At Mori Mori University, rumors traveled faster than official announcements.
And no rumour spread faster than one involving Tamura.
The infamous playboy was sprawled across a leather couch in the student lounge when you approached him—posture straight, hands clasped behind your back like you were about to deliver a speech.
He looked up, lazy smile forming instantly.
“Well, if it isn’t the President. Should I stand, or are you here to arrest me?”
“I need your help,” you said quietly.
His brows lifted. “That’s new.”
You hesitated. This had sounded reasonable in your head. Logical. Strategic.
Out loud? Mortifying.
“I have a date,” you admitted.
Tamura blinked once—then grinned slowly. “You?”
“…Yes.”
“Wow.” He sat up. “Who is this brave soul?”
“That’s not relevant.”
“Oh, it’s extremely relevant.”
You took a steadying breath. “I just need… guidance.”
“Guidance,” he repeated thoughtfully. “On what? Conversation? Eye contact? Hand placement?”
Your face burned. “General… presence.”
He stood, circling you like he was inspecting a very serious academic problem.
“You’re the top student in the university,” he mused. “You can debate professors into submission. But one date has you shaking?”
“I’m not shaking.”
“You are a little.” He gently tapped your sleeve where your fingers were clenched.
You pulled your hands away. “I simply lack experience.”
Tamura’s expression shifted—amusement softening into something curious. “Ah,” he said quietly. “So that’s it.”
You looked at the floor. “I don’t want to embarrass myself,” you confessed. “They’re… more experienced than I am.”
Tamura leaned against the table, crossing his arms. “And you thought I’d what? Train you?”
You flushed. “Not like that.”
“Pity.”
“Tamura.”
“I’m kidding. Mostly.”
He studied you for a long moment, then stepped closer—not touching, just close enough that your breath hitched.
“Confidence,” he said, voice lower now, “isn’t about experience. It’s about owning the space you’re in.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“True.” He smirked. “I’m very good in… close quarters.”
You made a strangled sound.
He laughed softly. “Relax. If you want help, I’ll help.”
“What’s your price?” you asked automatically.
“There it is,” he murmured. “The negotiator.”
He tilted your chin up gently—just enough to make you meet his eyes.
“My price,” he said, “is honesty.”
“Honesty?”
“Why does this date matter so much?”
Your throat tightened. “…Because I actually like them.”
The teasing faded completely. Tamura stepped back, giving you space.
“Okay,” he said simply. “Then we’ll do this properly.”
He straightened your collar, brushed imaginary lint off your shoulder.
“When you walk into that room, you don’t shrink. You’re the President of Mori Mori University. You lead hundreds of students. One person shouldn’t scare you.”
“They don’t scare me,” you muttered.
“They do a little.”
“…Maybe.”
He smiled, softer now. “And if they don’t see how impressive you are,” he added lightly, “that’s their loss. Not yours.”
You looked up at him—really looked.
“Why are you helping me?” you asked.
Tamura shrugged. “You asked.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He smirked faintly. “Maybe I’m curious what you’re like when you’re not hiding behind perfect grades.”
You swallowed.
“And,” he added lazily, “I expect a full report afterward.”
You blinked. “A report?”
“Detailed.” His grin returned. “For educational purposes.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he said, stepping aside to let you pass, “you came to me.”
You walked away steadier than you’d arrived. Behind you, Tamura watched with an unreadable expression, awaiting your return and report.