Yuriko was very pretty. And she didnât even need to flout the guidelines regarding makeup inside of the schoolâs handbook to achieve this. That impressed Masami somewhat but she didnât know exactly what to make of it or how her heart fluttered when she mused just a touch too long on Yurikoâs outer appearance.
   Her eyes were daring and sharp, framed by long, clean lashes. Her pupils were clear but slitted, giving her an almost birdlike look, fitting of her name. Her skin was pale, flawless, born that way, Masami would think, not borne of overly harsh products. Her hair was shiny. Her uniform was perpetually neat and never wrinkled.Â
   Being of firm mind and firm face, Masami prioritised heart and ethics over superficial values such as what a person looked like. She cared about how they acted, how they carried themselves, how they treated other people. To Masami, these were the core foundations of her values and her worldview.Â
   She liked facts, she liked it when things were simple. Things around Yuriko were most certainly not simple. But at least the rumours had been chased away. She could take some cold comfort in that but there was clearly more going on in this school and as the leader of the disciplinary committee, it was Masamiâs duty to get to the bottom of this.
   Probing the very odd and highly unusual Tropical Club was just the start but possibly, if she had deft and grace, things she worried she did not have, then maybe Yuriko might gift her with a bit more information. Surely such sharp - and even beautiful - eyes such as hers noticed something that Masami did not in her black and white vision.
   âWhy would you bring up such old news?â Yuriko sighed. Irate.Â
   âApologies, I did not realise it was such a sore point.â Masami replied.
   The afternoon was quiet. Another search of the Tropical Club had proven fruitless. Whatever their eccentricity, it was eccentricity within the bounds of acceptable behaviour. Unbelievably. Honestly, their diverse and varied extracurricular studies, and their commitment to them and their lesson plans, actually ought to be admired but there was just something so⌠fishy about them! Masami couldnât pinpoint it.
   But Asuka had let slip something as she, in her presidential right to dislike questions and unfairness, chased Masami off and cursed Yuriko for it. That touched a nerve, Masami sensed so, she thought she would ask Yuriko for her side of it or the reason why. Masami regretted that now as she had a bandaid on her nose for it now, at least metaphorically.
   Masami stole another look at Yuriko. How she gritted her teeth and how her eyes gaze was distant. Following her line of sight, Masami noticed that Yurikoâs gaze was now out towards the sporting fields on the school grounds. Fond but bittersweet. She looked as though she were mulling something over. Something that, if Masami had to guess, was named Asuka.
   She felt her stomach twist and knot. She disliked thinking about Yuriko thinking about Asuka but again. She couldnât pinpoint or place why. So, she stewed in that discomfort, holding the hem of her skirt as she waited for either her brain to provide something useful to say - or for Yuriko to break the silence.
   Thankfully, she did, sighing again, âIt's old news and it would be untoward of me to say that I couldnât have behaved better in that situation. A good person displays self-awareness and thus, it would be remiss if I said I didnât acknowledge that I was wrong to do so little but Asuka was wrong to do so much. As you would know, there are more well-written ways to behave in conflict but alas, real life isnât always so scripted.â
   Her words were wise and Masami soaked them in. Her heart fluttered. She hung onto every word of Yurikoâs as though there were an extract from a holy book. Yuriko noticed. She smiled.
   âI think you would have done the best you could.â Masami stammered. She unintentionally stamped her foot to emphasise. The rhythm of it knocked her own heart good. Or maybe worse. That flutter seemed quicker now - and harder, like a throb. A good and proper throb.
   âI appreciate the sentiment, Kakuta.â Yuriko diplomatically replied.
   Her insincerity of the statement wounded Masami. Especially because she meant it so genuinely, from every fathom of her heart and soul. She knew what President Shiratori was like and thus, had not even the sliver of a shadow of doubt that Yuriko would flounder some problem from years ago. Masami swallowed.
   âYou're welcome.â Masami murmured.
   âYou're very sweet, Masami, I can assure you that but not yet.â Yuriko replied. Her voice was soft, silky, sensual.Â
   She reached out and Masami flinched. She didnât know why she flinched, nor why her eyes were watering. Yuriko was gentle as she tucked a strand of Masamiâs hair behind her ear. It was pink.Â
   âVery sweet, very cute.â Yuriko teased her.
   âAm not!â Masami denied. âI-Iâm not cute. Someone like me is not cute.âÂ
   Yuriko giggled at Masamiâs defence. That only made her prickle more, embarrassed her more. Her face burned red.
   âI think you're very cute, Masami, I wouldnât lie to you. I hope you see that one day.â Yuriko replied.
   âI-Iâll work on it.â Masami earnestly replied.Â
   She was flustered to be called her given name over her family name, it sounded so much more beautiful when it came from Yurikoâs lips. Her beautiful lips, painted only in a protective balm, likely not even flavoured. Masami was quick to scold herself for making such assumptions but again. Yuriko did not flout rules. She valued them deeply, just like her.
   Unable to say much more, there was still enough in what Masami had given in response. That notion glistened in Yurikoâs yellow eyes. Masami just sat there, gawking, causing a horrid and awkward tension. For her at least, she couldnât quite tell what Yuriko was thinking as a thick sensation became a welt in Masamiâs throat. Tightening it. Her stomach then twisted again. Just to make her feel worse, Masami was sure. Â
   But, more pleasantly, the feeling of Yurikoâs long, slender fingers in her hair remained as well.Â
   âI - I have squandered your time long enough, I think,â Masami said and she got up from the table they had been sharing, she was all a mess, flustered and off-kilt, âI better go.â
   âA shame, I do enjoy your company, Kakuta.â Yuriko lamented but she let Masami go.
   Masami stormed off. Her heart pounded, her cheeks still red hot. When she left the councilâs room, it was like a weight off her shoulders and she breathed in the fresh air of the corridor. That twisting feeling was in her stomach. It all compounded on top of Yurikoâs final address unto herr as well; a return to her family name over her given name. It felt like salt rubbed into a wound - one that Masami didnât even know she had.Â
   She didnât understand it. Any of it. She felt more confused than before she started poking her nose in places that it clearly didnât belong.
   Masami squeezed her eyes shut. All she could think about was how Yuriko had touched her, just slightly, and how such a simple gesture was able to cause her to quake like this. Yurikoâs words, they were as wise as they were humble and amplified all of what Masami was trying to distract from as they caused a storm. Not calm like her demeanour would insinuate, they spurred such deep and wild things, like a racing heartbeat and sweaty palms and Masami just didnât understand.Â
   She felt⌠Excluded, truth be told. She tried to tamp down on all these awful, welling up feelings and tried to focus on the facts. There was a rumour about a mermaid and then a strange girl showed up. The Tropical Club acted strangely and the aforementioned strange girl quickly became a member of said club. Making it even stranger in Masamiâs mind. Asuka is a member of the Tropical Club. She has a torrid history with Yuriko. And Yuriko⌠makes her feel strange. And torrid.Â
   It all pent up and clumped inside of Masamiâs chest. She just couldnât work it out. The mystery which was swirling around her, evading her at every investigative look. She was missing facts, she was missing vital pieces in the very framework in which she looked at the world through and it infuriated her. To not know, to not feel like she deserved to know, even.
   A single, hot tear dribbled down the side of her face as Masami listened to her heart pound in her ears. She felt sick to her stomach, a funny sort of sickness which was more mental than physical yet stirred her up so awful. Just who was the new girl and was she connected to that absurd rumour about there being a mermaid at school? What was the incident which had caused such bad blood between Asuka and Yuriko?Â
   And⌠And what was it about Yuriko which made her own, internal world go so topsy-turvy, so strange and torrid? Argh! Why couldnât things be as easy as reading and executing a rulebook? Printed nice and simple in black and white.Â
   Masami needed answers. Answers, she realised, she wasnât going to get.
Summary: He laid back down and covered himself in his blanket, and thought for a moment of covering his face with his pillow. To scream into, mostly. He knew heâd pass out before any attempt of suffocation bore fruit.
But seriously, what an irritating time to get Hanahaki. Not that any time was a good time to get Hanahaki, he amended in his head, but there were certainly better times.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Rating: T
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: Gen
Fandom: ë´ę° í¤ě´ Sę¸ë¤ - ꡟě | S-Classes that I Raised - Geunseo
Relationship: Han Yoojin/Yoo Myeongwoo
Additional Tags: Pining, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Doubt, Han Yoojin needs a hug, Abandonment Issues, Creation as an expression of love, love to the point of invention
Summary: Yoo Myeongwoo takes a break from the Forge and finds Yoojin waiting for him.
