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Ayanokouji doesn’t forget—at least, not easily. Not normally.
For him, remembering was as effortless as breathing, as intuitive as lifting a glass of water. From the dull white walls that he’d known all his life to every sentence of knowledge he’d been able to absorb, every detail wasn’t difficult to recall, no matter how much time had passed.
Most people blamed forgetfulness or a lack of a photographic memory for their shortcomings. It was a convenient excuse, a smokescreen to shield their own incompetence.
The truth, however, was that they simply lacked the discipline or intelligence to make use of what they knew. And, of course, they would rather their deficiencies remain hidden. That was human nature.
As for Ayanokouji, forgetfulness was not a luxury he possessed. Yet he often preferred to feign it. Pretending not to know—about people, about situations—was a façade as useful as it was necessary. It allowed him to sidestep responsibility, to remain a passive observer rather than an active participant in the chaos of school life.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t act; he simply chose not to. Still, regardless of what he pretended, he always remembered.
Thus, it didn’t surprise him when the conversation at the table drifted into territory he had already anticipated.
“Hey, Ayanokouji. Listen up. Did you hear? Horikita's birthday's coming soon,” Sudo’s voice broke through his thoughts, dragging his attention upward.
That drop of information instantly garnered everyone’s attention at the table.
He glanced at Sudo’s idiotic expression and offered a detached shrug.
Five days. That was all that separated today from February 15th—Horikita Suzune’s birthday. A detail as insignificant as the date itself, were it not attached to her name.
He glanced at Sudo’s eager expression, his mind idly working to piece together how the other had stumbled upon this information.
It was unlikely Horikita had disclosed it herself; such personal trivia was beneath her to share. If anything, only staff members or someone unusually close to her would have access to such details.
Had Sudo caught sight of her profile while she was using her phone? Unlikely. Ayanokouji dismissed the thought as quickly as it arose.
The simplest explanation was also the most probable: Sudo had likely exchanged a few private points with Ms. Chabashira. Birthdays were hardly classified information, and even a trivial amount of points could buy such knowledge. In this school, where nearly everything could be commodified, personal details like that came cheap.
And, given Horikita’s personality, it would certainly be easier than asking her directly.
"Yo, Ayanokouji, seriously, give me a hand here. What kind of gift would Horikita like? You’re always stuck with her, so you must know something, right? Spit it out," Sudo pressed, his voice tinged with impatience.
The words hung in the air, drawing the attention of the group seated in the library. Hirata, Ike, and Ichinose all leaned in, their curiosity sharpening the intensity of their gazes.
Didn’t they have exams to be worrying about?
Ah. How tiresome.
The sudden focus on him prickled at his composure, though his expression remained as blank as ever.
He wasn’t one to appreciate pointless attention, and he certainly wasn’t about to entertain it.
After all, he was just trying to live a normal life—or at least the illusion of one.
“I have no clue. She doesn’t seem to be interested in anything besides studying,” Ayanokouji decided to reply, his tone flat, suppressing the urge to sigh. Such an outward display of irritation would only damage his carefully constructed image, especially with all eyes practically on him.
It was a typical maneuver—social pressure at its finest.
He also failed the mention that it seemed Horikita had been distant lately—more so than usual. But he couldn’t pinpoint when the shift had occurred, or why. Had he said something to upset her? He couldn’t recall a single instance of conflict between them.
“Tch.” Sudo slumped back into his seat, exhaling dramatically, his enthusiasm deflating like a balloon.
Ayanokouji turned a page of the book in his hand, letting his thoughts wander. If Sudo was truly curious about Horikita’s preferences, the simplest course of action would have been to approach her directly. Again, It wasn’t exactly classified information.
But he said nothing. For some reason, he chose not to point out the obvious. Instead, he let the moment pass in silence.
He decided it wasn’t his problem.
He suspected, though, that this had been Sudo’s true motive all along—joining their odd little gathering under the pretense of camaraderie just to pry into Horikita’s birthday.
Not that this was much of a gathering in the first place. He himself had come to the library out of boredom, expecting a quiet reprieve. But Hirata had spotted him, followed by Sudo, then Ike, and finally Ichinose. Somehow, what had started as a moment of solitude had turned into this.
An odd group, indeed.
“This is a bit of a bummer,” Hirata admitted, propping his arms up on the table, his frustration breaking through his usual calm. “We’ve known Horikita for ages, yet I still can’t think of a single thing to get her.”
"Yo, seriously, she’s been a total lifesaver for our class, man!" Ike chimed in, nodding to himself as if stating the obvious was some kind of revelation.
“Maybe we can buy her a gift?” Hirata suggested, his tone thoughtful.
Ayanokouji glanced up from his book, already calculating the best way to slip away from the conversation without drawing attention. He knew where this was heading, and he had no desire to be caught in the middle of it. But, as always, his timing wasn’t perfect.
"That's a great idea!" Ichinose beamed, her ever-enthusiastic voice filling the room. "Let’s all pitch in and get her a thoughtful gift. As a class representative, I really admire her dedication and intelligence."
…
"Alright then! Let’s get her a gift from the class," Sudo agreed, his earlier energy returning in full force.
And then came the inevitable.
“You’re coming along, Ayanokouji, right? You know her best after all—you’ll be a great help!” Ichinose asked just as he made an almost imperceptible move to leave.
“...” He paused, weighing his options. Avoiding them now would only cause more trouble later.
“Yes,” he finally replied, his voice as neutral as ever.
“That’s settled then!” Ichinose clapped her hands together, smiling brightly. “Let’s all meet up at the mall on Saturday!”
As the group nodded in agreement, Ayanokouji returned to his book. If he could afford the indulgence, now would have been the perfect moment to frown inwardly.
That was how Ayanokouji found himself standing in the middle of the mall on a rare free weekend—a weekend he could have otherwise spent at his computer, trying out a new game he’d discovered online.
It seems that fortune did not favor him this time around.
He looked around, taking in the building that was bustling with activity, packed with students and locals alike, all enjoying their time off. It was a typical weekend scene: a sea of chatter, hurried footsteps, and the occasional melody of a promotional jingle echoing through the wide halls.
Ayanokouji wasn’t much of a mall-goer. Being someone who only spent money on necessities, he rarely found a reason to come here during his time at ANHS. Yet, here he was, four days after the library encounter, with Horikita’s birthday looming just one day away.
And still, he hadn’t been able to speak with her. That, more than anything, was beginning to grate on his nerves. It was odd—something he couldn’t easily dismiss.
He checked his watch—it was time for the meet-up. Adjusting the strap of his jacket, he began walking toward the store the group had designated.
When he arrived, he realized the shop was a typical one, stocked with cosmetics, accessories, and random novelty items. He doubted Horikita would find any of these remotely appealing, but he didn’t voice his thoughts. After all, this wasn’t his decision. He stepped through the automatic doors, the bustling noise of the mall outside muffling to a low hum.
“Ayanokouji-kun! You’re finally here! We’ve all been waiting for you,” Ichinose called, her usual cheery demeanor in full display. She waved him over to a section of the store where the rest of the group had gathered.
They were all there: Hirata, Sudo, Ike, and Ichinose, dressed in casual clothes that contrasted with the usual uniformed look he was accustomed to seeing at school. He himself had thrown on a plain sweater and coat, nothing too fancy.
“Good morning,” he greeted.
“Uh, whose genius idea was it to meet up here?” Ike asked, rubbing the back of his neck as he scanned the shelves with mild disdain.
Ayanokouji silently agreed with the sentiment but refrained from expressing it.
“I believe it was Sudo-kun’s, wasn’t it?” Ichinose asked, tilting her head with an inquisitive smile.
Sudo crossed his arms and puffed up slightly, his confidence feigned at best. “Yeah, so what? I asked around, and people said this was a popular store for girls.”
Ayanokouji looked around at the popular brand's heavy items on display and couldn’t help but think– yeah, but those girls weren’t ‘Horikita’.
Ayanokouji sighed inwardly, his thoughts briefly drifting to the raven-haired girl. Over the years, he’d become all too familiar with her no-nonsense personality and relentless pursuit of excellence.
Every exam season, it had become routine for her to seek him out for advice or assistance—something he’d grown accustomed to, even if he didn’t particularly enjoy it. Their dynamic, at this point, was more a habit than anything else.
He wondered when she would start bribing him again with meals. If anything, that was the one thing he didn’t particularly mind. She was rather good at cooking.
Returning his focus to the present, he observed the group, already diving into discussions about potential gifts. It was clear they were out of their depth, but he decided not to intervene unless absolutely necessary. He’d been dragged here, and he would see it through—but only on the sidelines.
"How about we walk around and see if we find something Horikita-san might like?" Ichinose suggested brightly. The group, lacking any better plan, quickly agreed.
And so, they set off, wandering through the mall and stopping at various stores. They browsed rather gray shelves and display cases with varying levels of interest, occasionally picking up items and turning to Ayanokouji for his opinion.
“Do you think she’d like this?” Hirata asked, holding up a sleek notebook with a polished cover.
“It’s fine,” Ayanokouji replied evenly, not bothering to delve deeper into the suggestion.
“Or maybe this?” Ichoinese chimed in, pointing at a decorative pencil case set.
“Could work,” he said, his tone unchanged.
His answers were deliberately neutral, offering little insight. He had no intention of putting much effort into considering their picks.
The activity was mundane, and he couldn’t see the point in it. Then again, he also didn’t know why he bothered showing up in the first place. He could have simply called in sick.
As they entered a high-end boutique filled with sleek devices and glittering jewelry, Ike let out a loud gasp. “Dude, this place is a rip-off!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide as he surveyed the exorbitant price tags.
“Sudo, are you seriously thinking of buying something here?” Ike added, incredulous.
Sudo hesitated for a brief moment, his gaze darting between the luxurious displays. Then, as though summoning some inner determination, he straightened and nodded. “Yeah, of course, man! It’s to show Horikita my gratitude.”
Ayanokouji, having no intention of involving himself in the emotional declarations, began walking further into the store. His gaze drifted across the rows of items—elegant watches, delicate necklaces, and sleek gadgets. He took in the details with his usual detached interest, scanning each item without much thought. Every gadget that he saw seemed rather dull, almost montoned.
Horikita wouldn’t find any of these items useful—that much was obvious. He knew her better than anyone here, Ayanokouji thought. Buying her something extravagant from this shop would only waste points. And even if Sudo somehow managed to afford it, Horikita would hardly accept it with grace.
She’d be confused, maybe even irritated, unsure of what to do with a gift so impractical.
Ayanokouji’s gaze lingered on the display of expensive necklaces, each sparkling under the perfectly calibrated lighting.
What a wasteful gesture, he thought, shaking his head.
Just then, Ichinose approached him, her eyes flicking toward the glass case he was standing by. "Ayanokouji-kun, are you planning on getting something for Horikita-san?" she asked, her tone light and curious.
He turned his attention to her, his expression unreadable.
Ichinose quickly waved her hands in defense, laughing nervously ."I was just curious! You haven't bought anything this whole time, and since you're close to her, I thought you might."
He held up his phone, the screen displaying his remaining private points. “I’m low on points right now, so I can’t.”
It was true. He had fewer points than usual after covering some unexpected expenses, and he’d already planned on splurging on a better cafeteria meal next week—a rare indulgence for him.
“I see!” Ichinose said, nodding with an understanding smile. “Well, that’s okay! Gifts from the heart are what matter most, right?” She placed her hands on her hips, exuding her usual upbeat energy.
“Sure,” he replied simply, his tone giving away nothing.
She hesitated for a moment before continuing as she stepped closer, “Say, Ayanokouji, after this, do you think you’ll be free to—”
Her sentence was abruptly cut off as Ike came barreling toward them, nearly colliding with one of the ornate display cases. At the last second, he stumbled awkwardly to avoid a crash, his arms flailing in an ungraceful attempt to regain balance.
"Guys! Emergency!" Ike gasped, his voice shrill enough to draw attention even in the crowded store. He pointed frantically toward the glass doors. "Horikita's here, right now!"
“Really!?” Ichinose asked.
Really? Ayanokouji wanted to ask too.
Ayanokouji turned his head slightly and, sure enough, there she was—Horikita Suzune, walking briskly past the shops. She was close, uncomfortably so. With the glass walls of the store, avoiding detection was nearly impossible.
For a moment, Ayanokouji considered what could have possibly brought Horikita here. She wasn’t one to frequent places like this during her free time, and in truth, he doubted she even saw much merit in casual outings like these.
It was during the first few days at school when, at his suggestion, she reluctantly stepped into a café for the first time. He could almost hear her voice, sharp and curt overlaid with the distant hum of the past.
“Is it always so packed?”
“So this is your first time coming here too? Oh, right. You're a loner.”
“Trying to insult me? How childish.”
Her words echoed in his mind, bringing an odd clarity to how little she enjoyed such excursions. Yet, here she was, browsing the shops with a determined air.
A sudden voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
Hirata, who had followed Ike but maintained a calm demeanor, turned to Ayanokouji with an apologetic smile. "Ayanokouji, do you think you could distract her? Just for a bit, so she doesn’t notice us?"
Ayanokouji’s gaze drifted back toward Horikita.
A minor inconvenience, he supposed. He hadn’t planned on getting roped into anything more complicated than observing.
He sighed inwardly. Since when did this operation turn secretive?
Before he could respond, Ike practically clung to his arm, his face a mask of desperation. "Yeah, you've got to, man! Or else we're all cooked!"
He knew little of modern slang but he was able to automatically correlate the word to something similar as ‘screwed.’
“...”
Ayanokouji met his wide-eyed desperation with a blank stare before finally relenting. “Okay.”
"Great! Now go! Hurry!" Ike urged, stepping back as Sudo arrived, looking equally panicked.
Ayanokouji suppressed a sigh and walked toward the store's exit, his mind momentarily entertaining an alternative: he could just leave. Slip away, lose Horikita in the crowd, and return to the quiet sanctuary of his dorm to play that new game he'd been looking forward to.
That way he would be able to leave this fruitless annoying endeavor once and for all. A silent quiet weekend, what a nice thought.
It wouldn’t be difficult. All it required was a slight pivot and a steady walk in the opposite direction. It was so simple—almost laughably so—to claim later that he’d lost track of her in the sea of people.
There were many students here, and so blending in and walking away could hardly be seen as deliberate.
But his feet moved forward regardless, carrying him closer to where Horikita stood. She was easy to spot, almost standing out in the busy crowd.
“Ayanokouji-kun,” she called out, spotting him immediately.
He stopped, meeting her gaze with his usual unreadable expression. She approached him, her measured steps contrasting sharply with the panic he'd just left behind in the store.
Horikita's dark hair was down her shoulders today, one side elegantly braided. Her layered attire, a stark contrast to the winter chill, exuded an air of quiet sophistication.
"Ayanokouji-kun, what are you doing here?" she asked, her tone tinged with curiosity.
He considered his options. The truth would be suspicious; an elaborate lie, unnecessary. So he settled for the simplest response.
"Walking."
This caused a skeptical gaze from Horikita, her annoyance visible.
So much for trying to deflect her attention.
Her eyes were sharp, cold, and unwavering, as though attempting to pierce through the veil of his typically inscrutable demeanor. Ayanokouji, unfazed, decided to elaborate, knowing that silence would only raise further questions. “I heard there was a discount at the frozen yogurt shop today. I wanted to check it out,” he said simply.
Of course, the discount had ended last week. But Horikita, typically uninformed about such mundane details, would be unlikely to notice the discrepancy in his excuse.
“I see…” she murmured, her skepticism not entirely dissipating.
For a fleeting moment, Ayanokouji had the odd sense that Horikita could see further into his motives than he initially thought—a realization he quickly dismissed.
“Why are you here, Horikita?” he asked, casually redirecting the scrutiny back toward her. If nothing else, it was a tactical maneuver to shift the conversation away from himself.
“Shopping, as one does…” Horikita said, almost unsure, an uncommon flicker of uncertainty crossing her usually composed expression.
Ayanokouji tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued by her uncharacteristic reaction.
“What?” she retorted sharply, recovering quickly and folding her arms. "Is there some rule against me being here?"
Before he could point out the hypocrisy in her questioning him earlier, she continued, as though eager to end the exchange. "It's nothing. I just wanted to look around, so I came here. I'm leaving now."
Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and began walking away, her pace brisk and purposeful.
…
…
“Ayanokouji, why are you following me?” she asked suddenly, glancing over her shoulder to find him walking in stride beside her, his expression as impassive as ever.
Ayanokouji blinked, his pace remaining steady as Horikita turned to glare at him, suspicion practically radiating off her.
“Following you?” he echoed. “I’m just walking.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, her arms crossing again in that familiar way that signaled her irritation. “You’re walking in the exact same direction as me.”
“Coincidence,” he replied simply.
She stopped abruptly, forcing him to pause as well. Her gaze was sharp, scrutinizing him for any hint of deceit. Ayanokouji, as always, maintained a blank expression, his gaze calm and unyielding.
“Coincidence, huh?” she repeated, her tone laced with skepticism. “Then why were you in that store before I saw you?”
Ah. So she had noticed after all.
“I was browsing,” he said, deciding not to elaborate.
She probably only saw him leaving since she didn’t question the presence of the others.
“For what? Jewelry?” she asked, a note of disbelief creeping into her voice. “That doesn’t seem like something you’d be interested in.”
A true statement.
“Observation,” he clarified. “I was curious about the pricing.”
Horikita raised an eyebrow, her posture relaxing slightly but her suspicion still evident.
For a moment, Ayanokouji considered turning back to avoid any further confrontation. But something about her unusual behavior—the way she seemed flustered earlier—piqued his curiosity, compelling him to keep pace with her.
“Are you here to buy something?” he asked after a beat, his voice devoid of any particular interest but enough to prompt a response.
She glanced at him briefly, her expression guarded. “I said I was checking something out, didn’t I?”
“Right,” he replied. “Checking what out, exactly?”
“That’s none of your business,” she answered, quickening her pace.
Ayanokouji matched her effortlessly.
“If it’s embarrassing, you don’t have to tell me,” Ayanokouji remarked, his voice calm yet faintly teasing, as though offering her an out while slyly baiting her to respond.
“I don’t like your tone.” Horikita shot back, her tone sharper than necessary.
“Right,” he replied, the single word laden with just enough ambiguity to irk her further.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and then, almost as if unwilling to let him off the hook, she said, “Why do I always feel like you’re more animated when you’re trying to tease me, Ayanokouji?”
“But I’m not,” he countered with an air of innocence that was, by design, anything but.
“I’m leaving,” she declared, her tone clipped, as though hoping to regain control of the conversation.
“Okay,” he said, nodding slightly. “I was planning on leaving too.”
Her expression darkened as she shot him a glare that seemed to say, You’re one big liar.
Ayanokouji, unfazed as ever, found her reaction vaguely amusing.
They exited the mall together, the doors sliding shut behind them as the late winter breeze greeted them. Horikita’s pace quickened, and Ayanokouji effortlessly matched her stride.
“Surely you don’t intend to follow me all the way to the dorms?” she asked, her tone tinged with annoyance as her brisk steps carried her forward.
“The dorms are close to each other,” he replied casually. “It’s only logical.”
Horikita paused for a moment as if struggling with what she wanted to say, which wasn’t normal for someone like her. Just as Ayanokouji, who rarely found himself interested in the behavior of others, began racking his brain on what could have caused Horikita to be like this she suddenly spoke:
“You’ve been distant lately,” she said abruptly, her tone sharp but refusing to betray any deeper emotion.
Ayanokouji faltered, his normally steady pace stuttering for the briefest moment. His brain, usually so quick to process and respond, stalled ever so slightly as he parsed her words.
“What?” he asked, the faintest hint of surprise coloring his voice.
Horikita, still refusing to look at him, continued walking ahead, her back stiff with what he could only assume was forced indifference.“You’ve been avoiding me all week, and now I find you socializing with others?” she said evenly, though the words carried a subtle edge that didn’t escape him.
Ah. So, this was the issue.
A fleeting, uncomfortable sensation stirred within him—an irritation or amusement, he couldn't quite place. With the preparations for her surprise gift and his own covert actions this week, it must have seemed to Horikita as though he had been distancing himself from her, she who had just been getting used to relying on others again.
And yet, on the other hand, he had assumed it was she who was distancing herself from him.
Hadn’t they just been dancing around each other for nothing this entire week?
A quiet laugh slipped past his lips, surprising even himself.
“Haha—”
Horikita stopped abruptly, turning on her heel to glare at him. She stiffened slightly.
“What is it? Why are you laughing?” she demanded, her voice sharp with embarrassment.
Ayanokouji, his expression perfectly neutral except for the faintest trace of mirth in his eyes, simply said, “Nothing. It’s just… unexpected.”
Her frown deepened, and she crossed her arms in irritation. “What’s unexpected?”
“I’ll tell you,” he replied, his tone calm and infuriatingly vague. “If you tell me what you were so embarrassed about earlier.”
Horikita froze, caught off guard by his counter. She looked torn between responding and walking away in frustration. With a huff, she chose the latter, muttering something unintelligible as she turned her back to him once again.
“Horikita,” he called after her.
She didn’t respond.
For reasons he couldn’t quite place, her silence annoyed him more than it should have.
“Horikita, I apologize.”
Still, no response.
With a sigh, Ayanokouji quickened his pace, falling into step beside her. “Horikita,” he repeated, his voice steady, though tinged with something resembling exasperation. “I’ll explain, so can you please slow down?”
To his relief, she eventually slowed her stride, though she still refused to face him.
He took it as a minor victory.
“I wasn’t avoiding you,” he began, keeping his voice measured. “I was preoccupied. The timing must have made it seem like I was avoiding you.”
Her pace didn’t falter, but she didn’t walk away either, so he pressed on.
“I was shopping with a group and I was asked to come along because they needed my knowledge on a few choices. If you don’t believe me, you can ask Ike, Sudo, or Hirata on Monday.”
Throwing his classmates under the bus to clear his name wasn’t something that troubled his conscience in the slightest.
Finally, Horikita stopped, turning to face him with her usual annoyed expression. “You’re a terrible person, Ayanokouji,” she stated promptly.
“I agree,” he said without hesitation.
She blinked, clearly not expecting such an easy admission. Before she could retort, Ayanokouji stepped closer, his unreadable gaze meeting hers.
“And because I’m a terrible person,” he continued, his tone light, “allow me to make up for it.”
“What?”
The winter breeze swept across them, carrying the cold, crisp air from the waters below, the quiet hum of the evening wrapping around them. Ayanokouji’s gaze shifted to the hand she was resting against the railing, his voice quieter now, a subtle weight behind it.
“Your hand, Horikita.”
She eyed him suspiciously, her brows furrowing as though trying to decipher his intentions. But after a moment, she complied, raising her right hand hesitantly.
Ayanokouji reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small, delicately wrapped box tied neatly with a single red ribbon.
Before Horikita could realize what it was, gently, he placed it in her palm, his fingers brushing against hers briefly.
“Take this,” he said, his voice almost too soft to be heard. “Consider it a small gesture of apology from someone as terrible as me.”
“What is this?” Horikita asked, her voice sharp yet tinged with curiosity as she examined the small box in her hand. Its pristine appearance—neatly wrapped without a single imperfection—only added to her suspicion.
“A gift, from me,” Ayanokouji replied, his tone composed.
Horikita opened her mouth, likely to criticize his infuriatingly vague responses—the usual source of her irritation with him. But before she could speak, he continued, his gaze shifting to the horizon where the setting sun painted the sky in hues of amber and crimson.
“This way,” he began, his voice calm yet deliberate, “I’m the first person to give you a present. That makes it more special, doesn’t it?”
He allowed himself a fleeting moment of reflection. I really spent too much time today sabotaging their attempts to find something meaningful, he thought, his own actions surprisingly inefficient for someone who typically prized precision.
Still, it didn’t matter. The tangled web of his day, the interactions and distractions, all culminated here. This outcome, he mused, felt strangely fitting.
He turned to face her then, his expression unreadable as always, though his eyes carried a subtle glimmer of something Horikita couldn’t quite place—playfulness, perhaps?
“Happy early birthday, Horikita,” he said softly.
For a moment, Horikita was at a loss for words. She looked at him, then back at the box in her hand, her mind working to process the unexpected gesture. It was rare for someone to catch her off guard, and rarer still for that person to be Ayanokouji.
“How did you know tomorrow is my birthday?” Horikita asked, her tone less accusatory than usual, as though she was attempting to shift focus from the warmth creeping up her neck.
Stupid Ayanokouji.
Stupid person.
“I saw it on your profile,” he replied simply, with the same detached honesty he always employed. “I do sit next to you in class.”
He didn’t think to mention that he had seen it a long time ago. He doesn’t forget, after all.
Horikita huffed softly, turning her gaze back to the box in her hands.
To be honest, she hadn’t expected him to remember, let alone get her anything. For all his unshakable composure, Ayanokouji had never struck her as someone who celebrated such trivial gestures.
She didn’t even think they were close enough to be exchanging gifts. Then again, she wouldn’t know. She had isolated herself throughout most of her junior years, so…
She tightened her grip on the box, the faintest frown tugging at her lips.
The truth was, she hadn’t come to the mall today by chance. After hearing from Kushida that Ayanokouji was planning a trip, and noticing his recent aloofness—keeping a distance from her that she couldn’t quite place—her curiosity had gotten the better of her.
Although she didn’t want to admit it, she did wonder if he knew of her birthday as well.
After pacing her room, considering and reconsidering, she decided to investigate. It wasn’t for personal reasons, of course; it was to ensure he wasn’t doing anything that might endanger the class.
But now, standing here with the box in her hands and his straightforward explanation still echoing in her mind, she felt a sinking sense of mortification.
For some reason, the thought of Ayanokouji knowing how much this gesture had caught her off guard only made her wish she could disappear into thin air entirely.
Alas, she averted her gaze, her voice barely above a whisper as she muttered, “Thank you.”
For a moment, Ayanokouji felt something unfamiliar stir within him, something that left him slightly unsettled. He didn’t understand why. Gratitude was an expected response when giving a gift; he had observed it countless times before. In fact, just last night, he had even watched a few shows to ensure he executed the gesture correctly.
This wasn’t the first time he had given someone a gift, either. He had presented one to Kei before, and her gratitude hadn’t left him feeling... like this.
He glanced at Horikita, her expression guarded but softer than usual as she held the box close.
For some reason, the fact that it was her saying those words caused a ripple in his otherwise composed thoughts.
He quickly averted his gaze and nodded, an almost mechanical gesture of acknowledgment. "You're welcome."
Still, it seemed like coming out today wasn’t a waste of time after all.
𓆩︎︎𓆪
The next morning, Horikita woke earlier than usual. After completing her morning routine, her eyes lingered on the box sitting neatly on her nightstand.
With today being her actual birthday, she found herself uncertain about what to do with it. She hadn’t received gifts in so long that the feeling was unfamiliar—alien, almost. Still, she supposed she should open it.
Curiosity tugged at her thoughts. What kind of gift would someone like Ayanokouji pick?
Gingerly, she picked up the carefully wrapped package, tugging at the neat red ribbon. It unraveled smoothly, leaving the box bare before her.
Taking a small breath, she opened it.
Inside was a pen.
A fountain pen.
Its sleek black barrel gleamed faintly under the morning light, accented by delicate gold linings. On the body of the pen, her initials were engraved in elegant cursive.
S.H.
‘Suzune Horikita.’
It felt unnecessarily personal.
Below that was a phrase etched just as meticulously:
Strive for excellence.
She lifted it from the box, the metal cool against her fingertips. Turning it over thoughtfully, she examined the craftsmanship. It was undeniably high quality, almost absurdly so. But just as she started to appreciate the pen’s details, her eyes caught something that made her freeze.
The price tag.
Still attached.
“ Huh—!?”
Her grip faltered, and she nearly dropped the pen. Frantically bringing it closer, her eyes confirmed what she’d seen.
“ 78,000 points? ”
Her voice echoed faintly in the quiet room, filled with equal parts disbelief and outrage.
Who in their right mind would spend so much—on a pen, of all things?
It was then that she noticed something flutter out from the box and onto the bed. A note.
Her fingers moved quickly to retrieve it. The handwriting was familiar, its simplicity matching its writer.
She read:
‘ I wasn’t sure who I should have commissioned, so I just asked for the best craftsmen. It came out nicely, right? That’s what matters. Happy Birthday.
From,
Kiyotaka Ayanokouji. ’
Horikita stared at the note, her emotions a mix of frustration, bemusement, and something softer she couldn’t quite define.
"...Stupid Ayanokouji," she muttered under her breath, though her lips betrayed the faintest hint of a smile.