43 Talking To Ichinose Honami

The door clicked shut behind Ayanokoji as he stepped into Ichinose's room. He cast a flat gaze around, taking in the neatness that mirrored the girl's personality. The air, however, held a weight not present before, heavy with a misery he couldn't ignore. But indulging in pointless empathy wasn't his objective.

"How are you feeling, Ichinose-san?" he asked, his voice devoid of inflection.

Ichinose offered a weak smile, its cheerfulness failing to reach her eyes. "Just tired," she murmured. "A bit under the weather, maybe."

Ayanokoji nodded curtly, then pulled out a chair and seated himself with practiced ease. Ichinose perched on the edge of her bed, her posture a far cry from the confident way she usually carried herself.

"The past few days have been rather uneventful. Class is class, as you might expect." He elaborated, going into a dry recount of the day's lessons, discussing the intricacies of a specific math problem and the breakdown of Yukimura's teaching style within their study group. He mentioned Hasabe's struggles, Miyake's quiet observations, and Sakura's enthusiastic participation, all in a detached, factual manner.

Ichinose listened, her brow furrowed in confusion. Why was he telling her these things? She'd expected him to be more direct, to inquire about the rumors or perhaps pressure her to return to class. This dispassionate monologue was entirely unexpected.

Ayanokoji shifted gears, his voice taking on a slightly weary tone. "And of course, our ever-exuberant Class C hasn't changed a bit. Ike, Sudou, and Yamauchi continue their usual bluster, boasting about their plans for this coming Valentine's Week."

At last, a flicker of interest sparked in Ichinose's eyes. "Valentine's Week?" she echoed softly.

He shrugged. "Apparently, the prospect of securing a date has them in a frenzy."

Now she was truly bewildered. Was this a strange attempt at small talk? Why was he focusing on such mundane topics? Finally, she couldn't hold back any longer.

"Ayanokoji-kun," she said, her voice gaining a hint of frustration. "Why are you truly here? I… I expected you to ask about the rumors."

Ayanokoji didn't flinch. He met her gaze unflinchingly, his expression a mask of indifference. "The rumors? Whether they're true or false is rather irrelevant."

A flicker of surprise crossed Ichinose's face. "Inconsequential? But… they're painting me as a criminal!"

"And even if they do," he continued, his voice devoid of judgment, "a crime shouldn't define who you are. It's the guilt you carry, the potential to repeat it, that truly matters. And from what I know of you, Ichinose-san, that wouldn't be the case."

He met her gaze for a fleeting moment, a spark of something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "Besides," he added, "I haven't had a chance to speak to you properly. All this commotion… it presented an opportunity."

A blush crept onto Ichinose's cheeks despite her best efforts. Ayanokoji, wanting to talk to her? Alone? The idea, absurd just moments ago, now filled her with a warmth that threatened to break the dam of her emotions.

"You… you don't care then," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears, "that the rumors might be true, that I might be… a thief?"

Ayanokoji leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Even if you were, Ichinose-san," he said, his voice calm, "what would that change? You're here now, trying to be a better person. That's what matters."

The dam finally burst. Tears streamed down Ichinose's face, her carefully constructed facade crumbling.

She didn't try to hide them, didn't fight the sob that escaped her lips. In Ayanokoji's words, she found a lifeline, a flicker of hope amidst the storm of doubt and accusation.

Ayanokoji watched her silently, his expression unchanged. But a flicker of something akin to… sympathy? Perhaps? Played across his features for a fleeting moment before disappearing as quickly as it came.

"It's alright to break down sometimes," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Even the most perfect facades can crack."

His words weren't comforting, not exactly. But in their cold pragmatism, they offered a strange kind of solace.

Ichinose wiped her tears, taking a shaky breath.

"Why… why are you doing this, Ayanokoji-kun?" she asked, her voice hoarse. "Why are you… helping me?"

He shrugged, a gesture devoid of any genuine emotion. "Consider it… an investment in the representative of the Class B. Your well-being, your return to class… they factor into my own plans of you being useful to me someday."

The answer was pragmatic, devoid of sentimentality. But Ichinose clung to it, nonetheless.

A flicker of something, perhaps concern, flitted across Ayanokoji's face as he watched Ichinose struggle to contain her emotions. He rose from the chair with an unhurried grace and sat beside her on the bed. The movement was unexpected, and for a moment, Ichinose stared at him, bewildered.

Then, without a word, he reached out and wrapped his arms around her. The embrace was gentle, surprisingly comforting. He didn't squeeze, but the simple act of his arms around her was a dam breaking open. Tears streamed down Ichinose's face, her choked sobs echoing in the quiet room.

"It's alright," he murmured into her ear, his voice devoid of its usual monotone, softer than she'd ever heard it. "You don't have to be strong right now. Cry it out."

His touch, his words, unexpected and yet strangely comforting, shattered the facade she'd so tightly constructed. She burrowed into his embrace, letting out all the pent-up fear and despair. It was a release she hadn't realized she desperately needed.

As her sobs subsided, she took a shaky breath and began to speak, her voice raw with emotion. She spoke of her single mother, struggling to raise two daughters. She spoke of the pride she felt at reaching the top of her class in middle school, only to have her world crumble when her mother collapsed from exhaustion.

"I wanted to help," she whispered, tears welling up again. "I wanted to find a job after graduation, but Mom wouldn't let me. All she ever wanted was for us to be happy, to have a better life."

The words tumbled out, a jumbled mess of guilt and grief. She described her sister's genuine desire for a hair clip, a luxury their family couldn't afford. Her mother, determined to fulfill her daughter's wish, pushed herself even further, the exhaustion etched on her face a constant reminder.

Ichinose choked back a sob. "I couldn't bear it anymore. Seeing the sadness in my sister's eyes… I just… I stole it."

Her voice trembled as she confessed her act, the burden of the secret she'd carried for years finally lifting. "It wasn't even expensive, just a hundred dollars, but…"

She trailed off, unable to articulate the guilt that gnawed at her. Stealing, no matter how small, felt like a betrayal of everything her mother had strived for. But the relief in her sister's eyes, the joy of receiving the gift, had been all the justification she needed at the time.

"My mother… she figured it out," Ichinose continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "She made me return it. The store owner was kind, didn't press charges, but the rumors spread. Everyone looked at me differently."

The shame in her voice was palpable. Isolation and depression had become her companions, leading her to this prestigious school, a chance at a fresh start.

When she finished, a heavy silence descended upon the room. Ichinose braced herself, waiting for Ayanokoji's judgment. Would he see her as weak, a criminal?

But when she looked up, his face remained impassive. There was no pity, no disdain, just a calm neutrality.

"Thank you for trusting me with this, Ichinose-san," he said, his voice flat but oddly comforting. "It means a lot."

The genuineness of his words was questionable, but the gesture, the fact that he'd listened without judgment, meant the world to her.

"Who else knows about this?" he asked.

The question startled her out of her emotional haze. "Only Miyabi Nagumo," she replied, recalling the manipulative smile on his face when he'd coaxed the truth from her. He'd used her secret as leverage to bring her into the Student Council. "I think… I think he might have told Arisu Sakayanagi of Class A."

Ayanokoji nodded curtly, seemingly unsurprised. His expression remained unchanged, but a glint of calculation flickered in his eyes.

"Don't worry, Ichinose-san," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of steel. "These rumors won't spread any further. I'll handle it."

His words held a quiet authority, a promise that resonated within Ichinose. Although she didn't know what methods he would employ, a sense of calm washed over her. For the first time in days, she felt a glimmer of hope.

She simply nodded, leaning against him, finding solace in the unexpected comfort of his presence.