Kushida takes her phone and slides it back into her pocket in one smooth, practiced motion. I watch carefully.
There is no sign she activates a recorder within that one second. The way her thumb rests on the plastic casing does not align with the physical buttons required to trigger a quick-record shortcut.
"You know," I start as I lower my voice slightly to create a physical bubble of privacy between us. "I had this similar situation during middle school. There was a girl who approaches me. But then..."
I stop. I cut the sentence off completely. I look away and stare at the dusty chalkboard at the front of the room.
"Oops," I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. "That was a secret."
I know exactly what you want. Take the bait.
Kushida's face becomes intensely curious.
"A secret?" Kushida leans in closer. Her perfume smells heavily. "Come on, Mikhail. We are friends now. You can trust me with your secret."
She fell for it.
"I don't know," I say as I shake my head. I look down at my hands resting in my lap. I pull my shoulders inward and mimic the physical posture of deep insecurity.
Kushida sighs softly. The sound is perfectly calibrated to convey a mix of gentle understanding and deep, crushing disappointment.
"I see," Kushida says, her voice dropping to a fragile whisper. She takes a tiny half-step backward, physically withdrawing her warmth. "I guess I just thought we were closer now. It's okay, Mikhail. Some walls take time to break down. I'll just wait until you feel I'm worthy of your trust."
Impressive psychological tactic, Kushida.
That specific string of words is a lethal guilt trip. It tells the target that they are actively hurting her feelings by maintaining boundaries. It forces the target to panic, to scramble to fix the 'damage' they caused to the budding relationship.
I look toward the front of the classroom. The few remaining students finally grab their heavy bags and walk out the sliding door. They laugh loudly as they head down the hallway.
The door clicks shut. We are completely alone in the dead quiet room.
"Alright," I say and let out a heavy, defeated breath. "I'll tell you, but don't tell anyone, okay?"
"Of course," Kushida says. The warmth instantly floods back into her posture. She steps close again. "You can trust me."
She smiles, a perfect, radiant expression of loyalty.
Bingo.
I lean closer. The gap between our faces closes to just a few inches.
"One time," I continue as I force a dry swallow so my throat sounds tight. "There was a girl in middle school. She acted just like you, always smiling and trying to be friends. One day, I confessed to her but she rejected me flat out."
Of course, this story is a big lie. I need to feed Kushida the worst invented secret I can possibly think of.
"The rejection broke me," I whisper. "A few days later, I cornered her in an empty hallway. I stole a kiss right on her lips. Of course, she slapped me hard across the face and kicked me to the ground."
Kushida listens intently. Her eyes lock onto mine, completely motionless.
"The devastation wrecked my head," I say while letting my breath hitch. "Late that week, I woke up in the middle of the night and walked past my big sister's bedroom. The door was open and she was fast asleep."
You want trauma, Kikyou? I will hand you a nightmare.
"I walked right up to her bed," I whisper while squeezing my eyes shut to act out the crushing shame. "I leaned over and kissed her on the lips while she slept. I just wanted to forget the pain of the rejection. But it became a sick habit. I did it again the next night. And the next."
I had no sister in my previous life and I have no big sister in this universe.
"I kept doing it for years until she got married and moved out," my voice cracks perfectly. "I was never caught. Nobody knows. I know what I did was bad and indecent. It was disgusting enough to label me as an absolute creep."
I open my eyes and look right at Kushida. I let the moisture pool in my vision, mimicking real tears.
"But Kikyou, I swear I changed," I plead softly while grabbing the edges of my desk. "I truly regret what I did. Every time I remember it, I am disgusted with myself. I transferred schools to run away from the memory, but the guilt followed me."
I return to a normal voice and I sigh. I drag a hand across my face and wipe away imaginary sweat.
"I never tell anyone this story," I murmur while staring down at my hands. "But carrying it alone is suffocating. I just want to leave that disgusting version of myself behind."
I slowly look up at Kushida.
I bet you feel absolutely ecstatic right now. Other people's sins are your oxygen. And I just handed you the darkest, most twisted ammunition you could ever hope to hold. Sweet Home Alabama!
A morally bankrupt, socially destructive weakness. If she ever leaks this to the class, my life as a normal high school boy is completely over. I won't just be an outcast. I will be labeled as a sick, incestuous creep. It is the absolute pinnacle of blackmail material. Nobody in this facility would ever speak to me again.
"Thank you for trusting me, Mikhail," Kushida says softly. Her eyes gleam with an obvious dark, satisfied light that she quickly buries under her sweet smile.
"Kikyou," I say as I test her first name aloud.
"What's up, Mikhail?" she asks brightly.
"I noticed you are not on good terms with Horikita."
Kushida looks at the ground. Her bright expression instantly melts into a deep sorrow and her shoulders slump.
"I try so hard," Kushida murmurs, her voice thick with sadness. "But she just pushes me away. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."
Very impressive acting Kikyou.
"You know, I hate that girl," I state flatly.