Wish you Luck, Wish you Love [Muichiro Tokito x OC]
Chapter 6. The Way I Am
"If you were falling, then I would catch you
You need a light, I'd find a match
'Cause I love the way you say good morning
And you take me the way I am
If you are chilly, here take my sweater
Your head is aching, I'll make it better
'Cause I love the way you call me, baby
And you take me the way I am"
— The Way I Am - Ingrid Michaelson —
It wasn't another fifteen minutes before the first class of the day began. Seira slumped forward at her desk, lazily folding her arms and resting her head on them, hoping to steal a quick nap before Ms. Kocho arrived.
Kanae Kocho was their biology teacher—gentle in every way she carried herself, with a calm smile that never quite revealed what she was thinking. None of the students had ever seen her truly angry, but Seira had once witnessed her sternly telling Mr. Shinazugawa not to be so aggressive during his lectures.
Shockingly, Sanemi Shinazugawa had listened.
That alone told Seira that Kanae Kocho could be terrifying if she wanted to be. She squeezed her eyes shut, silently hoping that whatever sleep she managed to get now would be enough to keep her from dozing off during class.
Unfortunately, the classroom was far too bright. And far too loud.
Inosuke was at the center of it all, loudly demanding homework answers from anyone within earshot, unapologetically admitting that he hadn't finished most of it.
"Give it to me," he rudely insisted. She could hear his victim weakly protesting amid the snatching.
Seira buried her face deeper into her elbows, trying to block out the noise—while also secretly being impressed that Inosuke had managed to complete even a single problem.
Suddenly, the world around her went dim.
Something warm settled over her head, blocking out the harsh classroom lights and muting the noise just enough. It carried a faint, comforting scent of white tea and cedarwood. Seira lifted her head in surprise, and the object slipped down onto her shoulders before she fully registered what it was.
A uniform jacket. Sage green.
She blinked and glanced at the name stitched neatly onto the tag.
Muichiro Tokito.
Seira turned around, puzzled, searching for the owner. Her gaze landed on Muichiro, seated directly behind her.
He looked completely at ease—head slightly bowed, pen moving steadily across the pages of his notebook. The chaos of the classroom seemed to stop at the edge of his desk, as if it simply didn't apply to him.
Without even looking up, he spoke. "You have eleven minutes before Ms. Kocho gets here," he said evenly. "Get some sleep, Snoozy."
Seira didn't bother retorting. She only pursed her lips at him before turning back around, more than happy to accept the jacket.
She laid her head down on the desk, Muichiro's jacket draped over her like a small shelter. And yet, instead of drifting off, she found herself strangely awake. The heaviness of sleep no longer pressed at her eyelids. With every second, the gentle scent clinging to the fabric seemed to clear her thoughts, easing her mind in a way she hadn't expected.
It smelled just like him.
Seira hated to admit it, but she found herself clinging to the warmth and that familiar scent without meaning to. Just being wrapped beneath the thin fabric, just breathing it in, was enough to make the world feel softer, calmer—like everything would be fine as long as she stayed right there.
The thought sent a small shudder through her.
Which was why she was oddly grateful when it didn't last long.
Someone knocked sharply on her desk.
Seira flinched, lifting her head as the jacket slipped from her shoulders. When she looked up, she found a pair of bright green eyes staring down at her. Inosuke loomed over her desk, shirt half-unbuttoned as usual, wearing a grin that was equal parts mischievous and shameless.
"Hey, Iguro," he said loudly, clearly unconcerned with personal space. "Did you do your homework?"
Seira let out a long, tired sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Hashibira," she flatly acknowledged him, already exhausted. "This is the fifth time this week."
Inosuke waved a hand dismissively, clearly uninterested in her bookeeping. "Details, details. So? Homework."
Seira glanced at the worksheet peeking out from under her notebook, then back at him. "I did it. But I'm not giving it to you."
He leaned closer, bracing his hands on either side of her desk like he was about to launch into battle. "C'mon. Just one look. I only need to copy—"
"No."
"—the last two questions."
"No."
"—okay, fine, the whole thing."
She stared at him, unimpressed, arms folded across her chest as she leaned back, trying to reclaim some personal space from his looming presence "Absolutely not."
Inosuke clicked his tongue. "You're heartless." But then his eyes lit up.
He spotted the edge of her homework sheet tucked inside her desk drawer. A grin spread across his face as he dropped into a squat and reached straight for it.
"Inosuke—!"
Seira yelped, smacking his hand away before delivering a swift, merciless kick. Inosuke yelped in return as he toppled backward, landing squarely on his butt. She almost snorted at the sight. Rising slightly from her seat, chin lifted, she looked down at him without a shred of remorse as she tugged Muichiro's jacket more securely over her shoulders.
"Try that again," she muttered coolly, "I dare you."
From behind her, a page turned.
"Hashibira," Muichiro said calmly without looking up, "if you lean any closer, you're going to get reported."
Inosuke blinked. Then he slowly turned his head, annoyance visibly buffering on his face. "Huh? Reported for what?"
"For being loud," Muichiro replied. "And annoying." He added with his bored tone.
Seira ducked her head, hiding a smile.
Inosuke, meanwhile, looked extremely offended. He sprang to his feet and jabbed a finger at her just as she failed to stifle a snort. "You kick like a girl!" he yelled.
"I am a girl, pig-head," she shot back immediately. "You want another one?"
Inosuke huffed, puffing out his chest. "You. Me. After school. Back alley," he declared. "Wanna fight?"
Seira's smile turned sharp. She cracked her knuckles, then her neck, standing up with one leg propped casually on her chair. "Oh, you're so done," she said sweetly. "I'll show you exactly who—"
From behind her, a chair scraped loudly against the floor.
"No," Muichiro's flat voice rang out. The single word landed like a full stop.
Inosuke froze mid-pose. Seira paused too, glancing back over her shoulder.
Before either of them could protest, Kanae Kocho appeared in the doorway, her gentle smile already in place. "Good morning, class."
Colorful butterfly clips sat neatly in her long black hair, bright and delicate, as if spring itself had decided to pay a visit. Chaos immediately dissolved.
Students scrambled back to their seats, chairs scraping hurriedly against the floor. Even Inosuke scurried back—grumbling the entire way—though not without turning around to stick his tongue out at Seira.
She shot one right back.
As she settled into her seat, Seira twisted around just enough to glare at Muichiro. "You're no fun," she whispered with an exaggerated pout.
Muichiro paused mid-sentence, pen hovering above the page. Then—just barely—the corner of his mouth lifted. It was the smallest smile, fleeting but unmistakably touched with gentle amusement, and when he looked at her, his eyes softened more than before.
"All right, Miss Wannabe Delinquent," he murmured. "Your trouble is my trouble. Remember?" He tipped his chin subtly toward the front of the room, where Kanae was already writing on the board. "Pay attention."
Seira huffed, but she turned back around—heart lighter, smile stubbornly refusing to leave her lips.
—
At the shogi club's meeting room, Yuichiro made an announcement that left Seira so excited she could barely stay seated.
He passed around a stack of flyers he'd printed himself. The paper was bright and colorful, crowded with bold lettering and sharp graphics, proudly announcing the upcoming National High School Shogi Championship. According to the details, the tournament would be held in their city in six months' time.
It was the biggest tournament for high school players aiming to compete professionally.
To qualify, they would first have to battle through the regional school circuit, narrowing dozens of competitors down to just two representatives. Those two would then go on to face players from other cities across the country.
Seira clutched the flyer tightly, determination settling deep in her chest. She glanced sideways at Muichiro, who was reading the same information with an unreadable expression—so calm it almost looked like boredom.
As the president of the shogi club, most people would have expected Yuichiro to be the obvious top contender for such a prestigious competition. Yet recently, he'd made it clear that he enjoyed teaching far more than competing. Guiding others, watching them improve—that was what motivated him now.
The room buzzed with excited chatter. There were ten members in the club in total: Seira, the Tokito brothers, and seven others.
And silently, unanimously, those seven had already accepted the truth.
They didn't stand a chance at this level.
Which meant the representatives for Kimetsu Academy were obvious: Seira Iguro and Muichiro Tokito.
While everyone else talked, Seira's mind was already racing ahead.
She wanted to win.
Not just qualify—not just represent the school. That was only a checkpoint, not the finish line. She wanted the trophy. She wanted to stand above Muichiro, victorious, and rub it in his face with the most obnoxious victory dance she could think of.
The thought made her grin.
Across the table, Muichiro calmly folded the flyer and set it aside.
"With six months to prepare, there'll be plenty of time for everyone to practice and reach their best before the qualifiers," Yuichiro said. "The regional rounds start in four months, in January."
He glanced around the room, meeting each member's eyes in turn.
"If even one of us makes it to the semifinals, that would already be a great honor for Kimetsu Academy. So let's give it our all. Practice whenever you can."
Yuichiro tapped the edge of the table lightly, already slipping into planning mode.
"Since we meet weekly, we'll also hold strategy meetings every other week—to discuss matches, refine our approaches, and work on weaknesses together."
At his words, the room came alive again.
Chairs shifted, boards were pulled closer, and the soft clack of wooden shogi pieces filled the air as everyone naturally split off into pairs. Conversations quieted into murmurs of opening theories and half-joking confidence, the earlier excitement settling into focused intent.
Seira didn't even need to look around. By the time she reached for a board, Muichiro was already sitting across from her.
Of course he was.
They set up the pieces in practiced silence, hands moving almost in sync. This wasn't unusual—somehow, they always ended up facing each other, as if the room itself nudged them into place. As if his place, and hers, had always been meant to be across from one another.
Seira cracked her knuckles lightly, eyes sharp as she surveyed the board. "Don't hold back," she said, a grin tugging at her lips. "I'm serious this time."
Muichiro finished arranging his last piece and folded his hands neatly in front of him. "I never do."
She scoffed, but there was anticipation buzzing under her skin as she took the first move, the piece clicking decisively against the board.
The game began.
Around them, voices rose and fell, but Seira barely noticed. Her world narrowed to sixty-four squares, to strategy and prediction—and to the calm, unreadable gaze of the person across from her, who matched her move for move without a hint of hesitation.
"Nationals in our city," she said lightly, eyes never leaving the board. "Kind of convenient, don't you think?"
Muichiro responded immediately, uninterested. "It raises the level of competition," he replied. "Everyone will want to prove themselves on home ground."
She hummed. "So you're saying the pressure's on."
"I'm saying people play sloppier when they're nervous." He glanced up briefly. "You included."
Seira scoffed and slid another piece forward. "Please. Pressure makes me better."
"It makes you reckless," Muichiro countered, capturing her piece without hesitation.
"Hey—!" She leaned forward, glaring at the board. "You've been waiting for that."
"Yes."
Their pieces traded back and forth, the board gradually filling with tension. Around them, the room faded into a background hum of other matches, but their corner felt self-contained, almost insulated.
"If we both make it through regionals," Seira said, circling a piece with her fingers, "we'll be opponents for the nationals."
"Yes," Muichiro said. His voice was calm—but unusually solemn.
She paused, finally looking up at him. "You don't like the idea?"
"I didn't say that." He nudged a piece into place, deliberate.
Her expression cooled. Seira launched a bold attack with her knight, aiming straight for his bishop. "You don't think I can go far enough to beat you?" she said, voice flat. "You never take me seriously, do you, Tokito?"
He blocked it neatly with a rook.Then his next move came faster—sharper, more aggressive than before—forcing her to shift her bishop to protect her queen, even as he deliberately left an opening she didn't dare exploit. "I always do, Seira."
The sound of her name on his tongue made her pause midair. There was something in the way he said it—too deliberate, too earnest—that struck her as strangely reverent.
She didn't want to believe her own ears.
So she brushed it off, refocused on the board, and went after a lone pawn instead.
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: Truyen3h.Co