Kushida's Recording Backfires? Tricked by Me.

Kushida finally cracked a smile, like a little devil who'd caught someone red-handed. "Who would've thought Tsukishima-kun had such a past—how heartbreaking."

She pulled out her phone, hit play, and Tsukishima's voice came through: "It's probably a family issue... that old man was trying to screw me over..."

She stopped the recording, a smug grin on her face:

"My, my, Tsukishima-kun, you let your guard down. This is 'arson,' 'assault on a religious figure,' 'juvenile delinquency'... tsk tsk, if Chabashira-sensei heard this, you wouldn't just be stuck in Class D. Expulsion would be the light end—you might even spend a few years in juvenile detention."

"If you come over and lick my toes, maybe I'll let you off the hook."

"No wait, licking toes is probably a reward for a pervert like you~"

She walked up to Tsukishima, watching his face twist in 'anger.' "Then I'll change the terms... how about you wear a dress and shout 'I am Kushida-sama's loyal dog' three times in the hallway?"

A delighted laugh escaped her lips: "Looks like from now on, Tsukishima-kun is going to be my slave!"

Tsukishima finally couldn't hold it in anymore. He dropped his head onto the desk and burst out laughing: "Hahahaha, you took the bait just like that, little Kikyo. You're really adorable."

Kushida Kikyo's face darkened. "Ha. You think pulling a stunt like that will make me believe the info is fake? You think I'd buy that?"

Tsukishima wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes: "Ah, I can't, I'm dying laughing. Kushida-san, your need for control is terrifying. The second you spot an opening, you hit record."

"Think about it carefully. If I was scraping by eating garbage, where would I get the money for school?"

"Maybe... maybe someone sponsored you later."

Tsukishima patted Kushida's little head with pity: "Ah, Saintess-sama, if it makes you feel better to say that, then sure."

Kushida's whole face went red, like a boiled shrimp: "You... you tricked me!"

She wanted to throw her phone right at his face!

Tsukishima spread his hands: "All's fair in war. Besides, you haven't been cursing me out lately. Before, you'd viciously wish people dead. Now it's just nasty sarcasm and jabs. That threw me off a bit."

"So I kept an eye out and tested the waters."

He suddenly perked up his ears, puzzled: "Huh? Kushida-san, is there a rat in the room? Why do I hear a grinding sound?"

Turning to look at her, he had a flash of realization: "Oh, it's Kushida-san grinding her teeth. Got an itch in your gums?"

Kushida went full red-hot and charged at him like a wild boar: "Die! Bastard! Why don't you just die!"

Tsukishima reached out, grabbed her head, twisted it sharply, and pushed. A dazed Kushida flopped onto the bed.

"Your brains are lacking, and your combat power's weak too. I'm worried about your future."

With that, he sat back down in his chair, picked up his pen, and continued his drawing.

Kushida buried her face in the pillow. After a long while, she pulled her head out, sat up on the bed, and glared viciously at Tsukishima.

She opened her mouth to curse, but remembering how nothing fazed him, she didn't know what to do.

She parted her lips, ready to hurl more insults, but swallowed them back down.

Curse him? He wouldn't get mad—he'd just treat you like a joke.

Hit him? That 'wild boar charge' just proved the absolute gap in fighting ability.

Catch him in a trap? He didn't care at all, and he'd even dig a bigger hole for you in return.

Worse still, he had all her dirty little secrets in his hands.

What could she do about that!

The scratch of the pencil became the room's background noise.

She bit her lip, finally breaking the silence, her voice tinged with reluctance and intense curiosity:

"Then... what exactly got you assigned to Class D?"

Tsukishima glanced at her. "You really want to know? No recording?"

Kushida clenched her teeth and said nothing.

Tsukishima let out a light laugh, put down his pen, and turned to face her directly, his eyes growing a bit deep:

"So, you don't think this personality of mine formed overnight? You don't naively believe someone with a personality like mine should be 'normal,' do you?"

Kushida froze, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"

Tsukishima sighed, as if recalling some distant memory, his expression so serious it left no room for interruption:

"The teacher who interviewed me seemed normal on the surface—suit and tie, righteous face—but actually... that guy was a closet homosexual."

Kushida's eyes went wide. "Huh?"

Tsukishima ignored her reaction and continued calmly, his tone as flat as if he were talking about the weather:

"To get through the interview and into this school I'd dreamed of, I 'worked' a little. I hinted that I could set him up with a very suitable boyfriend."

"And the 'boyfriend' I introduced was my middle school homeroom teacher's husband."

He suddenly scratched his head in frustration: "I thought a guy with a wife would be normal. He'd turn down the interviewer, and everything would be fine."

"But who would've guessed those two men ended up in bed together the very next day."

"Then my homeroom teacher caught them in the act. Word is, when she walked in, they were still connected."

"Then those three chased me for five blocks."

Having said that, he turned back around, picked up the pencil, and was about to sketch the outline when it seemed like something suddenly occurred to him:

"Oh, right—that middle school teacher ended up getting divorced later, and the interview teacher got transferred. Word is, my homeroom teacher's husband is now together with that interviewer, and they're doing pretty well."

"I guess I did a good deed, brought a couple together, don't you think?"

Kushida sat dumbfounded on the bed, as if struck by lightning.

This... this actually worked?

No way!

She stared intently at Tsukishima's back, gritting her teeth as she asked, "This isn't fake again, is it?"

Tsukishima didn't turn around; the pencil traced a smooth arc across the paper:

"Does it matter?"

"If this version is real, leaking it would stir up my already tarnished reputation, and I wouldn't mind, wouldn't blow up on you, and you'd get to vent—win-win."

"But if the previous version is real, then I'd have to show you the darker side of the world."

Tsukishima turned his head, grinning at her: "Which version do you hope is real?"

The dorm room fell silent once more.

Time slipped away amid the rustle of the brush, the fluorescent light hummed, and the faucet that hadn't been fully shut dripped steadily.

After who knows how long, Tsukishima lifted his head, stretched, and cast a satisfied glance at his artwork.