That afternoon, I set out for class knowing that my world is about to change any moment. So many people have seen Yuki and me together that I’m sure word of it has spread by now. Remembering Vivi’s horror stories about the multitudes of “morally incapacitated” girls who are after Yuki, I know I’m about to be bullied like I’ve never been bullied before. It should scare me, but it doesn’t. In fact, I’m eager for things to, umm, start, because I know I can use it to my advantage. If I survive those girls, I could show Yuki I’m stronger like I say I am. Right?

And yet…

Nothing happens.

Or rather, things do happen, but not in the way Vivi and I expect. Although people have started to stare and talk whenever they see me, there’s not a single glare that’s been thrown in my direction. “This doesn’t make sense,” I mutter.

“Maybe,” Vivi says thoughtfully, “they are waiting for a cue. What if…this is like that scene from Hana Yori Dango?”

My eyes light up. “You could be right!” In the aforementioned manga, open season for bullying is declared on anyone who finds a red card in his or her locker, and that’s exactly what happens to the heroine. She eventually ends up with the guy who actually instigated the entire thing, but, umm, that’s another story.

Vivi and I hurry to the locker hall, and we both have an ‘aha’ moment when letters flood out the moment I unlock my locker. My heart jumps to my throat as I watch her kneel down and pick one of the letters up.

It’s happening. It’s started. It’s---

“A love letter,” Vivi exclaims.

It’s a what?

Vivi hands the letter to me, and my eyes widen when I start reading its contents. It is a love letter, or more to the point, an anonymous confession along with a phone number scrawled at the end, in case I choose to reply. Crouching down next to Vivi, I hurriedly go through all the letters, and they’re all the same.

What in the world?

Vivi shrugs when I look at her in askance. “Beats me.”

Oh no. It’s the first time Vivi gets her idiom right. It feels like a bad omen – and I’m right. When we emerge from the locker hall, we bump into the associate dean of the Performing Arts Department, who then beams while greeting me by name. “Konnichi-wa, Chariot-san.”

We get waylaid multiple times after that, with every teacher in campus seemingly hell-bent on saying hi to me. It had gotten so bad that by the time Vivi and I have to head separately to our classes, my back has started to ache from too much scraping and bowing.

“I no longer understand what is going on,” Vivi whispers, “so please just watch your butt.”

Despite everything, I can’t help giggling a little. “Back,” I whisper. “I think you mean I should watch my back.”

“Yes, I meant that, of course.” Vivi squeezes my hand. “Take care.”

As I enter my afternoon Mecha class, I can’t help fretting and wondering if maybe I have it all wrong and it’s the faculty I should be worried about. In Minami Kanan’s Ren-Ai Shijou Shugi, the chemistry teacher was so obsessed with the hero of the manga that she did all sorts of things to make him break up with his girlfriend. What if this is exactly like it, just on a grander scale and with every teacher about to conspire against me?

When I receive my test results and it’s a big red C, I’m even more convinced. This is the reprisal I’ve been expecting. But when I confide my suspicions to Seiji, Yuki’s friend only snorts. “Sorry to disappoint you,” he drawls, “but I think this is merely a result of you sucking at drawing robots.”

Mm.

Good point.

The class ends quickly enough, and I find Yuki leaning against the opposite wall when I step outside of the classroom. He’s changed into a black V-necked shirt with a dark denim jacket thrown over it, and the sight of him leaves me dumbstruck, more so when he starts walking towards me oh…so…slowly.

Just like he used to, I can’t help thinking as my throat dries up at the sheer magnificence of him.

Although he seems to enjoy forcing me into a walking marathon these days, it wasn’t always like that. It used to be that he’d take his time with everything, his every word or gesture precise and graceful. Not that he’s anything less now – he’s still perfect – but back then, he tended to do things in slow motion because he knew…

People liked having him take their breath away.

Just like he’s doing now, I think dizzily when he finally reaches me.

“Senpai.”

My toes curl hard at his too-innocent tone. This is like before, too, and it usually serves as a precursor for---

“You’re drooling.”

That.

He just loves to say things that rattle me, but I’m not going to complain about it. A provocative Yuki is still a hundred times better than no Yuki at all, and so I just make a face. Does he seriously think I’d fall for that?

Yuki shrugs. “Up to you, senpai.”

Oh, blast it. Did I accidentally drool? He is worth drooling over anyway, and he is looking a lot sexier than usual. I touch my lips to be sure, but they feel dry to me. “I don’t think---”

“Let me help you.”

Oh no, you don’t. I know what those words mean now, but before I can even move away, he already has an arm wrapped around my waist, and he’s pulling me close. “It’s this spot here.” Yuki bends his head to lick the corner of my lip, and my knees knock against each other.

AAAAAAH.

Just like that I’m wet again, and when Yuki lifts his head, the smirk that’s curved on his lips tells me he knows this – and it’s exactly as he planned.

“This is what you call taking things slow?” I choke out.

“It’s not my fault if my kind of slow is still too much for you.” He nips my lower lip afterwards, and I give up pretending I can still keep myself upright. I cling to him, and he throws his head back with a laugh. It’s the sexiest sound, but I also know tomorrow is guaranteed to be the ultimate test. I may have survived Day 1’s bullying (never mind if it’s nonexistent), but after Yuki’s 360-degree turn from Mr. Icy to PDA Prince, I won’t be shocked if his fangirls start sharpening knives the moment they see me.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Yuki suddenly asks.

I quickly shake my head. “It’s nothing.” But this only makes him stop in the middle of the hallway, and I turn red when he clasps my shoulders and make me turn to face him. “Yuki,” I protest under my breath.

“You’re sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” I mutter, “except for the fact that you’re making us the center of attention, again.”

“So?” His broad shoulders move in a lazy shrug. “It’s not as if they’re able to do anything to you.”

“Of course they---” I stop mid-sentence. Hold on a minute there. My eyes narrow at him. “Are you the reason why everyone seems so weird around me today?”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to elaborate, senpai.”

Ha! The more innocent Yuki sounds, the worse it usually is, and I glare at him. “You did something, didn’t you?”

Yuki gives me a positively angelic look.

Yup. He totally did something.

“Tell me,” I insist. And when Yuki doesn’t show any signs of giving in, I have no qualms with using the magic word. “Please?” I would have even batted my eyelashes if I had to, but fortunately it doesn’t prove necessary.

“I don’t see why it matters,” Yuki says with a faint sigh, “but if you insist on knowing – all I did was simply let it slip that people have to think very carefully of what they say or do to you because the rewards and consequences won’t be limited to the walls of this school.”

Spoken just like a billionaire’s son, I think, cringing. And now everyone’s going to think I’m the kind that needs protecting, Yuki included.

“Who exactly did you talk to?”

“Only the school chairman,” Yuki says.

“Only the school chairman?” I repeat disbelievingly. “You involved the school chairman in this?”

“Who else should I have spoken to? I want the word out as quickly as possible so of course I’d speak with him. I needed to make sure you were taken care of.”

“But---”

“You look slightly disappointed,” he says silkily.

Oh, shite. Did I give myself away? I shake my head, stammering, “Of c-course not.”

“And yet your face suggests otherwise,” he drawls. “In fact, if I take a closer look, I’d be tempted to say you were hoping that something would happen because you could use it as a chance to prove that you’re, err, strong---”

A gasp escapes me. “How do you know?”

“Because I know you.” And then he flicks my forehead. Hard.

“Ouch!”

“Serves you right, senpai.” His tone is merciless. “Did you really think I’d let anyone harm you in any way?” He flicks my head again. “I am all for you proving your strength, but not if it’s going to put you in any danger.” His eyes bore through me. “Is that clear now?”

“No.” How can I prove I’m not weak if he’s going to protect me all the time?

“Good. I’m glad you understand.”

“But I just said---”

“We really should go now, senpai. We can’t be late.”

Despite everything, I’m successfully distracted not just by his words but also the brisk pace he’s set for us. Hurrying after him, I ask a little breathlessly, “Where are we going?”

Yuki flashes a wicked smile. “It’s a secret.”

Because it’s rush hour, all of the trains are packed, and I find myself caged in Yuki’s embrace, my back against the doors. I look up, intending to nag him again about where we’re going, but it’s a big mistake. Our eyes clash, and that’s all it takes. I can only watch helplessly as his glittering gaze begins to dip lower and lower, until his eyes are hungrily devouring my flesh.

Aaaaah.

He’s staring at my breasts like he can’t wait to eat them, and oh bloody hell, it’s making me feel the same – I can’t wait for him to eat them either. “P-please,” I choke out. But he keeps staring, and that’s all it takes.

I’m wet.

Again.

“Stop staring,” I plead. It feels so wrong that I’m aroused in public. “Please.”

But of course, this only makes Yuki do the opposite. His body inches closer, so, so close that our breaths become one, and every time the train lurches his chest rubs against my swollen breasts. It’s too much, and I bite back a cry as I feel my nipples start to pucker to life.

My eyelids sweep closed as fantasies crowd my mind, an imaginary Yuki tearing my blouse as he---

“Goddammit, senpai.”

My eyes fly open, and I see Yuki glaring down at me. “What did I tell you about fantasizing in public?”

Oops.

“It’s your fault,” I grumble.

Yuki pinches my cheeks the moment we get off at Harajuku. “How many times do I have to tell you, senpai?” His voice is extremely pleasant, which I know from experience is a bad sign. “You can’t ever show that face to anyone but me.”

“I’m so-wee.” It’s hard to speak, with my cheeks still stretched.

“You’ve become a very bad girl. I don’t think a normal punishment will cut it this time.”

“Ummmm.” I know I should be terrified, but instead I’m excited like I’ve never been before. One of Yuki’s punishments in the past was that we had to make a video of us pleasuring ourselves, and well, let’s just say it was so, so bad it was good. The kind you couldn’t help watching over and over---

“Senpai,” Yuki growls.

Oh, drat. I think I just fantasized again.

“We definitely need to get keep moving now,” Yuki mutters, “before you show more of that to other men.”

“I didn’t…I wasn’t…” But I’m soon unable to speak, too busy trying to catch up with Yuki’s long-legged stride.

Takeshita Dori is as vibrant as always, its lane teeming with people, but I barely have time to appreciate the kaleidoscope of colors around me. Yuki’s moving so fast that all I have time to concentrate on is catching my breath as we zigzag between the crowds. When we finally stop, I’m panting while Yuki hasn’t even broken a sweat.

Because he’s a god, I tell myself, and not because I need to work out more.

Yuki squeezes my hand as he leads me inside a low-rise office building. Framed, glass-covered blown-up posters of famous manga line the carpeted hallway, and I wonder if we’re in a new branch of Mandarake or something similar.

My curiosity finally gets the better of me, and I ask, “Can’t you give me a clue about where we are?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” is all he says.

The second floor seems to consist of several function rooms. All of it appears to be vacant except for the one at the last, which is where we’re evidently heading. I start to hear some noise coming from the function room as we get closer – mostly laughter and a steady high-pitched buzz of conversation, the kind you hear when everyone shares the same excitement for a common subject.

A woman in business suit smiles as we come forward, saying pleasantly in Japanese, “Good afternoon, Mr. Himura, Ms. Chariot.” She bows in greeting, and that’s when I see the digital board behind her. It’s showing the current lineup of events, and Room 205 offers a 3D ad for a fan meet with a shoujo mangaka named…Katerina…Chariot.

My jaw drops to the floor. Isn’t that me? I hurriedly skim the rest of the details, and it only gets worse. Not only does it promise a Q&A but also a live-sketch session of the first two pages of my upcoming shoujo oneshot.

What the hell is this?

My head snaps to Yuki’s direction, and his fingers tighten around mine almost as if telling me to calm down.

“Arigatou gozaimasu, Rin-san,” Yuki’s saying.

When Rin-san glances at my direction, good manners force me to echo Yuki’s words even as cold sweat envelopes my body, and the world starts to spin a little too fast.

“We’ll be ready in thirty,” I hear Yuki murmur, and my heart starts to gallop like it has no intentions of returning, knowing it only has destruction to look forward to.

“Wakarimasu.” Understood.

I watch Rin-san bow one more time before she leaves, and anxiety explodes into full-blown panic. As soon as the door closes behind the other woman, I ask shakily, “What’s the meaning of this, Yuki? What do you think you’re doing---”

“Punishing you.”

Yuki’s tone is light, but his gaze is utterly serious, and my heart drops to my stomach. “I see.” Clever, clever Yuki. I totally didn’t see this coming. And to think I let myself believe in him, let myself believe that he’s truly giving us a chance---

“Senpai?” His gaze rapidly scans my face, and whatever it is he sees makes him jerk in shock. “No, senpai, you misunderstand. It’s not that kind of punishment. This is not meant to embarrass you---”

“Isn’t it?” I ask dully. “Because from where I’m standing, that’s exactly how it looks---”

“It’s not,” Yuki rejects forcefully. “Believe me, it’s not. I thought about this a million times, and I always arrive at the same fucking answer. You need to be reminded of how good you are---” Yuki stops speaking when he sees me pale.

“You know,” I whisper. “You know. Don’t you?” Humiliation consumes me at Yuki’s silence. God, why am I even surprised? Since he’s a billionaire’s son now, he probably knows everything. He probably knows that when he left, I had desperately tried to get back to work – and failed. All of my proposals had been rejected, with publishers saying ‘I’m a one-hit wonder’ or that ‘I would never make it in this business.’ He probably even knows that I had to forcibly cut ties with my agent because I could no longer bear the way the whole industry was laughing behind Shelley’s back, with the way she’s stubbornly holding on to an artist who couldn’t even get her characters’ names straight---

The memories are too much, and before I know it I’m already running away.

“No.” Yuki catches me even before I can make it past several feet, and a choked sob escapes me as he pulls me close and my back slams against his chest. “Listen to me, senpai. When my dad and I first came back to Japan, I promised myself that I’d only follow your career and nothing else. I didn’t want to…risk finding out anything that could make me go back and ruin your life again. So I waited for your work to come out. I waited a long time until I realized…I had taken that away from you.”

His voice becomes strained. “I never wanted that to happen. I would never want that for you---” Yuki’s words come to a rough stop, and if not for his arms holding me, I’d have fallen to my knees.

Oh, Yuki.

It wasn’t his hand that refused to draw; it was mine. It wasn’t his heart that stopped beating for what it used to love; it was mine. And most of all, it wasn’t his choice to fuck up. That was all mine, and for him to blame himself for it all these years---

It sickens me, realizing just how weak I was all those years ago, that I don’t even know if I have the right to ask a second chance with him.

I feel his lips touch my hair, and my eyes squeeze shut. “I don’t know,” I confess brokenly, “if I can be the old KC again.”

He spins me around to face him, saying fiercely, “No one’s asking you to be. Who you are now is better and stronger.” He cups my face. “Didn’t you tell me that yourself?”

“You make it sound so effortlessly easy,” I choke out.

“Because it is.” His gaze captures mine. “You keep telling me I didn’t ruin your life---”

“And you didn’t!”

“Then prove it,” Yuki says simply. “Prove it now. Show the world what I’ve always known. Remind them what they’re missing. And most of all---” He steps away and opens the door for me. “Prove to yourself that even if I disappear from your life again, you’ll still be able to draw.”