Chapter 137: Presentation Day Take Two (and a Public Declaration?)

Presentation day arrives again, this time for the actual literature project. Aiwa and I stand at the front of the classroom, our hastily repaired PowerPoint loaded, our nerves frayed. The entire class is watching us with unconcealed anticipation, clearly expecting more drama. Rina and Haruka sit in the back row like two imperious judges, their arms crossed. Kenji is in the front row, giving us two enthusiastic but slightly terrifying thumbs-up. Miki and Hana are pretending to be invisible in the corner.

Aiwa looks like she is about to vibrate out of existence from nervousness. I give her what I hope is a reassuring nod. 'We survived Kenji's ninja suit. We can survive this.'

We begin. I handle the introduction, my voice only slightly trembling. Then, it is Aiwa's turn. She takes a deep breath, clutches her notes, and begins to speak about the poem's themes.

Her voice starts as a shaky whisper. But as she speaks, something changes. She glances at me, and I give her another small nod. She seems to draw strength from it. Her voice steadies, gains clarity. LUNA-Lite emerges, not as a defense mechanism, but as a tool for confident expression. She speaks passionately, eloquently, her love for the subject shining through. She forgets the audience, forgets Rina and Haruka, and just shares her insights. She is brilliant.

The class is captivated. Even Mrs. Sato looks impressed.

We move to the Q&A. A few standard questions arise, which we handle smoothly as a team, our earlier practice paying off. Then, the notoriously difficult classmate from before raises his hand again, a smug look on his face.

"Matsuki-san," he says condescendingly. "Your analysis was interesting, but ultimately derivative. It fails to account for the proto-feminist undertones clearly present in Lady Murasaki's later work. How do you reconcile this obvious omission?"

It is a blatant attempt to show off and undermine her. Aiwa freezes, thrown off by the aggressive question.

Before I can jump in, LUNA-Lite roars to life. Aiwa looks the classmate directly in the eye, her expression cool and unwavering.

"While it is true that proto-feminist themes emerge in Murasaki's later writings," she says, her voice ringing with LUNA's authority, "applying that lens anachronistically to this specific poem overlooks its primary focus on Buddhist aesthetics and the concept of 'mono no aware.' Your interpretation is not only derivative of later critical theory, but fundamentally misreads the poem's core emotional and philosophical context." She pauses for effect. "It is, frankly, a shallow analysis."

Mic drop.

The entire class is stunned into silence. The difficult classmate turns bright red and sinks lower in his seat. Even Mrs. Sato looks vaguely terrified.

Aiwa holds the silence for a beat longer, then the LUNA persona recedes. She blushes, gives a small, flustered bow, and quickly gathers her notes. "Th-that concludes our presentation," she stammers in her normal voice.

A beat of silence, then the classroom erupts in spontaneous, genuine applause. It is not just polite clapping; it is impressed, awe-struck applause. Even Rina and Haruka are clapping, albeit with slightly stunned expressions.

As we walk back to our seats, relief washes over me. We did it. We actually did it. Aiwa turns to me, a brilliant, dazzling smile lighting up her face. It is a smile of pure, unadulterated triumph and relief.

And then, fueled by adrenaline and a complete disregard for the consequences, she does something incredibly stupid and incredibly brave. Right there, in front of the entire class, in front of Rina and Haruka and Kenji, she leans in and quickly, decisively, kisses me.

Not on the cheek this time. On the lips.

It lasts for maybe two seconds. Two seconds of stunned silence, followed by the sound of Kenji fainting (again), Rina letting out a strangled gasp of fury, Haruka's eyes widening in shock, and the entire classroom erupting into a chaotic frenzy of whispers and pointing.

Aiwa pulls back, her face the color of a supernova, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and exhilaration. She has just publicly staked her claim, consequences be damned.

My brain blue-screens for the third time this week. The fragile peace, the subtle maneuvering, it is all over. Aiwa has just launched a full-scale romantic invasion. And I am ground zero.