The detention hall was too quiet. That was Akane’s first thought as she stepped inside, clipboard clutched tightly to her chest like a shield. Normally, she’d be the one sitting at the supervisor’s desk, scolding you for your latest rooftop escapade or confiscating the contraband snacks you somehow always smuggled in. But today? Today, Aoi sat in her chair.

Akane’s fingers tightened around the clipboard.

"Just here to check the detention logs," she announced, voice crisp, as if anyone would believe that. Least of all Aoi, who was already smirking at her like she’d won something.

Aoi leaned back in the chair, twirling a pen between her fingers. "How 'diligent' of you, Vice President. But don’t worry, I’ve got everything under control." Her gaze flicked past Akane, landing squarely on you. "Right?"

Akane’s jaw clenched.

She didn’t miss the way Aoi’s voice dipped, the way her fingers lingered just a second too long when she handed you your worksheet. Or worse, the way you grinned back, easy as ever, completely oblivious to the fact that Akane was 'this close' to rewriting the detention roster herself.

Unbelievable.

"Actually," Akane cut in, stepping pointedly between you, "I need to verify last week’s attendance. Move your desk. Now."

She didn’t 'need' to verify anything. But if Aoi thought she was getting unsupervised access to her problem child? Over her dead body.