mory of how he'd " convinced " her the first ti surfaced unbidden—Kaguya's flushed cheeks, the way her voice had cracked when he'd leaned too close. Clearly, more thorough thods were required.
But Yukino shook her head, dark hair swaying against her shoulders like silk.
"No." A genuine smile touched her features now, softening the aristocratic sharpness. "This is precisely the opportunity to prove our capabilities."
She stepped closer to him, close enough that he caught the clean scent of her—lavender soap and sothing distinctly her, warm and familiar.
"Nozomi. We accept this request."
"No way?" He sat up straighter, genuine distress flickering across his face. "Yukino, how are we supposed to relax in the future? What about our afternoons? What about—"
"Idiot." The word carried no heat. "Can you stop thinking about perverted things constantly? People who idle away their days will rot, you know."
Though I don't entirely dislike those perverted things, she admitted privately, rembering the weight of his head in her lap, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her stockinged knee while she read poetry aloud.
The truth was more complicated. Yukino Yukinoshita had always wanted to join the Student Council, to test herself against real challenges the way Haruno did. But she couldn't abandon the club she'd built—and Nozomi, her fiancé, was terribly clingy. She found herself reluctant to leave the warmth he'd wrapped around her.
Here, in this small room with its mismatched furniture and perpetual sll of tea, she'd experienced love and friendship she'd never known before.
But Yukino didn't want to remain static forever.
She wanted to beco soone dazzling. Soone worthy of standing beside him.
If I beco more capable, more refined... he'll only fall deeper in love with , won't he?
"Yukino..." Nozomi's voice had gone soft. "Have you really decided?"
"It's not just Yukino." Sanshokuin Sumireko leaned forward, purple eyes dancing with mischief. "We've all decided, you know."
He's adorable when he pouts, she thought, watching his lower lip jut out slightly. Like a spoiled prince being told playti is over.
"And !" Yui Yuigahama puffed out her chest—a considerable gesture given her assets—her expression fierce with determination. "I'll work hard too!"
I know I'm not as smart as Yukino or as elegant as Mahiru, Yui thought, hands clenching in her lap. But I want to stay beside them. Beside him. I won't fall behind!
Misaki i nodded her agreent. Asuna voiced hers. One by one, every mber of the Service Club aligned behind Yukino's decision.
Nozomi's shoulders slumped. His pout deepened into sothing genuinely sulky, arms crossing over his chest like a child denied dessert.
Yukino watched him for a mont—the downturned mouth, the theatrical dejection—and sothing tender unfurled in her chest.
She stepped forward.
Her arms ca up, fingers threading through his dark hair, and she drew his head against her chest.
The fabric of her uniform was thin. Beneath it, her breasts yielded softly against his cheek, warm and impossibly soft, her heartbeat a steady rhythm against his ear. He could sll her now—really sll her—lavender and clean skin and sothing sweeter underneath, sothing that made his throat tighten.
"Idiot." Her voice vibrated through her sternum, directly into him. "What exactly are you worried about?"
Her fingers continued their slow path through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp in the way she knew made him shiver.
"Are you perhaps afraid we'll forget about you—this bad guy—because we're busy with Student Council matters?"
She pressed him closer. The soft weight of her breast shifted against his jaw.
He's trembling, she noticed, satisfaction and affection twining together in her chest. Good.
"Honestly, Nozomi is too timid."
"Yui, I'm not timid!" His protest ca out muffled against Yukino's chest, hot breath dampening the fabric of her blouse. "I just can't accept that my pleasant lap pillows will be gone!"
The girls rolled their eyes collectively.
But Yukino understood now, holding him against her heart. This wasn't really about leisure or lap pillows or afternoon naps.
He was afraid of losing them.
Afraid that growth would pull them apart.
Foolish man, she thought, fingers gentle in his hair . As if I could ever leave you behind.
Still—she wouldn't let him stagnate. Wouldn't let any of them stagnate.
So, she refused his objections.
….
[Student Council Office — 4:47 PM]
By late afternoon, the Service Club had officially rged with the Student Council.
Their club room beca the new operations center. Docunts flowed in; docunts flowed out. Problems that had festered for weeks under the previous administration dissolved beneath Yukino's analytical precision and Sumireko's social maneuvering.
When the completed paperwork landed on Kaguya Shinomiya's desk—organized, annotated, solutions already implented—her mood curdled into sothing complicated.
Hozuki Nozomi.
By what virtue did that man command the devotion of so many exceptional won?
Half a day. That was all it had taken.
Issues that had plagued her Student Council for weeks had evaporated. Efficiency had tripled. Now she barely needed to do anything except stamp docunts and look presidential.
It should have pleased her.
Instead, she found herself watching him across the office—this new accountant of hers, sprawled in his chair with ledgers spread before him, handling numbers with the sa lazy competence he applied to everything.
His eyes kept drifting toward Yukino.
Toward the others.
And occasionally, resentfully, toward her.
"Pervert." Kaguya's voice cracked like a whip through the quiet office. "Can you stop looking at with those resentful eyes?"
Her own eyes were wine-red, sharp as garnets, frad by lashes so dark they looked painted. Afternoon light caught the glossy fall of her black hair, each strand perfect, cascading past shoulders held rigid with aristocratic posture.
Why does he affect like this? she thought irritably. He's crude. Shaless. Surrounded by won who should know better.
Nozomi didn't bother softening his glare.
"No."
"Because I'm very resentful toward Miss Kaguya right now."
He set down his pen, giving her his full attention—which was, she discovered, more uncomfortable than his sulking.
"Because of Miss Kaguya's outrageous actions, my Yukino is now too busy to be intimate with ."
Intimate. The word hung in the air between them, heavy with implication.
Kaguya's lips curved despite herself, satisfaction warming her chest.
"I didn't force Yukino. They volunteered." She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs beneath the desk with deliberate elegance. "Moreover, I think you should reflect on yourself."
"Constant protection will prevent your lovely fiancée from growing."
And perhaps, she thought, w atching his expression flicker through several emotions, it will prevent you from seeing what else is right in front of you.
Her aning was clear. He spoiled them too much. Clung to them too desperately. If this continued, what would any of them learn? Just perverted activities with this shaless scoundrel?
Nozomi studied her for a long mont.
Sothing shifted in his eyes—calculation, perhaps, or recognition.
"I am reflecting," he said finally. His voice had dropped, gone almost soft. "That's why I beca your accountant. Why I'm working alongside Yukino and the others now."
He stood, stretched—his uniform shirt pulling tight across shoulders broader than she'd noticed before—and moved toward her desk.
Too close.
The scent of him reached her: sothing clean and masculine, soap and warmth and underneath it all, sothing that made her breath catch.
"Though our intimate ti has shortened sowhat..." He smiled, and it wasn't sulky now. It was sothing else. Sothing that made heat prickle along her collarbone. "I do enjoy creating beautiful mories with the people I care about."
With the people I care about.
He held her gaze for one heartbeat. Two.
Then turned away, gathering his ledgers, already calling sothing to Yukino across the room.
Kaguya Shinomiya sat very still at her desk.
Her heart was beating too fast.
She pressed her palm flat against the cool wood surface and focused on breathing.
Outside, the afternoon light had shifted toward gold, shadows lengthening across the office floor. Sowhere nearby, Yukino laughed at sothing Yui said—a rare, genuine sound.
And Hozuki Nozomi moved among them all, touching shoulders, murmuring jokes, drawing smiles like a conductor drawing music from an orchestra.
Kaguya watched him work.
Gradually, she thought, and couldn't tell if the feeling in her chest was irritation or anticipation. We're gradually getting closer to each other.
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