(Yukinoshita Yukino's POV)
The final minutes of English Literature class were typically a quiet, winding-down affair. Students subtly closed notebooks and zipped pencil cases, their minds already drifting to the lesson and its weight on their mind.
Yukino, however, remained perfectly still, her attention fixed on the man at the front of the room.
Yoshioka-sensei had a way of deconstructing poetry that was less like teaching and more like a clinical dissection. He would lay a poem bare, examining its meter, its symbolism, its historical context with a terrifying, emotionless precision.
But, who was he, beneath all that analysis?
As he closed the textbook and placed it on his desk, the universal signal that the lesson was over, Yukino found her hand rising into the air, cutting through the quiet rustle of the classroom.
A flicker of surprise passed through the room.
She was not known for idle questions.
Sensei's crimson eyes shifted from the textbook to her. "Yukinoshita-san"
"Sensei" She began, her voice cool and measured, betraying none of the curiosity that churned within her. "You have analysed numerous poems for us, but you never offer a personal opinion. I am curious. Do you have a favourite?"
The question hung in the air. A personal question. For a man who seemed to be a complete mystery
He regarded her for a long, silent moment, his expression unreadable.
The class had gone completely still, intrigued by this breach of their enigmatic teacher's impersonal facade.
Finally, he spoke, his voice its usual calm, low baritone, but it seemed to carry a different weight now.
"Break this heavy chain, that does freeze my bones around."
The line was delivered not with dramatic flourish, but with a simple, stark clarity that made it feel more powerful.
It hung in the silent classroom, a shard of raw feeling in a room usually filled with enigma
"It is from William Blake's 'Earth's Answer' from the collection of 'Songs of Innocence and of Experience' though it is a lesser-quoted line" He explained, his tone shifting back to the lecturer "It is a plea from the created to the creator. A question of why one is forged with such terrible potential and then bound by the very nature of that creation. It speaks of a desire to be free from the inherent limitations and burdens of one's own existence"
He paused, his gaze intensifying, seeming to look not just at her, but through her.
"I believe you would feel a certain connection to that sentiment, Yukinoshita-san. Don't you think?"
The air left Yukino's lungs. It was as if he had reached inside her chest and put a name to the cold, heavy feeling she carried with her every day.
The expectations, the family name, the perfectly crafted ice-princess persona. And he knew.
With a single line of poetry, he had perfectly articulated the core of her being.
Her usual composure wavered. She couldn't form a reply. She could only hold his penetrating gaze, her ice-blue eyes wide with a mixture of shock and dawning understanding.
The bell rang, its shrill sound shattering the moment. The spell was broken. Students seemed to remember they needed to breath to survive
Yoshioka-sensei gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, their conversation had reached its natural conclusion. "Class is dismissed"
With that, the enigmatic teacher once again walled off.
Yukino remained seated for a few seconds longer, the words echoing in her mind
----------------------------------
(Later That Day)
(Kageyama Shigeo's POV)
The empty classroom felt both incredibly large and strangely small. Shigeo sat stiffly in a student desk, his hands folded neatly in his lap.
This was… unusual. He wasn't used to being called to meetings, especially not by a teacher like Yoshioka-sensei.
He risked a glance around the room.
Sensei stood by the chalkboard, his presence a calm, commanding constant.
Sitting on the teacher's desk itself, as if she owned it, was Sakurajima Mai-senpai, the famous third-year model. She was even more stunning up close, her gaze sharp and assessing. Shigeo quickly looked away, feeling his face grow warm.
On the other side of the room, Yotsuya Miko from his class was whispering with her friend, Yurikawa Hana. Yurikawa-san was one of the cuter girls in school, with a bright, cheerful energy that was hard to ignore. (Though, in his opinion, she still wasn't at the level of Takane-chan).
Then there were the others sitting near him. To his right was a boy from another class he'd seen around. He was slightly overweight, with glasses and white hair, though it was a dull, almost grey white compared to Sensei's striking platinum. The boy sat with a strange, quiet confidence.
To his left was Niguredou Yuria, also from his class. She looked just as confused and tense as he felt, her arms crossed tightly.
This was a very strange group.
"Good. Everyone is present" Yoshioka-sensei's voice cut through the quiet. All attention snapped to him. His crimson eyes swept over each of them, and Shigeo felt a strange sensation, his teacher's eyes were seeing past their uniforms and right into their very cores.
"You are all here because you share a common trait" He began, his tone flat and instructional, "One that remains hidden from the majority of the population. The world most people perceive is a facade. Beneath it exists another layer of reality, populated by entities born from the negative emotions of humanity. Fear, anger, resentment, jealousy... these feelings do not simply vanish. They accumulate, coalesce, and give birth to monsters"
He paused, letting the weight of the words settle. The room was utterly silent.
"These entities are known as Cursed Spirits," he continued. "Most are weak, mindless things, little more than lingering malice. But some grow powerful, intelligent, and predatory. They are the source of countless unexplained accidents, disappearances, and sensations of dread. To see them, to interact with them, requires a specific energy"
He turned and wrote two words on the chalkboard with sharp, precise strokes: Cursed Energy.
"This is the fundamental power that fuels both these spirits and the means to fight them. It is generated by all living things, but only a minute fraction of the population can consciously perceive or utilize it. Every person in this room is part of that fraction. You all possess a significant reserve of Cursed Energy. For some of you, it is a latent potential. For others," his gaze flickered to Miko and Mai, and then his eyes stopped on him "It is already a weapon."
Shigeo's heart began to pound. This was it. This was the explanation for the things he'd seen his whole life. The swirling shadows, the distorted faces in the crowd, the oppressive feelings in certain places, it all had a name.
Yurikawa-san, however, just looked confused. She raised her hand. "Um, Sensei? This is a really cool story for a roleplaying game! The setting is super detailed! But why am I here? I'm not really good at acting or anything..."
Sensei didn't smile. He simply walked over to her and pulled a pair of seemingly normal glasses from his pocket. "Put these on."
Hana-san, looking bemused, put them on. "Okay…? They're a little big. Do I look cool?"
"You look like yourself, but with glasses" Yuria muttered drily.
"The glasses are a low-grade Cursed Tool," Sensei explained. "Their function is to allow the wearer to perceive Cursed Energy. They will make the invisible, visible." He then turned to Miko. "Yotsuya. A practical demonstration is required. Call forth Mamoru."
Miko winced, looking at her best friend with an apologetic expression. "Sorry, Hana-chan. It's gonna be a little scary." She placed a hand over her heart. "It's okay, Mamoru. Come out."
The air beside her shimmered. The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. In a flash of ethereal white and dark energy, the massive, demonic-fox form of her Shikigami materialized. It was larger than a wolf, its form a mix of spectral fur and sharp, armor-like plates. It let out a low, guttural growl that vibrated through the floorboards, its glowing crimson eyes scanning the room with predatory intelligence.
The reaction was immediate. Yoshiteru jolted in his seat, adjusting his glasses with a muttered "Whoa. A combat-type summoned beast. Impressive."
Yuria flinched back, her eyes wide with a familiar fear.
But the loudest reaction was from Hana-san.
The cheerful confusion on her face shattered into pure, unadulterated terror. Her blood ran cold. Her breath hitched.
She let out a shrill, terrified scream, scrambling backward so fast her chair screeched across the floor and toppled over. "WHA— WHAT IS THAT?! MIKO-CHAN, WHAT IS THAT THING?! GET IT AWAY! GET IT AWAY FROM ME!"
"It's okay! It's okay! He's friendly! He's mine!" Miko said, rushing forward to grab her friend's arm to stop her from bolting for the door. Mamoru, sensing its master's distress, tilted its head and whined, a surprisingly pathetic sound from such a monstrous being. "I'll explain everything, I promise! Just… just breathe! He won't hurt you!"
Hana-san was hyperventilating, staring at Mamoru like it was her worst nightmare given form. Which, Shigeo supposed, it kind of was.
Sensei continued as if the terrified screaming was a minor interruption, though Miko recalled Mamoru, the Shikigami dissolving back into light and fading into her. "What you saw is a Shikigami, a conjured spirit bound to a sorcerer. Yurikawa, your significant innate Cursed Energy makes you a beacon for such entities. You are here for your own protection and to learn to defend yourself. This is not a game"
The reality of the situation finally crashed down on Hana. She slid to the floor, clutching her knees, her shoulders shaking. Miko knelt beside her, whispering reassurances.
Sensei then launched into further explanations, detailing Innate Techniques, the unique abilities each sorcerer could develop, and the harsh reality of being a Jujutsu Sorcerer. It was a lot to take in. Shigeo listened, mesmerized. There was a whole structure to this hidden world, a name for the power he'd always feared.
Then, Sensei started grading them.
"Based on their latent Cursed Energy reserves and observed potential, there are grades placed to both curses and sorcerers. They are a measure of threat and capability within the jujutsu world." He turned his gaze to Miko. "Yotsuya-san would be a Grade 1. Her energy reserves are substantial, and her synergy with her Shikigami is a significant force multiplier." He looked at Mai. "Sakurajima Mai would be Grade 2. Her technique is versatile and potent, but her energy reserves are currently her limiting factor."
He turned his gaze to the others. "Niguredou Yuria, Yurikawa Hana: both of you possess the energy reserves of a Grade 2 Sorceress, though your technical skills are currently non-existent and will require significant training"
Then he looked at the white-haired boy. "Zaimozuka Yoshiteru. Your energy is stable, substantial, and you show an intuitive understanding of the concepts presented. Grade 1."
The boy, Yoshiteru, pushed his glasses up his nose, a smug, satisfied smirk on his face. "As expected from myself," he muttered. "A fitting rank for my talents."
Finally, Sensei's crimson eyes landed on him. Shigeo froze under that intense, analytical gaze.
"Kageyama Shigeo."
The room went quiet. All eyes turned to him.
"Your potential is… an outlier." Sensei's voice was grave. "The sheer quantity of Cursed Energy you possess is orders of magnitude greater than anyone else in this room. If you were to fully unleash the power you constantly suppress, you would be classified as a Special Grade."
A collective, sharp intake of breath echoed in the room. Even Sakurajima-senpai looked genuinely surprised, her eyebrows rising. Yoshiteru's smirk vanished, replaced by a look of shock.
"Special Grade sorcerers are catastrophes on the same level as natural disasters," Sensei explained. "They are individuals capable of destroying cities alone. There are only a handful in the entire world. Your self-imposed restrictions are the only thing preventing you from being categorized as such immediately. Your control over your own energy, while impressive in the way it keeps it locked, is also holding back your potential"
Shigeo could only stare, his mind reeling. 'Special Grade? A catastrophe?' It was his worst fear confirmed.
A potential he had to learn to manage.
The word "control" echoed in his head, a lifeline Sensei was throwing him.
"All of you," Sensei announced, "Will meet me tonight at 9 p.m. in front of the abandoned textile factory on the industrial road. Your practical training begins there. Do not be late. Yotsuya will help you with the address, you are dismissed"
The meeting was over. As everyone stood in a daze, Miko, having helped a pale but calmer Hana to her feet, quickly pulled out her phone. "Wait, everyone! Let's exchange numbers! We should make a group chat so we can talk and help each other!"
Shigeo, feeling a bit shell-shocked, numbly added his contact information. His phone buzzed soon after with a new message from a group titled, of all things, "Sensei's Study Group."
He looked around at the others, the confident Yoshiteru, the now-terrified-Yurikawa, the intense Yuria, the experienced Miko and Mai.
They were all so different. But they were all connected now. By this terrifying secret. By this strange power. By their sensei
For the first time, he wasn't alone with his burden. He was part of something.
And it was all thanks to Yoshioka-sensei.
A feeling of profound gratitude, mixed with a newfound determination, settled in his chest. He would learn control. With these people, maybe he really could.
Then, Yotsuya-san added "How about we go drink something, all of us?"
Sakurajima-senpai declined "Thanks but no thanks, I need to talk something with sensei, I will see you all at night"
Then they walked off, as a group of misfit teenagers.
And just as they left the hallway, Shigeo noticed another girl from third year that seemed to go in the direction of the classroom they were previously occupying
-------------------------------------
(Sakurajima Mai's POV)
The door clicked shut behind the last of their paranormal group, leaving Mai alone in the classroom with Yoshioka-sensei.
The air now felt charged with a different kind of energy. Her energy.
She leaned back against a desk, adopting a casual pose she knew was flattering. "My, my, Sensei. It seems your little study group is getting quite crowded" She purred, a playful smirk on her lips. "I'll miss the days when your attention was focused solely on Miko-chan and me." 'Especially me' she thought.
He was tidying his desk, not looking at her. "The number of participants is irrelevant. I identified their potential. If others with similar latent abilities are discovered, they will be incorporated into the training regimen. Helping the students realize their potential is something a teacher should do, after all"
Always so clinical.
So detached. It was infuriating and, perversely, part of the attraction. She decided to change tactics, her smirk turning a little sharper.
"You know" She began, tracing a finger along the edge of the desk "There's been a rather noticeable side effect to all this intense... training." She paused for effect "My bras are all useless now. My breast size has increased. Quite significantly, actually."
This finally made him pause. He looked up, those crimson eyes scanning her torso with the same analytical disinterest he'd give a lab specimen. "It is a common physiological response. The development of cursed energy manipulation often accelerates physical maturation and muscle density. The change in mass is to be expected"
Mai's eye twitched. Of course he would reduce the most thrilling development for a teenager to a simple muscle density.
"Expected or not," She said, her voice dripping with sweetness "It's still your fault. You're responsible for this... inconvenient growth spurt." She took a step closer, ready to spring the trap. "So, since it's your responsibility, I think the least you could do is accompany me on a shopping trip to—"
The classroom door slid open with a sharp clack.
Standing in the doorway was Kasumigaoka Utaha, a girl from her year but from a different classroom.
Her eyes, sharp and perceptive, instantly took in the scene: Mai's proximity to Sensei, her suggestive posture, the intimate emptiness of the room after hours
A slow, terribly knowing smile spread across Utaha's face. "My, my. How scandalous," She said, her voice a silken tease. "Was I interrupting something?"
Mai's pleasant mask shattered into a glare. "Yes. You were. Very much so."
Utaha feigned a sigh, placing a hand delicately on her chest. "Such a shame. It looked like such an interesting moment between a teacher and his student." She layered the words with implication, her gaze flicking between them with undisguised amusement. "But alas, I also require Yoshioka-sensei's expertise for a... private literary discussion." She ended with a flirty little tilt of her head toward Sensei, who was watching them both with his usual placid neutrality
Mai's blood boiled. She strode across the room until she was standing directly in front of Utaha, invading her personal space. "His time is booked for the day," Mai stated, her voice low and cold. "My business is more important. It's a matter of... practical necessity."
Utaha's smile didn't falter. She didn't back down an inch. "Is that so? And what practical necessity could possibly outweigh a matter of profound literary interest? I'm sure a man of literature like Sensei would be very interested in discussing the... subtext of my latest inspirations" Mai could feel the faint pressure of Utaha's chest against her own. And in that moment, a petty, victorious thrill shot through her. Hers were definitely bigger now. A small win, but a win nonetheless.
"School hours are over," Mai retorted, her eyes narrowing. "Whatever literary interests you're searching for can wait. You should leave."
"Then by that logic," Utaha countered smoothly, "What are you still doing here, talking so... closely... with a teacher about your under garments after hours?"
So she heard…
"That," Mai hissed, "is none of your business, Kasumigaoka-senpai."
"It becomes my business when it happens in my school and involves a subject of my current research," Utaha shot back, her tone becoming a fraction less playful and a touch more competitive. "I'm crafting a very nuanced character study, and first-hand observation is crucial."
"Find another subject. This one's taken"
"One does not simply choose a muse, Sakurajima-san. They present themselves. And he is a particularly fascinating one."
The standoff stretched, tension crackling in the air between them. Neither was willing to yield.
Finally, in unison, they both turned their heads sharply toward the teacher's desk, their voices overlapping in frustrated demand.
"Sensei, tell her-" "Yoshioka-sensei, perhaps you could—"
They both stopped short.
The desk was empty.
The chair was pushed in perfectly. The stack of papers was neatly aligned.
He was gone. He had vanished without a sound, without a ripple in the air, abandoning them mid-quarrel.
Mai and Utaha stared at the empty space where he had been.
Then, slowly, they turned to look at each other. The fight drained out of them, replaced by a shared, profound sense of frustration and bewildered defeat.
With identical, annoyed huffs, they turned away from each other and strode out of the classroom in opposite directions without another word, the battle ending not with a victory, but with a mutual, unspoken agreement that their enigmatic sensei was the most frustrating, elusive man on the planet.
-----------------------------------
(Yurikawa Hana's POV)
The cafe was a bubble of warm, sugary normality that Hana desperately needed after the mind-shattering revelations of the afternoon.
She'd decided the best way to process the existence of soul-eating monsters was to combat it with an equal force of positive energy: namely, a mountain of desserts.
A half-eaten parfait, a plate with a few crumbs of cheesecake, and the remains of a large chocolate crepe sat before her.
She was currently making significant headway on a towering slice of strawberry shortcake.
Across the table, her new… study group? Watched her with varying degrees of awe and concern.
Niguredou Yuria, who had a permanent look of someone who'd just bitten into a lemon, finally broke the silence. "Where does it all go?" She blurted out, staring at Hana's empty plates. "Seriously. From the time we have been friends I have seen you eat a lot but you don't seem to get fat"
Hana paused, a forkful of cake and cream filling her mouth.
She turned her big, innocent eyes to Yuria in confusion, not understanding her question.
Then, as if the world decided to answer the question, she shifted in her seat, causing her generous chest to bounce slightly with the movement.
Yuria's eyes went wide. Her cheeks flushed a faint pink. She immediately looked down at her own iced tea. "…Nevermind. I figured it out."
The two boys at the table, Kageyama-kun and the weird white-haired one, Zaimozuka? Followed Yuria's initial gaze.
Their eyes landed on Hana's chest for a split second before they both snapped their heads away as if scalded, their faces turning a brilliant, matching shade of red.
Kageyama seemed to find the pattern on the tablecloth utterly fascinating, while Zaimozuka adjusted his glasses with nervous, fumbling fingers.
Not knowing what the issue was, Hana happily took the bite of another cake
After swallowing, she set her fork down and turned to her best friend. Her expression grew serious for the first time since they'd sat down. "So, Miko-chan… all those times… you could really see them? Those… things?"
Miko nodded, her expression soft and a little sad. "Yeah. For a time."
"And you've been… protecting me from them? For a while?"
Another nod.
Hana's eyes welled up with tears. In a sudden, dramatic motion, she launched herself across the table, wrapping her arms around Miko in a bone-crushing hug. "I'M SO SORRY!" she wailed, drawing stares from other cafe patrons "You had to go through all that alone! Don't you worry! Now that I know, I'm gonna get super strong too! I'll protect you! I'll protect everyone with the power of love and friendship!"
Miko, used to her friend's dramatics, just patted her back. "It's okay, Hana-chan. I wasn't totally alone. I had Mai-senpai. And… Sensei."
Hana pulled back, sniffling. That name jogged her memory. "That's right! Yoshioka-sensei! It's so weird to think he's part of all this secret sorcery society stuff too!"
The white-haired boy, Zaimozuka, pushed his glasses up his nose, a smug look returning to his face. "It is only expected! A man shrouded in such palpable mystery and a fate that hangs over him like a storm cloud… it was obvious he was a player in the hidden world!" He struck a pose in his seat. "But do not fear! I, the great Zaimozuka Yoshiteru, am also here! I will demonstrate a power that will make the entire Jujutsu world tremble!"
Everyone at the table politely ignored him. Miko instead turned to the quiet boy, Kageyama. "It's really amazing, Kageyama-kun. Sensei said you'd be a Special Grade. He said there are only a few in the whole world. You must be incredibly strong."
Kageyama shrunk in his seat, a deep blush spreading across his cheeks. "I… it's really not… I'm not that special…" he mumbled into his soda.
Hana's mind, now fuelled by sugar and a desperate need for stability, latched onto a new thought. "Speaking of grades…" she said, tapping her chin. "What grade do you think Sensei is?"
The question landed like a stone in the pond. Everyone went quiet, considering it for the first time.
Yuria turned to Miko. "You were his first student, right? You must know."
Miko frowned, thinking hard. "He's never said. Not once. But… every curse we've ever found, he deals with it like it's nothing. Even the big ones. He's… really strong. But I have no idea what his Innate Technique even is. He never uses one. He just… does things."
A shiver ran through the group. Their teacher was powerful enough to classify them, but his own power was a complete enigma.
Hana sighed, slumping back in her chair. "This is all so crazy."
Yuria, ever the pragmatist, looked uneasy. "What kind of training do you think he's going to put us through tonight? At that factory?"
At that, Miko's face paled. A visible sweat broke out on her temple.
She looked at their hopeful, nervous, and completely inexperienced faces, Hana's determined pout, Yuria's scowl, Zaimozuka's arrogance, Kageyama's timid curiosity
She offered a weak, terribly unconvincing smile.
"You'll… you'll be fine," she said, her voice a little too high. "I think."
The way she said it made Hana suddenly lose her appetite for the last bite of cake.
----------------------------------------------------
(Momobami Kirari's POV)
The private room was a sanctum of velvet and quiet tension, a world away from the electric clamor of the casino floor below.
Kirari sat at the elegant green baize table, her fingers playing against the table, a slow, anticipatory smile playing on her lips.
The call had been a delightful surprise.
A report from a subordinate, his voice laced with a rare tremor of awe, that he had contacted them. That he had requested an audience. That he wished to place a gamble.
Against her.
The mysterious Yoshioka Akira, the storm-cloud man that had descended upon the Shinomiya gala, was seeking her out.
The sheer, intoxicating novelty of it had made her agree without a second thought.
What could he possibly want?
What did a man who seemed to answer to no one need from the Momobami clan? The not-knowing was the most exquisite part.
Her men had picked him up. The report was succinct: "He did not speak. He showed no reaction. He is as you reported"
Of course he was. Anyone else would be sweating in the back of the car, their mind racing with fear or ambition.
But not him. His utter, unshakeable calm was what made him the most fascinating man she had ever encountered.
A soft chime echoed from the earpiece of one of her guards. The man listened, then leaned in. "He has arrived, Ma'am."
The smile on Kirari's lips widened. She glanced to her side, where her twin sister, Ririka, stood poised and silent, her existence masked behind the fixed, smiling white mask.
A slight tilt of Kirari's head was the only instruction needed. 'Observe. Be ready'
The double doors swung open.
He entered as he had at the gala, like a sovereign entering his domain.
The atmosphere in the room tightened, the air growing still and heavy around him.
He ignored the guards, the opulent surroundings, everything. His crimson eyes found her immediately and held her gaze.
Without a word of greeting or a waiting for an invitation, he pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down.
"Momobami-san," he stated. His voice was flat and calm just as she remembered it
"My, Yoshioka-sensei" She purred, layering the title with a sultry, teasing emphasis. "Imagine my surprise when you called, stating you wanted to talk. What would you need of little old me?"
He crossed his arms, the motion fluid and effortless. "Soubu High's Cultural Festival is closing in"
"Oh?" she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "And what of it?"
"I want you to do two things for me."
"Do tell, Yoshioka-sensei."
"Sponsor the cultural festival. And investigate the Vice-Principal of the school. I suspect he is swindling funds."
Kirari let out a soft, musical laugh "Oh my, a teacher caring for his students and his school. How responsible. But what would the mighty Momobami clan gain from performing such… charitable acts?"
Yoshioka's expression didn't change. "I am already aware of how you operate. Stop with the pretence and state your terms."
The directness was like a splash of cold, thrilling water. She smiled, a sharp, predatory thing, and snapped her fingers.
Ririka stepped forward from the shadows, a pristine deck of cards appearing in her hands.
Her movements were a silent, elegant dance.
"A game of Blackjack" Kirari declared. "The first to win five rounds is the victor. What do you think?"
He gave a single, slight nod. "You have not stated what you want should you win."
Kirari's smile turned wicked. "When I win, I want you, Yoshioka-kun, to go on a date with me. A real one. Perhaps then, you will be more inclined to reveal a few of those delicious secrets you keep so close"
He merely placed his hands on the table, his gaze unwavering. "I will not lose. Even though you are cheating."
The air in the room froze. Kirari knew Ririka's hands had stuttered for a microsecond.
Kirari's smile didn't falter, but it grew colder. "And why would you think I'd cheat?"
"For starters," he said, his voice devoid of accusation, simply stating facts "You have your shadow managing the cards. Your sister, the one in the mask. Observing her technique, the slight-of-hand is proficient but visible to my eyes. It would be a simple matter for her to stack the deck"
A faint, almost imperceptible gasp came from behind the white mask. Kirari's own mask of amusement finally slipped, replaced by a flicker of genuine, stunned surprise. Ririka's existence, her role, was a secret known only to the innermost heart of the Momobami family.
He had not only identified her as a separate entity but had seen through her purpose instantly.
"How…?" Kirari breathed, her composure cracking for the first time.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "If you win, I will tell you. During our… date. You may deal the cards"
The crack in her composure sealed instantly, replaced by a wave of pure, ecstatic thrill. 'He knew' And he was still playing.
This was better than she could have ever imagined.
Her smile returned, wider and more unhinged than before. "Deal"
Ririka, recovering her poise with visible effort, collected the cards. Her shuffle was a work of art, a fluid cascade of pasteboard that whispered against itself.
The first round started.
Ririka dealt and Kirari received a 9 and a Queen. A strong 19.
Yoshioka showed a 5 of clubs. Kirari stood. Yoshioka turned over his hole card: a 10. He drew a 7. He busted with 22
"A promising start" Kirari mused, as Ririka gathered the cards with a fluid motion.
Then came round two and Kirari was dealt an Ace and a Jack right off the top. Blackjack. A perfect, unbeatable hand.
She didn't even look at Yoshioka's cards, a King and an 8. "Luck seems to be a lady tonight" She sang, her confidence swelling. This was too easy. Was he even trying?
Then the next cards came. Kirari had a 7 and a Queen. 17. A risky number. Yoshioka showed a 6. Kirari bit her lip, a tiny thrill of risk.
She should stand.
But something in his impassive face dared her. "Hit me," She said. Ririka slid a card from the bottom of the deck.
A 3, to give her a total of 20. A much safer number.
Kirari let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Stand"
Yoshioka turned over his card: a 10. Giving him 16.
He drew another card. A 3. Now he had 19. He had lost.
"The tide is turning, Yoshioka-kun" She said, though a tiny seed of doubt was planted. He had come close that time.
Round 4 started and Ririka's dealing was flawless. Kirari looked at her hand: An Ace and a 10. Another Blackjack.
She couldn't help the triumphant smile that spread across her face. He hadn't even gotten a chance to play. "You barely seem to be trying" She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. "Are you already dreaming of our date? That's four to zero. One more and you're mine."
He didn't answer. He simply looked at her, and for the first time, she saw a shift in those depthless crimson eyes.
The placid lake had iced over.
"Playtime is over," he stated.
The air in the room changed. It grew colder, sharper.
Came round 5, Ririka dealt again. Kirari received a 9 and a 7. A 16, a terrible hand. Yoshioka showed a 10.
Gritting her teeth, Kirari made a subtle gesture.
Ririka, her hands trembling slightly, dealt from a specific part of the deck and gave a 5, the necessary for her to get a 21.
She looked at Yoshioka, expecting bust cards. He turned over his hole card: a 7.
He looked at Ririka. "Hit"
The command was soft but absolute. Ririka, compelled, dealt the top card and it was a 4. Another 21. A perfect tie.
The victory was stolen from her.
Kirari's smile tightened.
The next round came, the cards flew. Yoshioka: King of Spades. Ace of Spades. Blackjack.
He didn't even wait for Kirari to finish her hand. "Twenty-one" He stated. The score was 4-1.
Next round, Kirari was dealt a 20. A fantastic hand. She felt a surge of hope.
Yoshioka showed a 6.
He turned over his hole card: An Ace. 17.
A weak hand against her 20. "Hit" he said.
Ririka, as if pulled by a string, turned over the next card. It was a 4. 21, he won again.
The score was new 4-2. Kirari's palms were beginning to sweat.
They continued, Kirari had 18.
Yoshioka: 10 and a 2. A horrible hand. He would have to hit.
He would almost certainly bust. He looked at Ririka. "The third card from the top." His voice was hypnotic. Ririka, her breath hitching, revealed the card he named.
It was a 9.
Again.
The score was 4-3. Kirari was gripping the edge of the table.
The next round, panic was beginning to set in. Kirari's hand was a 15.
Yoshioka showed a 9. She signalled frantically
Ririka, now pale behind her mask, dealt from the bottom. A 5. She had a 20, a strong, safe hand. Yoshioka turned over his hole card: a 10.
He would lose! But then he spoke, his voice calm. "The card you are hiding beneath the deck. Deal it." Ririka flinched as if struck.
With a shaking hand, she revealed a card she had palmed, a Two. She slid it to him. 21. The score was tied, 4-4.
It was the final round. The air was so thick it was hard to breathe.
Akira's lips quirked in that infuriating, captivating almost-smile. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, closing his eyes. "I won't even look."
Kirari felt a jolt of pure, unadulterated arousal shoot through her. His arrogance, his absolute, unshakeable confidence… it was maddening.
It was perfect.
"Deal" She whispered, her voice hoarse.
Ririka dealt the final hand. Her hands, usually so steady, were now visibly shaking. She turned over Kirari's cards: a 9 and a Queen. 19.
A strong, almost unbeatable hand.
Then, with all the ceremony of an execution, she turned over Yoshioka's cards.
Ace of Spades. Ace of Hearts. Blackjack. 21.
He had done it. Eyes closed. Without a single look. He had beaten her at her own game, in her own house, with her own stacked deck.
Silence filled the room.
Yoshioka Akira opened his eyes. He stood up, straightening his clothes with a single, fluid motion.
"Do not forget our deal, Momobami-san" He said, and turned to leave.
As he reached the door, a compulsion she couldn't control seized her.
Kirari launched herself from her chair, crossing the room in a few quick strides.
She grabbed his arm, pulling him back with a strength that surprised even her.
He turned, and before he could react, she pulled him down and pressed a fierce, claiming kiss to his cheek.
When she pulled back, her chest was heaving, her face flushed with a thrill she hadn't felt since the dice first chose her "No man" She breathed, her voice trembling with excitement, "Has ever made me feel this way. If you ever want anything… I am yours for the taking"
He didn't react to the kiss, to the declaration
He simply raised a hand, wiped his cheek with the back of his sleeve with a slow, deliberate motion, and walked out without another word.
The door clicked shut.
Ririka finally stepped forward, her shoulders slumped. The mask hid her face, but her defeat was evident in her posture. "Sister… I… I don't know how he…"
Kirari held up a hand, silencing her. She brought her own fingers to her lips, a slow, mesmerized smile spreading across her face.
She wasn't angry. She was enthralled.
"That" She whispered, her eyes fixed on the door where he had vanished, "is precisely what makes him so enchanting, dear sister."