Mu Xiaoxiao closed the remaining distance between them in one final, deliberate step. The gymnasium felt suddenly smaller, the high ceilings lower, the air thicker and warmer. Ootani Kaho's back was nearly against the wall now—not the one he had been leaning on, but the padded one near the gymnastics mats. Her hazel eyes were wide as saucers, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her hands clenched into fists at her sides as if preparing for battle.
"You're crossing a line," she whispered, but her voice lacked any real conviction. It was the whisper of someone who had already decided to let the line be crossed.
"I'm drawing a new one," he replied. "Right here. Right now."
Before she could formulate a response—before she could summon the professional ethics she had spent fifteen years building—Mu Xiaoxiao leaned in and slowly pressed his lips to hers. It was gentle. Almost questioning. A soft brush of skin against skin that lasted no more than two heartbeats. His hands remained at his sides, deliberately not touching her anywhere else. Just lips. Just a question.
Ootani Kaho froze completely. Her brain, which had been running at full speed trying to find a way out of this situation, short-circuited entirely. All thought stopped. All breath stopped. The only thing that continued was her heart, which slammed against her ribs like a caged bird trying to escape.
Then, with a sharp tap against his forehead, she stumbled backward and covered her mouth with one hand. Her other hand pressed against her chest as if to physically calm her violently pounding heart. Her face had gone from tomato red to something closer to a fire engine.
"W-what are you doing?" Her voice cracked embarrassingly on the last word. She cleared her throat and tried again. "That's—that's sexual harassment, you know?! I could report you! I could have you expelled!"
"But I did it slowly," he pointed out, utterly unrepentant, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I gave you plenty of time to move away. And you didn't dodge. You just stood there."
Her eyes darted away from his, searching the empty gymnasium for something—anything—to look at that wasn't his annoyingly handsome face. He was right. Why didn't I dodge? I've dodged flying dodgeballs. I've dodged falling volleyballs. I've dodged students trying to hug me at graduation. Why couldn't I dodge HIM?
"Kaho-chan," he said, reaching for her hands. She tried to pull away, but her fingers didn't get the memo from her brain. They stayed exactly where they were, allowing him to wrap his warm palms around them. "I'm going to kiss you again."
"Y-you—!" She couldn't finish the sentence. Her voice had completely abandoned her.
He leaned in again, and this time, she didn't even pretend to resist. Her eyes fluttered closed half a second before his lips met hers. The second kiss lasted longer—five seconds, maybe six. Her fingers slowly curled around his in return. When he finally pulled back, her face was a masterpiece of crimson confusion, her lips slightly parted, her eyes still closed for a moment before snapping open.
"Do you really like me that much?" The question escaped before she could stop it, her voice barely above a whisper. It was the question she had been asking herself for weeks, months, every time he showed up for these lectures, every time he called her Kaho-chan, every time he looked at her like she was something precious.
"Yes." He looked straight into her eyes—no hesitation, no smirk, no clever deflection. Just raw, unfiltered honesty. "I'm serious, Kaho. I love you."
Ootani Kaho's heart, which she had always considered a well-disciplined organ that followed the rules, was now behaving like a caffeinated rabbit on a sugar high. She tried to recall all the reasons this was wrong. Teacher-student. Age gap. Professional ethics. Her career. And Mostly him being playboy. The scandal it would cause. The way other people would look at her. Her being one of his harem with a bunch of his age.
But then she looked at him—really looked—and saw the sincerity shining in his dark eyes. Saw the gentle way he held her hands, like she was something breakable. Saw the patience in his posture, the willingness to wait.
"T-then I'll consider it," she said, each word costing her enormous effort. Her voice was so quiet he had to lean closer to hear her. "After you graduate. Not before. After."
His face lit up like a sunrise breaking over dark water. The smile that spread across his features was nothing like his usual teasing grin—it was genuine, surprisingly impressed. "Really?"
"After you graduate!" she repeated firmly, though her resolve was crumbling by the second under the warmth of that smile. "That's two months from now. Two months of no kissing, no teasing, no calling me Kaho-chan in public, and absolutely no telling anyone about this conversation. Do you understand?"
"Really? I love you, Kaho-chan!" He wrapped his arms around her in a crushing hug, lifting her slightly off the ground and spinning her once before setting her down.
"Ugh! I didn't accept you yet!" She squirmed against his chest, but her hands somehow found their way to his shoulders instead of pushing him away. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his uniform shirt. "And only hugging! No kissing until graduation! Those are the rules!"
"Yes, yes, yes," he replied nonchalantly, his cheek pressed against her green hair. She smelled like cherry blossoms and athletic liniment and the faintest trace of vanilla—a bizarre combination that was entirely, uniquely, wonderfully her.
"I mean it, Mu Xiaoxiao! No kissing! I'll set up a point system! Every unauthorized kiss loses points!"
"Mm-hmm."
"You're not listening to me again!"
"I'm listening to your heartbeat," he said softly, his lips near her ear. "It's saying something completely different from your mouth. Your heart is very loud right now."
She fell silent. Because he was right. Her heart was a traitorous organ that had apparently mutinied against her brain's authority. She could feel it pounding against her ribs, against his chest, broadcasting her true feelings to anyone who cared to listen.
Outside the gymnasium windows, the sun continued its lazy descent toward the horizon. Students walked past on the path outside, their voices and laughter drifting through the glass, completely oblivious to the quiet revolution happening inside. A P.E. teacher with green hair, a teaching license, and a heart full of conflicted feelings stood wrapped in the arms of her impossible, infuriating, unexpectedly sincere student, counting down the days until graduation.
Two months, she thought. Sixty days. That's nothing. I've survived harder things.
She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head and didn't even bother to protest this time.
Who am I kidding? she amended, as his arms tightened around her waist. I'm not going to survive sixty days of this. Not even close.