Drip…
The sound of water echoed in the women's restroom, dripping from a leaky faucet.
In the last stall, Gotou Hitori felt like her whole body was covered in a suffocating gray fog.
They had been kissing. And now here she was—hiding in a bathroom stall like a fugitive.
This is the end of my life…
Her tiny, chibi-like soul seemed to float out of her mouth like a dying spirit.
But she couldn't help it!
Bocchi had reached her limit.
If she hadn't run away, something irreversible would've happened.
"Please… if I can be reincarnated, let me come back as a panda in the next life…"
She clasped her hands in front of her chest, not sure which deity she was praying to.
After taking a moment to fix her underwear and calm herself down, she cautiously poked her head out of the stall.
Was Yukima Azuma angry?
Had he left already?
Or worse—was he standing right outside, glaring at her like a judge ready to pass sentence on the girl who fled mid-kiss?
But as always, reality defied her imagination.
Yukima Azuma was waiting calmly just outside the restroom.
When he spotted her, he casually waved.
Bocchi lowered her head and took small, timid steps toward him.
Without a word, Azuma gently took her hand, as if nothing had happened.
That simple gesture eased her panic-stricken heart.
"Um… earlier…"
She wanted to apologize.
But Azuma cut her off with a quiet voice.
"Let's watch that one next time."
Bocchi looked up to see him pointing at a movie poster.
A giant cruise ship. A young couple embracing at the bow. A romance film.
The title read: Titanic.
"Okay," she nodded—this time without hesitation.
Unlike before, where she'd agree just to avoid conflict or please others, this time she genuinely wanted to go.
Her voice was even 3% more confident.
The awkward moment in the theater? Already forgotten.
Azuma looked up at the poster with visible interest.
After all, the movie was part of the upcoming film festival. Laplace Corporation had invested ten million USD—1.5 billion yen—into it.
Their contract only granted them 3.5% of the box office revenue.
A small percentage. But when Titanic's earnings were announced,
That small slice would turn into a gold mine.
…
By the time they left the theater, the sky had turned dark.
The clouds in the distance were lit with a warm orange glow from the setting sun.
"Um… are you really okay?"
Bocchi suddenly asked on their walk home.
"Huh? What do you mean, Bocchi?"
Azuma stopped and turned to her with a serious expression.
"A lot of things…"
She lowered her head, fiddling with the hem of her skirt.
"That dinner was expensive, right? The menu didn't even have prices…"
She gripped her skirt tighter.
"And you've done so much for someone like me. There's nothing in it for you, Azuma-kun."
She was speaking faster now—still nervous, but with real sincerity.
"People might say holding hands with me lowers your value… I look plain, I have dark circles, I slouch, I smell like insect repellent… I can't talk to people… I'm gloomy, and hard to take care of…"
Her words spilled out, jumbled but heartfelt.
"Is it really okay… to be friends with someone like me?"
For Bocchi to say all that—to bare her insecurities like this—was nothing short of miraculous.
And Azuma simply replied:
"It's fine."
"But—"
She looked up.
Their eyes met. His gaze was steady.
"No one's born knowing how to talk to people or dress themselves. It's something you learn."
"Bocchi didn't get those chances before. That's not your fault."
"You're cute. If you've got dark circles, sleep earlier. If you slouch, fix your posture."
"And holding your hand won't lower my value. I don't care what others think."
"As for money—don't you care about me too? If I were in trouble, wouldn't you help me?"
Bocchi tried to shake her head, but she knew it was true.
If Yukima Azuma ever needed her, no matter how hard it was, she'd do anything to help.
"That's all it is," he said with a soft smile. "Give and take. As long as you don't take my kindness for granted, there's no problem."
And with that—
Bocchi completely broke down crying.
Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed uncontrollably.
At that moment, in her heart, Yukima Azuma wasn't just a savior.
He had ascended far beyond an angel or a god.
If he started a cult, she would've been the most loyal follower.
…
After she cried her heart out, the atmosphere between them changed.
Bocchi was stuttering less.
Sometimes, she even looked Azuma directly in the eyes.
This wasn't just progress.
It was a leap forward.
"Azuma-kun… is it really okay to learn how to talk to people like this?"
"Yeah. Just talk to me more. Try making a few friends—you'll get better."
"Okay… I'll try!"
"Best to find girls who share your interests. If any boys try to hit on you…"
"What should I do?"
"You must reject them—firmly."
Azuma gave a smile that could scare off ghosts.
Bocchi nodded.
She didn't know how to reject people yet.
But remembering that terrifying smile from earlier?
She figured she could do it.
"As for money… I still feel bad about it. So please, take this."
Bocchi handed him a small piggy bank.
"This is the wedding fund my mom saved for me."
Azuma took it without hesitation.
"I'll take care of it. And use it at the right time."
Honestly, he was more curious how Bocchi had hidden such a large piggy bank in her bag.
As they neared the Gotoh household, Bocchi reluctantly let go of his hand.
"See you next time, Azuma-kun."
"Yeah. And remember—if you need anything, message me. That's what friends are for."
Just as they were about to part, Azuma felt something wrap around his leg.
He looked down.
A small pink-haired girl was hugging him tightly.
She looked about 70–80% similar to Bocchi.
"Hi, big brother! I'm Gotoh Futari! You're my sister's friend, right?"
Azuma picked her up easily.
"That's right. And you're her little sister, right?"
"Yup! This is JimiHen!"
She pointed at the Shiba Inu beside her.
Bocchi watched them chat so easily—Futari and a dog—with complete social ease.
This is the power of an elementary schooler and a dog… I can't compete at all!
She was about to urge her sister to go back inside, but—
"Mom! Dad! Onee-chan brought her boyfriend home!"
"Wait, what?!"
The front door immediately burst open.
Her parents had been on edge all day.
They were half-convinced Bocchi had made up the whole story about "going out with a friend."
But now, here was a real teenage boy—standing next to their daughter in a white dress.
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Gotoh. I'm Yukima Azuma, a friend of Hitori's."
"Ah, ah—hello, Yukima-kun! Would you like to come in for a bit?"
"Thank you, but I have other plans today. I'll visit properly another time."
Before he left, Mr. Gotoh leaned in and whispered:
"Yukima-kun… you're not, uh, a hired friend, are you?"
Even though he whispered, Hitori heard it loud and clear.
Why must you deal emotional damage to me like this?!
But… the scary part?
She could see herself doing something like that.
Azuma calmly replied, "Of course not. I live nearby. I met Hitori last Saturday. We got along, so we became friends."
He smiled gently.
Seeing that handsome, sincere expression, Mr. Gotoh nodded.
If he were a paid actor, he'd be expensive as hell…
After saying goodbye, Azuma walked off.
Mrs. Gotoh watched him go, then looked at her daughter in a pretty dress.
Ah, she finally wore one of the outfits I bought her…
She nodded to herself.
Next time he visits, I'll ask him about his future plans.
…
Next stop: the Sawamura household, at the top of Detective Hill.
Azuma knocked once.
The door opened instantly.
Wow, do all parents wait by the door like this?
It's like a neighborhood auntie with gossip-sensing radar.
"What's on your mind, Yukima-kun?"
"Sorry, I spaced out. Sayuri-obasan, I brought a gift. Please accept it."
He handed over the fruit basket he picked up on the way.
"Ara, you didn't have to. Come on in."
Sayuri didn't care for gifts—they were already wealthy.
But the gesture mattered.
"Eriri's in her room upstairs. Probably still drawing."
"I'll go see her."
Azuma took the cookies Sayuri gave him and walked upstairs.
He stopped in front of the door labeled "Eriri."
Hmm… maybe I should get a nameplate like that someday.
He knocked.
"Mom? Just leave the cookies on the table—I'm busy."
Azuma raised an eyebrow and entered.
Eriri was seated at her desk, wearing a green tracksuit, large glasses, and a messy ponytail.
She looked completely at home—unrefined, comfortable, and focused.
Her Wacom tablet glowed with artistic energy.
Judging by the model, it probably cost around 500,000 yen.
She had several.
True rich girl behavior…
Azuma glanced at the sketches on her desk.
They needed a heavy blur filter.
Lots of exposed collarbones. Legs. Chests.
You look like a serious girl… but you're a secret pervert!
…
When Eriri finally noticed the silence, she looked up.
Their eyes met.
Her expression froze.
"AHHHHH! What are you doing in my room!? Don't look!!"
She scrambled to cover her drawings—but there were too many.
There was no way she could hide them all.
"Kashiwagi Eri-sensei, please calm down."
Eriri dropped the papers and slumped into her chair, defeated.
Azuma handed her the cookies and casually picked up her graphics tablet.
Compared to before, her drawing skills had improved a lot.
The storytelling?
Well… let's just say it was unique.
"You never answered me," Eriri grumbled through a cookie. "Why are you at my house?"