Heartbeats and Illusions

A fierce clash of wills. Strategies sharpened like blades. Every word, every glance, a potential weapon. The two teams seemed poised for an all-out battle, one that could have escalated into an unforgettable war of words and egos.

Historians might have dubbed it the "Shuchiin First Turmoil," a scandal that would echo through the halls of the academy for years to come.

But reality, as it often does, played out much more quietly.

The two teams met, exchanged polite nods, and walked into the waiting room without so much as a single word exchanged. No fiery barbs, no dramatic confrontations—just mutual acknowledgment before moving on.

With only ten minutes left until the election speeches began, there was no time for theatrics. Each candidate and their supporters focused instead on preparing their hearts and minds, fine-tuning their strategies for the moment they'd step into the spotlight.

By the draw of lots, the order of speeches had already been determined: Isshiki Iroha would go first, followed by Iino Miko, and lastly, Natsukawa Kanade. If fortune had played a role, Kanade had landed in the most favorable position—armed with the trifecta of timing, presence, and support.

The election began promptly. The first round consisted of cheering speeches delivered by the candidates' chosen representatives.

Stepping up for Isshiki Iroha was none other than Yukinoshita Yukino—a choice that surprised no one.

From the moment Kanade had spotted Isshiki's team earlier, he had pieced together the underlying story.

Why was Isshiki Iroha even running for student council president? She wasn't the type to voluntarily seek such a position. More likely, she had been nominated by a group of classmates—perhaps as a joke or, worse, as an attempt to humiliate her. Faced with what could only be described as a form of social bullying, Isshiki had turned to the Service Club for help.

Her persistence in pestering Kanade recently—asking for tips on "how to be a good student council president"—suddenly made sense. Rather than backing down or withdrawing from the election, she had chosen to fight back with the Service Club's assistance, transforming what might have been a mockery into a serious campaign.

Whether it was Isshiki's own determination or the handiwork of Yukinoshita and her allies, the end result was the same: the Service Club had clearly thrown their full weight behind her. The previous weeks had been filled with their meticulous campaigning.

And yet, Kanade couldn't help but grumble inwardly. That idiot Hachiman hadn't breathed a word of this to him, leaving Kanade in the dark and prone to suspecting the worst about everyone involved.

After this election is over, I'm definitely blackmailing him for his pocket money—or at least making him treat me to lunch for a week.

Yukinoshita's speech was polished and professional, the kind of performance that would've garnered praise in any other school. Her delivery was clear, her tone persuasive, and her words brimming with conviction.

But this was Shuchiin Academy.

Here, a good performance wasn't enough—it had to be extraordinary.

Next up was Iino Miko, supported by Daibutsu Kobota. Her speech was adequate but uninspired, leaving little impression.

Finally, it was Kanade's turn.

But before he could step forward, Kaguya Shinomiya, his chosen supporter, turned to him with a rare expression of vulnerability.

"President," she said softly, her voice tinged with hope, "could you give me a blessing?"

Kanade blinked, caught off guard. But he quickly recovered, offering her a small smile.

"Of course. Good luck, Shinomiya."

Her lips curved into a graceful smile. "Thank you. It's my honor."

With that, Kaguya stepped onto the stage.

From the moment she began to speak, it was clear that this would be no ordinary speech.

"Good morning, everyone," Kaguya greeted, her voice steady and confident. "I am Kaguya Shinomiya, here to give a support speech for our candidate, Natsukawa Kanade."

Her presence commanded the room, and her words wove a narrative that captivated the audience. Unlike Daibutsu's forgettable rhetoric or Yukinoshita's textbook delivery, Kaguya brought something unique to the stage.

She didn't just talk; she showed.

Using a carefully curated presentation, she highlighted Kanade's achievements over the past few months—his leadership, his dedication, and his undeniable impact on the student body. Each slide on the screen painted a vivid picture of his competence and character, leaving no room for doubt about his qualifications.

By the time she finished, the atmosphere in the room had shifted. Kaguya's performance wasn't just a speech—it was a masterstroke, a campaign-defining moment that left the other candidates' supporters scrambling to recover.

As Kaguya returned to her seat, Kanade couldn't help but marvel at her composure.

She really went all out, he thought, impressed despite himself.

Now, it was time for the candidates themselves to speak.

Isshiki Iroha took the stage first. Despite her earlier nerves, she carried herself with surprising confidence. Her speech reflected the essence of her personality—energetic, playful, yet earnest. It was clear that the past weeks of preparation had paid off. Even after Kaguya's powerful performance, Isshiki managed to draw the audience's attention and win over more than a few hearts. It was evident why she retained a 30% support rate, a remarkable feat in such a competitive atmosphere.

Kanade watched her closely, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Not bad, Isshiki. Not bad at all.

Then it was Iino Miko's turn.

The auditorium, which had been abuzz with murmurs and applause, now grew oddly tense. Miko stepped forward hesitantly, her small frame illuminated by the stage lights. She gripped the edges of her speech papers tightly, her knuckles white with strain.

And then—silence.

Not the kind of silence that builds anticipation, but the oppressive quiet of discomfort. The audience fidgeted in their seats, exchanging puzzled glances. Miko's lips parted, trembling as if she were about to speak, but no sound came out. Her throat seemed to constrict under the weight of hundreds of eyes boring into her.

"She's… frozen," Natsukawa Kanade muttered under his breath.

From the crowd, muffled laughter broke out. The giggles rippled like waves, growing louder as students whispered to one another.

"It's happening again," Ishigami Yu sighed beside him, his tone heavy with resignation.

Kanade glanced at Ishigami, whose expression was darker than usual. "What do you mean by 'again'?"

"Iino Miko," Ishigami began, his voice low, "she has stage fright. Bad stage fright. Every time there's an election, it's the same. She freezes up, and the audience starts laughing at her. They mock her for being this perfect, top-of-her-class student who can't even speak in public. It's ironic, isn't it?" His tone grew bitter. "She's so strict, always lecturing people about rules and morals. But now, when she's vulnerable, they enjoy tearing her down."

Kanade's brows furrowed. Ishigami's words struck a chord.

"She might be annoying," Ishigami continued, his fists clenched, "but she works hard. No one deserves to be laughed at for trying."

Kanade placed a hand on Ishigami's shoulder, a rare moment of solemnity softening his usual smirk. "I get it. Leave it to me."

Ishigami blinked. "What are you going to do?"

Kanade's expression shifted into one of determination. "Win this election. But not at the cost of letting someone's efforts be ridiculed."

As Miko stood paralyzed, Kanade strode onto the stage. His confident footsteps echoed across the silent auditorium, drawing every gaze to him. He picked up the microphone, his tone sharp and commanding as he said one word:

"Quiet."

The laughter ceased instantly. The room fell into an almost eerie stillness, all eyes now locked on Kanade.

"You call yourselves students of Shuchiin Academy?" he said, his voice steady but cutting. "The pride of this prestigious institution? Then you should understand one thing—respect."

His gaze swept over the audience, his piercing eyes daring anyone to look away. "You're free to form your opinions, to disagree, to cast your votes as you see fit. But this—mocking someone who's standing here, trying to speak their truth? That's not pride. That's pathetic."

The weight of his words sank into the crowd, leaving an uncomfortable hush in its wake.

Then Kanade turned to Miko, who was still staring down at her shoes. "Iino Miko," he said, his tone softening slightly, "you have fifteen minutes left for your speech. But from where I'm standing… you're wasting them."

The audience tensed. Was this criticism or encouragement?

Kanade smirked, leaning slightly closer to the microphone. "Mandatory shaved heads? Prohibitions against personal expression? Do you really think outdated policies like that are going to win anyone over?"

Miko's head snapped up, her eyes wide with shock. "W-What?" she stammered.

"Exactly," Kanade said, folding his arms. "They're ridiculous. And if you want to defend them, you're going to have to do better than staying silent. So, tell me, Iino—are those rules really what you stand for?"

Miko's grip on her speech tightened, her knuckles trembling. "O-Of course I don't…!"

"Then say it," Kanade interrupted. His gaze met hers, steady and unyielding. "Look me in the eyes and say what you want to say. If you can't convince me, how are you going to convince them?"

The room held its breath. Miko's hands stopped trembling. She took a shaky step forward, then another, until she was standing fully at the podium. Her breathing steadied as she lifted her head, her eyes finally meeting Kanade's.

"I… I want to say…" she began, her voice wavering but growing stronger with each word. "This convention isn't stupid at all!"

The audience leaned forward, startled by the sudden shift in her tone.

Miko took another deep breath, her voice now clear and resolute. "Shaving heads, enforcing discipline—these aren't just arbitrary rules! They're about unity, about respect for tradition. They might seem outdated to some, but they're symbols of something greater! And if you don't understand that, then let me explain—because I'm not backing down!"

The auditorium erupted into murmurs, not of mockery, but of intrigue. This was a side of Miko they hadn't seen before—a fierce, unwavering passion that demanded attention.

Kanade stepped back, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. His job here was done.

Miko continued her speech, her confidence growing with every word. She wasn't just defending her policies; she was showcasing her beliefs, her determination, her strength. By the time she finished, the once-dismissive crowd was clapping—some out of genuine admiration, others simply out of respect.

As Kanade walked off the stage, Ishigami met him with an incredulous look. "You… actually did it."

Kanade shrugged, his smirk returning. "I just gave her a little push. The rest was all her."

Ishigami glanced back at Miko, now basking in the applause. "Still… thanks."

Kanade waved him off, his gaze shifting back to the stage. The election was far from over, but in that moment, something far more important had been accomplished.

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Last Bonus Chapter from last week's stones.

Good day.