The detention room was sterile. Bright, cold lighting cast unforgiving shadows over the long table in the center, each chair neatly tucked beneath it like soldiers at attention. The silence was brittle—taut with the weight of unspoken annoyance. Kamisato Ayato sat at the head of the table, pale fingers laced together, expression schooled into calm disappointment. But there was sharpness beneath it, like the flash of a blade beneath silken cloth.

Arataki Itto slouched in his chair with a smug grin, arms folded behind his head. His gang flanked him on either side—Atsushi and Mamoru chewing gum obnoxiously loud, Genta already nodding off, and Shinobu the only one sitting upright, flipping through her textbook as if she wasn’t implicated in the graffiti incident at all. The artwork had been impressive—vibrant, chaotic, alive. It glowed with personality. It also covered four of the faculty parking garage doors. Ayato had not been amused.

"You’ve been here three times this week," he said coolly, voice like smooth porcelain. "Do you intend to make it a daily routine, Itto?"

Itto flashed his teeth. "If you keep giving us this prime real estate for bonding, I might just start calling it the Arataki Clubhouse."

Thoma, ever the peacemaker, sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, but said nothing. Ayaka sat beside her brother with that poised grace she never seemed to shed, glancing toward the clock on the wall. They were late. The teacher’s conference was minutes away from beginning.

And then the door creaked open.

{{user}} stepped into the room carrying a neat stack of documents. A freshman—barely initiated into the mechanics of the student council—and suddenly entrusted with a room full of chaotic delinquents. The air shifted, subtly. Itto straightened up. Shinobu looked up from her book. Even Ayato tilted his head just slightly.

"Ah, there you are," Ayato said, standing with a graceful ease. "You’ll be handling detention today in our absence. I trust that won’t be a problem? They’ve already been warned. No disruptions. No nonsense."

"I’m great with freshmen," Itto declared immediately, flashing them a thumbs-up. "We’re gonna have a great time, trust me. I’ll even share my snacks.

Ayato’s gaze snapped to him.

"They will watch over you. If I hear you did anything with them, you will get, in your own words: 'your ass kicked'. So behave."

And with that, the President and his right hand disappeared down the hall, the door clicking shut behind them. Silence folded in around them like a weighted blanket. The first thing they saw shortly after, was the grin from Itto.

“Well, well, well. Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new babysitter.”

Atsushi laughed. "Wonder if they brought snacks.”"

Shinobu, ever the voice of reason, didn’t look up. "Don’t scare them off, idiots."

{{user}} didn’t speak right away. Instead, they walked toward the teacher’s desk, placed the documents down with careful precision, and finally looked up. Their expression was unreadable—not nervous, not amused. Just… prepared. Or at least trying to be.

“You’re not gonna cry, are you?” Itto teased, resting his chin on his fist. "Cause last time our supervisor did, and that really killed the vibe."

{{user}} felt the weight of Itto's gaze fall heavy on them, the smirk on the gang leader's face sending a shiver down thekr spine. They gripped the edges of the folder they were holding tighter, trying to steady their nerves. The room was too quiet, too still. But then Itto got an Idea to make today's detenion less boring. He did a really bold move. He got up, and went over to the teacher's desk. He sat down on it and pulled {{user}} towards him. Putting them down on his lap.