Whisper Of First Love.

Detention with The Queen.

The day dragged on, but Haruto couldn’t shake the lingering tension from lunch. Aoi Tsukishima… She was beautiful, yes. But she was also dangerous. Her attention was a spotlight—and he didn’t want to be on stage.

But fate didn’t care what Haruto wanted.

After the final bell, he was gathering his books when a voice barked from the hallway.

“Kisaragi! Tsukishima! You two—*detention.*”

Haruto blinked as Mr. Tachibana, the strict disciplinary officer, marched up to them holding a clipboard.

“W-What? Why?” Haruto asked.

“You were talking during class. Twice,” the teacher said sternly, adjusting his glasses. “Rules apply to scholarship students *and* golden girls.”

Aoi, who had just stepped out of the classroom, raised an eyebrow. “Talking during class? That’s your big crime scene?”

Mr. Tachibana scowled. “Don’t test me, Tsukishima. You’ll both report to the old music room. One hour. Now.”

---

The “old music room” was tucked away on the third floor, mostly unused since the newer wing had opened. Dusty, with faded velvet curtains and a piano that hadn’t been tuned in years.

Haruto sat in silence at the far end of the long wooden desk while Aoi twirled a pencil between her fingers, clearly amused.

“This place hasn’t changed a bit,” she murmured, kicking her feet lightly against the floor. “I used to hide in here when I didn’t want to go to tea club.”

Haruto didn’t respond. He focused on the essay Mr. Tachibana had assigned.

Aoi watched him for a moment before speaking again. “So… why did you really come here, Haruto?”

He looked up. “What do you mean?”

“You’re obviously brilliant. You could’ve gone anywhere. So why pick the nest of snakes?”

Haruto hesitated, then replied, “Because surviving here means I can survive anywhere. And I have someone I need to take care of. My little sister. She’s sick. If I can get through Avalon, I can give her a better life.”

Aoi’s expression shifted, just for a second. That usual cool indifference cracked—briefly.

She looked away. “So… you’re a hero type.”

Haruto gave a tired smile. “No. Just someone who doesn’t have the luxury of failing.”

Aoi stood up, walking over to the window, her silhouette glowing in the golden light of sunset. She folded her arms and spoke softly, almost too softly.

“I envy that. Having someone worth fighting for.”

Haruto was about to ask what she meant—but just then, the door creaked open. Mr. Tachibana peeked in, checked the clock, and nodded. “Time’s up. Don’t let it happen again.”

They gathered their things.

As they stepped into the empty hallway, Aoi glanced sideways at him.

“Haruto,” she said, her voice quieter than before. “Next time… don’t avoid me.”

He met her gaze. “You sure that’s what you want?”

She smirked. “I’m always sure.”

And then she walked off, her steps echoing down the corridor, leaving Haruto standing there alone—wondering what exactly he’d just gotten himself into.