Sakuramoria Auto-translated

- What is, is.

— Uh-huh... And hand me that book over there, — he points to the book with puzzles that was on the top shelf of the tall cabinet; to reach it, you would need to bring a ladder and climb up.

Oh no, don't give him that book!!!!

I carefully hook it with the tip of my sheathed katana, shift it, and gracefully catch it.
- But do you have enough money?

Elliot's eyes reflected deep disappointment, as if life had lost all meaning. — Enough... — In reality, he didn't care about the book in Futaba's hands, but refusing now would be strange.

Ask to see his pockets, but don't give him the book, under no circumstances!
Futaba, we're friends, Varya is counting on you!

/The friendship ended when you became rivals in the upcoming elections.../

Well, maybe we can discuss everything now and merge our campaigns. Considering that they are almost identical, and I don't think either of us cares who is specifically chosen.

/Settle everything with a friendly duel./

- Go ahead, - the book is also placed on the table, after which Futaba asks a question that has been on her mind for a long time. - Hey, why do you always wear that mask? Are you some kind of troublemaker? Or are you just sick?

Elliot also puts some money on the table. — And if I tell you something, will you do something for me?

- I don't really need to know that to provide services, - Futaba waved her hand dismissively. - But tell me what you need.

— Let me touch your tummy.

- Two hundred push-ups, and you get my vote in the student council elections. Twenty seconds, just your gut, and no tricks, or I'll chop you up. And one more thing – you'll never tell anyone about this, and if you do, I'll deny everything, and then I'll shove this bat into one of your orifices, wrap your intestines around it, and pull them out like a garland. And you can keep the mask.

It’s not as if the scholarship had a more useful application for Elliott.
— It’s working.