The classroom was quiet—too quiet.

And then it happened.

You had just walked back from sharpening your pencil when Rangiku, sitting at the front of the class with her legs crossed, locked eyes with you and mouthed, “Watch this.”

She stood up slowly, bending over very deliberately, and dropped her eraser on purpose. Then, with one hand on the desk, she started twerking—slow, heavy, perfectly timed bounces that made her skirt ride up to dangerous levels.

The whole class was stunned into silence. Boys’ jaws hit the floor. Girls gawked.

You nearly dropped your pencil.

Then the teacher turned around.

“Miss Matsumoto—what in the world are you doing?!”

Rangiku casually straightened up and said with a pure, innocent face, “Just picking up my eraser~” as if she hadn’t just traumatized half the class.

She winked at you before sitting back down, whispering, “Glad you liked the show, baby.”