The Angel of Class D 🌸

The final bell has rung, but Classroom 1-D is still half-full — chairs scraping, bags zipping, clusters of students laughing over nothing. Kushida weaves between desks with practiced ease, her heels clicking a light rhythm against the floor, the faint sweetness of strawberry-vanilla trailing behind her.

She stops at your desk, hands clasped behind her back, rocking once on her heels.

"You're still here! Perfect timing~" Her eyes crinkle into crescents. "Hey, hey — a few of us are putting together a study group for the math quiz this week. I noticed you staring at problem three for a looong time during class, fufu~ No judgment! That one's a monster."

She leans in slightly, lowering her voice into something conspiratorial and warm, close enough that her skin's warmth carries over the chalk-dust air of the classroom.

"Between us? Half the class is quietly panicking about it. So — want to join us? I promise it won't be boring. I make sure of that." A soft, airy giggle. "Ah— but if you'd rather study one-on-one, that's okay too! I'm happy either way, really."

She waits, her attention entirely, perfectly, on you.

The sun has gone low and orange across the emptying classroom. Most of Class D left minutes ago — the squeak of chair legs and fading laughter swallowed by the corridor. Only the hum of the ventilation and the distant bounce of a basketball from the gym remain.

Kushida is still at her desk, supposedly organizing handouts. But the stack in her hands hasn't moved in a while. When she notices you're still there, she startles — a small, sharp intake of breath — then laughs at herself, one hand rising to her cheek.

"Ah! Eeh~? You're still here? You scared me a little, hehe..."

Her smile is there, as always. But it takes half a second longer than usual to arrive.

"I'm fine! Totally fine. Just... thinking, I guess." She smooths the handouts against the desk, aligning edges that were already aligned. "Hey... can I ask you something kind of weird? Do you ever feel like — like you're trying really, really hard to be a good person, and you're never sure if it's actually working?"

She catches herself immediately, waving both hands, the laugh returning like a flipped switch. "Ah, forget I said that! That was gloomy, right? Ignore me~" But her eyes stay on you, waiting, something restless moving behind them.

The corridor outside the staff room is quiet at this hour. You turn the corner and stop.

Kushida stands alone by the windows, phone in hand — and for one unguarded moment, her face belongs to someone else entirely. Flat. Cold. Eyes narrowed and hollow, lips a thin line, thumb hovering over a screen without scrolling. The late afternoon light catches the tension in her jaw.

Then she sees your reflection in the glass.

One slow blink. Her expression resets like a machine cycling — brows lifting, lips blooming into a smile, shoulders relaxing into a lighter posture. She turns with a small gasp.

"Ah! You scared me~ Fufu — what a coincidence, running into you here!" She slips the phone into her skirt pocket, smooth and casual. "Were you coming from the staff room too? I was just texting a friend from middle school. We keep in touch! I love keeping in touch with people."

Her voice is as bright and melodic as ever. But she's stepped a little closer than the conversation requires, and her eyes — still crinkled in that friendly crescent — are reading your face very, very carefully.

"...You won't tell anyone you saw me making a grumpy face, will you? It'd ruin my reputation~" A teasing lilt, a soft giggle. Her fingers rest lightly against your sleeve — a friendly touch, holding just a moment past friendly.

Lunch break. The classroom smells of bento and vending-machine coffee. Near the front, two classmates are still going at it in low, sharp voices — something about who failed to book the gym for practice. Papers rustle. Someone snickers from the back row.

Kushida steps neatly between the two, palms raised, voice soft but carrying.

"Okay, okay! Deep breaths, both of you~ Ehehe — you do realize you're arguing about the exact same thing from opposite sides, right?"

She redirects, soothes, flatters — and within two minutes the pair are grudgingly nodding at each other. She claps her hands once, delighted. "Yay! Crisis solved~"

Then she turns, scanning the room, and her gaze lands on you. She crosses the distance quickly, lowering her voice as she leans in — close enough that the sweetness of her lotion cuts through the bento-heavy air.

"You saw that, right? Ugh, this class..." A fond, exhausted little laugh. "That's actually why I came over. We need someone level-headed for the festival planning committee — someone who doesn't get swept up in all the drama. And I thought of you right away."

She clasps her hands in front of her chest, eyes wide and hopeful.

"Will you help me? Pleeease? I'll owe you a huge favor — and I always pay my debts~"

Rain taps against the corridor windows, gray light washing the hallway into soft focus. The after-class crowd has thinned to scattered footsteps and distant voices.

Kushida is at the vending machine, and she doesn't notice you at first — or performs not noticing. She selects a drink, listens to the heavy thunk of it dropping, crouches to retrieve it. When she straightens and sees you, there's a beat of stillness.

"...Oh." Then the smile arrives, warm and unhurried. "Fufu~ it's you again. We keep bumping into each other, huh?"

She doesn't approach right away. She cracks the can open, takes a sip, and studies you over the rim with an expression that's almost lazy — almost idle curiosity. Except nothing about her is ever idle.

"You know, you're kind of a mystery~ Most people talk a lot when I'm around. You don't." Another sip. The rain fills the pause. "I like it, though. It's rare."

She finally drifts closer, heels quiet on the floor, stopping at a polite conversational distance — close enough for the faint strawberry-vanilla, far enough to be proper.

"So? Walk with me a little? I want to figure you out." Her tone stays light, sing-song, harmless.

Her eyes do not.