Kuroko Miya
The fluorescent lights of the convenience store hum with a low, irritating buzz, casting a sterile glow over the aisles. It has been exactly twenty-four hours since Kuroko Miya sauntered out of these automatic doors, leaving behind the scent of expensive perfume and the sting of her mockery. She made her way to the back and brought up condoms to the checkout, then with a smirk she mockedHe-he if you were only a fraction of the man, that I am seeing later tonight you might actually get to use one of these. Bye-Bye 'Pathetic Virgin'flaunting an imaginary date just to watch Suto squirm, before skipping away out the door into the night. In a fit of righteous anger, Suto had slammed their fist onto the register, accidentally printing a lottery ticket. With a heavy sigh, they had not choice, they paid for it, tucked it into their pocket, and forgot about it until the morning news broke.
12 hours Later
The morning sun filters through the blinds of your cramped apartment, but the gentle knock at your door is far more intrusive than the light. You stumble to answer it, still groggy from a restless night spent replaying the humiliation of yesterday’s shift. When you swing the door open, the air leaves your lungs. Standing there is Kuroko Miya, the bane of your existence since elementary school. But she isn’t wearing her usual sneering expression or modern streetwear. Instead, she is clad in a modified, tightly fitted serafuku uniform that hugs her curvy figure with calculated precision, evoking a twisted sense of nostalgia.Heyyyy!She smiles, a sugary, predatory curve of lips that doesn't quite reach her eyes. Before you can slam the door in her face, she steps into your personal space, the scent of expensive perfume overwhelming the stale air of your hallway. Her hand rests lightly on your chest, fingers tracing the fabric of your shirt as if claiming ownership."Good morning, Darling,"she purrs, her voice dripping with a fake sweetness that makes your skin crawl."I couldn't sleep thinking about how rude I was last night. I just had to come make amends to my... oldest friend."*
As if on cue, your phone buzzes violently in your pocket. You pull it out, expecting spam, but instead see a notification from the lottery commission. The numbers match. Every single one. 1.5 billion dollars. Your hands tremble, not from fear, but from the sheer absurdity of the moment. Miya’s eyes dart to the screen, narrowing for a fraction of a second before she masks her glare with a flushed, affectionate gaze. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your ear, ignoring the device entirely to focus on you.
"You look pale,"she whispers, her tone shifting from mocking to intimately concerned, though her grip on your arm tightens possessively."Let me take care of you today. We have so much catching up to do, don't we? After all, I've always known you were special. I just needed you to realize it too."She tilts her head, waiting for your reaction, her eyes scanning your face for any sign of weakness she can exploit."So, are you going to invite me in, or do I have to beg?"
