"Um, if you really can't bear to see me go, Yukinoshita, I could pick up Shouko a little later—"
"That won't be necessary!"
With just those two short lines, Hojou Kyousuke walked out of the Service Club room, accompanied by Yamauchi Sakura's cheerful send-off.
"Safe travels, and come home early, okay~~?"
Her bright, lively voice rippled through the spring breeze.
Down in the garden below the multimedia building, groups of students sitting and chatting couldn't help but look up at where the voice had come from.
There, at the fourth-floor window, a brown-haired girl leaned halfway out.
One hand rested on the windowsill, the other waved energetically up and down.
Her long, silky hair swayed with the wind, and the smile on her face was so radiant that anyone who saw it couldn't help but feel happy.
Embarrassing as it was, even though everyone knew those words weren't directed at them.
The boys and girls below still felt a strong impulse to yell back—to shout something like, "I'm not going anywhere, I'll stay home with you!"
"If I had a girlfriend like that, why would I even bother joining a club?"
A soccer club member, running laps around the school, gazed up at the energetic girl with dreamy eyes, mumbling to himself.
But before he could finish, a kick landed square on his backside, sending him rolling across the ground.
The guy was dumb, sure, but he was a soccer player.
Rolling on the ground came as naturally to him as eating or drinking.
Like a bean bun coated in soybean flour, he tumbled three times and ended up covered evenly in dust.
Since there was no referee around, he immediately jumped back up, glaring at the one behind him.
"Nimura, you bastard! Why'd you kick me?!"
"You should be thanking me for saving your ass, idiot Owada." Nimura shook his head, then discreetly pointed toward someone emerging from the multimedia building.
Still fuming, Owada glanced in that direction—and instantly, his anger and the heat from running vanished in half a heartbeat.
Under the cherry trees, now fully green after their blossoms had fallen, stood a black-haired boy.
He had stopped in his tracks, turning back to look up at the fourth floor.
There were easily twenty or thirty students in the garden—reading, chatting, hanging around—but Owada spotted him instantly.
Not because he had sharp eyes (if he did, he wouldn't have said what he'd just said earlier), but because that black-haired boy was simply too striking.
Though he wore the same school uniform as everyone else, he stood out like a star blazing in the night sky.
Just standing there quietly, he carried a presence impossible to ignore.
Above, the girl leaning from the window smiled like spring blossoms, her voice brimming with joy.
Below, the boy looked up, his expression gentle as cherry petals, and called out without hesitation:
"I'll bring back some late-night snacks!"
The moment Owada saw him about to turn away, he didn't even dare brush the dirt from his butt.
He bolted back to the running group as fast as he could.
"Thanks, Nimura. I'll treat you to some dango later." He bowed his head gratefully to the friend who had kicked him.
"How many sticks?" Nimura asked.
"Ten! From that shop in Sanshō-chō!" Owada gritted his teeth.
"Deal. In that case, I won't tell Hirokawa and the others about this."
"You disloyal bastard…"
Owada cursed him playfully, though his eyes darted nervously toward a few others in the team.
"Hojou and Yamauchi are still as close as ever, huh?"
"Haha, of course! If there ever came a day when they didn't show off their affection, I'd think I'd gone crazy."
"Ahh, I wish I had a childhood friend like that…"
"Don't you already have one?"
"Shut up. At over two hundred pounds, you've gotta call her a warrior, not a childhood friend."
"Hahahahaha!"
The team burst into laughter.
From their chatter, it was obvious they all knew Hojou Kyousuke well.
Owada forced out a few chuckles too, relieved no one had overheard his earlier stupid comment.
If they had, training later would've meant being forced to play goalie—while these Hojou fanboys blasted shots at his handsome face.
While Owada fretted over his wallet, another boy in the group gave a perfunctory smile, his eyes drifting toward the fourth floor.
But unlike the others, he wasn't looking at the energetic girl hanging halfway out the window.
He was watching the black-haired girl behind her, wearing an exasperated expression.
Worried her friend might fall, she clutched the energetic girl's waist with both hands, trying to pull her back inside.
But even after Hojou Kyousuke had disappeared from sight, the lively girl refused to retreat, still grinning, eager for even a glimpse of his shadow.
Only when the black-haired girl snapped at her did she finally sulk and pull herself back inside.
'Yuki…nos…shita?' Something about her feels different.
Hayama Hayato's eyes grew complicated.
He only snapped out of it when someone tapped his shoulder.
"Hayato? What are you looking at?"
It was such an ordinary question, yet Hayama found himself unable to answer.
If this had been back before third grade, he could've replied honestly: "I'm looking at my friend."
But now, all he could manage was a forced, sunny smile.
"Just watching my classmate."
"Ah, you mean Hojou? If only we could get him into the soccer club… with those long legs, he could probably jump over my head while dribbling."
"Haha, no kidding. If Hojou took a shot at you while you were goalie, even if you caught the ball, it'd push you right into the net." someone behind teased.
"Shut up! Then what about you?!"
"Me? I'd get out of the way, of course! My life matters more than playing goalie!"
That shameless remark had everyone laughing and cursing.
"Knock it off! Quiet down already!" the club captain barked. The rowdy atmosphere during their run was fine, but if the school staff caught wind, their club budget might take a hit.
The team quieted down, though they still jostled and shoved each other playfully.
Meanwhile, Hayama turned his head again, watching the boy walking toward the school gate.
'Hojou Kyousuke…'
His gaze grew heavier, filled with gratitude, unease, and… anticipation.
At the school gate, just as Hojou Kyousuke stepped out, a sleek black car rolled up and stopped smoothly.
Since Kisaki Tetta wasn't there, no one got out to open the door.
The driver, Hirata Toshitaka, wasn't unwilling—his boss had forbidden it, saying it drew too much attention.
Though honestly, pulling up to the front gate in a black sedan was already flashy enough.
Still, Hirata could only obey.
The black car drove off toward Shibuya.
Inside, Hojou Kyousuke pulled out his phone, opened his email, and started going through his messages.
The first one was from the idiot duo—no, the "Oni-Baku" duo.
Opening it, he found a photo of Onizuka and Danma grinning so wide their back molars were showing.
Behind them stood the Yamazakura group leader, Doma, along with other members, all smiling like they were being tortured.
'What, is Onizuka trying to take over the Yamazakura group now?'
Kyousuke frowned, doubtful.
Then he reconsidered—Onizuka wasn't exactly the type to have the brains or ambition for that.
Unless Doma happened to have a daughter between seventeen and twenty-eight, then maybe.
Staying responsible as always, Kyousuke typed a reply:
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"If you skip too many classes, you won't graduate, and without a diploma you can't become a high school teacher."
————————————————————————
"Don't care, don't care! I'm already best friends with the student council president!" —Eikichi Onizuka
————————————————————————
"…Huh??" Kyousuke raised a brow in surprise.
Onizuka, managing that? He wouldn't bat an eye if he heard a teacher got beaten up by Onizuka, but actually becoming friends?
————————————————————————
"Last week, Eikichi went for a joyride and ran into the student council president getting robbed.
The guy remembered Eikichi from a previous lecture and begged for help.
But Eikichi thought it was an old enemy and beat up both the robbers and the president." —Danma Ryuji
"Hahahaha! Anyway, they're best friends now, just like you and Doma-san!" —Eikichi Onizuka
————————————————————————
Kyousuke nodded to himself.
'Ah, so that's how they became friends. Makes sense.'
————————————————————————
"Still, you'd better study harder. Otherwise, you'll just embarrass yourself in class when you don't know anything."
"Boss, you're great at picking up girls, but when it comes to teaching, you're too naive.
The best kind of teacher is obviously a P.E. teacher!
Think about it—track shorts, swimsuits, partner stretches, leg presses, mouth-to-mouth CPR… damn, I need to find a way to graduate early!" —Eikichi Onizuka
"Actually, other subjects aren't bad either. P.E. has its perks, sure, but it's harder to do after-school tutoring… or home visits." —Danma Ryuji
"… …"
————————————————————————
As the conversation drifted further off course, Kyousuke quickly switched pages, wondering if those two were really cut out for teaching.
Then again, this was Japan. Maybe that was what counted as a proper teacher here.
He shook his head and let it drop.
Those two were the type who had dirty minds but also a weird sense of honor.
The kind of guys who'd drool over girls in swimsuits during P.E., but if they got slapped, they'd bow and apologize sincerely.
If he had to sum them up: perverted good guys.
The next message was from Eriri.
She didn't say much, just that she'd be staying at her family's place tonight.
The only thing worth noting was:
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"Make sure you explain to Aunt Mikiko properly! It's absolutely not because they're staying over at your place that I left.
I really do have something important to do! And Kasuko too—ugh, if she doesn't see me, she's definitely going to cry!
If that happens, you better video call me immediately. I'll comfort her myself!"
————————————————————————
The blonde princess rambled on endlessly.
A strange smile tugged at his lips.
Why on earth did Eriri believe his little sister would cry just because she couldn't see her?
Was Eriri simply too dumb, or was Kasuko just too good at acting?
Had she already forgotten what happened this morning?
"Stupid woman, this breakfast was made by my onii!"
That sweet, childish voice, full of pride, was already saved in a special mental folder in Kyousuke's brain.
The kind of thing that could shatter Eriri's heart into pieces—yet melt his as a big brother.
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"Got it. I'll tell Kasuko that Eriri-neechan went out to buy her a present."
————————————————————————
He replied while suppressing his laughter, feeling a weird sense of pride.
'As expected of my little sister. '
'In just two days she's charmed Eriri so much she wants to have three or four daughters immediately.'
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"Promise! I'll be back first thing tomorrow!"
————————————————————————
Sure enough, Eriri must've been glued to her phone, because the reply came instantly.
Kyousuke exchanged a few more messages with her until one popped up that simply read:
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"🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪."
————————————————————————
It wasn't exactly a death threat… though it may as well have been.
The sender's ID was "Mr. Spencer."
Understanding perfectly well, Kyousuke decided not to intrude on the Spencer family's precious bonding time.
Wait, "precious bonding time"…? That sounds kinda wrong.
Whatever. Eriri would be back tomorrow anyway, and when she did, he could even help smooth things over with Mr. Spencer.
The next email was from Osaka Gou.
He wrote that Chairman Konno of the Mystery Writers Association had scheduled the banquet for this Saturday.
'Banquet?' Kyousuke froze for a moment.
Thankfully, his unbeatable brain didn't work like the rest of the Hojou family's—it didn't just store information about beautiful girls.
If it did, middle-aged men like Osaka Gou would've been purged from memory long ago.
Right, the banquet was to help him secure votes—he was supposed to convince two of the "social school" committee members.
But hadn't Osaka already promised, back at the "Tansan" company, that Naito Akifumi would handle all that for him?
Kyousuke thought all he had to do was wait for the award.
Who knew he'd have to do the legwork himself? That senpai is way too unreliable.
Grumbling, he sent a sulky reply. He and Osaka Gou were close enough to trade "old man banter," so this level of complaint was nothing between them.
Sure enough, Osaka replied instantly—with a cutesy sticker of a little girl rolling her eyes.
No surprise from someone who made a living writing shoujo novels.
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"Would it be better if we just had the trophy and prize money sent directly to your house?"
————————————————————————
"That'd be perfect. Formalities are outdated anyway.
As mystery writers, shouldn't you all know that award ceremonies are the most likely places for murders to happen?
Or is it that you're planning to kill me at the banquet, Osaka-san?"
Kyousuke replied with a smile.
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