Chương 409: 188.Childish Prank 2

Back in the duty room, the door had barely closed behind us when the dry heat inside—a mix of central heating, paper, old wooden desks, and the metallic tang of the thermos—rushed over us. Under normal circumstances, that would make you sigh in relief. But the current circumstances were clearly not normal. Nikaido stood by the door, a few unmelted snowflakes still clinging to her coat, the hem of her skirt and the lower half of her tights convincingly soaked.

The cold, dirty water from the mop bucket, having fairly fulfilled its role as an accomplice to the accident outside the restroom, now clung to her unapologetically, materializing the word "pathetic" to a degree that could almost be registered as a physical campus asset. I pulled the door shut, blocking out the wind, and tried very hard not to let my eyes linger where they shouldn't. Not because I'd suddenly learned nobility.

But because I knew perfectly well that if I dared show anything resembling amusement right now, Nikaido wouldn't just want to kill me tonight; she'd seriously start considering how to turn me into a disciplinary textbook example. The duty room was quiet for two seconds. The heater blew. The clock on the wall ticked. The coat I'd draped over her legs was still draped over her.

She held the coat with one hand, gripped the edge of the desk with the other, and stood very straight—or at least, in her subjective will, she was trying very hard to stand very straight. The problem was, that fall just now really hadn't been dignified. So the act of "trying to maintain dignity" itself now looked exceptionally exhausting. I cleared my throat.

"Um, let's get you cleaned up first." Nikaido didn't answer immediately. She just closed her eyes, like she was pressing things back into place piece by piece. When she opened them again, some of that familiar coldness had been patched back in. Not complete, but enough. At least enough for her to force her voice back to that teeth-grindingly steady tone she usually used.

"I know."

"... Right."

"Vice President," Nikaido looked at me.

"If you still have any basic judgment left, you should understand that what is least needed right now is a bystander's commentary."

"I wasn't planning on publishing a review."

"You'd better not." I nodded.

"Really. My original plan was just to survive." Nikaido's brow twitched slightly. It was obvious she was currently at a very delicate balancing point—one more word and she'd probably freeze me to death; but she didn't quite have the free hands to deal with me yet, because the more immediate reality was that her perfect, ruler-measured uniform was currently wet in a very undisciplined way. I looked down at the floor, then at her wet skirt hem, and finally resigned myself to pulling my gaze back up to desk height.

"There's a small partition at the back of the duty room," I said.

"Usually for storing supplies, but it can barely serve as a changing room."

"I know where it is."

"Oh." Right. She probably already had a floor plan drawn in her head of exactly which row the mop buckets and spare cardboard boxes were kept in that little partition. I reached for the desk drawer, originally intending to see if there was a dry towel, but as I pulled open the second tier, my hand paused. Oh, right. I actually did have something.

Usually, dealing with field duty, running errands, giving rides, getting snowed on, getting rained on, a bit of everything—it had led me early on to develop a habit that sat somewhere between survival instinct and the accumulation of bad luck: I always stuffed a spare set of clothes into my duty or dispatch bag. Not because I had foresight.

Purely because this school was too big, the weather too awful, the tasks too numerous, and I was constantly sent to do things that "should be quick" but never actually ended up being quick. After a while, you naturally learn to leave yourself an out. I just hadn't expected that this out tonight wouldn't be used to save myself. But to save Nikaido's dignity. I pulled the drawer all the way open, took out a dry towel first, then dragged my bag over, crouching beside it to dig through. Nikaido's gaze fell on my hands.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for something."

"I can see that."

"Then your observation skills are still pretty good."

"Vice President."

"Alright, alright," I tossed the towel onto the desk, then pulled out a neatly folded bundle of clothes wrapped in a plastic bag from my bag.

"I have spares." Nikaido looked at the bundle, unmoving.

"... What?"

"Spare clothes." I tried to say it as naturally as possible, even though the thing itself was completely unnatural.

"Towel, gym shorts, clean shirt, and—" I stopped myself right there. Because of course I knew what else was in the plastic bag. I knew too well. And so, the silence in the duty room, which had merely been a "post-accident low pressure," suddenly gained a much more specific direction. Nikaido also went silent. She looked at the bag in my hand, her expression extremely calm. Calm to a near-dangerous degree.

Like she was currently using a lifetime of cultivation to try and stop her brain from assembling "the Vice President's spare clothes" and "I have to wear the Vice President's spare clothes" into the same sentence. In the end, I was the one who had to bite the bullet and finish the sentence.

"... and replacement inner layers." The duty room went so quiet that even the sound of the heater suddenly seemed louder. I swear, I didn't do it on purpose. At least, I didn't intentionally push things in this direction from the start. But once you reach a certain age, you realize that the reason many accidents are terrifying isn't because they were meticulously planned, but because reality always manages to deliver the final kick from the most undignified angle.

And right now, reality was clearly standing on my side. Just standing a bit wickedly. Nikaido finally spoke.

"... What exactly do you carry around with you on a normal basis?"

"Survival gear."

"This is not survival gear."

"It feels like it to me." I let my gaze drift slightly.

"And looking at today, it also doubles as disaster relief supplies." She looked at me. There were a lot of things in that look. Anger, yes. Shame, yes. The urge to strangle me on the spot, definitely. But clearer than all of those was something else: she didn't have many choices right now. It was snowing outside. The second patrol wasn't over. The hem of her uniform and tights were already wet.

And the only person in this entire duty room with a replacement plan happened to be me—the one who had just scared her out of the restroom and caused her to fall. Just thinking about it was humiliating enough. For once, I felt a bit guilty, so I proactively placed the plastic bag on the desk and pushed it a little closer to her.

"I didn't buy these blindly guessing your size, don't worry, they're all mine." I paused, then realized that sentence sounded even worse.

"No, I mean—these were just things I kept as spares, not specially bought, nor... anyway, just make do for now."

"Vice President."

"Hm?"

"The more you explain, the more you sound like a suspect."

"... I know." Nikaido looked down at the bundle of clothes. A few seconds passed before she very slowly reached out and picked it up. The movement was restrained. Restrained to the point of being almost tragic. As if she wasn't accepting a bag of spare clothes, but a hard copy of a surrender treaty. The moment her fingers touched it, she was officially conceding that tonight, she had indeed lost quite ungracefully on all fronts. I suddenly wanted to laugh. But this time, it wasn't a malicious laugh.

It was a strange emotion that even I couldn't be bothered to parse. There was a bit of triumph in it, a bit of awkwardness, and a bit of sheer disbelief at the absurdity of the scene unfolding before me. Nikaido picked up the towel, holding my coat and the bag of spare clothes with her other hand, took two steps toward the small partition at the back of the duty room, and stopped again.

"Vice President." I immediately stood a little straighter.

"What?" She didn't turn around, just dropped a cold sentence:"If I come out and find you daring to show even a hint of an expression that could be mistaken for amusement, I will make the second half of your patrol tonight unforgettable." I blinked.

"I'm usually pretty unforgettable."

"That wasn't an invitation to showcase your personality."

"... Got it." Only then did she walk into the small partition, pulling the door shut behind her. Click. The door closed. I finally let out a long breath, leaned back against the desk, and rubbed my face hard. God. What the hell was I doing just now? I sat back down in the chair and stared blankly at the desk. The clock on the wall was still ticking, the heater was still blowing, the duty room was still the duty room.

The only difference was that behind that thin door panel, there was now a Nikaido changing into my clothes—and just thinking about that for a second was enough to make someone who was normally just a bit wicked suddenly feel like their life trajectory had skewed slightly. No, not slightly. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Very skewed. I rested my forehead on the back of my crossed hands and closed my eyes silently.

That flippant "I just wanted to tap it and see" feeling I had in the restroom was finally starting to show its recoil here. It wasn't that I suddenly grew a conscience and resolved to be a model student from now on; it was just that Nikaido's look from earlier—not the one where she wanted to kill me, but the one right after her shell was broken, before she had time to patch it—was still stuck in my head. Annoying. More annoying than how she usually talked.

While I was annoyed, the sound of fabric rustling came from the partition behind me, followed by a very soft breath, like someone gritting their teeth while adjusting something. I instinctively perked up my ears, and in the next second, ruthlessly cursed myself. Are you sick, Hoshino Shimo? She's already been reduced to wearing your spare clothes in the back of the duty room, and you still dare to be curious about the sounds? Do you really want to reincarnate early?

So I immediately grabbed the patrol manual from the desk and forced myself to look down at it. After three lines, the same sentence was still in my head: She's wearing my clothes right now. I snapped the manual shut. No. Too loud. I got up to pour water from the thermos, pouring one cup for myself and one for her while I was at it. The steam slowly rose, blurring the air in front of me, which actually helped me pretend to be a bit calmer. After a while, the door to the small partition finally opened.

I turned around. And then, pathetically, I froze for a moment. Nikaido had already dealt with the wet uniform. Her ice blue hair was rearranged; although a few strands were still rebellious, it was at least much neater than when she was sitting on the floor by the restroom.

She was now wearing my spare shirt, with her own uniform coat temporarily draped over it, and her lower half had been swapped for my gym shorts—the length was slightly above the knee, the style was very ordinary, the only problem was the person wearing them. The picture was incredibly strange. So strange that I couldn't even find the right words to describe it at first. It wasn't inappropriate. On the contrary, it was overly appropriate in a certain sense.

Because Nikaido normally looked too much like a living school rule, the kind of person who only belonged in a formal uniform and a disciplined environment. Now, suddenly wearing simple clothes that clearly didn't belong to her but barely worked, that part of her that was usually wrapped up too well—the "she's actually just a normal girl too" part—was suddenly exposed quite a bit. This was bad. Bad for me.

Because it took a lot of effort to force the corners of my mouth down, preventing them from moving in any direction they shouldn't. The moment Nikaido saw my face, her eyes instantly turned cold.

"Vice President."

"I'm not laughing." I immediately raised my hands to clear my name.

"Your expression just now was only an official school stamp away from a laugh."

"That was shock, not amusement."

"Is there a difference?"

"For me, yes," I said sincerely.

"Right now, you look like the kind of person who normally signs off on school rules in the Disciplinary Office, but was suddenly dragged out to participate in a morning run." She glared at me. I quickly added: "It's not an insult, it's true."

"Shut up."

"... Okay." She walked back to the desk, picked up the cup of hot water I'd just poured, paused, and then said in a low voice:"Thank you." I was stunned. Not because of the words themselves, but because coming from Nikaido's mouth, they sounded a bit... no, I can't say soft, that word is too dangerous. More like she was admitting a certain fact under extremely reluctant circumstances. And that admission itself made her seem more like a living person than her usual business tone.

"... You're welcome." I coughed, deliberately reaching for my own cup.

"After all, I'm the source of the disaster."

"Your self-awareness is quite accurate."

"It's not self-awareness, it's an accident review." Nikaido held the cup, the steam slowly rising in front of her. She lowered her head and took a sip, and only then did her shoulder line seem less tense than before. But that relaxation was very limited, limited like someone releasing a narrow stream of living water under the ice, only to freeze it back before it could truly flow. I glanced at her, then immediately looked away. If I kept looking, there might be more than one accident tonight.

"What are we going to do with the wet set?" I asked.

"Hang it up," Nikaido said.

"Wait until the second half of the night and see if it's half-dry."

"And if it isn't?"

"Then I'll endure the current situation until the shift change." I couldn't help frowning.

"You're not planning to go on patrol wearing gym shorts, are you?"

"Is there a problem?"

"A huge problem." I pointed at her.

"Half of your usual 'discipline welded onto the body' aura comes from the uniform. If you go out like this now, and we run into other duty personnel, their first thought will probably be that I've taken the school hostage." This time Nikaido didn't immediately talk back. She just looked at me with a gaze that bordered on frostbite. I thought about it, and sincerely added:"The other half is still you, don't worry." She was silent for two seconds. Then, very lightly, she put the cup back on the desk.

"Vice President."

"Hm?"

"You are really trying hard tonight to test how much longer you can live." I nodded.

"Based on current observations, the limit is quite high." She seemed to not want to deal with me anymore, and directly arranged the wet uniform over the back of the chair, her movements still very crisp. But now, in that crispness, there was finally something that hadn't been there before—not relaxation, but a kind of low-temperature fatigue after having to accept reality. Seeing this, the lingering warmth of playfulness in my chest also slowly sank.

Because I suddenly realized very clearly that the most troublesome part of the accident just now wasn't just that I knew she was afraid of those things. It was that from now on, I also knew she had worn my spare clothes. This was no longer just having leverage. This was something that would make me think of tonight every time I saw her from now on. And unfortunately, I was probably not the kind of person who could archive and seal this kind of memory using official procedures.

The duty room was quiet for another moment. Finally, Nikaido was the one to pull the topic back on track.

"The second patrol is delayed by ten minutes." I looked up.

"Are you sure you still want to run it?"

"The shift isn't over."

"... You really were raised by discipline."

"Vice President."

"Okay, I'll shut up." I said it, but I still couldn't help taking another look at her. She stood by the heater, wearing her uniform coat over my shirt, and my gym shorts below, holding hot water. Her expression was still cold, but the tips of her ears still held a faint redness, whether from the earlier shock or the current embarrassment. The picture was too strange. So strange that it was impossible to pretend not to see it. I suddenly understood something.

Tonight, I hadn't just shattered the shell she used to block out darkness and the unknown. I'd also casually tapped the shell she used to block out the fact that "I too can be a mess, get embarrassed, and wear someone else's spare clothes." And the worst part was— I was starting to lose track of whether I regretted it, or if I just simply found all of this incredibly interesting.... Not good. The second half of the night passed without any further major incidents.

At least, nothing bigger than "I scared Nikaido out of a restroom and incidentally made her execute a high-difficulty landing between a cleaning accident and a dignity accident." The second patrol was forcefully delayed by ten minutes, and then completed under the pressure of her "I don't want to talk about it right now, but you'd better not think you're off the hook" aura. Throughout the entire route, Nikaido was even quieter than the first half of the night, quiet to a dangerous degree.

I briefly suspected she had already drafted three revenge plans, an accident review, and a "Proposal for the Improvement of the Vice President's Unstable Factors During Night Duty" in her head. As for me— I sensibly acted as a mute for the entire walk. When you reach a certain age, you learn that while having a sharp tongue is a talent, knowing when to shut up to save your life is cultivation.

By the time the sky truly began to pale, and the entire school slowly transitioned from "an empty shell that's too quiet at night" back to "an educational institution that has to continue pretending to operate normally during the day," Nikaido and I were both too exhausted to maintain any excess emotions. She processed her wet uniform like she was handling military surplus recycling.

I was responsible for retrieving the spare clothes I'd lent out last night, while trying very hard to pretend I didn't have any unnecessary associations with the fact that "Nikaido really wore my things." Of course, this effort was usually unsuccessful. Especially since the most troublesome item in that incident—the replacement inner layer I ultimately had to lend her—had finally dried, thanks to the combined efforts of the heater and a whole night of low-temperature dryness.

I had originally planned to find a moment before the shift change—one sufficiently devoid of drama and the feeling of impending retribution—to quietly conclude this matter. Unfortunately, whatever gods were watching clearly disliked quiet endings. The day shift for December twenty-seventh was Maki and Disciplinary Committee Member Tanaka from Class 2. Tanaka hadn't arrived yet. The first to arrive were Maki, and Jess.

And what was even more fatal was that when they arrived, Nikaido was standing in the duty room, her face as cold as the frost that had formed on the window frames last night, handing a very neatly folded small cloth bundle into my hands. Yes. That exact one. The one I'd hoped no third person would ever witness the handover of in this lifetime. In that instant, time didn't just slow down. It stopped completely.

The duty room door had barely been pushed halfway open, and the cold morning air from outside hadn't even fully squeezed in, before Jess popped her head in—like a bystander with an almost artistic nose for accident scenes, always managing to stand in the most wrong place at exactly the right time. And then, she saw it. The small cloth bundle in my hand. Nikaido's hand, extended halfway and not yet retracted. And my face, which hadn't had time to manage its expression. Jess stopped. Then, her eyes lit up.

That wasn't a normal human brightness. That was the kind of light that only a naturally gifted bystander emits when discovering free entertainment and a live scandal delivered to their doorstep simultaneously.

"... Wow." She slowly pushed the door open and walked in, the delight in her tone completely undisguised.

"Did I arrive at exactly the right moment?" Holding that small cloth bundle, I had an immediate urge to fold myself, along with the duty desk, into the drawer. Maki, standing one step behind Jess, had clearly seen it too. She saw me first. Then Nikaido. Finally, her gaze landed on the overly neatly folded cloth bundle in my hand—so neat it was almost a cover-up. I saw her face twitch with my own eyes. Not an exaggerated spasm.

But the kind where normally well-controlled muscles suddenly decide to break organizational discipline and independently express an internal sentiment.

"You guys..." Maki started, her voice very flat. Too flat. Flat like the unreasonable drop in air pressure right before a storm.

"Had a fun time playing around last night, did we..." I almost choked to death on my own saliva.

"No, wait, Maki, I can explain this—""Vice President." Nikaido's voice dropped coldly beside me. I turned my head and saw that the tips of her ears were already red. Faintly, but genuinely red. This person, who was usually so cold it was as if she'd crossed the word "shame" out of her dictionary, was now, at this moment, because of this incident, because of this inner garment return scene that absolutely shouldn't have been witnessed by anyone, rarely letting that bit of color leak out. Terrible.

Because this flush didn't help her salvage any dignity; instead, it directly kicked the entire misunderstanding into an even deeper pit. Jess, true to form, did not let this god-given opportunity slip by. She took a step forward, sweeping her eyes back and forth between Nikaido and me twice, then, as if finally piecing the whole puzzle together, clapped her hands together with extreme delight.

"Wait, let me put this together."

"You don't need to put anything together," I said immediately.

"The Vice President lent me some clothes." Nikaido spoke almost at the same time. We both paused. Then, I heard Jess take a breath. Not in shock. But the preparatory breath right before dying of laughter.

"Lent clothes?" she repeated slowly, the corners of her mouth already failing to stay down.

"Just lent clothes, but you need to return a cloth bundle of this size in the early morning? Isn't the scope of your night shift duties a bit broad?"

"Jess." Maki called her name. That call was very short. Short like a warning, and also like she herself was still trying hard to suppress some emotion that was not quite suitable for public expansion. I thought it was a reprimand. But Jess just turned to look at her, and then, with a brighter, crueler tone—like a professional coroner discovering the fatal wound—delivered the final blow.

"Wow, looks exactly like she wet her pants." The world went quiet for a second. Then, Nikaido moved. She didn't explain. Didn't deny. Didn't even coldly reply, "Please watch your phrasing." She just reached out and grabbed Jess. The movement was so fast I almost flashed back to the east connecting corridor last night, except this time she wasn't pressing down a flashlight or blocking a reflection.

She grabbed Jess's collar and arm, her entire aura instantly upgrading from "Disciplinary Committee Chair" to "impatient gravedigger in a blizzard."

"Jess." Nikaido called her name word by word. Her voice wasn't loud. But I guarantee, if there had actually been dirt behind the duty room at that moment, she would have started digging immediately. Jess, even while being grabbed, still had the spare energy to laugh.

"Hey, hey, why the rush? I'm just making a reasonable deduction—the Vice President's face yesterday, your cloth bundle today, plus—""Say one more word," Nikaido stared at her, "and I'll bury you under the scoreboard on the athletic field, so you can serve directly as a campus legend next semester."

"Wait, wait," I quickly shoved the incriminating cloth bundle into my coat pocket and reached out to pull Nikaido.

"Nikaido, let go first, let go first, it's daytime now, burying people doesn't look good—""Vice President, shut up."

"Okay, but seriously, don't bury her." Maki stood nearby, her temple visibly twitching. She didn't immediately step in to pull them apart. That wasn't because she didn't care; I strongly suspected she was currently fighting a fairly large-scale internal war in her own head—on one side, the sense of order a Seitokai President should have, and on the other, the reality-shattering impact of "what the hell did I just see first thing in the morning," which was highly detrimental to that sense of order. She looked at me.

That look was very flat. And very terrifying. I stood up straight instantly.

"Maki, I can give you the conclusion first."

"You'd better be able to," she said.

"Things aren't what you think."

"Then what is that in your hand?"

"... Logistics supplies." Maki's eyelid twitched very slightly. Jess actually managed to laugh out loud at a time like this, her shoulders shaking.

"Logistics supplies, haha, Vice President, that excuse is very Lan-esque."

"You shut up!" Nikaido and I actually yelled at her at the same time. The duty room went quiet for another second. Jess blinked, then laughed even harder. I really wanted to die. Nikaido also seemed to finally realize that she and I had just issued the same command to Jess, in the same second, with the same tone. Her hand gripping Jess paused, and the redness at the tips of her ears, which hadn't faded yet, burned another layer higher. Great. Now we even have a synchronization rate.

I could completely understand why Maki's face was starting to turn green.

"Alright," she took a deep breath and finally spoke, her tone returning to that calmness that makes people want to sit up straight immediately.

"From the beginning. Vice President, you speak. Nikaido, you supplement. Jess, you shut up."

"Hey—""Shut up."

"... Okay." Jess actually behaved for half a second. I stood there, feeling like an unlucky officer who, due to improper operation, caused the armory to blow up in the middle of the night, and now had to write an accident report for the accounting department the next morning. So I could only resign myself and take a breath.

"Last night on the night shift, Nikaido was in the restroom..."

"Vice President."

"No, I don't mean it like that," I immediately corrected myself.

"I mean, last night, due to an, um, unexpected fright incident during duty, plus a secondary fall accident caused by cleaning equipment, resulting in localized dampness of the uniform—" Jess started trembling. Not out of fear. But from laughing so hard she was about to explode. Maki closed her eyes.

"Vice President, speak human."

"... I scared her, she fell, the mop bucket tipped over, her clothes got wet, I lent her spare clothes, now they're dry, she returned them." After I blurted it all out in one breath, the entire duty room was as quiet as if it had just been buried by a massive blizzard. Maki slowly opened her eyes. Then, she looked at me.

"You scared her?"

"... Mm."

"On the night shift."

"... Mm."

"In the restroom."

"... Mm."

"Vice President," Maki said very calmly, "you really do live a very creative life." I lowered my head half an inch in shame. A rare occurrence in my life. Nikaido, standing to the side, had mostly regained her cold expression, leaving only the redness at the tips of her ears making a final struggle. After releasing Jess, she pulled her coat a bit tighter around herself, then stiffly and very reluctantly added:"The accident is factual."

Jess finally couldn't hold back, leaning against the desk and laughing so hard she could barely stand straight.

"The accident is factual, hahahaha, god, what kind of court-martial testimony is this—" Nikaido reached out again. This time, Maki and I stopped her at the same time. The scene instantly descended into chaos. And in this early morning, which was so chaotic it didn't feel like a duty room at all, yet inexplicably fit the current mental state of our group, I suddenly realized something very clearly— The day had just begun.

But Nikaido had probably already put me at the top of her list of people she least wanted to work with this year. And Jess was currently using her lifelong spirit of entertainment to push this incident in a direction that would be "worthy of circulating around campus for at least three months." As for Maki... I sneaked a glance at her.

She was pressing her fingers to her temples, her expression foul in a very layered way, as if rationally she wanted to maintain order, but emotionally she very much wanted to strangle me first.... This is bad. I suddenly started to feel that the ghost prank I pulled last night might not have been the thing Nikaido should have feared the most. The truly terrifying part might be the follow-up processing of still being alive the next morning.