(Ep 4-7 skipped or comment you openion)
The hallway was dim, the sun filtered through storm-grey clouds like God was running a noir filter on reality. The wind whispered ominously against the long glass windows, making the scene feel more like a courtroom from a mafia movie than a high school.
Manabu Horikita stood like a final boss in a school-themed RPG, arms folded, blazer so crisp it could cut egos. His stare? Sharper than most people's GPA.
Across from him, Ayanokoji stood as he always did—expressionless, relaxed, the human equivalent of a "…" in a text message.
Beside Manabu stood a violet-haired girl, posture straighter than the school's disciplinary policy, gaze like a security drone with Wi-Fi.
Manabu (coolly): "We've confirmed it. Sudo's case… wasn't as stupid as it looked."
The violet-haired girl narrowed her eyes like she was scanning Ayanokoji for viruses.
Manabu held up a folder with the same dramatic flair you'd expect from a guy about to drop the Uno reverse card of justice.
Manabu: "So this… was your way of validating Sakura Airi's testimony."
Silence. You could hear the existential dread echoing.
Then Ayanokoji blinked, like a tired server booting up.
Ayanokoji: "No. It was your little sister's plan."
Manabu (raising a single eyebrow like a proud, surprised yet still disappointed parent): "Finally... she's using her brain. Good."
The violet-haired girl took a step forward like she was about to arrest someone for not using school property responsibly.
Violet-haired girl: "President, should we really be discussing this with… him?"
Manabu (coolly turning toward her): "Outsider? No. He's too talented. He's the kind of guy who solves group projects alone and still scores full marks."
Then he turned back to Ayanokoji, shifting his hands behind his back like a villain offering you a job instead of monologuing.
Manabu: "Join the Student Council."
The violet-haired girl looked like she was about to short-circuit.
Violet-haired girl: "President—!"
Manabu (with calm menace): "Refuse if you wish. But remember… this school is a pressure cooker. Talent doesn't stay hidden—it explodes."
Ayanokoji blinked again. Probably considered transferring schools. Or faking his own death.
Ayanokoji: "Not interested."
The violet-haired girl exhaled in relief, like someone avoiding a surprise exam.
Manabu simply nodded, already planning Ayanokoji's future like an overambitious mom.
Manabu: "Perhaps later. I'll be watching."
He brushed past Ayanokoji, shoulder grazing his as if bestowing an invisible mafia mark: "I'll be back."
Meanwhile, Horikita Suzune stood off to the side like someone realizing their Google Doc was actually edited by someone else the entire time.
She had just gotten a sharp lecture from her teacher—aka a performance review she didn't ask for.
The wind ruffled her hair dramatically, because that's what wind does when pride is cracking.
She stared at her hands.
She had thought she'd been clever. Smart. Calculated.
But now?
Now she knew.
She was just… used.
Used like a pawn in someone else's chess game.
Used like a free trial with no renewal option.
Used like a shared Netflix password.
Her gaze lifted to Ayanokoji, desperate for a reaction. Maybe a nod. A wink. A "you did good, kid."
But all she got?
Ayanokoji, staring out the window, emotionally locked out of the human experience.
Nothing.
No thanks. No smile. No acknowledgment.
Just that empty gaze…
He wasn't her secret weapon.
She was his.
Meanwhile...
Rain fell like the sky itself was sobbing for whoever had the audacity to mess with Class C.
Puddles formed across the cracked concrete like tiny mirrors of doom. And in the middle of it all stood Ryūen Kakeru, looking like the final boss in a gangster movie shot in 4K ultra-violence. He loomed under a black umbrella, eyes colder than the downpour, foot planted firmly on some poor dude's back like he was squashing a rebellious cockroach.
Class C students stood around him in a half-circle, silhouettes hazy in the mist—like the world's most aggressive flash mob.
Ryūen leaned down, his umbrella perfectly angled, as if it were held by an invisible butler.
"Who planned all this? Because you? You're barely qualified to move a chair without falling over. So talk... or I'll convert your spine into a pasta special."
He pressed down harder. The boy screamed. Thunder added background music.
Meanwhile, off to the side, under a candy-striped umbrella with skull stickers, stood the black-eyed girl, casually munching popcorn out of a luxury bucket labeled "Fearflix & Snacks."
She watched the beatdown like she was binging a K-drama at home.
Ibuki passed by, blinked, and did a double take.
"What kind of psycho eats popcorn at a beatdown?"
The girl held out the bucket like she was offering holy communion.
"Want some? It's caramel... with a dash of trauma."
Ibuki snorted. "Lunatics. Everywhere."
Suddenly, Ryūen noticed her.
"Oi. Why are you here?"
She casually stepped over the human pancake at his feet.
"This? Please. I've been waiting all week for this episode. Can't miss my favorite show: 'Kakeru's Kicks & Screams.'"
And then, with all the grace of a ballerina and the destructive power of a wrecking ball, she kicked the already bleeding student like she was sending him back to the title screen.
WHAM!
He took flight. Spun. Landed in the mud with a "SQUELCH" and a tragic "ARGHH—!"
Collective wince.
She dusted off her skirt and smiled like a teacher asking for late homework.
"Answer the question. Or tomorrow's headline will read: 'Boy dives off roof after losing teeth to popcorn connoisseur.'"
The boy, now barely human pudding, whispered a shaky confession about some plan involving Ayanokōji, Horikita, and "that devil."
Ryūen smirked. Mission complete.
The girl popped another kernel in her mouth, turned, and muttered:
"Since when did our classmates become punching bags? Honestly. We should file a complaint."
Loud enough for everyone to hear. Completely ignoring the fact that she was the complaint.
Ibuki stared.
"You're insane."
"Not insane," she beamed. "Just a passionate advocate for justice... and drama."
Lightning cracked.
She struck a pose with her umbrella like a budget magical girl from the wrong anime.
Then the boy whispered the final name: "Ayanokōji..."
Everything froze. The atmosphere tightened like a bad anime filler episode.
Ryūen turned to her, his glare half annoyed, half 'why is she still in my life?'
"You. Go study. We nearly flunked the exams thanks to your little stunts."
Her gasp could've earned her an Oscar.
She dropped to her knees dramatically, rain soaking her like a tragic opera heroine.
"NOOOO~! Forgive me, Leader-sama! I only wanted to bring cinematic flair to our academic suffering!"
Then she latched onto his leg like a drowning koala.
Ryūen sighed. The soul-left-my-body kind of sigh.
"Why do I attract the weird ones..."
Behind a tree, our soaked male protagonist—Haruto—had witnessed the whole disaster unfold.
Wide-eyed, drenched, and spiritually broken, he whispered:
"She's more shameless than me... That black-eyed demon girl has outclassed me in the sacred arts of cringe..."
And then... the fatal word.
"Ayanokōji...?"
The rain mixed with his tears.
"I got roasted like a festival fish just for some dumb corridor incident… My time… my DIGNITY—gone… and the real culprit was him?!"
He clenched his fists with the fury of a discount anime rival.
"Ayanokōji… Your name is now inked in the Death Notebook of my soul."
With newfound determination, he sprinted out.
"I HAVE DECIDED!"
Everyone turned.
"From today, I stand with Class C! Let's become frien—"
WHACK.
He was airborne.
Landed face-first in the mud like a rejected stunt double from Fast & Furious 29.
He blinked.
Then shivered.
Something soft. Warm. Wrong.
He looked up.
She was hugging him like a koala clinging to its favorite tree.
"Leader~! I found my study pillow!"
Haruto turned pale.
"NANI?! I'm not a pillow! I'm not even memory foam!"
Ryūen didn't react. Just stared into the void.
"Take her. She's your problem now."
As the group walked away, Ibuki muttered:
"That poor guy's life is never gonna be the same..."
Haruto screamed, half from suffocation, half from psychological collapse, as she dragged him toward the library.
But then—he broke free! A slippery ninja roll through the mud!
He stood. Shaky, muddy, proud.
"I am not a pillow! I am a person! My name… is HARUTO!"
Silence.
She stared.
Eyes widened. Lips trembled.
"My pillow… grew up…? So beautiful..."
Tears. Real tears. Distorted affection in liquid form.
"W-WHY are you crying?! I just said I'm not a pillow!"
He stepped back.
She stepped forward.
"Didn't you peek once to see my panties? Hmm~?"
"I—I have a fear of girls! Yes! Very serious phobia! Stay back!"
She leaned in with a wicked grin.
"Ara~ but you didn't fear beating, did you~?"
Before he could blink—
HUG.
Tight. Unreasonably tight.
"Do you still fear me now… Haruto~?"
The world froze.
Rain blurred.
His eyes changed.
Red. Glowing. Madness leaked out like cursed soup.
"You shouldn't have said that..."
He grabbed her wrists. Twisted. Slammed her against the wall like some edgy romance manga.
And then—
KISS.
Feral. Chaotic. The kind of kiss that makes thunder take five.
She blinked. Then smiled.
"Hehehe~ Haruto… you just signed the contract."
"W-WAIT. WHAT CONTRACT?! I WAS POSSESSED!"
Too late.
She hugged him again, tighter.
"Time to study, husband."
Haruto stared into the abyss.
"I'm dropping out of school..."
**
(The rain hadn't stopped, and neither had Haruto's suffering.)
Haruto, still soaked, muddy, and emotionally bruised, dragged his feet toward the school entrance. His arms were limp by his sides, his soul halfway to the spirit realm.
Behind him, the black-eyed girl skipped happily, still humming some deranged remix of the school anthem with new lyrics like "Study, fight, fall in love~ Torture, win, then rise above~"
Haruto paused mid-step. "Did she just rhyme fall in love with rise above?"
He shivered.
Meanwhile, inside the classroom…
Ryūen slumped into his chair, umbrella tossed to the side like a defeated soldier.
Ibuki leaned against the wall with a sigh. "So… is she his girlfriend now or his mental breakdown?"
Ryūen rubbed his temples. "Same thing at this point."
Elsewhere, the blackboard had a new scribble, crudely drawn with a pink marker:
"Class C Emergency Drama Bulletin:
One unconscious traitor: check.
One human pillow acquired: check.
One spontaneous kiss contract: check.
Popcorn supply running low: WARNING. Signed, Your Local Black-Eyed Menace."
Back at the library…
Haruto was slumped over a desk, still in full trauma mode.
The black-eyed girl had surrounded him with textbooks titled "Romance in the Time of War", "Advanced Torture Techniques (For Beginners)", and "Husbando Management 101."
Haruto blinked at the titles. "Are these even in the curriculum?!"
She smiled sweetly, adjusting his tie. "Of course not. They're extracurricular... just like you."
He faceplanted into the desk with a muffled groan. "I just wanted to borrow a physics book…"
She opened her notebook titled "Marriage Planning – Draft 7.3" and began sketching wedding dresses in between notes on algebra.
"By the way," she whispered, "I told the librarian you're here on a punishment date. We're officially 'working on your attitude.'"
Haruto sat up in horror. "W-WHAT?! I never agreed to that!"
She leaned in. "It's already on the school database."
Outside the window, lightning flashed ominously, spelling "R.I.P. Haruto" in the sky (or so he imagined).
Just then, someone slammed the door open.
AYANOKŌJI walked in, dry and unfazed by the weather as usual.
He glanced at the scene: Haruto cornered by a girl wielding a glitter pen like a weapon. Wedding doodles on the table. Popcorn bucket on the floor. A weird poster that said "Study till death do us part."
"…I see," Ayanokōji said blandly.
Haruto waved frantically. "SAVE ME! I'M A VICTIM OF WAR CRIMES!"
The black-eyed girl stood and curtsied dramatically. "Nice to finally meet you, Devil-kun."
Ayanokōji blinked. "…Excuse me?"
"You're the root cause of this arc, aren't you?" she grinned. "Don't worry. I'm not here for revenge. Yet."
He nodded slowly, like a man who just spotted a gas leak but decided to let it explode.
"I'll be leaving now."
And with that, he vanished like a ninja who just witnessed a cursed romance unfold.
Haruto stared after him, betrayed. "He left me… He really just left me…!"
The black-eyed girl grabbed his wrist. "Well then, let's move on to Chapter 3: How to Discipline Your Future Husband with Algebraic Pain!"
Haruto let out a muffled scream.
The librarian, sipping tea in the corner, simply turned the "Quiet Please" sign to "Scream Internally Only."
Thus, the rain poured on.
Class C healed.
Haruto didn't.
But one thing was certain—
The black-eyed girl had found her favorite drama.
And poor Haruto?
He was the drama.