Okay, it wasn't quite that drastic.
If Kuroha Akira with the A-rank academic buff was like entering a state of hyper-focused, crystal-clear sanity, then without it, he simply returned to his baseline.
He wasn't brain-dead—just ordinary.
The problem was, after tasting that mental sharpness where thoughts flowed like a pristine stream, returning to normal felt like wading through mud. It was frustrating, sluggish... intellectually constipating.
Class rep... Class rep! I need you right now!
Your talent!
His craving for Asato Hitomi's gift was real. It was cleaner than caffeine, more stabilizing than any vice. It forced his mind into a state of calm, organized clarity, keeping his more chaotic tendencies firmly in check.
Losing it felt like a withdrawal—a phantom limb where heightened cognition used to be. One could say Kuroha Akira's psyche had been thoroughly spoiled by the touch of the class representative's right hand.
On the other side of this internal crisis, Shinomiya Shion stared at her own, now-empty hand. Her usually impassive expression froze, then went utterly blank.
"..."He shook me off.
As if my touch was dirty...
Was it that bad? Seriously?
Do my hands smell? My palms aren't even sweaty...
This was the first time in her life she'd mustered the courage to initiate contact with a boy, and this was the result.
A direct, silent rejection.
Shinomiya Shion's heart, already fragile, suffered a critical hit. She clutched her left wrist with her right hand, turned her face away, and her eyes took on that familiar, distant glaze.
Heh... figures. A pretty face is all I'm good for, after all...
"Wrong hand. Let's try that again."
"Huh?"
Before she could process it, Kuroha Akira had already circled to her right side. Facing her, he decisively grabbed her right hand with his own.
"Eep?!"
Not only that, his method was bizarre. He'd grasp it firmly for a few seconds, release, peer intently at his own palm as if checking a display, then seize her hand again. He repeated this cycle several times.
Remembering how he'd scrutinized her hands back at the shrine, Shinomiya wondered if this was some kind of continuation—a tactile evaluation. She didn't understand his actions, but the fact he'd taken the initiative to hold her hand at all dispelled the dark cloud of thinking he found her disgusting. A small, secret relief warmed her chilled mood.
"I wasn't... trying to hold hands..." she muttered, a weak protest.
"You weren't? Then what was that?"
"..."I wanted to hold your hand...
How could I possibly say that out loud!
To admit a desire for that kind of contact without being in a relationship was tantamount to a confession! Therefore, Shion refused to acknowledge her true intention, realizing her earlier move had been reckless. Thinking quickly, she conjured a plausible excuse, her face a perfect mask of calm.
"You fell silent. I was concerned you might lose your way, so I was... offering direction."
Kuroha Akira accepted this with a flat, "Oh. Thanks for the guidance. Well, to make sure you don't get lost, we'd better hold hands."
"..."He's teasing me!
He totally saw through me and is getting revenge! How mean!
Despite her internal fuming, Shinomiya's expression remained unreadable. In the end, she obediently let Kuroha Akira take her left hand in his right. And almost immediately, her irritation began to melt away.
The sensation of her hand in his... it summoned a profound, unexpected sense of security. The last time she could remember holding hands was before elementary school, at an amusement park with her family.
Her father—her first father—had held her small hand tightly so she wouldn't get lost. She'd had to lift her whole arm, feeling almost dragged along. It had been uncomfortable, and she'd eventually switched to her mother's hand...
Holding Mom's hand...
So there really was a time... a time when things were okay with Mom.
She was... gentle with me, once.
"...Excuse me. What exactly are you doing?"
Her wistful reminiscence was cut short. They had been walking hand-in-hand just fine, but then Kuroha Akira abruptly switched positions, taking her right hand with his left. Then, inexplicably, he swapped back to using his right hand again.
The most egregious part was that he then began to... experiment with her hand.
He'd grasp a single finger, then two, then three, four, all five. He'd rub the spaces between her fingers, gently pinch her fingernails, press the back of her hand against the back of his. He even hooked their pinkies in a promise, and then...
He interlaced their fingers.
That was a lovers' grip!
What is the meaning of this?!
What are you implying?!
Are you still teasing me?!
Even if I'm silently allowing this, you can't just treat a young lady's hand like a stress toy!
Internally, she was a whirlwind of flustered protest. Externally, she maintained her ice-princess composure with heroic effort. However, Kuroha Akira was not, in fact, teasing her.
He was conducting urgent, practical research.
With the class rep's talent gone, it was the perfect time to run systematic experiments on his cheat ability. Shinomiya, with her multiple, clearly-labeled S-ranks, was the ideal test subject. Through this series of deliberate, methodical contacts, he aimed to map the precise rules of his copying talent.
He needed to understand the mechanics: was it touch-based? Did the type of grip matter? Could he cycle through multiple talents from one person? The "[Soul Performance S]" glowing above her hand was a perfect variable to test against.
This wasn't flirtation. This was science.
….
Through a series of deliberate, seemingly-awkward hand maneuvers, Akira confirmed several crucial data points:
First: The ability was Copy, not Steal. The iridescent [Soul Performance S] and other titles above Shinomiya's hand never wavered or dimmed. Her gifts remained irrevocably hers.
Second: Even with multiple talents available on a single target, he could only copy one at a time.
Third: He must dismiss a currently held talent before copying a new one. The dismissal trigger was specific: his right palm making contact with the target's left palm. The reverse did nothing. Clasping his own hands together was also ineffective.
His subsequent, meticulous 'examination' of her hand—testing different grips, finger positions, and points of contact—was all in pursuit of one goal: understanding the rules.
Practice is the sole criterion for truth, he thought, his inner science-major nodding in approval. Figuring out this cheat without a manual or a helpful 'System' pop-up was frustrating work.
System… if you were here, this would be so much easier. The lack of one was a perennial, minor grudge.
The final conclusion was clear: the copy function required one very specific condition: palm-to-palm contact with his right hand.
He also discovered a bonus feature: when copying from someone like Shinomiya, he could cycle through her available talents. Another 'handshake' (after dismissing the current one) would swap [Soul Performance S] for, say, [Vocal Prowess S].
Now, with [Soul Performance S] glowing on his palm, he felt the difference immediately. Crafting and projecting a flawless, convincing expression became effortless. The mask settled without a thought.
So, when he met Shinomiya's suspicious, questioning gaze, he didn't even need to try. A brilliantly handsome, effortlessly charming smile bloomed on his face.
"You caught me," he confessed, his voice laced with playful, performed sincerity. "I really just wanted an excuse to hold a pretty girl's hand."
He turned her hand over in his with exaggerated appreciation. "And Shion, your hands truly are exquisite. So slender, so smooth… they even have a lovely scent. Would you mind if I… gave them a little taste?"
KYAAAAAAAAAAAA!
This time, the scream was entirely internal. And this time, it was Shinomiya who yanked her hand back as if she'd been burned.