In fact, she had put in far more effort than this at the beginning, even drinking black coffee for three nights straight, but considering that telling him would make him cocky, she decided to keep it to herself.
"How about it? Want me—the previous Akutagawa Prize winner—to give you some guidance?"
Kiyono tried to make up for it from another angle, acting high and mighty.
Ah, nice recovery. This move flips the situation.
"Since you're so free, it's only natural for you to make time for me," the girl said, raising an eyebrow.
"Is that the attitude of someone asking for a favor?" The rising star of the literary world frowned. "Yukinoshita-san, where is your respect for your senior? You're not even willing to call me 'teacher'!"
The icy girl was a little embarrassed and annoyed; her eyes went sharp, the kind of look that could kill. In the end, she pursed her lips and turned her face away.
"…If—if the writer-sensei really wants to help, it's not like I can't accept it."
She quickly cut Kiyono off.
"I've sent the script to your email. It's time for you to put in some effort—this is your area of expertise, right?"
The boy felt the time was right. If he continued to tease her, Yukino would truly get angry, so he harrumphed and began to read from the start.
"I'll take a look at Yukino-sama's masterpiece."
Although he was acting difficult on the surface, he still carefully scanned every word, just as Yukino had done in the beginning.
A few traces of reminiscence and nostalgia gradually appeared in his eyes, then turned into a faint smile.
"There are quite a few problems. I'll make some comparative edits for you here and there," he said casually, marking two red lines.
Yukino hummed in agreement. Although she was proud, she acknowledged that Kiyono's literary skills far surpassed her own. She felt he deserved to be called "teacher" now—but she wouldn't say it out loud.
Kiyono scrolled to a certain paragraph.
"This section of dialogue has a big problem."
"Is it because the rhetoric is superfluous? Or is it a problem with the characters?" Yukinoshita-san asked humbly.
"No—you haven't considered the audience as a whole," Kiyono explained.
"You've seen theatrical performances. On stage, except for the first few rows, the people in the back can't see the actors' expressions clearly, so they need more direct, intense dialogue and actions to convey emotion. These lines are too restrained; the back rows may not catch them at once."
"Hm… I roughly understand," the black-haired girl nodded.
She listened and revised carefully, taking a lot from it.
But soon, Yukino paused, her expression cooling with dissatisfaction.
"This is too innocent. We're writing a play, not a pure-love TV drama!" Kiyono pointed out, seemingly eager for revenge.
"…Kiyono-kun, a teenager ruled by desire, can't appreciate the basic beauty of restraint?"
Yukino saw through his intentions and retorted.
"The dialogue here is too cold—like strawberry ice cream that's been frozen for two months. More ice than sweetness."
"When did Kiyono-sensei's writing class expand to ice-cream appreciation? I suggest you first deal with the excessively sugary monologues in your own work."
"Then what about here? The scene should be warm, but the heroine's words have become a cold scalpel. Is Yukinoshita-san projecting herself?"
"Um…"
Yukino couldn't refute it. She shot Kiyono a fierce glare, a faint blush rising on her fair cheeks—like the only red rose blooming in the snow. Serious, embarrassed, unwilling—far too charming.
Great. Great!
Yes—this is why he worked so hard to hone his writing: to see this!
Kiyono, who felt he had flipped the power dynamic, was elated and proud.
Yukino Yukinoshita—so incredibly strong since their first meeting—had finally been melted and "conquered" by him!
After a pause, Yukino's face still slightly red, she lifted her chin.
"Then, if it were Kiyono, what would be more touching? For example… the heroine casually mentioning the hero's habits?"
The next day, at the Service Club.
When Kiyono opened the classroom door, feeling refreshed and ready to tease Yukino-san a bit more, he saw the girl sleeping like a crystal doll under the warm light.
Her breathing was soft; her expression, gentle and serene—completely different from her usual cold, flawless demeanor.
Kiyono looked at drowsy Yukino across the long table, and his heart stirred slightly.
Sensing someone's presence, her pink lips moved, and she slowly opened her eyes to look at him. Fresh from sleep, her unusually pure, clear gaze reflected his figure—making the pure-love warrior's heart skip a beat.
"Peeping Tom?" The girl blinked in confusion.
"I just came in," Kiyono denied.
"Peeping Tom."
"Why did you repeat that on purpose?!"
Kiyono slapped the table, his gaze lingering on the dark circles beneath her eyes. "What time did you stay up until? I told you you could've just asked me to do it…"
"It's okay. I just read a little longer. I still need your help now," Yukino yawned softly like a kitten.
"Have you finally decided to ask me for help? Whatever you ask, I'll satisfy you," Kiyono said smugly.
"Don't misunderstand. This is my mother's order," Yukino replied coolly.
"So, what do you want me to do today?" Kiyono stopped teasing.
"Yesterday, I reread it according to your suggestions and found it really lacked emotional impact."
Yukino suddenly raised an A4 sheet to cover half her face, revealing only her navy-blue eyes, misted with heat.
"Like the convenience-store taiyaki someone brought last time—the skin soft, the filling cold."
"Then what's Yukinoshita-san's solution?" Kiyono asked tentatively.
"Practice makes perfect."
As soon as she finished, she stood, walked to him, and looked up.
"Since the dialogue lacks emotion, we must address it. Therefore, I want you to accompany me in real-world interactive dialogue to make up for the flaws."
She said it word by word; her always stern, cold eyes quietly began to melt, though her pretty face remained matter-of-fact.
—Saying it so nicely… isn't this just role-playing!
"It's just dialogue, no need to go that far. I'll write it for you now," Kiyono tried to dodge.
"Just do as I say. It's a simple scene simulation. What, is it spring now, and the great writer's hormones are soaring?"
Yukino frowned, her tone sharpening—asserting her authority.
Kiyono could only endure humiliation, daring to be angry but not to speak. This woman is too much! I didn't even get this treatment back then!
"Are you ready?"
Her voice was light, almost emotionless, making the scene feel more like rigorous study than anything ambiguous.
He nodded helplessly.
Yukino took a step closer; the faint scent of camellias overwhelmed his breath.
Kiyono lowered his head slightly. Each blink of her long lashes seemed tempting; her slightly parted pink lips were as delicate as dewdrops. The Heavenly Mountain Snow Lotus stepped down into the mortal world.
"Then let's start. Imagine we're in the equipment room after the cultural-festival closing ceremony."
She suddenly removed the red butterfly-ribbon from her temples, and her hair fell smoothly—she'd recently changed to a new shampoo.
"I lost my ribbon, and you…"
Yukino placed a new hair tie in his palm and lifted her eyes, as clear as a lake after broken snow melts.
"…and you happen to have a spare hair tie in your pocket."
The destructive power of a cold, proud girl suddenly speaking such lines was extraordinary. Kiyono froze; the tips of his ears turned red.
"Don't you want to tie it for me?" Yukino added.
This time, even Kiyono's face flushed.
He had to admit—Yukino was indeed a normal young girl. Only a young girl could imagine lines and scenes like this.
Facing the black-haired girl's astonishing charm, Kiyono took a deep breath and, with trembling hands, tied the red ribbon for her. When his fingers brushed her hair, it was unimaginably fine—smoother than the best silk a hundred, a thousand times over.
He was so nervous he couldn't tie it properly at first.
"What are you thinking now?" Yukino asked, her flat tone diluting the slight ambiguity of the act.
"Your hair is… very beautiful."
—It slipped out.
Yukino fell silent; even her breathing seemed to catch.
"Then the two of them look at each other," she said, deliberately lowering her voice, though her breath was still warm.
When Kiyono recited, "Don't look away," Yukino looked straight at him. Her clear eyes were as gentle as water; he saw his reflection in them—eyes that could draw out a soul, beauty irresistible.
He subconsciously turned his head.
"This line should be said while looking into my eyes," Yukino whispered.
Kiyono staggered two steps and sat, frozen.
Yukino's expressions and actions replayed in his mind frame by frame, refusing to fade. Too foul.
Of course he knew it was just role-playing—but precisely because of that, he glimpsed a different Yukino: delicate and soft.
Calm down. Calm down! It's just an illusion performed by a girl!
Meanwhile, the heroine herself calmly revised the manuscript at the table, looking as plain as water.
Only when Kiyono looked away would she sneak a glance at him.
After two minutes of this silent atmosphere, Yukino recovered, took a bento from her bag, and set it before him.
"Thank you for your hard work. This is your lunch today."
"Alas, I'm going to be completely fed into laziness."
Shame pricked at him—especially after her "hard work" line—yet appetite won. He slowly opened the box.
Inside was the same fare as Yukino's, with a few plums and small appetizers. The arrangement perfectly separated mains and rice, balanced and beautiful. Chopsticks and toothpicks were neatly placed in their slots. Just looking at it, he couldn't help but think: As expected of the Yukinoshita family.
If this keeps up, how could he refuse when Yukinoshita's mother asks him to join the family and be tied to it for life!
Kiyono turned worry into appetite, took up his chopsticks, and prepared to dig in—when he noticed, in the upper right corner, an extra throat lozenge, white-peach flavored, with a small note beside it.
What's this?
Curious, he unfolded the note.
A single line appeared.
"Helping the Drama Club more is not as interesting as destroying the self-righteousness of a certain idiot writer."
Thump.
The boy fell to the ground.
He ascended to heaven.
The two spent about seven days completing the Drama Club's short script. Although Yukino originally wanted to finish it independently, time was tight; Kiyono unknowingly took on nearly half the work, and many scenes and dialogues were completed by him.
It became a joint work of two.
When Yukino brought Kiyono to the Drama Club and handed over the script, the members immediately dove in, reading with rapt attention.
The cold girl looked around, silently observing their expressions.
Calm, shocked, joyful, moved.