The Iron Grip of a Jealous Clergywoman

"There is no peace for the guilty, Yamamoto," Airi declared, approaching the railing and looking at the horizon. "As your childhood friend and President, my duty is to take care of you and all the students of this institution. You understand that, right?"

Those words shook both mochi and Sora to the core.

"That said, I can't continue leaving you alone because if not..." Airi continued speaking without stopping.

However, Sora and mochi stopped paying attention because mochi had become... jealous.

"Hey, honey, what does she mean by 'childhood friend'? Huh?" mochi said while the light in her eyes completely vanished, leaving only two dark, empty voids. Her smile, which a second ago had been warm, froze into an expression that didn't reach her gaze, and Sora swore the rooftop temperature dropped ten degrees instantly.

"W-well, you see..." Sora said, feeling death breathing down his neck while mochi's aura became so dense he would have sworn the sky had darkened.

Airi, who was still talking with her back turned about the Student Code of Conduct and Moral Integrity, finally noticed that absolutely no one was paying attention to her.

"Are you listening to me, Yamamoto?!" Airi spun around abruptly, a vein bulging on her forehead as she saw mochi squeezing Sora's arm as if she wanted to tear it off. "I'm trying to save your future, pay attention to me!"

In a burst of rage, Airi looked for something to throw. Out of pure presidential habit, she pulled out a piece of chalk she kept in her uniform pocket and, with the aim of a sniper, threw it forcefully toward Sora's head.

But Sora, whose instinct activated from pure survival reflex, ducked just in time. The chalk passed close to his hair, flew over mochi's head and...

CLACK!

At that moment, the rooftop door had opened. A boy with messy hair and a slightly disheveled uniform entered with a sandwich in hand, arriving just in time to receive the projectile directly between the eyes.

"Soraaa, let's eat toget-" He couldn't finish speaking. The boy stumbled back, his sandwich flew through the air, and he ended up sitting on the floor, rubbing his forehead with a grimace of pain.

Sora froze. He knew that face which had just been defeated by a headshot. It was the only person in the entire school who didn't look at him like some weirdo: Tomoki, his only friend and battle companion.

"Don't laugh don't laugh don't laugh," Sora thought as he watched Tomoki on the floor thanks to that perfect shot. He didn't know if this was the worst or best possible timing.

Airi turned pale, her hand still extended. The Perfect President of the institute had just assaulted an innocent student.

"I... I didn't mean to... He shouldn't have walked in like that!" Airi stammered, trying to regain her composure, though her hands trembled slightly.

Sora helped Tomoki up and then turned to Airi with a look she had never seen from him before: a mix of authority and scolding.

"Airi... That was wrong!" Sora said with a firm, serious voice that even surprised himself. "It doesn't matter if you're the President, the delegate, or my childhood friend. You hit someone who had nothing to do with this. You need to apologize to Tomoki right now!"

Silence reigned again on the rooftop, but this time it was different. mochi loosened her grip on Sora's arm slightly, astonished by her sweetie's authority, while Tomoki, still on the ground, watched the scene as if he were witnessing a special video game event.

Airi, for her part, stood rigid. Her cheeks flushed a crimson red that almost matched her ribbon. However, instead of yelling or punishing Sora for his insolence, she lowered her head. Her hands, which had been trembling with nerves, now pressed against her skirt, and a strange gleam of submission appeared in her eyes.

"I... I... yes. You're right, Yamamoto," Airi whispered with an oddly soft voice, almost pleased to have been scolded. "I-I'm very sorry... This isn't befitting of a president."

"Huh? Did she just obey me? Well, this isn't really the first time this has happened. Ever since I've known her, she's always been strict with everyone, even with me sometimes. However, when I scold her, it's like something inside her switches on..." Sora thought as he watched Airi's strict attitude transform into a submissive one.

"Sora... buddy..." Tomoki finally stood up, dusting himself off and looking at the two beauties with a mix of terror and pure envy. "I don't know what kind of satanic ritual you performed last night, but going from being the lonely gamer in the corner to having the President apologizing to you and a model hanging off your arm... That's the most unfair power-up in history!" Tomoki shouted while gently shaking him, an expression of pure envy on his face.

Tomoki finally left, but not before throwing Sora some signals that only the two of them understood: "Tomorrow you're telling me everything, with all the juicy details," while rescuing what remained of his sandwich from the ground. Airi, still somewhat red and submissive, went ahead to organize some papers in the council room, leaving Sora and mochi alone for the rest of the day.

When the dismissal bell rang, Sora tried to slip away, but it was useless. As soon as he set foot outside the classroom, mochi was already there, waiting for him like a kitten waiting for its owner.

"Let's go home, Darling!" mochi exclaimed, grabbing Sora's arm with an iron grip that contrasted with her angelic smile.

As they walked through the hallways toward the exit, Sora could feel eyes boring into the back of his neck like poisoned arrows. The whispers from his classmates were constant:

"Is that her?", "How did the weird gamer guy get a girl as beautiful as that?", "Damn, Yamamoto must be into some dangerous stuff."

mochi, noticing that a couple of first-year girls were looking at Sora with curiosity, pouted. Her eyes lost that shine again for a second, and she pressed Sora's arm against her chest with such force that he felt his bone creak.

"M-mochi! You're going to rip my arm off!" Sora complained, though his face was redder than a tomato. "And stop squeezing so hard, everyone's watching us!"

Sora didn't understand why she was suddenly so aggressive with physical contact, but his 17-year-old brain was entering a state of overload feeling the softness and warmth of mochi's chest pressing against his arm.