Shimizu Akira didn't bother guessing what Kushida Kikyō was thinking—to him, this was simply the most natural reaction.
Any normal person who encountered such a deliberately difficult shop would've argued with the staff on the spot. Complaining afterward and leaving a bad review? Perfectly reasonable.
After a brief consideration, he decided to directly contact the student council president, explaining the situation in full detail—even attaching a screenshot of the free-dessert disclaimer.
In this school, when students ran into trouble, aside from their homeroom teacher, the most reliable person to turn to was the student council president. Especially for consumer disputes, handing it over to the student council was clearly the safer option.
Not long after sending the message, Horikita Manabu's status showed "Read."
The reply came quickly, asking for specific details:
Was the ice cream's quality acceptable?
Did the pricing comply with school regulations?
Were the terms clearly explained at purchase?
Shimizu answered each question patiently and methodically. When he sent the last response, Horikita Manabu replied with just one concise phrase:
"Understood."
The chat log stopped there, yet Shimizu inexplicably felt reassured—he knew Horikita's style. If he said "Understood," he would handle it properly.
"Let's go." He stood up as soon as Kushida finished the last sip of her mango juice.
After that scene in the shop, there was no point lingering.
"Sure~" Kushida chirped, nudging the empty cup onto the tray with her fingertips.
...
Without further conversation, the two headed straight for the karaoke bar.
The moment they opened the private room door, the disco lights had just completed half a rotation. Kushida immediately grabbed the mic, her fingers flying across the control panel to adjust the volume.
As soon as the intro played, she swayed lightly to the rhythm—her voice, when she started singing, was clear and steady. Of course, someone this cute would sing beautifully too.
When the song ended, the screen displayed a score solidly above 90, even overshadowing the backing harmonies.
Seeing the smile in her eyes as she set the mic down, Shimizu figured it out—she must come here often with friends. Practice really does polish skill.
"Your turn, Shimizu-kun." Kushida handed him the other mic. "Pick something you like?"
He paused briefly before accepting it.
Unfamiliar with J-pop, he scrolled through the song list for a while before settling on two anime theme songs.
As the intro played, his fingers unconsciously tapped against the sofa armrest.
Though it was his first time singing them, his rhythm was decent—just that his deeper tone contrasted sharply with Kushida's bright voice.
The disco lights spun twice. When he reached the chorus, he caught Kushida resting her chin on her hand, smiling, her fingers tapping along on her knee.
Honestly, the emotional support Kushida Kikyō provided was just too perfect.
Every time Shimizu hit a high note, she'd clap at just the right moment—soft but audible.
When there was a duet part, she'd naturally pick up the second mic, her voice blending surprisingly well with his.
Even when simply listening, her gaze never left him.
Shimizu had hung out with girls in his past life, but never one like this—her sense of distance was flawless. Not overly enthusiastic, yet making it unmistakably clear she was paying attention.
After the song ended, Kushida handed him a chilled bottle of water with a smile: "Shimizu-kun, you're better than I expected."
"Thanks." He twisted the cap open with a light click. The ice-cold water slid down his throat—only then realizing they'd been singing for nearly half an hour.
The disco lights had spun countless times. In the glass on the table, only a sliver of ice remained.
"Ah, Shimizu-kun, can I ask you something?" Kushida suddenly shifted closer, the sofa dipping slightly under her weight. She tilted her head. "Do you know… why Horikita-san seems to dislike me? I noticed you two have gotten closer lately. What should I do to get along with her? Oh, and the student council president shares her surname—are they related?"
(...So gathering intel on Horikita Suzune was part of her goal too, huh?)
Shimizu wasn't surprised.
He spun the water bottle in his hands before answering slowly:
"She probably just isn't used to your personality. We have gotten closer, but I can't help you with that. The president is her older brother—they're siblings."
After all, from the moment they entered the karaoke room, she'd maintained an impeccable atmosphere—never letting applause fall flat, never missing a beat in duets, even her smiling gaze never wavered.
That "perfection" carried sincerity. Even if it was an act, it was convincing enough to warrant a genuine response.
"Oh… Did she ever mention anything about her old school to you?" Kushida asked again, feigning nonchalance.
"No."
"I see~!" Her eyes brightened, the smile spreading to her lips as she clapped lightly. "Thanks for telling me, Shimizu-kun!"
(This guy's so easy to handle.)
Kushida's fingers hovered over the song selection screen as she mused—he answered so readily this time, way more compliant than when he was evasive before.
(Well, I did treat him like a boyfriend today. Anyone would soften up, right?)
(Honestly, it's my first time putting this much effort into a guy.)
She stole a glance at Shimizu's profile, her lips quirking up—finally got something useful out of him.
(So Horikita Suzune's brother is the student council president…)
But before that thought settled, another one overrode it:
(But she didn't tell him about middle school. Does she recognize me? Does she know about my past?)
Her thoughts tangled until she remembered one last unresolved matter.
(Ah, right—the lap pillow.)
She clicked her tongue inwardly, a little conflicted, then looked at Shimizu again—this guy went at that parfait like a wolf earlier, but sang so seriously just now. Maybe he's not that bad.
(Whatever, a bet's a bet. Consider it payback for the chest-groping last time.)
Decision made, she smoothed over her hesitation and flashed a sweet smile, patting her lap. Her skirt swayed slightly.
"Shimizu-kun, lap pillow time~"
When he blinked in surprise, she added:
"A deal's a deal. But keep it secret, okay? Just like last time—don't tell anyone."
Her tone brooked no refusal, yet her fingers subtly straightened her skirt—even if it's just losing a bet, letting a guy use my lap as a pillow… is kinda embarrassing.