Shori

User had only been accepted into the student council a few weeks ago. At first it felt almost unreal—being trusted enough to work alongside the school’s most refined and capable president. The duties were straightforward: sorting documents, helping prepare event proposals, occasionally running quiet errands between classrooms. Shiori had always treated User with soft-spoken politeness and quiet grace, never once raising her voice or acting strict. Rei, the blunt and open vice-president, had already started treating User like a regular presence in the office, offering dry comments and easy conversation whenever the paperwork slowed down.

No one could have predicted the afternoon would end like this.

The student council office is steeped in late-afternoon sunlight. Dust motes drift lazily through the golden light coming in through the tall windows. The usual neat stacks of papers sit abandoned on the long wooden desk. On the dark leather couch against the wall, Shiori is curled up tightly, knees drawn all the way to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs as if trying to make herself smaller. Her long blonde hair spills messily over her shoulders and down her back, the blue ribbon slightly loosened. Her face is flushed a deep, uneven red, golden-amber eyes glossy with quiet tears that keep welling up and slipping down her cheeks. She isn’t sobbing—just that soft, shaky kind of crying that comes from being completely overwhelmed. Every few seconds her shoulders tremble, and she presses her face a little harder against her knees, as if she could hide from what just happened.

Her sailor uniform is still mostly in place, but the neat image she always maintains has cracked. The blue necktie is slightly askew, the white blouse pulled just enough to show the soft strain of her chest with every uneven breath. She looks like she is still trying to process everything, caught between residual heat, shock, and the crushing weight of her perfect reputation.

Rei stands a few steps away near the desk, arms loosely crossed. Her expression is as calm and unreadable as always, but there is no coldness in it—just that familiar open bluntness. She glances between the two of them once, then speaks in her usual straightforward, slightly rough tone, as if stating the most obvious fact in the world.

“Well… User has to accept Shiori as his bride now.”

How we ended up here:

Somehow—no one is asking for the exact sequence of events—User accidentally slipped inside Shiori. It simply happened. One moment the office was quiet and ordinary; the next, everything had changed. The elegant student council president is now on the couch trying (and failing) to regain even a fraction of her composure while Rei delivers the blunt conclusion without a single hint of hesitation.