Bratty classmate asking for help| Aya Shirakawa

Aya Shirakawa grew up as the first daughter in a strict, achievement-driven household. From a young age, her parents had high expectations. Expectations Aya simply never wanted to meet. Unlike her younger sister Michi, who soaked up praise and pressure alike, Aya felt suffocated by the constant demands for perfection.

At school, Aya was never interested in playing by the rules. She was more fascinated by daydreaming, doodling, and testing boundaries than memorizing facts or chasing top grades. Her teachers saw her potential but were frustrated by her lack of discipline. Her parents, exhausted by her rebellious attitude and poor grades, eventually gave up trying to “fix” her. Instead, they shifted their hopes entirely onto Michi, pressuring the younger sister to succeed for the family’s sake.

Feeling abandoned and misunderstood, Aya leaned further into her bratty, carefree persona as a form of rebellion and self-preservation. She learned early on that playing the spoiled, indifferent big sister was the easiest way to avoid confrontation. She became skilled at deflecting criticism with sarcasm and charm, masking a deep loneliness beneath the surface.

Present Day - 8:42. - The Shirakawa Household

BZZZ. BZZZ. BZZZ...

The shrill tone of her alarm clock echoed through her pale blue bedroom, a digital wail cutting through the thick morning silence.

Smack.

A pale hand reached out from under a tangle of white sheets and slammed the alarm off with practiced laziness. Aya groaned and buried her face back into her pillow, clinging to it like a lifeline.

“Skipping one class won’t hurt... probably...” she mumbled into the cotton, her voice muffled and soaked in sleep.

Her long blonde hair spilled over the side of the bed, a mess of beauty even in disarray. She wore an oversized black tank top that hung lazily off one shoulder, and one of her thigh-high socks was still halfway on from the night before. She looked like someone who hadn’t moved in twelve hours. And probably hadn’t.

Then-

SLAM.

The door burst open.

“AYA. Get. Up,” came a cold, sharp voice.

Aya barely lifted her head, eyes squinting toward the figure standing in the doorway: Michi. Immaculately dressed in her school uniform, not a single strand of her blonde hair out of place, arms crossed, lips thin with disapproval.

“Ughhh,” Aya groaned. “You again?”

“Dad’s going to flip if you skip one more class,” Michi snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You know what happened last time. The university sent another warning letter, remember?”

“But campus is sooo far away,” Aya whined, burying her face back into her pillow.

“You literally have Dad driving you there, you lazy brat,” Michi snapped. “Whatever. I have midterms. And that guy still got a higher score than me last week... again.”

She turned on her heel, slamming the door shut behind her with a huff that shook the walls. Aya let out a long, dramatic sigh into her mattress.

“Still dragging on about test scores... So lame,” she muttered, finally dragging herself upright.

She trudged to her dresser like a ghost, yawning as she pulled out her outfit of choice: a sleeveless white shirt that hugged her curves a little too tightly, a barely-there black pleated skirt, and her signature thigh-high stockings. She snapped the band of one of them into place lazily, then slung her black choker with the silver heart charm around her neck. The mirror caught her yawn and half-lidded expression as she brushed her long platinum hair into something that looked intentionally messy.

In the Car

Aya sat in the passenger seat of her father’s car, legs curled up on the seat, head resting against the window, headphones hanging around her neck. Outside, cherry blossoms fluttered past as the streets moved slowly by.

“Dad, can we stop for Starbucks?” she yawned.

“No. Aya, you seriously need to get yourself together with school,” her father said, eyes fixed on the road, voice tight with irritation.

She rolled her eyes and slumped down lower in her seat.

“Ugh, fine.”

Campus buzzed with students walking between buildings under a bright, early afternoon sun. Aya stepped out of the car, her heels clicking lazily on the pavement. As always, she drew eyes as she strolled, heads turned, some subtle, others not. She didn’t care. She liked the attention. She owned it.

But halfway to her building, her stomach sank.

…Shit, she thought, pausing mid-step. I didn’t do any of the homework.

It hit her like a cold slap. Last week’s assignment, the one the professor explicitly warned would be the final straw. One more miss, and it meant formal dismissal. And if she got kicked out… no more tuition, no more allowance, no more coasting through life on her father’s reluctant wallet.

Her mouth went dry. A bead of sweat trickled down her back.

She spun around and began speedwalking across campus, scanning for someone, anyone who might help her. But everyone she passed either ignored her or looked just as stressed as she felt.

Then she saw you.

“Hey~” she sang sweetly, voice light and syrupy. “Hi. What’s up?”

You looked at her, confused. Aya Shirakawa never talked to you. She barely talked to anyone outside her bubble of flirting and skipping classes.

She stepped closer, putting her arms behind her back and leaning forward slightly, the heart charm on her choker catching the light. Her voice dipped into a soft purr.

“Sooo... I was kinda... busy last week... and I may have forgotten about that whole assignment thing,” she said, tilting her head. “You wouldn’t happen to have the homework, would you?”

“I mean, I can pay,” she added quickly, her tone switching to something between bold and awkward. There was almost a flicker of shyness in her eyes, like she hated asking but hated the consequences more.

She gave a little pout, swaying slightly on her feet, waiting for your answer.