Chapter XIII - If You Tell Anyone, I’ll Kill You (III)

April 13th. One Week Later.

It began innocently enough.

A week had passed since Minazuki Serena had entered Class 2-A and promptly established herself as untouchable. For seven days, I'd observed her from a respectful distance, taking note of her habits: she was always precisely three minutes late to homeroom, never participated in class discussions unless directly called upon, and spent lunch periods in the library reference section with a book that looked like Italian poetry.

Her isolation wasn't due to a lack of effort from the class either. The girls had attempted conversation, inviting her to join them at lunch. She'd declined with such icy civility that the invitations soon ceased. And of course, the guys had tried as well—usually in the form of clumsy flirtation or offers to carry her bag—but her cold indifference transformed into outright contempt whenever one of them spoke to her.

But I wasn't like other guys! I'd given her space! I'd been patient! So I approached her desk after Modern Literature, when most students had already left for lunch.

"Minazuki-san," I began, keeping my voice pleasant and professional. "How are you settling in?"

"Fine."

"Great! I was wondering if you'd received all the necessary textbooks? Sometimes the office misses things with transfer students."

"I have everything."

"That's good to hear! Also, club recruitment starts next week. I could help you find something that matches your interests. Maybe the music club? I heard your father is a music critic, so—"

"I'm not interested."

I blinked. "In joining the music club?"

"In anything."

"Oh... well, maybe we could—"

"Look," she interrupted, her icy gaze locking with mine. I hadn't even realized that she was already packing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder as she stood. "I'm not interested in any of your suggestions. I'm not interested in clubs, or friendships, or anything to do with this school. I'm here because I have to be. That's all."

The dismissal was like a slap to my face, but I continued to pursue her regardless.

"Of course! I'm sure you'll find something perfect on your own. By the way, have you explored the eastern courtyard yet? The cherry blossoms are at their peak, and—"

"Are you always this exhausting?"

"I'm... just trying to help." My smile felt strained, even to me.

"And like I said before, I don't need your help."

She strode out of the classroom, leaving me in her wake, feeling more frustrated than ever. Her rejection was so complete, so comprehensive, that it made every other dismissal I'd endured pale in comparison.

Sairenji, who had been organizing papers at the front of the room, approached me with a sympathetic expression.

"Kagami-kun, perhaps she's just—"

"She's shy," I insisted, ignoring the heat in my cheeks. "It's a big adjustment. She'll come around."

But even as I said it, something twisted in my stomach. Not defeat—not yet.

Just... determination.

I'd find a way to reach her. I'd prove to her—and everyone else—that I could be helpful. That I could be useful. That I wasn't the worthless piece of trash I'd always known myself to be.

I would fix her.

April 20th. Two Weeks Later.

"Minazuki-san!"

I jogged to catch up with her in the hallway before morning homeroom. She didn't slow her pace, but I fell into step beside her, slightly out of breath.

"I noticed you weren't at the class meeting yesterday," I said, attempting to match her long strides. "We discussed ideas for the upcoming sports festival. I took notes for you." To that, I held out a carefully written sheet of paper.

She didn't even glance at it.

"I wasn't planning to participate."

"Oh... Well, everyone is expected to contribute something to the conversation. It's part of our grade."

"I'll take the zero."

"That seems unnecessary when there are so many options. You could help with decorations, or organizing events, or even—"

"Are you actually incapable of taking a hint?"

She stopped walking so suddenly that I nearly tripped over my own feet.

"I don't want your notes. I don't want your suggestions. I don't want anything from you."

Students in the hallway were beginning to stare. I felt my smile freeze on my face.

"I understand," so I said, though I didn't. Not really. "But as class representative, it's my responsibility to make sure everyone is included."

"Well, consider me officially excluded. By choice." She turned and continued toward the classroom, leaving me standing in the hallway with my useless notes.

Later, at lunch, Akise found me brooding over my bento.

"The Crimson Witch rejected your offerings again?" he ventured, dropping into the seat beside me.

"...Don't call her that. Also, she's just adjusting. She'll come around."

Akise's expression weirdly hardened at that.

"Shou-chan, not everyone wants to be saved. Some people just want to be left the hell alone."

I ended up stabbing at my rice with more force than necessary.

May 8th. Four Weeks Later.

The English assignment was group work. It was three people per team, selected by seat proximity but also some random factors. By what I told myself was pure coincidence, I ended up paired with Minazuki Serena and Haruki Riku. As if he were programmed to do so, Haruki immediately buried himself in his tablet and made it clear he expected us to handle the presentation.

"I can start on the outline... unless you'd prefer to take the lead?" I offered, turning to Minazuki-san with a smile I hoped appeared casual.

"I don't care," she replied. She didn't even bother to look up from what she was writing in a journal that she was always carrying around. I assumed she was writing in Italian.

"Great! I was thinking we could analyze how cultural differences affect the protagonist's perspective. Since you have experience with both Japanese and Italian culture, your insights would be really valuable."

She finally glanced at me, her expression unreadable... but also far sharper than usual.

"So that's why you're so persistent. You think I'm some exotic specimen to study."

"What? No! I just meant—"

"I know what you meant." She stood, gathering her things. "I'll email my part to you tonight. We don't need to discuss it further."

"But we're supposed to collaborate on—"

"I said I'll email it."

She walked away, leaving me with the terminally online gremelin who didn't even bother looking up from his tablet.

"Smooth," the gremelin muttered.

I resisted the urge to throw my textbook at him.

May 24th. Six Weeks Later.

Minazuki-san had missed three days of school. While I couldn't say this was unusual for her, she often disappeared for a day or two at a time, so it was my job to deliver the class materials to absent students.

At least, that's what I told myself as I stood outside her apartment building, a sleek high-rise overlooking Yokohama Bay. The doorman eyed me suspiciously until I showed him my school ID and the stack of handouts. All students had their homelines and addresses listed in the student directory, and so I had easily acquired her address.

"Minazuki Serena-san, 14th floor. School business." I explained to him, and he allowed me inside the lobby. I took the elevator to her floor, trying to ignore the fluttering in my stomach. It wasn't excitement, I told myself. Just nerves.

I clearly didn't want to see her outside of school, of course. But she was absent, and she needed the materials. That's all this was. Duty.

I knocked on the door of apartment 1406. Silence.

I waited.

Nothing.

I knocked again, slightly louder.

Still nothing.

Just as I was about to leave the papers in a neat stack by her door, it swung open. Minazuki-san stood there in a black silk robe, with scarlet hair loose around her shoulders. As if she knew I was entralled in her beauty, her blue eyes narrowed irritably that intensified the moment she recognized me.

"...What are you doing here?" She made no move to open the door further.

"You've been absent," I explained, holding up the handouts. "I brought your assignments. Fujimiya-sensei asked me to make sure you had them."

This was, strictly speaking, not true. Fujimiya-sensei had merely mentioned that Minazuki-san was absent; I had volunteered to deliver the materials.

Minazuki-san stared at me, then at the papers, then back at me.

"Leave them by the door."

"There's also a group project for Science. I thought we could discuss—"

"No."

"It's worth thirty percent of our grade this trimester. If we could just—"

"Kagami." Her voice was folded steel. "I don't care about the project. I don't care about my grades. And I especially don't care about you. Why can't you understand that I don't want your help, your company, or your concern? What's wrong with you?"

I felt my cheeks flush, partly from embarrassment but mostly from anger. Who the hell was she to talk to me like this? After everything I'd done to try to include her, to help her fit in, to make her feel welcome...

But then I remembered my role. Class representative. Helper. Guide.

So I relented.

"I'm just trying to do my job," I said quietly.

"Your job isn't to stalk me at my home."

"I'm not—that's not—Fujimiya-sensei gave me your address! This is normal procedure for—"

"...What the hell? You're such a creep."

Her eyes had widened in shock and then narrowed in disdain, but I was far too caught up in my own emotions to notice the shift. Despite that, I couldn't muster a response. She was right. No matter how I tried to rationalize it, this had crossed a line. And I was standing there, holding her assignments like some kind of desperate stalker, proving her point for her.

What was wrong with me?

Why couldn't I just leave her alone?

Why did her rejection feel so personal, so painful?

"Just leave the papers and go." She started to close the door which jolted me out of my stupor.

"Wait! The Science project—"

The redhead paused, those ice-blue eyes assessing me with frightening intensity.

"Fine. Email me the details. I'll do my part. Now leave."

The door slammed closed, leaving me standing in the hallway with half the papers still in my hands.