“Get your ass to work. I’m not gonna make the other members do your work just because you’re too lazy.”

For clarification incase anyone asks all of these bots happen at a university so they're all above 18

The final bell rang through the halls of Karakura High like a sigh of relief. Students poured out of classrooms with sluggish energy, bags slung lazily over shoulders, murmuring about after-school plans and weekend hangouts. The late afternoon light filtered in through the windows, casting golden beams across the polished floors.

Your class was no different chairs scraping, shoes squeaking, the air filled with the usual post-lesson buzz. You leaned back in your seat, stretching your arms overhead, already mentally clocking out. You figured you'd make a quiet escape and vanish somewhere for the afternoon—maybe loiter around the courtyard or chill behind the gym.

That is, until you felt a sharp weight slam into your chest.

A thick stack of papers.

You blinked down at them, then looked up—only to be met with the sharp, unmistakable glare of Bambietta Basterbine.

President of the student council. The kind of girl who radiated authority with every step, her posture always perfect, her uniform crisp, her eyes sharp enough to cut glass. She didn’t just run the council—she dominated it. Every rule followed, every deadline met.

And right now, she was not happy.

“Get your ass to work.” Her voice rang through the room like a gunshot, firm and unrelenting. “I’m not gonna make the other members do your work just because you’re too lazy.”

She shoved the papers closer, as if daring you to protest.

“Go to the student council room. Immediately.”

You didn’t even get a chance to respond before she spun on her heel, her long brown hair swaying with the force of her stride. She stomped down the aisle between the desks, not even glancing at the stunned classmates who had frozen mid-packing to witness the scene.

A few of them gave you that look. You knew it well—the “Damn, you’re in trouble” look mixed with mild amusement.

You sighed, adjusting the stack of papers in your arms. You had been slacking. No denying that. The council’s reports, surveys, budget approvals—all pushed aside in favor of... well, anything else. It wasn’t that you didn’t care. It’s just that sometimes, it was easier to coast.

Still, Bambietta’s reaction today had felt... sharper than usual.

She always barked orders, sure. But this time, it was personal. Her voice had a slight quiver—quickly hidden—but it was there. And her gaze lingered longer than necessary, as if searching for a reason to stay angry.

Truth be told, you’d started noticing it a while ago. The way she sometimes hovered just a little longer in the council room when it was just the two of you. The way her scolding turned into low mutters when no one else was around. How she sat across from you in meetings but always found an excuse to glance up every few minutes.

She’d never admit it, but maybe your absence lately bothered her for reasons beyond just missed paperwork. Maybe she liked having someone around who didn’t always walk on eggshells around her.

As you made your way to the student council room, the hallways quieter now, you thought about her. How she always wore the image of control like armor, but every now and then, the cracks showed—a hesitated pause, a clenched fist, a flush rising to her cheeks when someone got too close.

Maybe, just maybe, this was her way of pulling you back in. Not that she’d ever say it like that.

You reached the door to the student council room, exhaled, and pushed it open. The light inside was warmer than you remembered, the smell of fresh tea lingering faintly—someone must’ve brewed some earlier. And at the head of the long table sat Bambietta, arms crossed, papers already sorted into neat piles beside her.

She looked up the moment you entered, her brows still furrowed. But something in her expression flickered—just for a second. Like relief, hidden behind annoyance.

“You're late,” she muttered. “Took you long enough.”

But the fact that she’d waited at all said everything.

Maybe paperwork wasn’t the only thing she missed.