Outside one of the classroom buildings stood the vending machines where Yukio had once skipped class and bumped into Kiryuin. When he arrived at their agreed meeting spot, she was already there, crimson eyes as sharp as ever and wearing her usual dominant air—even if the three gift-wrapped boxes of chocolate in her hands didn't quite match the expression.
"Junior, you really gave me a huge surprise in the last stretch of the camp exam."
She didn't trot over the way Karuizawa had; instead she waited in front of the machines for him to step closer—and only then noticed he still had one hand buried casually in his pocket.
Pretty cocky, huh? A fleeting thought crossed her mind. "Running in soaked, freezing shoes was downright unpleasant, you know."
She had suffered because of his little scheme, yet Yukio showed not a shred of embarrassment—only amused interest.
"Don't treat people like fools, senpai. You could say that on exam day, but it doesn't fly now. I heard you got rolls of bandages from the infirmary and wrapped your feet instead of wearing socks. You ran that whole relay with your feet mummified."
True enough: once the story spread, other classes realized that trick was possible. Even Yukio had admired her quick thinking.
"Tch." Kiryuin clicked her tongue but didn't press the point. She simply slapped the three boxes against his chest. "Take them. Pick whichever flavor you like."
"Three boxes?" Yukio steadied them before they fell. "Why three? Everyone else gave one."
"Couldn't guess your taste." She stretched languidly, her curves on full display even in winter uniform—mesmerizing. "So I made three. They're marked: original, most bitter; extra-sugar, sweetest; and the middle one, not too sweet, not too bitter."
"Let me see." Still with one hand in his pocket, he awkwardly fanned the boxes to study the wrapping.
At first she thought nothing of it, until he murmured, "Huh?" Curiosity piqued, she leaned over. Was something wrong with her handiwork?
Yukio stared intently at a label, expression odd. "These aren't homemade, senpai. They're store-bought, no sincerity at all."
"?" Her brow creased. She'd spent over ten days practicing to get these perfect; even the wrapping was hand-cut paper. How could they be retail?
Perhaps he caught her irritation. "Look, it still has a barcode and printed ingredient list."
"Impossible—they're handmade." Yet she leaned closer to check—maybe she'd snipped paper with a barcode by mistake?
The moment she bent in, Yukio stole a lightning-quick kiss—dragonfly-touch and gone. Then the hand that had stayed in his pocket emerged holding his school phone.
Tap
Kiryuin's phone chimed: "You've received 30 000 private points."
"How about now, senpai?" He grinned, waving his own phone. "If that's not enough, I can send more."
Kiryuin smiled sweetly—though beneath her white hair the tips of her ears burned. They both knew the transfer was a joke; the real game was the flirty give-and-take.
"Tch. You really are meticulous about payback." Her tone was playful. "Seems the thirty-thousand I wired you at the camp still sticks in your craw."
"Only because senpai taught me so well." He pocketed his phone and gave the boxes a proper look. He'd assumed a queenly type like her would never soil delicate fingers—yet she could make chocolate, just like she could low-gear that Kawasaki. She kept confounding expectations.
He didn't get long to inspect. With a deft swipe she snatched the boxes back, leaving him blinking. "Hey—gifts aren't supposed to be reclaimed, are they?"
"Relax." Her lips curved with smug delight. Holding one box, she tapped its lid. "I'll still give them to you—after you step closer. You said there's a barcode, right? Come, I'll point it out."
"Pfft." He couldn't help laughing—so she planned to turn his trick back on him? No way he'd play along. He pretended not to hear, glanced at the sky, the ground, the surroundings. "Ahhh, lovely weather today."
She didn't raise her voice. Instead she sighed theatrically as if bored and extended the boxes again.
"Th-thanks, sen—" He reached—only for her to slam him against the vending machine in a girl-on-boy kabe-don and steal a kiss in return.
Moments later she released him, satisfied and smug. "Junior, honestly, you still—mmph!"
Because during the kiss he'd somehow hooked an arm around her shoulders, the other around her waist, and now reversed positions—her back flattening against the machine as he launched a counterattack.
Kiryuin felt a flicker of annoyance—and amusement. Bold kid… but that just makes it better.
And so, on February 15, students passing that vending area wondered why the machine's front panel looked spotless, as though someone had scrubbed away every speck of dust overnight…
...
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