Aiko Moriyama prided herself on control. She had a system: know the rules, enforce the rules, never let anyone step on her space. That was her life. Until Rin Akatsuki transferred.
The moment Rin walked into class, Aiko noticed her. Not because Rin was loud she wasn't. Not because she was strange she wasn't. But because she had the audacity to sit in Aiko's seat without even flinching.
Aiko's pen hovered over her notebook, unsure whether to scowl or explode. The chair creaked ominously as Rin leaned back, crossed one leg over the other, and gave Aiko a lazy smile that somehow made Aiko's heart skip a beat.
"Excuse me," Aiko said, her voice calm, but with ice in it. This is my seat.
Rin tilted her head, her dark hair falling like a curtain over one eye. "Oh? No one's name is on it."
"Everyone knows," Aiko snapped, straightening her blazer. "Including you, now."
Rin smirked, as if she'd won a small victory she didn't even have to try for. "Guess I don't care."
The teacher cleared her throat, pretending not to notice the silent standoff. "Moriyama, maybe sit somewhere else today?"
Aiko's jaw tightened. The nerve. But she complied only to feel Rin's eyes on her back the entire class. That gaze wasn't casual. It was measuring, teasing, something she couldn't quite name.
By lunch, the class was buzzing. Everyone was whispering about Rin the new transfer who didn't bow, who didn't seem intimidated, who apparently had a presence. Aiko ignored it. She didn't care what anyone else thought. Or at least, she told herself that.
But when Rin laughed at something subtle something only she noticed Aiko felt her chest tighten. Just a little. And she hated herself for it.
Later, fate or more accurately, a teacher who obviously enjoyed watching conflicts unfold—paired them for a group project.
Aiko stared at the paper. Rin's name was directly under hers.
"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, gripping her pencil like a weapon.
Rin leaned over, smiling. "Fate's funny, isn't it?"
Aiko pressed her lips together. "I work alone."
"You won't this time," Rin said, her voice soft but teasing.
After school, they met in the library. It was empty except for the occasional echo of footsteps from upstairs. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, dust motes floating lazily in the golden light.
Aiko set her bag down and tried to focus on her notebook, but she could feel Rin's presence. There was something magnetic about her reckless, unafraid, teasing and Aiko wanted to hate her.
"You don't like me," Rin said quietly.
"I don't trust you," Aiko countered.
"Same thing," Rin replied, leaning back against the table. She took up more space than necessary, shoulder brushing Aiko's accidentally. Aiko felt a jolt heat spreading to her cheeks.
"You act like you don't care about anything," Aiko said, trying to mask how flustered she suddenly felt.
"I care," Rin said, her voice low. "Just not about pretending."
Their shoulders brushed again. Aiko's heart skipped a beat. She stepped back immediately, flustered, embarrassed by the sudden awareness of Rin's nearness. Rin's smirk deepened playful, almost victorious.
"You're tense," Rin whispered.
Aiko's brain went blank. "Stop talking."
"Make me," Rin murmured, her eyes darkening slightly, almost daring her.
The next day, tension followed Aiko everywhere. Rin sat across from her in class, smirking at every answer she got right. Every time Aiko thought she had a solid comeback, Rin said something, just small, casual, teasing, that made Aiko's thoughts scatter like papers in a storm.
During gym, Rin somehow ended up as Aiko's partner for a relay. Aiko could feel Rin's hand brush hers when passing the baton nothing obvious, just a touch, and yet it was electric. She shoved the thought away, annoyed at herself.
By the time school ended, Aiko had decided: Rin Akatsuki was a problem. A big one. But maybe, just maybe… a fascinating one.
Because when Rin caught her staring as she left, that lazy, dangerous smile on her lips made Aiko's chest tighten all over again.
And Aiko hated that feeling.