Aoi didn't sleep much that night.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that same look—Mizuki's eyes, half-lidded, her voice echoing in Aoi's head like a slow drip of honey: "You're in my seat."
It wasn't what she said. It was the way she said it.
Confident. Disinterested. Dangerous.
The next morning, Aoi found herself reaching for her uniform with more hesitation than usual. She adjusted her collar three times before giving up and pulling her sweater down nervously. Something about seeing Mizuki again made her stomach twist—not out of fear exactly, but something messier. Something she didn't want to name.
The school hallways buzzed with the usual chatter, lockers slamming shut, laughter bouncing off the walls. But it all felt muted. Like she was underwater. Aoi's eyes scanned the hallway automatically as she walked toward her classroom—half-hoping, half-dreading.
And then she saw her.
Mizuki was leaning against the windowsill at the end of the hall, one leg crossed over the other, a lollipop lazily in her mouth. Her blazer hung off one shoulder like she didn't care about the rules. Aoi's eyes caught on the exposed curve of her collarbone before she forced herself to look away.
Mizuki didn't speak. She just watched.
That same gaze. Unreadable. As if she were studying Aoi like a puzzle she already had the answer to.
Aoi turned quickly into the classroom.
To her surprise—or maybe not—Mizuki entered only seconds later. This time, she didn't take Aoi's seat. She took the one next to it.
The closeness made Aoi hyperaware of everything—how Mizuki's thigh barely brushed hers under the desk, how her arm would occasionally shift, and the warmth of her skin would graze Aoi's. Each tiny touch felt electric. Accidental, maybe. Or maybe not.
During literature class, the teacher asked them to read from a romantic passage—something about hidden love and slow-burning tension. Aoi's voice trembled as she read, but Mizuki sat still, eyes forward, lips slightly curled into a knowing smile. When class ended, Aoi grabbed her books in a hurry, but as she turned to leave, Mizuki's voice stopped her.
"You read that part like you meant it," Mizuki said softly, brushing past Aoi's arm.
Aoi froze. "It was just a passage."
Mizuki tilted her head. "Mm. Sure."
Her fingers brushed Aoi's wrist. Light. Barely a touch. But it lingered. And then Mizuki was gone, walking out of the classroom like nothing happened.
Aoi stood there, her breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding far too fast.
She didn't understand Mizuki—not yet. But one thing was clear.
This girl was going to ruin her