250ps=1 extra chapter and so on
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Chapter 84
After chatting a little, Eriri noticed Satomi Azusa glancing at her with an inquisitive expression and felt a small twinge of guilt.
[Eriri: No more chatting — class is starting!]
She locked her phone and slid it into the drawer just as the bell rang and the teacher entered.
This was English class, the one subject Eriri liked the least. Although she was from the Spencer family on her father's side and could manage conversational English thanks to her background, exams demanded vocabulary lists, grammar rules, and the knack for parsing a teacher's intention — all the things that made her stomach knot. She'd always preferred to be perceived as Japanese rather than lean on any aristocratic associations; any hint of pretension would only invite teasing.
Halfway through the lesson the teacher moved into advanced grammar. Eriri's attention drifted; she glanced at Azusa and saw her fiddling with her phone, which made Eriri's resolve crumble. She slipped her hand into the drawer to pull out her own phone when Azusa suddenly turned and whispered, "The Queen of England passed away."
Eriri froze. The news stunned her; she checked headlines and felt the world tilt for a second. Her father had once told her that, as a newborn, the Queen had once held and kissed her — it felt absurdly far away, suddenly intimate. Quietly she murmured, "May she rest in peace," and then her screen lit again with a message.
This time the sender was Kasumigaoka Utaha.
[Kasumigaoka: Sawamura-san, free after school? Kasumi Shiko-sensei wants to treat you to dinner.]
Eriri's eyes brightened. Two days earlier she had sent the first character draft for One Hundred Pa of Pure Love to Kasumi Shiko; the author had replied with praise and now wanted to show her thanks. Eriri practically felt her heart skip.
[Eriri: Absolutely!]
She wondered briefly why the invitation had come through Utaha rather than directly from Kasumi Shiko. Maybe the author was busy, or a little shy. She texted back cheerfully.
[Kasumigaoka: I'll wait at the school gate after classes. See you then.]
[Eriri: Thank you so much! I'll be there.]
Before class resumed, Eriri sent a quick note to Lucien.
[Eriri: I'll have dinner with Kasumi Shiko after school, then I'll come to the hospital later. Please don't let anything happen while I'm gone.]
On the other side of the city, Lucien was scrolling messages when Eriri's update arrived. He blinked at the sudden pace of Eriri's collaboration with Utaha. Her talent had clearly impressed the author and Utaha was moving fast to lock down a working relationship. Lucien wondered whether Eriri would reveal her doujin identity in person now that the pair were collaborating on a commercial project.
He typed, playful and faintly admonishing.
[Whale: Eriri, class time — are you sure you should be on your phone?]
[Eriri: And what if I am? Tell the teacher, if you dare!]
[Whale: I'm only teasing. Are you planning to get a zero on the exam?]
[Eriri: That's none of your business!]
Eriri sulked at the screen but tucked the phone away and tried to focus. She'd hired a tutor, and with one-on-one lessons she was confident she could scrape a passing grade.
A few minutes later Lucien messaged again.
[Whale: Don't slack in class, or I'll stop you from reading my comics.]
[Eriri: Humph — you wouldn't dare.]
She returned to the lesson determined to pay attention. But when Lucien asked the question she'd been waiting for — "Do you want to see what I'm drawing?" — she answered immediately.
[Eriri: Yes!]
Lucien sent ten photos almost instantly. Eriri opened them one by one and read through them carefully. The new project was called That Flower: the premise echoed Your Name only slightly — a male protagonist who wakes from a dream to find a girl perched on a windowsill, greeting him. He ignores her; he is listless, withdrawn, convinced she might be a hallucination rather than flesh and blood. The initial pages offered a teasing, melancholy tone.
Ten pages flew by. "Not bad," Eriri thought, but the sample was thin; there wasn't enough to spark the emotional bite she craved. She typed an honest reply.
[Eriri: It's only ten pages; not as strong as your previous stuff. Show me when it's finished.]
Lucien's reply carried a small grin that translated over text.
[Whale: Eriri — you know readers authors hate?]
[Eriri: … No, tell me. Don't be cryptic.]
He teased her about the many kinds of critics, then added seriously that the story would sharpen up. Eriri relented and promised to wait for the finished draft. She tucked her phone away once more as the teacher resumed the lesson.
When the bell at last rang and duty was done, Eriri hurried to the school gate. Utaha was already there, an island of composure in a sea of students. People followed her with discreet interest; she moved as if aware of the world and indifferent to it at once.
"Sorry I'm late," Eriri said, breathless.
"No problem," Utaha replied with a small smile. "Come on, let's go."
They walked together toward the shopping street. Eriri asked about Kasumi Shiko and learned that, unexpectedly, the author couldn't make it — Utaha would stand in as hostess instead. Eriri felt a pang of disappointment; she had pictured meeting the author who'd inspired her.
Utaha's expression softened when Eriri asked how close she and Kasumi Shiko were. "Somewhat close," Utaha said after a pause. "It's a complicated relationship. You'll understand more after you meet her."
They fell into easy conversation. Utaha praised Eriri's character designs. "Sawamura-kun, your work was better than I expected. You've got real talent," she said with a frank admiration that made Eriri flush.
"Thank you. I still have a lot to learn," Eriri answered, embarrassed but proud.
They reached Kani Doraku and sampled their crab dishes in every possible preparation. With each shared plate, their rapport warmed. Eriri pushed past the usual reserve and asked the question that had been sitting on her chest for days.
"The last basketball match is a week away. If Toyosaki goes to nationals, will you accept Makishima-senpai if he confesses?"
Utaha pinched the bridge of her nose like the question hurt. "No. I wouldn't accept him. I don't like him."
Eriri's face registered sympathy. "He's pitiful."
"I know. That's what makes it complicated," Utaha admitted. "I should have rejected him sooner. Now I'm stuck."
"If you don't like him, just say so," Eriri offered. "When it comes to love, mutual feelings matter most."
Utaha laughed softly at the simplicity of the statement. "Is that what you think? Tell me honestly — do you have someone you like?"
"No," Eriri said immediately.
Utaha's eyes widened, delighted by the flutter she had caused. The two fell into easy laughter, and the afternoon flowed around them like ink.
---
Back in the ward, Lucien watched the message thread with a small, secret smile. Every quick exchange with Eriri felt like a small, real connection — domestic details, jokes, dorayaki requests — and he treasured the rhythm. He'd sent the sample pages for That Flower because he wanted to hear what she thought, and to have that blunt, energetic feedback felt like an honest gift.
Eriri, halfway through dinner and back in her normal rhythm, could not help but feel that her world was slightly altered: the author she admired, the senior who had taken her seriously, the boy whose work she critiqued — all orbiting, in small ways, toward each other. The evening finished with them both a little more certain and a little more restless than before.
End of the chapter