Chapter 4: A Request from the President?!
I was at our usual family restaurant, half-heartedly murdering a plate of fries while my friends turned the booth into their usual chaos.
Haruto was mid-rant, waving a spoon like a baton. “—and then Sho here tells the girl from Class 2-C that her essay on ‘Hamlet’ was ‘structurally sound but emotionally constipated.’ I mean, who says that?!”
Dai Yamamoto leaned back, all easy grin and six-foot-three of baseball-player shoulders, laughing so hard he nearly knocked over his drink. “Bro, you should’ve seen her face. She went from flirty to filing a restraining order in three seconds flat.”
Sho Kimura didn’t even look up from his book, glasses sliding down his nose. “It was an honest critique. If she wanted compliments instead of feedback, she should’ve asked the mirror. I’m not here to inflate egos.”
Haruto pointed his spoon at Sho like it was evidence in court. “See? This is why you’re still single, man. Kenji at least pretends to be normal. You just drop literary grenades and wonder why people run away.”
I snorted, stealing one of Dai’s pickled radishes. “Leave Sho alone. At least his rejections are poetic. Mine would just be ‘sorry, I have to go finish this volume about dragons.’”
Dai grinned. “Agreed! The students think Kenji’s harmless. Meanwhile Sho’s out here roasting people’s souls over classical literature.”
Sho finally glanced up, deadpan. “Better than Haruto’s approach of ‘hey, want to watch me score?’ — which, by the way, still makes me cringe every time I remember it.”
The table erupted in laughter. It was comfortable. Normal. Exactly the kind of low-drama meal I preferred.
Until a delicate tap landed on my shoulder. I turned — and very nearly did an extremely humiliating spit-take all over the table.
There stood Miyu Takahashi in all her intimidating glory: long, glossy raven hair cascading like a shampoo commercial that had achieved sentience, arctic-blue eyes sharp enough to file taxes and freeze a riot at the same time. The Student Council President. Walking authority. Posture so perfect it made rulers feel inadequate. In her professionally pressed school uniform with her official student council armband, she looked like she could declare martial law with nothing but a raised eyebrow.
Right beside her — practically glued to her side like a mischievous barnacle — was what could only be described as Miyu’s “budget DLC version.” Same lustrous dark hair, same striking blue eyes… only missing the unfairly long legs. Instead, the girl was equipped with a temperament diametrically opposed to the stoic president.
Compared to President Takahashi, her little sister was tiny. A bright pink backpack still slung over one shoulder, twin pigtails bouncing like they ran on pure sugar. Where Miyu was elegant, statuesque, and commanding, the younger girl looked like someone had taken Miyu, put her in a shrink ray, then accidentally tripled the personality sliders.
Haruto’s spoon froze halfway to his mouth. Dai’s grin faltered. Sho actually closed his book.
My brain blue-screened for a solid five seconds.
“Takahashi-senpai,” I croaked, trying to sound normal and failing spectacularly. “And… uh…?”
“My little sister, Riko,” Miyu said, voice cool and professional, like she was introducing her to the chess club instead of the guy who sometimes did… special tutoring.
“Hello, Tanaka-onii-san~!” Riko chirped, waving both hands with maximum enthusiasm. Her smile was 100% pure distilled sunshine and sparkles. The contrast between the sisters who looked so much alike was so violent I nearly got whiplash.
I forced my gaze up to Miyu’s face before my eyeballs got arrested. “N-nice to meet you, Riko-chan…”
“I’m eleven now!” Riko blurted excitedly.
Haruto recovered first, offering a polite but slightly awkward wave with his spoon still in hand. “Uh, hey. I’m Suzuki Haruto—Class 2-B, soccer club. Nice to meet you both.” He shot me a quick, confused glance. “Kenji… you know the student council president?”
Miyu didn’t even glance at him. “We need your help with a… project. Would it be possible to exchange contact information?”
I just nodded like a malfunctioning bobblehead and we swapped LINE IDs. The Student Council President’s private number. In my phone. I felt like I’d been handed a nuclear warhead wrapped in a Hello Kitty bow.
The girls left. The table went dead silent for three full seconds.
Haruto finally spoke, voice hushed with awe. “Dude. The student council president just asked for your LINE. In front of all of us. What did you do? Hack the school database? Save her cat? Are you a secret superhero?”
Dai leaned in, eyes wide. “And the tiny hyper one called you ‘Onii-san.’ Kenji, explain. Right now. Are you secretly running a host club?”
Sho adjusted his glasses, deadpan as ever. “Statistically, this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to you since you ranked top five without telling anyone. I’m intrigued.”
I muttered, “It’s probably just some official school thing. Budget stuff or whatever.”
Haruto snorted. “Sure. And I’m secretly the emperor of China. Spill later, man. We’ll make the time.”
That night, my phone buzzed.
[Takahashi Miyu]: This is Miyu Takahashi. Are you free to talk?
[Tanaka Kenji]: Yeah. What’s up?
[Takahashi Miyu]: It’s about Riko-chan. She has been pestering me nonstop. She insists that I book you because I need help overcoming stress. I’ve heard about your reputation for giving discreet advice in personal matters. I’d like to request your assistance. Discreetly.
My soul left my body, did a lap around the room, and came back screaming.
The untouchable Student Council President was basically asking me for help… because her rambunctious little sister was stressing her out by trying to relieve her stress. The irony was so thick it could have been used as a substitute for the school’s concrete.
[Tanaka Kenji]: President, you don’t strike me as the kind of person who needs the help of someone like me.
[Takahashi Miyu]: The truth is that Riko’s not entirely wrong. At times I do feel guilty about neglecting my precious little sister. Besides, we both trust you. I’m afraid no one else will do. So, would you do this as a personal favor, Tanaka-san?
Once again I resigned myself to my fate.
[Tanaka Kenji]: When and where?
[Takahashi Miyu]: Our house. Parents are away. Saturday, 2 p.m. Address attached.
The Takahashi mansion was ridiculous — a modern palace located in a gated community that probably cost more than my entire bloodline. Takahashi-senpai met me at the door in a black turtleneck and tight blue jeans combo that should be illegal. She looked elegant as always, but there was a faint tiredness around those icy eyes.
“Riko-chan! Tanaka-san is here!” She called, “Please come in. Why don’t we meet in the living room?”
“Okay,” I agreed, “let’s see what we can do!”
“Hooray! Onii-san is here!!” Riko’s energy filled the room the moment we sat down. “Nee-chan has been stress-baking again. That means it’s time for an intervention!”
“I did bake us some cookies.” She admitted, “I’ll go get them along with some barley tea to drink. Please make yourself comfortable, Tanaka-san.” Miyu bowed politely and excused herself.
The moment the door clicked shut, Riko suddenly leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Onii-san… I need your help to fix Nee-chan.”
I blinked. “What?”
Riko’s voice dropped even lower, eyes wide and serious. “Nee-chan works so hard. She’s always trying to be perfect for everyone else — student council, exams, family… but she never does anything for herself or lets herself relax. She comes home with bags under her eyes and falls asleep at her desk while she’s trying to finish her homework. I’m worried about her. She needs someone who can help her loosen up and relieve stress. I can only help her at home. But when I try to make her feel better, she just starts fretting about me instead! She thinks I’m only worried because she’s neglecting me. And since she would never ask for help herself. I was hoping you and I could combine powers like the Thundercats or something. Is that okay? Please don’t tell her I said that!”
She pressed a finger to her lips in the most dramatic “shhh” I’d ever seen.
I stared at the tiny gremlin who had just casually dropped a psychological bomb in my lap. “Riko-chan… good reference BTW. But you’re terrifying.”
She beamed like I’d given her the highest compliment. “Thank you!”
“Anyway, I’d be glad to help. President is always doing her best to help everyone else at school after all. I’m sure if you and I work together, we can help her smile more and enjoy her life to the fullest.”
Riko’s smile became so incandescent, I was concerned that I might be permanently blinded.
When Miyu returned with the tray full of tea and cookies, Riko immediately switched back to her usual hyper sunshine mode, chattering about how much she wanted to learn to be “brave like Onee-chan.”
Miyu set the tray down with perfect poise and poured three cups. “Riko-chan, let’s not overwhelm Tanaka-san on his first visit. We’re here to learn from him, remember?”
Riko nodded so hard her pigtails bounced. “Right! So, Onii-san, me first! How do I learn to be brave when talking to my classmates like Onee-chan? Last week one of the boys asked me what time it was and I accidentally told him the temperature instead. He looked so confused!”
I took a sip of barley tea to hide my smile. “Classic move. I once told a girl ‘nice weather’ when she asked how my day was going. We both just stood there in silence until the bell saved us.”
Riko giggled. “See, Nee-chan? Even Onii-san messes up! So what’s the secret? Do I need to practice smiling more? Or should I do that thing where I pretend I’m a cool idol?”
Miyu raised an elegant eyebrow, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Riko, you are many things, but ‘cool idol’ might be pushing it.”
“Hey!” Riko puffed her cheeks. “I can be cool! Watch this.” She struck a dramatic pose, one hand on her hip, the other making a peace sign. “Yo, Onii-san. The weather today is like… totally tubular!”
I nearly choked on my tea. “Tubular? Riko-chan, I think you time-traveled from the 80s.”
Riko deflated dramatically onto the couch. “See? I’m hopeless. I always say the wrong thing and make everything awkward. Nee-chan never does that. She’s always perfect.”
Miyu’s shoulders tensed just a fraction — the tiny crack in her president armor. She took a slow sip of tea, voice steady but softer than usual. “I’m not always perfect, Riko-chan. Sometimes I just… hide it better.”
I caught the opening and kept my tone light, gently sarcastic. “Hiding it better is an advanced technique. Most of us are still at the ‘accidentally say the wrong thing and then hide in the bathroom’ level. Riko, you’re already ahead because you at least try. That’s brave.”
Riko peeked up, eyes sparkling with hope. “Really? Even if I told a boy the temperature instead of the time?”
“Especially then,” I said, smiling. “It’s memorable. Next time just add ‘and it’s 3:15, by the way.’ Boom — conversation saved.”
Miyu let out a soft, surprised laugh — the kind she probably didn’t allow herself often. “That actually might work. Riko, you could turn your chaos into charm.”
Riko sat up straighter, grinning. “Nee-chan laughed! Onii-san, you’re a genius! Okay, next question: how do I stop being scared of asking Nee-chan for help when I’m stressed? She’s always so busy with student council stuff…”
Miyu’s expression softened further. “Riko-chan, you can always ask me. I’m never too busy for you.”
“But you come home tired,” Riko said, suddenly serious in that earnest little-sister way. “I don’t want to add to your stress. So Onii-san, teach me how to be brave enough to ask anyway!”
I leaned forward, keeping it playful but sincere. “Simple. Start small. Like right now. Riko, tell your sister one thing that would make you feel braver.”
Riko thought for a second, then turned to Miyu with big, hopeful eyes. “If Nee-chan smiled more when she comes home… like she does right now. It makes me feel like everything’s going to be okay.”
Miyu froze, cup halfway to her lips. Then her shoulders relaxed, and she gave Riko a genuine, warm smile — the kind that reached her eyes and made the exhaustion fade for a moment. “Deal. I’ll try to smile more. And you promise to ask for help when you need it?”
“Promise!” Riko launched herself across the bed to hug her sister, nearly knocking over the tea tray.
I watched the two of them, feeling oddly warm. “See? You’re both already braver than you think. Riko’s chaos is basically courage with extra sprinkles, and Takahashi-senpai… you carry the whole school on your shoulders and still make time for this. That’s pretty impressive.”
Miyu looked at me over Riko’s head, her usual cool composure cracking into something softer, almost grateful. “Thank you, Tanaka-san. It’s… nice to hear that from someone outside the council room.”
Riko peeked up from the hug, grinning. “Onii-san is the best! We should do this every weekend. Group self-improvement training!”
Miyu let out another quiet laugh — lighter this time. “Let’s not overwhelm him on day one, Riko-chan.”
We spent the next half hour talking about everything and nothing: Riko’s latest “research” into cool poses (which involved a lot of dramatic falling over), Miyu’s secret weakness for bad idol dramas (“Don’t tell the council”), and my own confession that I once hid in the library for three periods because I didn’t want to explain why I’d named my math notebook from Middle School after a dragon.
By the time I stood to leave, the room felt warmer. Riko gave me a big, enthusiastic hug. Miyu walked me to the door, her usual elegant posture a little looser.
“Thank you,” she said quietly at the genkan. “Today… helped more than you know.”
I shrugged, offering a small, dry smile. “Anytime, Takahashi-senpai. Just remember — even presidents are allowed to smile without filing paperwork first.”
She laughed softly — a real one — and for a moment the weight of her responsibilities seemed a little lighter.
“Please just call me Miyu. At least when we’re alone.”
“I will! As long as you call me Kenji too.”
“Alright. Be safe, Kenji-kun.”
As I walked home, my phone buzzed with a new LINE message from Miyu:
“Thank you again, Kenji-kun. Riko hasn’t stopped talking about you. And… neither have I.”
I stared at the screen, a small grin creeping onto my face.
Somehow, I’d gone from quiet nerd to part-time confidence coach for the most unlikely pair of sisters in Toka Academy.
This was going to be interesting.
