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Tokyo Chapter 177
🕑 Added 2025-08-02 07:30:02 +0000 UTCShuichi didn’t bother listening further and pushed the door open without hesitation.
“What—what are you barging in here?!” Sumire yelped, startled.
“I’m just checking on the president,” Shuichi replied coolly. “After you two were getting all cozy earlier, you left her in the bathroom for ages. Gotta make sure she’s okay.”
His eyes roamed brazenly, taking in the scene with an unabashed gaze.
“Cozy?! There was no such thing! And where do you think you’re looking?!” Sumire snapped, her face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and indignation.
“Seems like you’re a bit rattled, Sensei,” Shuichi observed, his tone teasing.
He glanced around the room, noticing the walls and, more specifically, the high-tech toilet installed in Sumire’s bathroom. 'Smart toilets everywhere these days, huh? Talk about modern conveniences spreading fast.'
It didn’t take him long to spot the remote control mounted on the wall near the door. A satisfied grin spread across his face as he sauntered over and picked it up.
“President,” He said, turning to Tsuki with a meaningful look, “You know what this thing does, right?”
Tsuki tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. She hadn’t experimented with it before.
“Watch.” Shuichi’s voice was calm but laced with mischief as he pressed the flush and massage buttons on the remote.
A sharp squeal erupted from Sumire, followed by a faint, almost involuntary… moan? It was subtle, but it was definitely there.
“President, where’s your little gift?” Shuichi asked, shifting his attention to Tsuki.
Tsuki’s eyes darted to the laundry basket by the bathroom door, where Sumire had carefully placed the “gift” earlier. She retrieved it with a knowing look.
“Perfect,” Shuichi said. “Now, let’s make things interesting. How about a Q&A game? You and Sensei compete to see who can answer more questions clearly and smoothly. First one to crack loses.”
Tsuki’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Sounds like a fun idea.”
“Hey, hold on! You two don’t get to decide this on your own! I never agreed to this!” Sumire protested, her voice tinged with exasperation. 'Why do these two just assume I’ll go along with this nonsense?'
“Oh, if Sensei doesn’t want to play, we can give you some space to step out,” Shuichi said, stepping aside from the door with a mock gesture of courtesy, as if daring her to leave.
Sumire glared at him, teeth gritted. 'He knows I can’t just walk out like this. What a bully!'
“So, what’s it gonna be, Sensei?” Shuichi asked, feigning confusion.
“I’m such an idiot…” Sumire muttered, her voice dripping with self-reproach. “I should’ve known. You’re nothing but a smooth-talking jerk. To think I actually felt guilty for misunderstanding you before…”
Her complaints were cut short as Shuichi, without a word, announced the start of the game—not with words, but by rolling a die and pressing the remote again. The room filled with the faint hum of the device, and Sumire’s protests died in her throat.
“First question,” Shuichi began, his tone curious. “Where does Sensei hide all those old cosplay outfits from your high school and middle school days? I couldn’t find them earlier.”
Sumire’s legs pressed tightly together, her lips trembling as she fought to maintain composure. “In the… kitchen,” She managed, her voice strained. “There’s a… small, moisture-proof storage space… under the floorboards…”
“Nice,” Shuichi said, nodding approvingly. “No wonder I didn’t find them. Not even under the bed. Pretty smooth answer, Sensei. You pass.”
He turned to Tsuki. “President, recite Jing Ye Si.”
Tsuki’s eyes were hazy, her voice shaky as she began, “Before my bed… the moonlight glows… it seems like frost… upon the floor… I raise my head… to see the mountain moon… then bow my head… to think of home…”
She recited the poem in its local translation, her words halting but clear enough. Shuichi gave a nod. “Not bad, President. Barely smooth, but you pass too.”
His gaze shifted back to Sumire. “Your turn again, Sensei. That time in the infirmary when you caught us playing our little game—were you hiding under the blankets, sneaking a peek?”
Even in her current state, Sumire wasn’t about to admit to something so mortifying. She huffed, her voice a mix of frustration and defiance. “Why do I… get questions like that… while she just… recites poetry?”
“Because the president and I have exams next Monday, so we’re cramming every chance we get,” Shuichi replied, his tone infuriatingly reasonable. “You don’t have exams, Sensei.”
Sumire blinked, dumbfounded. 'What kind of logic is that? You two come all the way here, pull this stunt, and now you’re telling me it’s for studying? Should I be praising you for your dedication?!'
“No need to praise us, Sensei,” Shuichi said, as if reading her mind, waving a hand modestly. “It’s just what students do.”
His shamelessness made Sumire want to lunge at him and bite him. 'This guy!'
“So, about that answer…” Shuichi prompted, his voice turning sly. “Lie or get it wrong, and there’s a penalty, you know.”
“What… penalty?” Sumire asked, her voice tight as she braced herself, toes curling with effort.
“You’d spend a day at my place as a maid, cleaning up,” Shuichi said casually. “During that time, you’d have to ignore anything… odd I might do. Act like everything’s normal, and not run away, no matter what happens.”
Sumire’s eyes widened in horror. 'A maid? Ignoring his “odd” behavior? How depraved is this guy?!' The mental image of herself in a frilly maid outfit, calling him “Master” while he toyed with her, made her brain reel. A flood of scandalous scenarios overwhelmed her, amplifying her current predicament. She was on the verge of losing control.
“That… wasn’t part of the deal!” She gasped, struggling to focus. “I don’t… agree to penalties!”
She nearly faltered, teetering on the edge of defeat. But luck was on her side—Tsuki, sitting silently, suddenly collapsed into a duck-like squat, trembling with unfocused eyes. She’d caved first.
“Congratulations, Sensei! You win!” Shuichi clapped, though he suspected Tsuki might’ve thrown the game after hearing about a reward.
“Reward…?” Sumire mumbled, her tension easing slightly, though it pushed her past her limit too.
Shuichi crouched in front of her, eyeing her flushed, slightly dazed face. “Yup, a reward. A kiss. Want to claim it now, Sensei?”
“Who’d want that kind of reward?!” Sumire retorted, her misty eyes flashing with indignation. She swung a weak fist at his shoulder, more like a petulant tap than a punch.
“Too bad,” Shuichi said with a grin. “But if you change your mind later, I’ll honor it. Even if you’re a wrinkly old granny by then.”
“You’re the wrinkly old granny!” Sumire shot back, picturing the absurd scenario and feeling a mix of resentment and resignation. “Happy now? You’ve stripped every shred of my dignity.”
“Not at all,” Shuichi said, gently taking her hand and kissing the back of it. “Does seeing the president’s true self make you look down on her?”
“Of course not! That’s not what I meant!” Sumire said quickly, flustered.
“Always pretending must be exhausting, right? Trying to be the perfect version of yourself all the time—it’s hard. Doesn’t it feel liberating to let it all go?”
Sumire froze, caught off guard by his words. His clear, earnest eyes made her waver. 'Is he… actually being kind?' No, no, she couldn’t fall for it again. This guy was a menace, always teasing and tormenting her. But… she couldn’t deny the strange relief, the weight of expectations lifting, leaving her oddly carefree.
“Looks like you get it,” Shuichi said, standing up briskly. “I’ll wait outside. Take your time getting sorted—no rush.”
He hung the remote back on the wall and left without lingering, leaving Sumire even more suspicious of his intentions.
---
About twenty minutes later, a disheveled Sumire emerged from the bathroom with Tsuki. Whatever they’d discussed while cleaning up seemed to have brought them closer. It made sense—both were strict and composed at school, but hid quirky, private sides that Shuichi had somehow uncovered.
“You sure he didn’t sweet-talk you into this, Tsuki-chan?” Sumire asked, still skeptical.
“That’s harsh, Sensei,” Shuichi called from the sofa, looking up. “The president came to me first. I even refused at the start—could’ve been a trap, you know. Plenty of people get framed these days.”
Sumire huffed, pulling Tsuki to sit on the couch. “After everything you’ve done to me, you deserve to be doubted.”
Shuichi raised an eyebrow. “Sensei, you seem… different all of a sudden.”
Sumire tilted her chin defiantly. “Blame yourself. I’ve already lost all my pride, so what’s the point in caring anymore?”
“Really?” Shuichi asked, his tone playful.
“Really,” Sumire said, feigning nonchalance.
“Then you wouldn’t mind wearing that bunny girl senpai outfit, right?” Shuichi pressed, watching her closely.
Sumire’s composure faltered, her eyes darting away. “Not minding doesn’t mean I’ll do it! Why should I dress up for you? You’d probably use the photos to blackmail me. Go ahead and leak my dark past—I don’t care. What else could you threaten me with?”
“Fair enough,” Shuichi said, nodding. “I’ll just share it with Ichika-san, then.”
“Share it with whoever you—wait, what?!” Sumire froze mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing. “Ichika-san? Which Ichika-san?”
“The one you introduced me to, of course—Ichika Kitagawa,” Shuichi said with a sly smile.
“You call her Ichika-san? Even behind her back, that’s too familiar…” Sumire said, her tone stern.
“I call her that to her face too,” Shuichi replied, chuckling.
“She let you?” Sumire’s voice wavered with disbelief, a surge of jealousy rising. 'I’ve known her for years and never got to call her by her first name. How does he pull it off?'
The resentment burned stronger than the embarrassment from earlier. Tsuki, meanwhile, licked her lips thoughtfully. 'Sounds like Shuichi’s making progress with Kitagawa-san. Wonder when we can all play together. Such a stunning woman… would she tease me with thorny roses while I serve her and the master?'
“What did you do to get her to agree?” Sumire demanded, her curiosity overriding her caution as she grabbed Shuichi’s hand.
He tilted his head, blinking innocently. “You want to know how I did it, right? Only two weeks, and we’re already on first-name terms.”
“Spill it! How’d you manage it?” Sumire pressed, practically vibrating with impatience.
“What’s it worth to you, Sensei?” Shuichi asked, his smile turning devious.
Sumire’s face fell as she realized he’d caught her again. 'This jerk!'
“What do you want now?” She asked, her voice small and wary.
“I already said—bunny girl. Mai Sakurajima style, no cutting corners. I want to see it next week,” Shuichi said firmly.
Sumire glared at him, fuming, but the temptation of getting closer to Momoka was too strong. “The infirmary again? Naomi-chan’s been in a bad mood lately, so it’s tricky to get her out.”
“Not the infirmary,” Shuichi said, glancing at Tsuki. “The student council president’s office.”
Tsuki’s eyes sparkled. “You’re very welcome there, Sensei. No one will disturb us.”
Sumire bit her lip, glancing between the two conspirators before finally relenting. “Fine… I get it.”
“No pressure, Sensei,” Shuichi said, his tone falsely gentle. “You can totally say no.”
“I… I’m in,” Sumire muttered through clenched teeth, hating how his smug smile made her heart race. 'He’s got such a pretty face, a decent build, even a weird charm—how is he so infuriatingly evil?'
“Great. Now, about that promise from earlier,” Shuichi said. “It’s getting late, so let’s see your Rikka cosplay, and we’ll head out. No need to crash here for dinner.”
“Rikka cosplay? What are you talking about?” Sumire said, her eyes darting nervously, hoping to dodge it.
Shuichi didn’t argue. He just stood up. “President, let’s go. Seems like the bunny girl’s off the table too. The deal's probably dead.”
“Such a shame,” Tsuki said, playing along with a dramatic sigh. “I didn’t expect Sensei to be the type to break promises. A bit disappointing.”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Sumire grabbed Shuichi’s sleeve, her face crumpled in defeat. “Fine, I’ll do it. I’m going to get ready, okay? You win. You always find my weak spots.”
“It’s just a little teasing,” Shuichi said, his eyes lingering on her.
Sumire hugged herself reflexively, then realized there wasn’t much to cover. Her frustration flared. “You’re the one who says there’s nothing to see, then teases me relentlessly…”
Grumbling, she shuffled to the kitchen to dig out her old cosplay stash. She couldn’t keep them at her parents’ place—too risky for social suicide if they were found—but she couldn’t bear to throw them out either. So, they’d followed her here.
---
Ten minutes later…
“Burst, reality!”
“Shatter, spirit!”
“Banish this world!”
“…Is that enough?”
Sumire stood in her Takanotsume Rikka cosplay, complete with a chuunibyou eyepatch and a tied-up ponytail. One hand tugged at the now-too-short hem of her top, the other pressed down her skirt, but it was futile. Her flat midriff was exposed, and a slight tilt of the head would reveal her white panties, giving her an unintentionally provocative look. Her face burned with shame, and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole as she faced her two devilish students.
“Got it all recorded?” Shuichi asked Tsuki.
The “maid” gave an OK gesture. “All set, master.”
“Sensei’s truly admirable, keeping her word like this,” Shuichi said. “One last gift before we go.”
He approached Sumire, who flinched back instinctively. “I don’t want your kissing reward…”
“That’s for when you come asking,” Shuichi teased.
“Never gonna happen!”
“Nice flag you’re planting there,” He said with a shrug, then held out a small item. “This is for you, Sensei.”
Sumire’s eyes widened in shock. 'That thing?' She’d been floored when she helped Tsuki remove it earlier, and now he was offering it to her?
“No way!”
“Sure you don’t want it? Take it, and I’ll give you a sneak peek at how to get close to Ichika-san,” Shuichi said, his smile pure temptation.
---
“Takanotsume Rikka” (from Chuunibyou demo Koi ga Shitai!) and “Mai Sakurajima” (from Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai).
