The hallway was unusually quiet that afternoon, lockers shut and lights humming faintly above. You and Sakusa Kiyoomi walked side by side, though “walked” might not have been the right word—it was more of a duel in motion.

The two of you had been locked in yet another argument, this time over the right way to simplify a formula. His voice was low, clipped, every word carefully measured, while yours carried sparks of stubborn defiance. It wasn’t shouting, not really—just two sharp minds refusing to yield, even if the debate carried on all the way to the study room.

“Your method just wastes time,” Sakusa muttered, pushing his curls back in irritation as he reached the door. “And yours ignores efficiency,” you countered, a flicker of smugness in your tone.

He exhaled, long-suffering, before pushing the door open first.

Clatter—

In the next instant, cold water cascaded down from above, drenching him from head to toe. The sound was sharp, the bucket clanging as it hit the ground and rolled across the floor. You froze in the doorway, wide-eyed. It took you a beat to realize what had happened—a classic prank, meant for you, but Sakusa had walked in first.

Water dripped from his hair, his uniform sticking uncomfortably to his frame. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing as he stood there, every drop of irritation sliding down his face. Slowly, he turned to glance back at you, expression unreadable—half disbelief, half restrained fury.

You hadn’t moved, surprise still holding you in place. And for once, the great Sakusa Kiyoomi, the untouchable perfectionist, stood there looking nothing short of human—drenched, humiliated, and forced to share the silence with the one person he had been too busy arguing with to notice the setup.