Haruto Amakawa walked up to her and returned the beret, placing it gently in her hands.
"Thank you."
Megumi Kato accepted it with a small nod, setting it back onto her head with her usual calm grace. Her bright, unassuming eyes lingered on him, watching him with unusual focus.
Haruto tilted his head. Why is Kato staring at me like that?
"Do I have something on my face?"
"Yeah, don't move."
Without hesitation, Kato stepped closer, her pale fingers brushing lightly against his hair as she plucked away a cherry blossom petal caught among the strands.
"There really was something?" Haruto asked, a little surprised.
Kato flicked the petal away and then, with that same quiet curiosity, asked, "Why does it feel like your gaze has been fixed on my face today, Haruto?"
She was perceptive.
Kato Megumi had always lived with the strange curse of invisibility — not literal, but the way people's eyes and minds seemed to skip past her. Even her own parents and sister often overlooked her without meaning to.
Haruto was no exception. In the past, his gaze would sometimes blur when looking at her, his attention slipping away as if she were fading into the background. She had watched him struggle against it: carving her name into his notebooks and textbooks so he wouldn't forget, even pinching his own thigh to force his mind back whenever it wandered mid-conversation.
But today… today he was different.
His gaze hasn't left me even once.
The spring breeze tugged a strand of her hair across her cheek. Haruto reached out without thinking, brushing it back behind her ear. His smile was light, teasing, yet his voice carried a rare sincerity.
"It's nothing," he said softly. "I just realized today how beautiful Kato really is."
"…"
Her expression barely shifted. Her face, always so placid and unreadable, betrayed nothing — but the faint blush dusting her ears and the subtle upward curl at the corner of her lips gave her away.
"Thank you for the compliment," she replied flatly. "Let's go to school."
Side by side, the two of them began their walk down the hill.
…
Farther down the slope, a boy with glasses stood frozen, leaning heavily on his bicycle. His hand, which had been reaching out as if to catch the beret, slowly fell back to his side.
His chest ached with disappointment.
Aki Tomoya.
A self-proclaimed otaku, hopeless romantic, and dreamer.
To him, the scene he had just witnessed felt like fate mocking him. The girl with the beret — she was the angel he had been searching for! His heart had thudded wildly at the sight of her, convinced this was destiny.
And yet… destiny had already chosen someone else.
Haruto Amakawa.
The boy who had stolen that chance encounter right before his eyes.
Tomoya clenched his fists in frustration but forced himself to rally. He recognized that school uniform. She was from his school. He would find her again.
His story was only just beginning.
…
As for who Aki Tomoya was?
Haruto couldn't care less.
By mid-morning, he found himself summoned to the faculty office. Hiratsuka Shizuka leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temple as she looked over his grades.
"Honestly, Amakawa, I feel like you could be doing so much better. Why do you always stop just short?"
She sighed heavily, eyeing the boy across from her.
It wasn't that Haruto lacked potential — far from it. With his striking looks, sharp features, and a charm that came as naturally as breathing, he was already considered one of the most attractive boys in the school. Even Hayama Hayato, with all his social polish and popularity, couldn't surpass him.
But unlike Hayama, Haruto wasn't a people-pleaser. He wasn't interested in climbing the social ladder, nor did he seem to care about standing out for his academics. His grades hovered just below the top hundred, as though he simply couldn't be bothered to push further.
Haruto shrugged lazily. "Nothing I can do. That's just the limit of my ability."
Of course, it was a lie. If he wanted to, he could probably ace every exam in the school. But what did grades matter to him now?
Money? Status? Future jobs? None of it concerned him.
In the private dimension of his chat group, treasures lay stacked in careless heaps — gold bars, gems, priceless arts from other worlds. With that kind of wealth, university acceptance letters were meaningless.
What he needed was something else. More space. A proper home. Somewhere with at least three bedrooms, two living rooms, and enough freedom that he could breathe. That shabby apartment of his wouldn't cut it anymore.
Hiratsuka's patience frayed at his nonchalant expression. After a pause, she said, "If you really want to improve, you could visit the Service Club. There's someone there who might help you."
The Service Club.
Haruto knew exactly what she meant: Yukinoshita Yukino.
He smiled faintly, voice easygoing as ever. "Sure, I'll check it out."
Of course, he had no intention of doing so. He didn't need Yukinoshita's help. With the clarity of his mind now, he could outscore half the teachers if he cared enough to try.
Leaving the office, he turned down the corridor. His destination was the library.
…
Inside the quiet halls of books and sunlight, a girl in a bunny costume wandered between shelves.
Sakurajima Mai.
Her frustration deepened with every step.
Her problem — her fading existence — was worsening by the day. Cash was running out, and soon, even something as simple as eating would become impossible. She had always been careful, always leaving money behind whenever she bought food, even though no one could see her. But that moral line couldn't last forever.
She clenched her fists tightly, remembering her mother's past, the choices she had refused to follow. She would never stoop to that level.
But what could she do now?
"Ugh!" she muttered, her sigh echoing in the empty aisle.
Then, suddenly, she collided with someone.
Her body froze. That shouldn't be possible. No one should be able to touch her in this state.
Instinctively, she muttered, "I'm sorry!"
But when she looked up — her eyes widened in disbelief.
Standing there, calm and unshaken, was Haruto Amakawa.
"…It's… you?!"
Before she could react further, he draped his jacket across her shoulders, concealing the revealing bunny outfit beneath. His voice was casual, almost teasing — but his gaze was steady, unreadable.
"Sakurajima Mai," he said quietly, "let's talk."