The volleyball storage room remained steeped in stillness, the golden light outside now deepening into a gentle amber hue that glinted off tal racks and dust-speckled walls. The air was warm, quiet—too quiet—except for the faint sound of a heartbeat ringing in Kokoro’s ears.
He stood frozen, his back near the rack of volleyballs, heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. Mika, leaning against the now-locked door with that mischievous smile, had just shattered every perception he held of her.
She took a slow step toward him, her pale white eyes shimring like polished moonstone under the dusty beams of light, lips curled in sly amusent. There was a dangerous glint in her gaze now—not cruel, but calculating... deliberate.
Kokoro finally broke the silence, his voice stuttering out like a faulty engine.
"W-Why are you doing this...?"
Mika stopped, her arms folded just under her chest, pushing her form just slightly forward with casual confidence. Her soft giggle, musical and calm, filled the air like honeyed wind.
"And... aren’t you even afraid...?" he continued, his cheeks redder now, hands fidgeting at his sides. "I-I an, we’re alone... in a locked room, just the two of us... You don’t know what I might do to you."
It was ant to co out as a warning.
But instead, it sounded more like a panicked cry from soone barely keeping their thoughts straight.
Mika’s face slowly transford.
Her brows rose slightly, and her gaze narrowed—not in fear, but in utter amusent. Her lips curved into a playful smirk, her expression exuding the confidence of a lioness who had just cornered her prey.
She tilted her head, her voice velvet-soft but edged with sothing deeper.
"Do I look like soone who’s afraid of you?"
Kokoro opened his mouth but couldn’t speak.
Mika took another step forward.
"I’ve known you for quite a long ti, Kokoro," she said, her voice laced with quiet certainty.
His breath caught.
"...Huh? W-What do you an by that?"
A small, knowing smile danced on Mika’s face, the kind that held secrets only she could unfold. She turned slightly and, with unexpected grace, slid down to the floor, her back resting against the wall. Her skirt swished lightly as she tucked one leg beneath the other.
"Let’s talk about the past," she said, gently patting her thighs.
"But first..." Her pale white eyes t his. "Co here. Put your head on my lap."
Kokoro froze.
"W-What?!"
His voice cracked like glass, and he stepped back instinctively, flailing slightly like soone trying to escape the grasp of reality itself.
"I—I can’t just do that! That’s way too—! What are you even—!"
Mika laughed—an actual laugh, genuine and warm and surprisingly soft. It danced around the room, chasing away the tense silence. Her cheeks glowed faintly, but the mischief in her grin never faded.
"Jeez," she teased, eyes gleaming, "for a guy who draws cute girls all the ti, you’re really bad at handling one."
Kokoro was speechless. His ears were red now. He tried not to look directly at her, but she was right there—seated like an angel with horns, smiling up at him like this was all a casual afternoon chat.
"You’re not gonna tell anything unless I do it, aren’t you?" he muttered, still avoiding eye contact.
"Nope," she sang lightly. "And I won’t unlock the door either."
Kokoro raised his brows. "Wait. The key—! Where’s the key?"
Mika lifted her pointer finger slowly... and then pointed straight at her chest.
A smug grin on her lips.
"It’s in between my boobs," she said with absolute shalessness.
Kokoro’s soul nearly left his body.
His entire face flushed with heat. "Y-Y-You—! Why would you—?! That’s completely—!"
"Oh, co on. I’m giving you a choice here." Her lips curved into a teasing pout. "Either you lie down like a good boy and listen to my story... or you try to dig through here like a pervert and explain that to a teacher if we get caught."
Her finger tapped her chest again, almost daringly. "Your move, manga boy."
Kokoro groaned internally. This girl is insane...!
He contemplated escape—he truly did—but Mika saw the glimr of resistance in his eyes and crushed it with a single line.
"If you run, I’ll scream and say you tried to grope ."
"Y-You wouldn’t—!"
"I would," she said sweetly.
Kokoro gave up.
With a defeated sigh, he slowly trudged toward her and kneeled beside her. He couldn’t look her in the eyes.
Her thighs looked soft.
Oh no...
"D-Don’t say anything weird," he muttered as he hesitantly lowered himself.
Mika only smiled wider.
The mont his head touched her lap, Mika gently adjusted his hair with delicate fingers, brushing it behind his ear with surprising tenderness.
"There," she whispered. "Much better."
Kokoro could barely breathe.
Her scent—faintly floral, light, warm—surrounded him. Her lap was soft, her fingers tracing little circles on his hair.
"I’ve waited so long to do this," she murmured, almost to herself.
Kokoro swallowed. "So... about the past—"
Mika closed her eyes briefly.
Her smile softened.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice suddenly calm, wistful. "Let’s talk about us... about who you used to be... and why I’ve never forgotten you."
__________________________________________
The volleyball storage room remained dimly lit, the soft amber light slipping through the high, grilled windows, painting long shadows on the floor. Kokoro rested on Mika’s lap, still flustered, still unsure whether he was dreaming or trapped in one of his own manga Chapters.
Mika’s fingers gently stroked through his hair, and for a mont, there was nothing but stillness. A kind of quiet intimacy that neither of them fully understood.
Then Mika’s voice, as light as a breeze, broke the silence.
"It started in middle school."
Kokoro blinked.
"...What did?"
"Our connection," she said. "That’s when I first t you."
Kokoro tilted his head to glance up at her. "Middle school...? But I don’t rember seeing anyone like you back then."
A soft giggle escaped Mika’s lips—light, airy, tinged with sothing bittersweet.
"Well, of course you wouldn’t," she said, brushing a lock of white hair behind her ear. Her pale eyes shimred with amusent. "Do you rember a classmate in your first year... soone fat?"
Kokoro’s expression changed almost imdiately. His eyes widened slightly as nostalgia softened his features. His brows furrowed, trying to pull the mory from the back of his mind.
"Fat... first year..." he muttered, eyes distant. "Wait. Yeah... I rember soone like that."
Mika smiled, saying nothing.
"He had dark hair, and... weirdly white eyes," Kokoro continued slowly. "Always wore the boy’s uniform, short spiky hair... kept to himself. I always thought he was kind of cool, even if he didn’t talk much. I... I actually wanted to be his friend."
A soft, sad chuckle escaped him. "But he always rejected the idea of being close. Like friendship was a burden or sothing."
Mika watched him quietly, her expression unreadable for a mont.
Then she raised one hand and gently caressed his cheek, her fingertips warm and delicate against his skin.
Kokoro flinched, surprised at the touch.
Her thumb brushed against his cheekbone as she smiled. It wasn’t the usual aloof smirk or mischievous grin she wore at school. No, this smile was pure—vulnerable, even—like soone removing a mask they had worn for years.
Kokoro’s cheeks flushed.
His heart raced again, confused and unsure why her touch felt so familiar... so intimate.
Then Mika spoke—softly, truthfully.
"That was ."
Kokoro blinked. "Huh...?"
"I was that fat guy."
His eyes widened, breath catching in his throat.
He sat up straight, lifting his head off her lap as he stared at her, eyes wide with disbelief. "W-Wait, what?! No way! That guy was... a guy! I-I an, you looked like one! You had short black hair, and—! What the hell?!"
Mika tilted her head slightly, laughing at his reaction. It was full-bodied this ti, her voice rich with amusent. Her expression was nothing short of radiant, glowing with the satisfaction of seeing his shocked face.
"Yeah, I know. I made sure of it," she said, brushing her fingers through her now silky white hair. "I wore boyish clothes. Cut my hair like a guy. I didn’t want to be seen... not yet."
Kokoro’s mind raced.
"That’s insane..." he murmured, still stunned. "But how? You look... you’re so different now."
"I lost weight," she said simply, as if recounting a casual sumr project. "I changed my hair color. Grew it out. Changed my whole style."
She smiled again—slower this ti, more aningful.
"All for you."
Those words hit Kokoro like a ton of bricks.
His lips parted, but nothing ca out. His ears flushed a deep red, and he looked away quickly, unable to maintain eye contact.
"I—That’s... why would you—"
"Nope," she interrupted, playfully tapping the floor beside her.
"Head. Lap. Now."
He hesitated.
She pouted—an elegant, seductive pout that was sohow both teasing and assertive.
"If you want to know the rest," she said, voice honeyed with intent, "you’re going to do it my way."
Kokoro groaned in defeat and lowered his head back into her lap with the deanor of soone giving in to gravity itself.
She giggled softly.
"That’s better," she whispered.
As her fingers resud combing gently through his hair, her smile softened. There was sothing tender in the mont—fragile and warm. A bridge between their past and present forming quietly in the volleyball storage room.
"You were always kind to ," Mika whispered. "Even when I hated myself."
Kokoro didn’t respond.
But his heart... was loud.
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