The♡Prince♡For♡Me!
The Prince and the Perplexed Ghost
The sound of the scrubbing brush against the porcelain tiles was rhythmic, a steady *scritch-scratch* that usually filled the silence of the old girls' bathroom. But today, Nene Yashiro wasn't scrubbing with her usual air of resigned martyrdom. Instead, there was a literal spring in her step. She hummed a jaunty tune, her cheeks dusted with a permanent shade of rose that hadn't faded since she stepped out of the hot springs earlier that afternoon.
Hanako, meanwhile, was floating upside down near the ceiling, his hakama draped gravity-defyingly around his legs. He watched her with a look of profound, existential betrayal. His amber eyes tracked every sway of her hips and every dreamy sigh that escaped her lips.
"I’m serious, Hanako-kun," Nene said, pausing to wring out her cloth. The water splashed back into the bucket, but she didn't seem to notice the damp spots on her uniform. "Mitsuba-kun was just... wow. I never realized how firm his grip was. And when he looked at me, it was like he was seeing right through to my soul! Or at least, right through to my... well, you know."
Hanako flipped right-side up, his cape fluttering behind him like the wings of a very annoyed moth. "I really don't want to know, Yashiro. Especially not about the 'long-necked brat' and his soapy hands. That sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen, even for a ghost."
"You're just being grumpy because you weren't invited," Nene teased, sticking her tongue out. She leaned against the sink, her eyes glazing over again. "And then Kou-kun! He was all sweaty from practice, and he wiped his forehead, and his muscles just... *flexed*. I felt like a shoujo heroine. I half-expected cherry blossoms to start falling from the ceiling."
"There are no cherry blossoms in the hallway, Yashiro. Just dust bunnies and the occasional Mokke," Hanako muttered, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He drifted down until he was eye-level with her, his face inches from hers. He turned on the charm, widening his eyes and letting a soft, mysterious smile play on his lips. "Are you *sure* you aren't seeing things? Maybe you have a fever? I could check for you."
He reached out, his cool fingers ghosting toward her forehead, but Nene just patted his hand away like he was a pesky fly.
"I'm fine! I've never felt better," she chirped. "It’s like the whole world has been upgraded to high-definition. Everyone is just so... handsome. Even Natsuhiko-kun! He did this thing where he leaned against the wall and ran a hand through his hair, and for a second, I forgot he was a total creep. It was magical."
Hanako felt a physical pang in his non-existent heart. This was bad. This was very, very bad. As the Seventh Wonder, he was used to being the center of Nene’s supernatural world. Sure, she spent half her time screaming at him or calling him a pervert, but there was an equilibrium. A balance. Now, the balance was skewed. The scale was tipped entirely toward every other male entity in Kamome Academy.
"Yashiro," Hanako said, his voice dropping an octave into that low, silky tone he knew usually made her ears turn red. He floated closer, invading her personal space until he could see the reflection of the bathroom lights in her large, expressive eyes. "Look at me. Really look at me."
Nene blinked, focusing on him. She tilted her head, observing the sharp line of his jaw, the way his messy black hair fell over his seal, and the mischievous glint in his eyes.
Hanako held his breath. He struck a pose—the 'dark, brooding prince of the bathroom' look. He waited for the *doki-doki*. He waited for the blush. He waited for her to drop the scrub brush in awe of his spectral beauty.
Nene hummed thoughtfully. She reached out and poked his cheek. "Nope. Still just Hanako-kun."
Hanako collapsed onto the floor in a heap of black fabric. "I don't understand! Why?! I have the mysterious backstory! I have the cape! I’m literally a legend! How can Natsuhiko—a guy whose entire personality is being a doorstop for a hot girl—be more 'prince-like' than me?"
"It’s hard to explain," Nene said, returning to her bucket. "It’s like... you’re too familiar? You’re like a pet. A very annoying, slightly perverted pet that lives in a toilet. You can’t be a prince if I’ve seen you get hit in the face with a mop five times a week."
"I am not a pet!" Hanako shrieked, popping back up. He pointed a dramatic finger at her. "Yashiro, you are under a curse! A very specific, very annoying curse. Think! Did you eat anything weird? Did you touch a strange artifact? Did a Mokke give you a suspicious candy?"
Nene paused, her brush hovering over a tile. "Well... a Mokke did give me a pink candy earlier. It was shaped like a heart. They said it would help me find my 'true desire.' But they give me candy all the time!"
Hanako groaned, slapping a hand over his face. "The 'Heart’s Eye' candy. It’s a rare supernatural treat. It doesn't actually change how people look, Yashiro. It just amplifies the 'charm' of anyone the consumer perceives as a romantic prospect. It basically turns your brain into a shoujo manga filter."
Nene’s eyes went wide. "So... you’re saying Mitsuba-kun didn't actually grow three inches and get sparkling eyes?"
"He’s still a short, narcissistic brat," Hanako confirmed flatly. "And Teru Minamoto is still a terrifying exorcist who wants to turn me into a pile of ash. Your brain is just lying to you because you’re desperate for a boyfriend."
Nene slumped, her shoulders dropping. "Oh. So it was all a lie? The soap suds... the muscles... the dramatic wind blowing through Kou-kun’s hair?"
"Mostly, yes." Hanako felt a small surge of victory. If the curse was identified, he could break it. And more importantly, he could stop hearing about how 'strong' Mitsuba’s arms were. "It wears off in twenty-four hours. You just have to sit tight and try not to confess your love to a locker or something."
Nene sighed, looking genuinely disappointed. "I guess that makes sense. But wait..." She looked up at him, a frown creasing her brow. "If the candy amplifies the charm of anyone I see as a romantic prospect... then why didn't it work on you?"
The silence that followed was heavy. Hanako felt like he had just been exorcised without the lightning.
"That's..." Hanako started, his voice cracking slightly. "That’s a very good question, Yashiro. Why *didn't* it work on me?"
Nene stood up, wiping her hands on her apron. She walked over to him, looking at him with genuine curiosity. "I mean, I like you, Hanako-kun. You’re my friend. And you’re definitely cute! But when I look at you today, you look exactly the same as yesterday. No sparkles. No dramatic lighting. No *doki-doki*."
Hanako felt a twitch in his eyebrow. "So what you're saying is... even with a supernatural aphrodisiac pumping through your system, I am fundamentally un-romantic to you?"
"I wouldn't put it that harshly!" Nene said, waving her hands dismissively. "It’s just... you’re Hanako-kun. You’re the ghost who haunts the bathroom. You’re the boy who tricks me into cleaning toilets. My brain probably just categorizes you as 'Supernatural Nuisance' instead of 'Potential Boyfriend.'"
Hanako turned away, floating toward the window. He stared out at the twilight sky, his silhouette looking particularly lonely. "I see. A nuisance. A pet. A toilet-dweller."
"Hanako-kun, don't be dramatic," Nene groaned, though she felt a small prickle of guilt.
"No, no, I understand," he said, his voice dripping with theatrical melancholy. "I’ll just stay here in my stall. Alone. Forgotten. While you go off and dream about Natsuhiko’s 'charming' personality."
Nene rolled her eyes and went back to her cleaning. She figured he would get over it in a few minutes. Hanako was nothing if not resilient when it came to his own ego.
However, ten minutes passed, and Hanako hadn't moved. He remained by the window, his back to her, radiating an aura of profound sulking. Even the Haku-joudai were drooping, circling his head listlessly.
Nene stopped scrubbing. The guilt was starting to win. "Okay, fine! Maybe you are a little bit of a prince."
Hanako didn't turn around. "You're just saying that because you want me to help you with the heavy lifting."
"I'm not! I mean, you *did* save me from the 4 o'clock library. And you saved me from the Misaki Stairs. And you... well, you look out for me," Nene said, her voice softening. She walked over to him, standing just behind his floating form. "You’re just a different kind of prince. A... bathroom prince?"
"That sounds like a title for someone who specializes in plumbing," Hanako muttered.
"A dark prince, then! Very mysterious and edgy," Nene tried again.
Hanako finally turned around. He wasn't smiling. His expression was uncharacteristically serious, his amber eyes searching hers. "Yashiro. If the candy shows you what you want to see... maybe the reason I look the same is because you already see me for who I really am."
Nene paused. The thought was surprisingly deep for a ghost who spent most of his time trying to peek at her ankles. "What do you mean?"
"With the others, you're seeing a fantasy," Hanako said, drifting closer until he was standing on the floor, his height barely reaching past her chin. "You’re seeing the 'Prince' version of Mitsuba or the 'Hero' version of the kid. But with me... you don't need a filter. You see the ghost, the murderer, the friend, and the nuisance all at once."
He stepped into her space, and for the first time that day, Nene felt a flicker of something that wasn't caused by a candy. It wasn't a *doki-doki* of excitement; it was a slow, warm thrum of familiarity.
"I don't want to be a prince in your head, Yashiro," Hanako whispered, his voice dangerously close to her ear. "Princes are boring. They’re just stories. I’d rather be real to you than a sparkling hallucination."
Nene’s breath hitched. She looked down at him, and for a split second, the sunlight hitting the window behind him created a halo around his dark hair. His eyes seemed to glow with a depth she hadn't noticed before—a mixture of ancient sorrow and youthful mischief.
Her heart gave a tiny, traitorous *thump*.
"Oh," she breathed.
Hanako smirked, seeing the slight shift in her expression. The serious moment vanished instantly, replaced by his usual playful arrogance. "Aha! Was that a blush? Did I just see a blush?"
Nene immediately shoved his face away. "No! It was just the heat! The bathroom is steamy!"
"It’s not steamy at all, Yashiro! You’re totally falling for the 'Bathroom Prince'!" Hanako cackled, darting away as she swung her mop at him.
"Shut up! You’re still not my type!" Nene yelled, though her face was now a vibrant shade of crimson that put her previous blushes to shame.
"Admit it! I’m way better than the long-necked brat!"
"You’re a thousand years too early to be compared to Mitsuba-kun!"
They chased each other around the stalls, the sound of laughter and shouting echoing off the tiles. Outside, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the school grounds.
As Nene finally cornered Hanako near the sinks, she realized something. The candy might have made everyone else look like a dream, but Hanako was the only one who felt like home. Even if he was a perverted, annoying, toilet-dwelling ghost.
"Fine," Nene panted, leaning on her mop. "Maybe you're... a little bit handsome. In a very specific, ghostly way."
Hanako beamed, his Haku-joudai spinning circles of joy. "I knew it. I’m the best, aren't I?"
"Don't push it," Nene warned, though she couldn't hide her smile. "You still have to help me finish the floors."
"Anything for my lady," Hanako said with a mock bow, snatching a second brush out of thin air.
As they worked together, the "princes" of the afternoon faded into the background of Nene’s mind. She didn't need the sparkles or the dramatic lighting. She just needed the boy with the old school cap and the crooked smile, even if he did occasionally make her clean the toilets.
But as she turned to rinse her cloth, she caught Hanako looking at her when he thought she wasn't watching. His expression was soft, devoid of his usual masks. In that moment, without any candy or curses, Nene’s heart went *doki-doki* all on its own.
She quickly turned back to the sink, splashing cold water on her face.
*Stupid ghost,* she thought, smiling into the porcelain. *Stupid, handsome ghost.*