"This is a pervert's goodbye kiss—now I'm off."
As straightforward as ever, Ishikawa Hayabusa expressed his feelings to his family, then grabbed his bag and prepared to leave home.
"Wait, onii-chan."
His little sister Hibiki came pattering over in her slippers, clutching a slip of paper—the same one Hayabusa had given her earlier.
"I found a dessert shop. Take me there after school."
She pushed the note into Hayabusa's hands.
Watching his sister silently clench her fists in determination, Hayabusa knew he couldn't brush her off this time.
He pulled out his wallet, checked the balance inside, swallowed hard, and—eyes misting over—slid the note in.
Once again, it was confirmed: he was the most pathetic transmigrator ever. To think he even had to budget carefully just to treat his sister to sweets.
"I've got band practice today. Let's do it this weekend."
Seeing him check his wallet, Hibiki suddenly remembered her brother had already blown all his savings on instruments. Her excitement fell flat. She reached out her hand.
"Forget it, give it back."
"No. In front of a pervert, there is no such thing as regret. When do you want to go?"
Hayabusa, ignoring his bleeding wallet, declared this with solemn righteousness.
For a pervert—there is only advance, never retreat!
Hibiki tilted her tone playfully. "Then… tomorrow~"
"OK."
Hayabusa flashed a hand sign, then strode out the door with style.
On the main road near the school, Hayabusa let his gaze wander casually, searching for a particularly conspicuous splash of pink.
A social anxiety case daring to stand out from the crowd—that was precisely what made Gotoh Hitori interesting in his eyes.
Clumsy to the core: wanting to change, but missing the point, or overcompensating so much she ended up even more closed off.
She was well worth teasing.
So thought the pervert.
And today, fortune smiled on him. Among the sea of beige uniforms, he spotted that unmistakable pink silhouette.
Today was his lucky day.
Hayabusa didn't call out right away. Instead, he quickened his pace, closing in until he was right behind her. Only then did he speak.
"Gotoh-san."
Hearing someone call her surname, Gotoh Hitori didn't realize it was aimed at her.
Her first instinct was to glance around curiously—looking for someone else who shared her surname.
But when she turned her head, she was met by a radiant boy—cheerful type, unforgettable at first sight—gazing at her with the curious eyes one might use on a small animal.
Ahhhhhhh!!!
Shocked, Gotoh let out a soundless scream. Her whole body stiffened, hands clapped over her face as she trembled.
A moment later she came back to herself. Without caring about the bustling stream of students around them, she bowed her head again and again in frantic apology.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't notice, I'm really sorry!"
Now… for anyone else, being apologized to so theatrically in the middle of a crowded street would've been mortifying.
But our protagonist?
Ishikawa Hayabusa!
This level of chaos was nothing. He could've busted out a samba dance right there and kept perfect rhythm.
"All good, all good."
He waved it off with a smile.
"Let's walk to school together."
"Ah—yes."
The words slipped straight out of Gotoh's mouth without ever passing through her brain. By the time she realized what she'd said, she was already walking side by side with a boy she'd only met yesterday.
She sneaked a glance at Hayabusa. His face—refined yet not fragile—shone under the sunlight. He carried his bag effortlessly in one hand, his steps slowing to match hers.
A human! Way too close!
Realizing this, she blinked blankly. The light in her eyes dimmed as her thoughts plummeted deep into the recesses of her mind.
Hayabusa didn't try to chat on the way. Not that he even had the chance.
Because…
Beside him, Gotoh stumbled along zombie-like, face contorted in a broken expression, muttering "Ah… ahhh… ah…"
At last he understood why such a fair-skinned, pretty girl didn't have a boyfriend.
Never mind her habit of avoiding people—just this zombie routine alone was meme material worthy of a dumb reaction sticker pack.
At the stairwell inside the school building, Hayabusa halted.
The zombie Gotoh took two more steps before jerking back to her senses.
"Well then, let's split here. Hope everyone has a great day."
Hayabusa smiled gently, then walked off toward his classroom.
He wasn't in any rush to get close to Gotoh. Talking to someone with social anxiety required the patience of navigating a maze. Besides, he was only interacting with her because she was amusing.
"Ah… thank you."
Watching him turn and leave, Gotoh's bright eyes were filled with confusion.
Why would someone like him talk to her?
Handsome, seemingly refined—he was from a completely different world.
Even if it was for the sake of the band, he had plenty of other choices.
Gotoh's expression twisted as her imagination spun wildly.
Hmm… was this some kind of dare game? Was he being blackmailed by gangsters? Hired by her dad?
She couldn't come up with an answer.
Better… better keep some distance.
So she thought, turning toward her own classroom.
But the moment she turned, her worried, delicate face melted into pure joy.
"Hehehe…"
"Hehe… a friend to walk to school with… today's a good day… hehe."
Even though she'd resolved to keep a safe distance, it didn't matter. Floating with giddiness, and with giggles eerie enough to spook passing students, she drifted straight into her classroom.
Hayabusa slid open his classroom door.
The lively chatter inside faltered. Students, catching sight of him, lowered their voices noticeably.
A handful even shot him the kind of looks that said, Because of you, we can't have fun.
The atmosphere chilled at once.
But Hayabusa ignored it completely. He strolled to his seat, pulled out a book, crossed his legs, and with a fresh smile, began to read leisurely.
The strange atmosphere, left unattended, dissipated on its own after a few seconds.
Though in truth, his calm dismissal only irked some of them even more.
"Ohay~!"
Not long after, Kita Ikuyo swung open the classroom door, greeting everyone with a sunny smile.
She looked a little worn out today, yet her grin was brighter than ever. Slung over her back was a white-and-orange instrument bag.
Hayabusa lifted his eyes briefly from his book, then lowered them again.
Oh~. As expected of a social genius. Her initiative was impressive.
Still, she was far behind him. After all, a true social terrorist could join a band without even owning an instrument—and even make the band buy one for him.
Noticing Hayabusa's glance, Ikuyo's expression turned slightly more serious. She locked eyes with him, as though issuing a challenge.
But the look vanished so quickly that no one else noticed. To everyone else, it only seemed like she had briefly set aside her smile.
Ikuyo continued greeting her friends. Amid their surprised reactions, she smoothly played the role of someone who had secretly known guitar all along but had never revealed it.
Hmph. She didn't know Hayabusa's real level, but if he hadn't joined the street performance, that meant he hadn't earned Ryo-senpai's approval.
Meanwhile, she wasn't just a guitarist—she was a key guitarist, with six years of relentless practice, rain or shine.
Already, Kita Ikuyo was dreaming of overtaking Ryo-senpai on the road to glory.
She had, of course, completely forgotten the small detail that she had only picked up a guitar for the first time yesterday. Whether it was even a real guitar was another matter altogether.
But the linguistic prowess of a social butterfly was such that she could even fool herself.