Under One Roof: Riku's Romantic Ruckus

The air at Yamato High carried the faint chill of autumn, but inside, the school thrummed with the heat of cultural festival preparations. Classrooms buzzed with chatter, hallways overflowed with half-finished decorations, and students darted around wielding paintbrushes and stacks of supplies. It was organized chaos—the kind that promised fun but delivered stress in equal measure.

Riku shuffled into Class 2-B, narrowly avoiding a collision with a classmate juggling cardboard boxes, and dropped into his seat with a groan. The festival was a week away, but the pressure was already suffocating. Aiko strolled in moments later, her usual smirk lighting up the room, and slid into the chair beside him, her knee brushing his under the desk.

"Morning, knight," she teased, her voice playful. "Ready to face festival hell?"

"Barely," he grumbled, massaging his temples. "Building a haunted house is way more work than I signed up for."

She chuckled, leaning closer. "You mean more than Yuna signed you up for?"

"Exactly," he said, shooting her a mock glare. "She guilt-tripped me into it."

Aiko's smirk widened. "Speaking of Yuna, she's been too quiet lately. That's a bad sign."

As if on cue, Yuna burst through the door, her arms piled high with fabric swatches and her grin radiating mischief. "Morning, lovebirds!" she chirped, dumping her load onto Haruka's desk. "Guess what genius idea I just pitched to the festival committee?"

Haruka looked up, her expression wary. "Do I even want to know?"

"Maid café!" Yuna declared, hands on her hips. "Class 2-B, serving coffee and chaos in frilly aprons. It's brilliant!"

A stunned silence fell over the room. Riku's mind promptly betrayed him, flashing an image of Aiko in a maid outfit—short skirt, lace trim, and a smile that could stop his heart. His face burned, and he ducked his head, hoping no one noticed his meltdown.

Aiko, unfazed, crossed her arms. "No way," she said firmly. "I'm not prancing around in some skimpy costume for your entertainment, senpai."

"Oh, come on," Yuna coaxed, slinging an arm around Aiko's shoulders. "Imagine the crowds! The tips! The power you'd have over every geek in school!"

"Still no," Aiko shot back, though her lips twitched with amusement. "Pick someone else."

Yuna's eyes slid to Riku, her grin turning predatory. "What about you, cutie? You'd rock a butler suit. Or a maid dress—spice things up a little."

He choked on air, his blush deepening. "Pass. I'm sticking to haunted house duty."

"Boo, you're no fun," Yuna pouted, flouncing back to her seat. But the damage was done. Riku caught Aiko's knowing smirk as she leaned in, her breath warm against his ear.

"Admit it," she whispered. "You'd love to see me in that outfit."

His heart stuttered, and he nudged her away with a shaky laugh. "Shut up. You'd destroy me."

"Maybe," she purred, her tone wicked. "But you'd die happy."

Before he could muster a comeback, the classroom door swung open, and Emi stepped in, her smile bright but tentative. The mood shifted, a subtle tension threading through the group. She waved at Riku, her eyes flickering to Aiko with cautious curiosity.

"Hey, Riku," she said, approaching their desks. "Need help with the haunted house? I've got time this afternoon."

Aiko's knee pressed harder against his under the table, a silent signal. Riku cleared his throat, forcing nonchalance. "Uh, thanks, but we're covered. Plenty of hands already."

"Oh." Emi's smile faltered. "Well, if you need me later…"

"We won't," Aiko interjected, her tone smooth but sharp. "But thanks anyway."

Emi nodded, retreating with a quiet, "See you," and Riku let out a breath, the air easing slightly. Aiko's smirk returned, victorious.

"Good job," she said, nudging him. "You're learning."

"Barely," he replied, grinning. "You're a tough boss."

"The best kind," she teased, her foot brushing his—a fleeting, electric touch.

---

The weekend brought no reprieve. Festival prep consumed the school, and Class 2-B's haunted house slowly took shape in the gym—a labyrinth of cardboard walls, fake cobwebs, and eerie lighting. Riku hammered at a wobbly coffin prop, sweat plastering his shirt to his back, while Aiko directed a crew hanging plastic skeletons nearby.

Yuna darted around, "supervising" with a camera in hand and a stream of unhelpful suggestions. Haruka and Mika painted ghost faces on old sheets, their quiet banter a steady hum beneath the chaos.

Then came the mishap. Aiko, balanced on a ladder to pin up a banner, swayed as the step buckled. Riku dropped his hammer and lunged, catching her around the waist as she fell. They hit the floor in a heap, her laughter ringing out as they untangled.

"You okay?" he asked, breathless, his pulse racing from more than just the scare.

"Yeah," she said, grinning, her hands braced on his shoulders. Her tank top had ridden up in the fall, revealing a strip of skin, and his fingers grazed her waist, sending a jolt through him.

Their eyes met, the gym's clamor fading, until Yuna's voice shattered the moment. "Get a room, you two! Or at least wait for the festival!"

Aiko groaned, shoving Riku off with a smirk. "Buzz off, senpai."

"Never," Yuna retorted, snapping a picture. "This is too good."

Riku pulled Aiko to her feet, their hands lingering, and she leaned close, whispering, "Later, knight. When she's not stalking us."

He grinned, the promise carrying him through the day's grind.

---

That evening, with the school emptied out, Riku and Aiko stayed behind in the classroom, stacking chairs and gathering stray props. The sunset bathed the room in warm gold, and Aiko stretched with a yawn, her tank top slipping higher.

"Tired?" Riku asked, hauling a chair onto the pile.

"Wiped," she admitted, smirking as she caught him staring. "But not too tired for a reward."

"Reward?" he echoed, cautious.

"For saving me earlier," she said, stepping into his space. "My hero deserves something."

He laughed, but it faded as she pressed against him, her hands sliding up his chest. "Aiko—"

"Shh," she murmured, kissing him—slow, deliberate, her fingers threading through his hair. He sank into it, hands settling on her waist, the world narrowing to just them.

A loud crash jolted them apart—a box of props tipping over, scattering fake spiders across the floor. They burst out laughing, breathless and flushed.

"Guess that's our sign," Aiko said, her cheeks rosy. "To be continued?"

"Count on it," he replied, grinning, and they cleaned up, the air still crackling between them.

---

At home, the festival's shadow crept into dinner. Hana leaned across the table, her tone casual but pointed. "Heard you two are quite the team at school."

"Yeah," Riku said, focusing on his rice. "Haunted house stuff."

"Mm-hmm." She sipped her tea, eyes narrowing. "Just keep it… decent, okay?"

Aiko's foot nudged his under the table, her smirk hidden. "Always, Aunt Hana."

Hana hummed, skeptical, but dropped it. The storm had settled for now, but the festival loomed—a ticking clock to more chaos, with family, friends, and harem antics ready to collide.

----