Storm of Confessions

In the end, Fujiwara Chika still got her hands on the photo of Sakurai Saki wearing cat ears.Sakurai Saki had spoiled her, as always.

As Shirogane Miyuki often said, only Sakurai Saki would humor Fujiwara's most unreasonable whims.

When it came to Fujiwara Chika, Sakurai Saki was hopeless—unable to resist her puppy-dog eyes, her teasing voice, or her stubborn persistence.

The last class of the day was art.In the sun-drenched art room, Sakurai Saki quietly rolled up the finished landscape painting he had completed well ahead of the deadline. Though the teacher had allowed them to complete it over the weekend, Sakurai disliked letting assignments bleed into his free time.

He returned to his classroom, tidied up, and headed toward the Student Council Room.

Shirogane Miyuki was already there, having arrived right after his Japanese language class.

"Let's go," Shirogane said, giving Saki a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He inhaled deeply, straightening his back.

In an instant, Shirogane Miyuki's entire presence shifted—his posture sharpened, his expression grew focused, and the air around him felt heavier, more resolute.

They were on their way to a meeting in the club building.

As they walked through the corridor, a steady stream of students passed by.Sakurai Saki glanced through the meeting documents he was carrying.

Shirogane Miyuki was the main force here—the general, as it were. Sakurai was more of a vice-general, an aide in everything but name.

The Club Association had insisted Shirogane handle the discussions personally. Sakurai, in contrast, was seen as his assistant—or at best, a diligent secretary.

Downstairs, they switched into outdoor shoes and stepped out of the academic building—only to run into three members of the Nakano family.

With only 600 students enrolled at Shuchiin Academy, chance encounters weren't rare.

"Sakurai-kun!!!" Yotsuba called out cheerfully, waving at him like they were best friends.

Itsuki followed with a more serious nod. "Good afternoon, Sakurai-kun. Please reconsider what I suggested last time."

Miku didn't say anything—just gave him a sideways glance filled with quiet resentment.

Sakurai answered calmly, "I'll come by next Monday. I have something to do with President Shirogane today. We'll talk about tutoring next week."

With that, he left with Shirogane.

At the top floor of the club building, they pushed open the door to the meeting room.

Shirogane Miyuki's steps slowed.

It wasn't hard to guess why—despite being among peers, the weight of responsibility here felt immense. The others might be students, but their family backgrounds and social connections were anything but equal.

Sakurai, carrying the meeting documents, seemed far more at ease.

For now, the room was empty. Shirogane took a moment to gather his thoughts.

The first to arrive was a short-haired girl in a beret—Ryuzhu Momo, who had briefly served as the Student Council's accountant the previous year.

"Hm? Shirogane, you're here early today," she remarked casually, then turned her gaze to Sakurai.

"Well, if it isn't Shirogane's loyal bodyguard."

"Isn't this a defeated opponent?" Sakurai responded coolly.

Ryuzhu scoffed. "What? You proud of beating a girl like me?"

"Defeating someone who already lost isn't something to be proud of," he said flatly, like he was reading a script.

He added, "Your kendo's even worse than that guy, Kojima."

"Huh?" Her tone shifted—being compared to him was clearly offensive.

"In a real sword match, you wouldn't last three moves. He could survive five."

"Sakurai, enough," Shirogane interrupted, sensing sparks about to fly.

"Tch." Ryuzhu clicked her tongue in annoyance.

She had only ever practiced kendo casually. These days, who even fought with swords when firearms existed? Maintaining real blades was a hassle anyway. Sure, her family owned famous swords—but she had no intention of drawing them.

Still, she had to admit, Kojima really was stronger than her in kendo.

…But only by two moves. Maybe that meant she was catching up?

More footsteps echoed from the hall.

A long-haired girl with perpetually squinted eyes stepped in—Amanbou Yume, the president of the Supernatural Research Club, known for her religious family ties.

"Sakurai, have you been haunted by any female ghosts lately?" she asked, voice lilting like a breeze.

"Yes," Sakurai replied, deadpan. "A beautiful girl with white hair and gray eyes."

He couldn't lie today, apparently.

"Oh my~" Amanbou's eyes opened just slightly, like she was about to say something ominous.

Instead, she whispered, "You should take care of your body, Sakurai. Ghosts can't get pregnant, but you should still exercise restraint."

Sakurai blinked. That wasn't where he thought the conversation was going.

"Cough," Shirogane interjected quickly. "Aman-senpai, this is a meeting room."

"Shirogane-kun," she said smoothly, "you should get more rest. Otherwise, you'll die of overwork. But judging by your aura, you'll survive a little longer."

She sat down, her eyes returning to their usual squint.

"Thank you for your concern, Senpai," Shirogane said politely.

Amanbou turned her head to her next target.

"Eh? Isn't this Ryuzhu-chan? Do you have someone you like~?"

Faced with her bizarrely intimate questions, Ryuzhu Momo chose the safest option—silence.

Just as Amanbou Yume's provocative question faded into the tense silence, another voice—blunt and irreverent—cut through from outside the door.

"The kind of person who'd like her? I don't think they've been born yet."

Kojima, president of the Kendo Club, strolled in without missing a beat. He cast a glance at Ryuzhu Momo and casually dropped into the seat next to her.

Ryuzhu Momo's fists tightened in her lap.She really wanted to punch him.

"Hey, Sakurai!" Kojima called out across the room, his tone too familiar for comfort. "For this year's Yulong Banner and the High School Inter-High—we need a vice-general. You in?"

He was talking about the major Kendo tournaments in Japan—held during the peak of summer vacation.

"No interest," Sakurai replied coolly, not even looking up.

Between his student council responsibilities and his part-time job, Sakurai barely had time to breathe. Adding daily Kendo training to the mix? That would be suicidal.

"I'll come call you when the time comes anyway," Kojima said, half to himself, half to Sakurai. "If you're up for it, just say the word. Adding a temporary member's no big deal."

Ryuzhu Momo looked between the two boys, brows slightly furrowed.

She didn't get it—this thing boys called "friendship."Last year, she'd heard these two had a personal dispute that ended with them settling things in a Kendo match. Kojima lost, and everyone assumed that was the end of it—that they'd fall out.

But now? They spoke like comrades. Like rivals. Maybe even… friends.

She didn't understand it, but it irritated her all the same.

After a few more minutes, the meeting room gradually filled.

Not everyone attended in person—some joined remotely, their faces projected via tablet screens and wall-mounted holograms.

Finally, Shirogane Miyuki stood at the front and cleared his throat. His presence shifted again, transitioning effortlessly into his role as president.

"Everyone, thank you for attending the Club Joint Meeting. Today's agenda focuses on funding allocations for the semester…"

He launched into his speech with practiced fluency, every word precise, every detail accounted for.

Sakurai Saki, seated quietly beside him, let his gaze drift to the corner of the room.

There, half-obscured by the projection screen, sat a girl with short hair and an orange-red hair clip pinned just above her left temple.

That should be Kashiwagi Nagisa—the president of the Volunteer Club.

Sakurai recognized her not because they'd spoken much, but because of the rankings.

She was the fifth-ranked student in the second-year cohort.

As for fourth place?

That would be Shijo-kun.

Most students couldn't name anyone below the top three.But Sakurai Saki remembered.

Because Kashiwagi Nagisa had always been fifth.Never higher. Never lower.Perfectly, stubbornly consistent.

P@treon Rene_chan