Classroom of the Elite: Liquid Inspiration

Vol 0. Chapter 5.4 - The curse of influence

The devil is in the details...

***

Ayanokōji Kiyotaka

The lunch was a study in emptiness, a carefully choreographed dance of polite smiles and hollow conversation. Nothing was said that mattered. Nothing was felt that ran deep.

Once that was over, I asked if I could explore the gardens. To relax and to appreciate the estate before we leave, I reasoned. Kiryūin Chika, ever the graceful hostess, gave permission and made Fūka accompany me there. I didn't mind. That was to be expected.

After a few minutes of strolling, we stopped before a meticulously pruned bonsai. A wry look formed on Fūka's face as she leaned in.

"What's with that look?" 

She stood straight, eyes still fixed on the plant. "Nothing too deep," she clarified. "Or maybe. I don't know."

I let her be for the moment. I wasn't particularly interested in probing what bothered her.

"The bonsai... controlled growth, shaped by external forces," she continued, her gaze fixed on the miniature tree. "Just like our futures."

Ah... so that was what it was about. I didn't imagine Fūka to be poetic, but today had been a day of revelations.

"But unlike the bonsai, we could eventually make our own choices," I countered. It was simply the fate of children to have their paths ahead shaped by their parents. 

But in the end, even that influence could only do so much. Unless you would let that influence dictate everything you did. That would be another story.

"Shut up... just let me feel this for a little bit longer," Fūka mumbled.

"What a depressing sight."

She laughed—a short, sharp sound that held more genuine mirth than any of her chuckles exchanged during lunch. 

And then, she tried to punch my arm.

I sidestepped easily, her momentum carrying her slightly off balance. Before she could stumble, I caught her arm, my fingers closing lightly around her wrist. 

"That should teach you how violence isn't the answer, Fūka," I said, my voice a low murmur in her ear. I could feel the faint tremor that ran through her at my touch, the quickening of her pulse beneath my fingertips.

What was with that reaction? I didn't try to delude myself with the idea of a 'spark,' as Eiichiro would put it. That was illogical.

Fūka pulled away, regaining her composure with a low laugh. "No," she retorted, her eyes meeting mine for a fleeting moment. "This taught me not to wear a kimono when trying to punch a slippery smartass."

"That as well," I conceded, releasing her wrist. "Very valuable lessons that you're learning today." I paused, my eyes roaming over the garden for a while. Huh...

"And while we're at it, the biting too," I added after a while. Getting bitten hurts.

"Fu fu! So you're saying you miss my bite?"

"Get your ears checked. That's not what I said," I bit back, glancing at her sideways. "I'd rather not be bitten at random. Thank you very much." 

"Spoilsport," she murmured, turning her gaze back to the bonsai.

"So I've been told," I agreed, then turned my attention to the miniature tree as well. It was undeniably relaxing to look at.

Then, I saw it, a hint of rebellion against the control—a few new shoots, barely discernible amidst the carefully sculpted foliage, were pushing beyond the wire restraints.