Kaijou's Shiro

Prologue

"Ne, Shirocchi?"

Ichijou Shiro perked up tiredly from her seat, her snowy-white hair tied into her usual side ponytail as she casually flicked through the pages of her research notes. There were several hair stylists and make-up artists flitting and fawning around her, and with all the chatter and movement in the studio, she really felt that it was a miracle that she could even hear Ryouta through all that noise.

"Yes, Ryouta?"

Kise Ryouta, the all-too-beautiful poster boy for Zunon Boy looked like a million bucks. The basketball player had his hair pulled back with a headband so one of his overly excitable make-up artists, one 'Yuri-chan' could touch up on his already fuck me-worthy face. Like Shiro, he was in the Kaijou uniform, donned in his trademark silver earring and amiable smile. He had a bottle of sparkling water in his hand and was animatedly chatting with various people at once. And – again – Shiro wonders how is that even possible.

Because why?

Well, being called up for a way-too-early photoshoot by their agency in the wee hours of the morning on a bloody Sunday honestly did not help matters at all. Shiro is amazed on how Ryouta can look like a god at five a.m. and still has the energy to chit chat with the make-up artists and the extras while wearing an overly formal school uniform.

"Have you joined any club yet?"

Shiro shut her book quietly and shook her head at her friend. She'd been so completely dedicated to her writing career and occasional modelling work that joining a club never really crossed her mind at the slightest. It wasn't as if Kaijou was one of those schools that made it mandatory for all students to join a club, thus she used that to her advantage to dodge time-consuming club activities.

If possible, Ryouta's eyes positively sparkled when she admitted that – until he was promptly probed on the cheek by the bubbly make-up artist, who lightly admonished him for moving too much. Apologies followed.

"Why don't you join the Basketball Club then, Shirocchi?" Ryouta continued, craning his head slightly to stare at the white-haired model. Shiro had to cringe slightly at the sudden power of the blonde's 'notice-me-master' eyes and the excited flutter of his eyelashes. The girl could almost imagine a tail wagging behind the teen.

"You are aware that I can't play basketball right?" Shiro raised a delicate eyebrow, leaning her hair back slightly so her stylist could remove the pale blue scrunchie tying up her hair. It was almost laughable when Ryouta grimaced at that reminder. He had once seen the girl play basketball – and after a brief epiphany – had to constantly repeat to himself that there were actually people who could not play sports even if their lives depended on it. Like – shit – have you seen Momoi in the kitchen? The thought itself almost made Ryouta hyperventilate.

"You can be our manager then ~suu!" Ryouta proposed, golden-yellow eyes lighting up again, muscled arms propped over the arm of his chair in excitement. By now, his make-up artist was already rolling her eyes and moved on to re-fixing the model's hair and given up on putting foundation on his face. It wasn't as if he actually needed it anyway.

"I have no experience, Ryouta," Shiro furrowed her eyebrows, wincing slightly as her hair stylist started curling her hair. Sheesh, what was wrong with her hair that it needed curling every single time they did a photoshoot? "And it would be troublesome, wouldn't it? I mean, like you, I still have commitments to attend to," Shiro added.

This time, Ryouta had a mischievous smile on his face. Which – god damn – looked so sexy on him that it made half of the people in the studio blush a little. They also had several thoughts running into their heads that mostly went along the lines of oh my god it should be illegal to look that hot, Kise-sama.