Standing on Business

The classroom felt strangely hollow after the incident.

Most of the desks were empty, sunlight stretching in long stripes across the floor. A few students lingered near the back, packing up slowly, their voices a low hum that barely reached the front.

Miyu-chan sat at her usual seat by the window, her bag still unopened, books stacked neatly on the desk as if she’d forgotten how to move.

Her fingers picked at the edge of her notebook. Her glasses had slipped halfway down her nose again, but this time she didn’t bother pushing them up.

Fuyumi Kujo stood by the teacher’s podium, arms lightly folded, watching her.

Even in the same school uniform, she carried the same quiet authority.

Near the doorway, leaning against a desk with an annoyed expression, Doumeki Setsuna clicked her tongue.

“I still can’t believe you just stood there,” Setsuna-san muttered. “Again.”

Miyu flinched. “I… I didn’t just… ”

“You did,” Setsuna-san cut in, pushing off the desk and walking closer.

“You watched him. You watched them. Near the gate this morning. Then in front of the whole class. You saw Ryoken pulling that fake tough-guy act, and you didn’t say anything until the very end.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not okay.”

“Setsuna-san.” Kujo’s voice was calm, but there was a warning in it. “You’re scaring her.”

“I’m telling her the truth,” Setsuna-san shot back. “Someone has to.”

Miyu’s shoulders curled inward.

The scene from earlier kept replaying in her head, Ryoken’s hand clenched in Arata’s collar, Haru trembling, the looks on everyone’s faces when she finally shouted.

Her throat tightened.

“I… didn’t understand what was happening,” she said quietly.

“It… it didn’t used to be like this.” Miyu-chan confessed.

Kujo-san tilted her head slightly. “What do you mean, ‘used to’?”

Miyu-chan stared down at her hands. “Ryoken-kun… he wasn’t always like that.”

Setsuna-san scoffed. “He’s always been an arrogant rich boy. This just proves it.”

Miyu-chan shook her head quickly.

“No. He’s not like that,” she snapped back.

That made even Setsuna pause.

Kujo stepped away from the podium and pulled a nearby chair to Miyu’s desk, sitting beside her rather than across.

“Explain,” Kujo-san said gently.

“We’re going to get to the bottom of this together, okay?” she added reassuringly.

Miyu-chan took a slow breath.

“Before this term started… Ryoken-kun was loud, yes, but he was… considerate. In his own way,” she said.

“He’d grumble about homework, complain about teachers, but if I dropped my books, he’d pick them up before anyone else moved. If someone blocked the hallway, he’d clear a path and tell me to walk ahead.”

Her lips trembled into a faint, sad smile.

“He used to ask me about my favorite authors. He even tried to read one of the romance novels I liked. He complained the whole time, but… at least he tried.”

Setsuna’s brow furrowed. “And then?”

“Then…” Miyu’s gaze drifted toward the back of the room, where the arrogant new students usually gathered, those laughing too loudly, feet on desks, always orbiting around Ryoken like satellites.

“Then the new term started. Those transfer students came. The loud ones. The ones who laugh whenever he does anything. At first, they just followed him around. Then they started calling him ‘Ryoken-sama’ as a joke.”

She swallowed.

“And he… started playing along.” Miyu-chan hesitated to finish her sentence.

Kujo’s eyes sharpened. “Playing along, how?”

“At first it was harmless,” Miyu-chan said.

“He’d lean back in his chair, act cooler than usual. Brush people off. Talk like everything was boring. But it changed so fast. He started picking on weaker students in front of them. Just words at first, calling them slow, pathetic… telling them to ‘know their place’,” she added bitterly.

Her hands tightened.

“He never did that before. Never.” Miyu-chan clutched her uniform tightly.

Setsuna-san crossed her arms, expression dark.

“So he traded being decent for being worshipped.”

Miyu-chan winced but didn’t argue.

“And with you?” Kujo asked quietly. “What changed between you and Ryoken-kun?”

Miyu hesitated, cheeks flushing.

“He stopped… asking,” she said.

“He used to say, ‘Can I walk with you?’ or ‘Is this seat taken?’."

"Nowadays. I feel like my life is for him to decide.”

Her voice dropped. “He started standing closer. Blocking people who came to my desk. Staring at anyone who talked to me for too long. I… I could feel the room change every time he walked in.”

“And you never told him to back off,” Setsuna-san said, not unkindly this time, just flat.

“I kept thinking… maybe he’s just pretending. Maybe it’s just an act.” Miyu-chan spoke softly.

“It is an act,” Setsuna-san said. 

“But that doesn’t make it harmless,” she added sternly.

Kujo-san nodded slowly. “Especially when he chose to ‘act’ by turning Haru-kun into a prop. And by using your gaze as his spotlight.”

Miyu-chan looked up, stunned. “My… gaze?”

Kujo-san met her eyes.

“You noticed, didn’t you? Every time you were in the classroom, he was louder. Crueler. He glanced your way between lines. He made sure you could see.”

Miyu’s heart pounded. The memory of Ryoken’s face when she shouted his name earlier, something almost flashed in her mind.

“I thought… if I didn’t react, it would stop,” she whispered.

“If I pretended not to see, he’d get bored. Go back to the way he was. But today, when Arata-san stepped in and told him to bully him instead… it felt like everything snapped.”

Setsuna-san’s jaw tightened. “That boy is going to get in trouble sooner or later,” she said bitterly, remembering the smug face of Arata-kun when she saw him scan the school notice board.

Miyu-chan flinched at the word.

Kujo-san’s tone softened. “You’re frightened of Ryoken-kun now, aren’t you?”

Miyu-chan didn’t try to deny it.

“When he grabbed Arata-san’s collar, I… I could see how far he’d gone into the act. I… don’t want him to become someone like that because of me.” Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes.

Setsuna-san’s eyes flashed. “Listen carefully, Miyu-chan.”

She moved closer, bracing one hand on the desk.

“You are not responsible for ‘breaking’ him,” she said. “He chose this. He chose those idiots who cheer whenever he crushes someone. He chose to turn from the boy who picked up your books into the boy who uses fear as performance.”

Her voice cooled. “If your ‘no’ is enough to break him, then he’s already cracked. That’s not on you.”

Kujo-san rested her hands neatly on her lap. “What Setsuna-san means is… Ryoken-kun’s sudden transformation doesn’t erase who he was before. But it also doesn’t excuse who he is now. Both truths can exist at the same time.”

Miyu’s eyes blurred. “I… liked the old him,” she admitted.

“I liked talking about books. I liked that he’d walk a step behind me when I felt crowded, not in front. I thought… maybe he was kinder than people assumed.”

Meanwhile, In the sports ground outside.

“Hiro-kun called out,

“When are you coming down, Arata-kun?!”

High above the ground, half-hidden by the thick summer leaves of a tall Oak tree near the sports field.

Arata-kun lay sprawled along a sturdy branch like a lazy cat. An old pair of metal binoculars he had borrowed from his carefree grandpa hung around his neck.

From his perch, he could just make out Miyu-chan, Kujo-san, and Setsuna-san. He didn’t even need to hear anything.

He’d seen enough confrontations to recognize the weight in their shoulders, the way Miyu twisted at her sleeves, the small, decisive tilt of Kujo-san’s head.

“So the beauty pageants are also involved now, huh…” Arata murmured, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re going to get in trouble if you spy like that Arata-kun.” Hiro-kun warned him from below.

“Don’t make me laugh,” Arata muttered under his breath. 

“You think their diplomatic meetings will resolve this situation faster than me?”

Arata lowered the binoculars just enough to peer over the edge of the branch. Hiro stood below, hands cupped around his mouth, expression already twisted in exasperation.

Arata’s grin widened into a proper smirk.

“You’re quiet now, Hiro-kun,” he called lazily. “What, are you scared I’ll fall?”

Hiro-kun didn’t rise to the bait. His eye twitched instead.

“Knock it off! The student council president is looking for you,” Hiro-kun snapped.

“You remember, right? The promise you made yesterday with her?” Daiki Hiro spoke as he looked more nervous about Arata’s future confrontation with Rei-senpai than Arata himself.

Most people would have felt a chill at that.

Arata felt something closer to amusement.

“Both of you, stop right there!” Both of them heard a sweet voice call out in a harsh tone.

Instead of looking worried, he smirked even more, knowing just who had noticed him.

“I’m Aoki Yua. A first -year disciplinary committee member,” she announced.

“And you two need to meet the council president for trespassing into the girls-only division of the campus so casually.”

Hiro watched Arata’s expression grow and felt a familiar dread settle in his stomach.

“Oh… please do take us to the president, dear committee member.” Arata-kun pleaded as his eyes squinted innocently, which only made Yua-san’s smug face brighten.

“…Why do I keep hanging around you?” Hiro-kun muttered to himself. “I must be insane.”

“It’s time we stand on business,”

Arata-kun whispered back to Hiro-kun as he dropped down from the branch and they both followed Yua-san to the council room.

However, Hiro-kun’s face became pale as he realized this means Arata’s going to cause more trouble.