I don't see anything, only warm, heavy darkness, as if I were floating in lukewarm water. It's a dream, I know. No nightmares this time. No ex-girlfriends. No betrayals. Just a strange, almost forgotten sense of peace.
My lips curl on their own into a silly smile, the kind I never show awake. And then…
"Good morning, my favorite wolf~!"
I snap my eyes open. And the world collapses on me.
Natsuki is literally straddling my pelvis. She's only wearing one of my black T-shirts (one of the few clean ones), which reaches halfway down her thighs and… nothing else. No bra. No panties. Her short blonde hair is tousled, her black eyes gleaming with sleep and mischief, her lips swollen from biting them too much.
She leans forward, plants her hands on either side of my head, and looks down at me with a smile that's half angel, half demon. My cheeks burn. My eyes widen so much I think they're going to pop out of their sockets.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" I shout, trying to sit up.
She laughs, grabs my shoulders, and pushes me back down against the couch.
"Shhh! Don't yell, my head hurts, baby! I just wanted to give you the good morning you deserve~"
"Get off me right now!"
"I don't want to! You're so warm and so hard in the mornings, did you know that?! Look, look what you're doing to me…"
she moves slowly on top of me, a deliberate rub that makes me grit my teeth.
"Natsuki, damn it, stop! Are you still drunk or what?!"
"Just a little hungover… but that's cured with a good morning tumble, don't you think? Come on, just a quick one! Your fiancée won't find out!"
"You're about to get married, for fuck's sake!"
"Exactly! One last time before "I do"! For old times' sake! Remember when you fucked me in the club bathroom while my ex was waiting outside?! It was sooo exciting!"
"That was before! Get off!"
She leans closer, her breasts brushing my chest through the thin T-shirt, her breath smelling of mint and sweet hangover.
"Reiji-kun… pleaaaase… Just one kiss… Or two… Or a hundred… See how perfect this looks? You underneath and me on top, like always~"
"No!"
And of course, that's when the goddess decides to wake up.
"YEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!KAZUO! THIS IS YOUR MOMENT! TAKE HER! TAKE HER NOW!LOOK AT THIS OFFER DROPPED STRAIGHT FROM HEAVEN!IT'S A HALF-NAKED GYARU ON YOUR MORNING HARD-ON!DON'T THINK! ACT! THIS IS THE SPOTLIGHT YOU DESERVE!"
First I freeze. Then I take a deep breath.
"Good morning… And now SHUT THE FUCK UP."
"NO! THIS IS HISTORIC!IT'S THE CLIMAX OF REVERSED NETORARE!THE CUCKOLD BECOMES THE LOVER!IT'S POETRY! IT'S ART! IT'S…!"
"SHUT UP!"
Natsuki blinks, confused, because of course, she doesn't hear anything.
"Who are you talking to, baby?"
"My conscience, which is crazier than you."
She laughs, collapses fully onto my chest, and rests her chin just below my collarbone. Her legs tangle with mine, her hair tickles my face.
"Oh, Reiji… always so grumpy in the mornings… But that's why I like you so much. You're bad, but with me you're good… Or do you not like me anymore?"
Her fingers start tracing slow circles over my T-shirt, sliding dangerously lower.
"Natsuki…"
"Say yes… Just a little… No one will ever know! And then I'll make you breakfast naked! Scrambled eggs and everything!"
"No!"
She pouts dramatically, lips swollen, eyes shining.
"You're so boring! You weren't like this before! Before, you'd scoop me up and carry me straight to bed without asking!"
"Before I wasn't trying to be a decent person."
She goes quiet for a second. Then chuckles softly and kisses my chin.
"Decent… you… How cute. But you know you can't resist forever, right? Sooner or later you'll go back to being the old Reiji… The one who left marks on my neck and made me scream until the neighbors called the police…"
She presses closer, her hips moving again, just a slight rub, but enough to make my body react without permission.
"Natsuki, damn it!"
"Just one kiss! One! And I'll leave! Promise!"
"No!"
And the goddess, in my head, is literally crying with joy. "DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!IT'S YOUR DESTINY! YOUR REDEMPTION!THE HAPPY ENDING YOU DESERVE!"
My face is already burning as if I'd shoved my head into an oven. I feel the blood pounding in my cheeks, my ears, my neck. And, to top it off, my body decides to betray me completely: a morning erection that was already uncomfortable becomes obvious under the uniform pants I've been wearing since yesterday.
Natsuki notices instantly. Of course she notices. Her black eyes drop for a second, then return to mine with a mischievous, triumphant smile.
"Ooh, ooh~! Look who's fully awake! Someone sure wants me, even if his mouth says no!"
"Shut up!" I growl, clenching my teeth so hard my jaw aches.
She laughs, shifts a little more just to torture me, and the friction makes me close my eyes for a second by sheer reflex.
"YESSSSS! NOW THIS IS IT! KISS HER! TOUCH EVERYTHING! IT'S YOUR MOMENT, KAZUO! DON'T LET HER ESCAPE!" the goddess screams in my head like she's watching the World Cup final.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and before I can think too much, I lean in and plant a kiss… on her forehead. Soft, quick, almost brotherly.
Natsuki goes completely still. The silence is so sudden even the goddess shuts up at once. Then she slowly lifts her gaze and looks at me with an expression I've never seen on her before: wide eyes, parted lips, no trace of mockery or provocation. A small, sweet, almost childlike smile spreads across her face.
"Another?" she whispers, very softly, like a little girl asking for one more piece of candy.
"WHAT? WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?! YOU KISSED HER FOREHEAD?! THE FOREHEAD?! SERIOUSLY?! SHE WAS READY FOR EVERYTHING AND YOU GIVE HER A BIG BROTHER KISS?! YOU'RE A DISASTER!" the goddess shrieks, clearly in shock.
Ignoring her, I look at Natsuki. She's curled against my chest now, her cheek resting right above my heart, her arms wrapped around my torso as if she were afraid I might disappear.
"Another," she repeats, even softer. "Please, Reiji-kun…"
I sigh, defeated. Reluctantly, I lean down again and give her another kiss on the forehead, this time slower, more careful.
She lets out a happy little giggle, almost a chirp, and presses closer to me. "Another! Another one! Another one!" she starts begging, moving her head like a child who doesn't want the story to end.
"Enough, Natsuki!" I scold her, though my voice comes out gentler than I expected. "Stop this already!"
"But I like it!," she protests, lifting her face to look at me. "You've never kissed me like this! It was always on the mouth, on the neck, on… well, you know where! But never on the forehead! It's super sweet!"
"Because that's not what we are! And we're not going to be!"
She pouts dramatically, but doesn't move away. On the contrary, she snuggles closer, like a cat that's found the perfect spot.
"Just a little more…" she whispers. "Just today. Afterwards I'll behave, I promise."
"WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE?! WHERE'S THE WILD GYARU WHO WANTED SEX?! WHY DOES SHE NOW LOOK LIKE A LITTLE GIRL ASKING FOR FOREHEAD KISSES?! THIS DOESN'T FIT INTO MY CALCULATIONS!" the goddess cries, clearly in existential crisis.
And I… I feel, with a mix of relief and embarrassment, that the erection slowly begins to fade. The heat dissipates. The desire dies down. Because this isn't provocation anymore. This is… something else. Something I don't know how to handle.
"Natsuki," I whisper at last, my voice hoarse. "Sleep a little longer. When you wake up, you go home, okay?"
She nods against my chest, her eyes already half-closed.
"Okay… but one more kiss before I sleep…"
I sigh for the millionth time. And give her another on the forehead.
She smiles, happy, and finally stays still. And I remain there, trapped under a half-naked gyaru who now seems like a little girl, with the goddess having a nervous breakdown in my head and me not knowing how the hell I ended up in this situation.
But at least… I don't have an erection anymore. Small victories.
...
The sun is already streaming through the cracks in the blinds when I notice Natsuki still clinging to me like a human koala. Her head rests just beneath my chin, one arm around my waist, one leg tangled with mine. She breathes calmly, warmly, her short blonde hair tickling my nose every time I exhale.
I haven't moved in an hour. I don't want to wake her. I don't want to move and have the wild gyaru version from 2 a.m. return.
To make time pass faster, I talk with the goddess. Well… more like she talks and I try to survive.
"Do you know how many times I've imagined this exact scene, but with an explicit happy ending?" she begins, excited. "You on top, her underneath, moans, torn sheets, neighbors calling the police… and instead you give her forehead kisses like a papa bear! You're hopeless, Kazuo! A clinical case!"
"Not all problems are solved with sex."
"They should be! Sex solves everything! War, hunger, exams! Everything!Did you know Aphrodite once ended an entire war with a three-day orgy? Three days! And nobody fought again!"
"Sounds very productive."
"It was legendary! Even the horses joined in!Well… that was Poseidon's idea, but whatever.The point is, you could've had an epic morning and you turned it into a slice-of-life anime episode for grade schoolers."
"I'd rather be slice-of-life than porn without a plot."
"Porn has a plot! 'Drunk girl goes to her ex-lover's house and asks for one last screw before marriage' is a PERFECT plot!"
"Your concept of narrative is concerning."
"It's art! It's drama! It's Greek tragedy with fluids!"
"You're a disaster."
"You're the disaster! She was half-naked on top of you and you gave her forehead kisses like she was your little sister!In my Olympus you'd be expelled for criminally bad game!"
"Good thing I'm not in your Olympus."
She sighs theatrically. "At this rate you'll end up married to the student council president, adopting cats with the bandaged girl, and I'll have to watch you become the protagonist of a good-boy manga. Just thinking about it gives me anxiety!"
"Sounds fine."
"Sounds boring! I wanted blood, sweat, and assorted fluids!"
"Too bad."
After a long (eternal) hour, Natsuki stirs. First a small moan, then she stretches her arms, opens her black eyes, and looks at me with a lazy smile.
"Good morning again, baby… did you sleep well with me on top?"
"No."
She gets up, stretches like a cat, my T-shirt riding up and showing everything I don't want to see right now.
"I'm going to shower! And you're coming with me!"
"No."
"Come oooon! Like before! You soap my back and I'll soap… other things~!"
"I said no!"
In the end she showers alone (belting AKB48 songs at full volume) while I make coffee and change my wrinkled uniform for a clean one.
When we step into the hallway, she's already dressed in last night's black dress, hair damp and perfect, quick but flawless makeup.
And then I see her. Far away, at the end of the street. Hoshino. Her uniform immaculate, her small backpack, heading into the alley behind the konbini. Same time as always. She's surely going to feed the cats.
I stand there, lost in thought. Until I feel soft, warm lips on mine. Natsuki has stolen a quick, mischievous kiss and pulls back, winking.
"So you won't forget me!"
"YEEEEEEEEEEEEES! A KISS! A REAL KISS! WE DID IT! I'M CRYING!" the goddess screams as if she'd won the lottery.
I smirk, resigned.
"Be careful going back, Natsuki. And… thanks for not pushing further."
She laughs, hops, and points at me.
"Look how cute you are when you act responsible! I'll keep it as a souvenir for my future husband! "My ex-lover wished me to be careful" so romantic!"
"I'm not your ex anything."
"Of course you are! Ex-lover, ex-fuckbuddy, ex-everything! But you'll always be my favorite! Take care, Reiji-kun! And don't fall too hard for me!"
I tap her forehead lightly.
"Go already, crazy."
She sticks out her tongue, blows me a kiss, and walks away in heels, swaying like the world belongs to her.
When she disappears around the corner, I look again toward the alley. Hoshino is gone. And something inside me (whether curiosity, concern, or simple habit) tells me I should go check. Even just for a second. Even just to make sure she's okay.
I take a deep breath and start walking that way.
...
I turn the corner of the alley carefully, my shoes splashing in puddles left by last night's rain and half‑tied garbage bags. The smell is the usual: dampness, cat urine, and rotting food. The sun barely reaches here; the tall buildings block almost everything, leaving only dusty rays of light that fall like golden blades.
And there she is. Hoshino is crouched on the ground, her back to me, the skirt of her uniform neatly folded under her knees so it won't get dirty. In front of her, a beautiful gray tabby cat, fur shiny and eyes huge and green, eats kibble from a plastic lid with majestic calm. She's not one of those scrawny, scab‑covered strays that abound around here; this cat is plump, clean, cared for. You can tell someone loves her.
Hoshino speaks in a very low voice, almost a whisper, as she sets down more food.
"Eat slowly, Luna… you have to save some for the babies… yes, that's it… what a good mama you are…"
Her voice is so soft, so full of affection, that I stop without meaning to. Then I take a step and accidentally kick an empty can that clatters noisily across the ground.
Hoshino startles so much she almost falls backward. The cat lifts her head for a second, looks at her, decides there's no danger, and calmly keeps eating. She turns her head slowly, like in slow motion, and when her honey‑colored eyes meet mine, fear flashes across her face like lightning.
"R‑Reiji‑senpai…!" her voice trembles, barely a thread.
I raise my hands in a gesture of peace.
"Relax. I was just passing by. I'm not going to do anything."
She breathes quickly, her chest rising and falling under the navy vest. Little by little, seeing that I don't move, her shoulders ease a fraction. The cat keeps eating, completely indifferent.
I cross my arms and lean my back against the graffiti‑covered wall, trying to look as unthreatening as possible (hard with this body).
"What are you doing here so early?"
Hoshino lowers her gaze to the ground, then to the cat, then back to me.
"I feed… I feed Luna," she whispers. "Two months ago I found her injured behind the konbini. Her leg was broken and she was very thin… I healed her, brought her food every day and… now she's like my… my responsibility."
The cat finishes the kibble, licks her whiskers elegantly, and meows once, softly, as if to say "thank you."
And then… A chorus of tiny, high‑pitched meows breaks the silence. My eyes go wide.
From behind an old cardboard box lined with a tattered blanket, four wobbly balls of fur emerge. Four kittens. One gray like the mother, one black with white patches, one pale orange, and the last completely white with a black star‑shaped mark on its forehead.
They're so small they could fit in the palm of a hand. Their eyes are barely open, milky blue, and they stumble forward, meowing nonstop.
Luna turns, lies on her side, and the four rush to nurse with desperate eagerness, pushing each other, their little tails trembling with excitement.
I'm literally breathless. My eyes light up despite myself. I've never been much of a cat person, but seeing these four tiny monsters fighting over a teat is… too much.
Hoshino crouches again, smiling for the first time since I've known her. A small, timid smile, but real. "Look… this one is Mochi," she says, pointing to the white one with the star. "He's the bravest. This is Matcha" the orange one. "He's a glutton. This is Sushi" the black‑and‑white one. "He likes to sleep on my backpack. And this is Miso" the gray one "She's the shyest…"
One of the kittens, Mochi, gets tired of nursing and decides to explore. He stumbles straight toward Hoshino, bumps into her knee, and starts playing with the end of one of her bandages that has come loose and hangs like a white streamer.
Hoshino laughs softly, a sound so gentle it hardly seems hers, and lets the kitten nibble and tug at the fabric.
I stand there watching like an idiot. The girl everyone thinks cuts herself, the one everyone avoids, the one whispered about behind her back… is here every morning, before class, feeding an entire family of stray cats.
And the kittens love her. The cat loves her. And she loves them.
I lean harder against the wall, cross my arms again, and without realizing it, a small smile escapes me. Hoshino lifts her gaze, sees me smiling, and freezes for a second. Then her cheeks flush red and she quickly looks down, but she keeps smiling.
I move closer slowly, as if afraid of breaking something fragile. Hoshino tenses a little when I sit down beside her on the dirty alley floor, but she doesn't move away. I notice how her already pink cheeks deepen into a brighter red, and she instantly lowers her gaze, focusing on the kittens as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world.
I sit cross‑legged, my back against the graffiti‑covered wall, and watch the litter. The four babies keep nursing eagerly, except for Mochi, who's already off exploring again. The little one, Miso—the lighter gray—finishes nursing and stares at my hand resting on my knee.
I extend a finger, slowly. Miso watches it with those milky blue eyes, ears tilted forward. She takes one wobbly step, then another, and suddenly pounces on my finger as if it were the most fascinating toy in the universe. She nibbles it gently with her baby teeth, bats at it with her front paws, rolls against it.
A foolish warmth rises in my chest. My cheeks heat up without permission. My eyes widen and a silly, wide smile escapes me before I can stop it. I look at the kitten and can't help it: my face lights up like a child's.
Miso meows, a tiny, squeaky sound, and keeps attacking my finger with all the energy in the world. Hoshino watches me from the corner of her eye, stunned.
"…It's strange." she whispers suddenly, almost voiceless.
"Huh?" I lift my gaze, still moving my finger so the kitten keeps playing.
"Miso… never goes near anyone. Not even me. When I try to touch her she hides behind her mom or runs away. But with you… she went straight for you."
I let out a soft huff, half laugh, half embarrassment.
"What can I say… I've got a magnet for the shy ones."
Hoshino lowers her gaze again, fiddling with the loose end of her bandage.
"No… it's not that," she murmurs. "It's that… you're… different."
I stay quiet for a moment, watching Miso now lying belly‑up, clutching my finger with all four paws.
"Hoshino," I say at last, my voice low but clear. "What you do here… is incredible."
She freezes.
"W‑what?"
"Every day, before class, you come to this filthy alley to care for a cat and her babies. You bring them food, protect them, love them. That… that's not something just anyone would do."
Her cheeks aren't just red anymore: they're burning. She covers half her face with her hand, as if she wanted to hide.
"Th‑thank you…," she whispers, almost inaudible. "But… it's not that much…"
"It is," I insist. "Very much."
She breathes deeply, dares to meet my eyes for a second, then looks away again.
"You… you're not like they say either." she blurts, her voice trembling.
I stop moving my finger. Miso meows indignantly, stands up, and starts batting at my hand, demanding I continue.
"What do they say?" I ask, tone neutral.
Hoshino shrinks a little. "That… that if a girl gets close to you… something bad happens. That you use them and then throw them away. That if you get angry… you hurt people. That you're dangerous. That you have… shady contacts. That you've sent people to the hospital. That… that no girl comes out the same after being with you…"
I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts. "Rumors," I say flatly. "All false. Or exaggerated to the point of being false."
She glances at me sideways, uncertain.
"All of them?"
"All. Yes, I've fought. Yes, I've sent guys to the hospital… but they were bastards who asked for it. I've never touched a girl who didn't want it. And I've never "used and discarded" anyone. That was the old owner of this body, not me."
Hoshino blinks, confused.
"The… old owner?"
Shit. Almost slipped.
"Doesn't matter," I say quickly. "The point is, the rumors are crap. Like the ones they say about you."
She stays quiet for a moment, watching the kittens. Miso has gone back to attacking my finger with renewed fury.
"So… you don't believe that I… that I cut myself?"
"No," I answer without hesitation. "I believe you're loved very much by four little balls of fur and one mama cat. And that's the only thing that matters."
Hoshino looks straight at me for the first time without fear. And in her eyes there's something I hadn't seen before: relief.
I stand up slowly, brushing the dust off my pants. Miso, after one last playful nibble at my finger, decides she's had enough and wobbles back toward her mother. She nestles among her siblings, curls against Luna's warm belly, and closes her blue eyes with a satisfied sigh.
I glance at Hoshino, still sitting on the ground, surrounded by kittens.
"Come on," I say softly. "It's time for class."
She lifts her gaze, blinks a couple of times as if waking from a dream, and nods quickly. She rises carefully, dusts off her skirt with nervous hands, and bends down again to say goodbye.
"See you tomorrow, little ones… behave, okay? Mama Luna, don't let them climb the dumpsters, they'll fall… Mochi, don't be such a glutton… And Miso…" she looks at me sideways, almost imperceptibly "… thank you for playing with today's good boy."
Her blush reaches all the way to her ears as she says it. She positions herself at my right side, barely half a meter away, her small backpack hanging from both shoulders, her hands clasped in front of her lap. She walks in short steps, eyes on the ground, but never straying too far.
In my head, the goddess erupts in cheers. "PERFECT! FLAWLESS! AN OSCAR FOR BEST KITTEN & DANDERE SCENE OF THE YEAR!Look how she looks at you! Look how she blushes! Look how she trusts you even though she's still a little scared!This is 10/10 anime material! I already have the ending in my head: soft music, slow motion, cherry blossom petals, and you petting kittens while she gazes at you with loving eyes!"
I roll my eyes so hard I almost get dizzy.
"Can you stop narrating my life like it's some second‑rate drama?"
"But it IS first‑rate drama! You've just won the heart of the purest dandere in the school!That's an epic achievement! The forums would already be making fanart of you two!"
"Fanart? Seriously? You think anyone would draw this body with a girl and four cats?"
"OF COURSE! I can already see the title: 'The Yankee and the Cat Girl'! Cover: you sitting on the ground with Miso on your head and Hoshino blushing behind you! The fandom would explode! I already have the ship name: ReiShino!"
"Stop. Now."
"Never! This is history! This is art! This is my masterpiece!"
"Your masterpiece is a girl feeding cats and an idiot sitting there watching. There's nothing epic about it."
"EVERYTHING IS EPIC WHEN THERE ARE KITTENS AND BLUSHES!And you with that face of 'I don't know what to do with all this affection'!You're the perfect rom‑com protagonist! Even if you deny it!"
"I hate you."
"And I adore you, reincarnated cuckold! Keep it up! Keep being tender! Keep ignoring that they're all falling for you!"
I ignore her completely. I slam the mental door shut and keep walking.
As we approach the main avenue, more Seiran students begin to appear. Impeccable uniforms, branded backpacks, laughter, groups greeting each other. I notice how Hoshino, little by little, edges closer to me. First a centimeter. Then another. Until her shoulder brushes my arm every couple of steps.
She's nervous. It shows in the way she presses her lips together, in how her fingers twist in front of her stomach, in how her eyes scan the crowd as if searching for threats. She's so introverted that even walking among familiar people is hard for her.
And then…
"Hoshino‑chaaan~!"
A group of four girls appears behind us, running to catch up. The same "friends" from yesterday. The ones who looked away when she was being bullied. The ones who did nothing.
Hoshino stiffens instantly, but forces a small smile and waves.
"G‑good morning…"
I stop, turn slightly, and lean toward her ear. My voice is so low only she can hear it:
"You don't have to talk to them if you don't want to. If they bother you, tell me."
Her eyes widen, she looks at me in surprise for a second, then nods almost imperceptibly.
The girls arrive, panting, smiling with that fake sweetness learned in school hallways. —Hoshino! We were looking for you! Let's go to class together like always, right?! So strange to see you this early around here!
I say nothing more. I just look at the group for a second (long enough for three of their smiles to freeze) and then keep walking toward the school, hands in my pockets.
Hoshino lingers a moment, hesitating. Then she takes a quick step and places herself at my side again, without looking back.
And we keep walking. Together. In silence.
...
Classes are once again a desert of boredom. Classroom 3‑B is in that state of controlled chaos that appears when the teacher doesn't show up: chairs scraping, phones out, someone watching TikToks without headphones, another sleeping with his head on the desk, groups chatting loudly. The wall clock shows ten minutes late. Strange. The advanced math teacher is a maniac about punctuality; if he's one minute late he already apologizes.
I'm in my usual spot, the last desk by the window, chin resting on my hand, staring at the empty courtyard. The sun comes in at oblique angles, drawing golden lines across the floor and heating the air until it feels heavy.
A very soft voice, almost a whisper, pulls me out of my trance.
"…Reiji‑senpai…"
I barely turn my head. Hoshino is standing beside my desk, twisting her fingers in front of her skirt, her backpack still hanging from both shoulders as if she doesn't dare take it off. Her cheeks are faintly pink and her eyes can't stay fixed on mine for more than two seconds at a time.
"Something wrong?" I ask flatly, bored, still looking out the window.
"Uh… n‑no, just… Do you… do you also think today feels hotter than yesterday?"
It's such a random question I almost laugh.
"I guess" I reply, nothing more.
She nods quickly, as if my answer were the most interesting thing in the world.
"Ah… yes, I thought so too… And… did you do the classical literature homework? The one on page 47…"
"No."
"Ah… okay… I… I did it last night, if you want I can give it to you later…"
"Whatever."
She nods again, with a tiny smile that lights up her whole face.
"Look at that! LOOK AT THAT!The dandere is making small talk with you!She's nervous, she's blushing, she's happy with three‑word answers!She's officially fallen for your cool indifference, Kazuo!This is canon! This is doujinshi material! I can already see the title: 'My Yankee Senpai Ignores Me and I Like It'!" screams the goddess in my head, clearly in maximum fangirl mode.
"Shut up already." I mutter mentally.
"Never! This is HISTORIC!I never thought I'd see the day a shy girl falls in love with your 'hn' and 'whatever'!You're the king of effortless rizz! The god of romantic minimalism!"
"Your concept of romance is concerning."
"It's perfect! It's pure! It's art!"
I turn back to the window, ignoring her. Out of the corner of my eye I see Hoshino's "friends," sitting three rows ahead. They're huddled together, whispering, throwing quick glances our way. Their faces are a mix of disgust, envy, and fear. One even makes a discreet gagging gesture when Hoshino speaks to me again.
"Do you… do you know there's volleyball practice after class today? The girls' club… they're having a friendly match… Mm‑hm. I thought… I thought maybe you'd like to watch…
"I don't like volleyball."
"Ah… okay… But if you want to come anyway, I… I'll bring water for everyone!"
Her eyes shine when she says that, as if offering me a bottle of water were the greatest gift in the universe.
Her "friends" are now whispering louder. I catch fragments: "Is she seriously talking to Reiji?""So embarrassing…""She just wants attention…"
I sigh so deeply it almost hurts my chest. I don't care about their drama. I don't care about their envy, their cliques, their stupid hierarchies. I couldn't care less what they think.
Hoshino keeps talking, question after absurd question, as if every answer I give (short and dry as they are) were a treasure.
"Do… do you like cats more than dogs?" "What's your favorite color?" "Did you know Luna ate everything I gave her today?" "Have you tried the new strawberry and white chocolate Pocky flavor?"
And every time I answer with a "yes," "no," "don't know," "maybe," she smiles more, nods faster, blushes deeper. It's so obvious she's happy just to talk to me that it's almost embarrassing… but also something inside me warms a little.
"SEE? SEE?She's in love with your indifference!It's official! You've got the dandere in your pocket!All that's left is a head‑pat and she'll faint from happiness!"
"Shut up already."
"Never! This is the beginning of your harem of broken, sweet girls!First the cat dandere, then the perfect president, then the married gyaru…Soon you'll have a fan club and I'll be the honorary president!"
I ignore her completely. Hoshino keeps talking, lower and lower, but without stopping. And I keep answering with monosyllables.
Suddenly, the entire classroom falls silent. It's not normal silence: it's that heavy, almost electric hush that descends when someone walks in who commands respect… or fear. Every head turns at the same time toward the door.
And there she is. The girl with long, straight black hair, perfect side bangs, uniform modified to the very edge of the rules: skirt shorter than allowed, blazer open, silver chain dangling from the pocket, aura of delinquent sharp enough to cut the air. The same one who yesterday led the group that bullied Hoshino. The same one who blushed like a tomato when she saw me.
She enters swaying, with that confidence only possessed by those who know no one will dare say anything. Some boys stare at her, dumbstruck; others blush and quickly look away. You have to admit it: she's beautiful. Very. In that dangerous, magnetic way that attracts and intimidates at the same time.
Her dark eyes sweep the classroom with disdain… until they land on us. Hoshino, who had been mid‑sentence asking me something about cats, freezes. She instinctively takes a step back, lowers her head, and positions herself behind me, using my body as a shield once again. Her hands tremble faintly against the fabric of my jacket.
The black‑haired girl approaches directly, without hesitation. The sound of her shoes on the floor echoes like gunshots. When she reaches my desk, she slips a hand into the inner pocket of her blazer and pulls out a bundle of 10,000‑yen bills, perfectly folded and bound with a rubber band. She tosses it onto my desk as if it were the most normal thing in the world. The money lands with a dry plop.
My eyes widen. It's a lot of money. Too much. I look at the bundle. Then at her. She's completely red, avoiding my gaze, biting her lower lip hard.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!She just paid you like a gigolo!The lovestruck yankee is handing you hot cash!Take it and then ask for a bonus for full service!" the goddess bursts out, literally crying with laughter.
I ignore her completely.
"Where did you get this?" I ask, voice low and serious.
She clears her throat, still not meeting my eyes.
"I didn't steal it," she murmurs, almost offended. "It's… a gift. For you. Because… because you helped me yesterday. And… and I have no other way to thank you."
The classroom is so silent you could hear a pin drop.
And then the door opens again. A tall boy enters. Taller than me, even. Thin‑framed glasses, perfectly combed black hair, immaculate uniform, expression of "I'm perfect and I know it." He carries a folder under his arm and a gaze that could freeze hell itself.
"Ooh, here comes the ice prince…What poise, what jawline, what deep voice he must have…Do we accept threesomes, Kazuo? Because I do~" the goddess purrs seductively.
"Shut up."
The boy sees the black‑haired girl, frowns, and walks straight toward us.
"Kurokawa Akira!" he calls, voice cold and authoritative.
She stiffens instantly, shoulders rigid. The boy plants himself in front of her, looks her up and down, and fires without anesthesia: "What are you doing here again? How many times have I told you to stop getting into trouble?"
Akira (apparently that's her name) lifts her chin, defiant.
"And how many times have I told you not to order me around, huh, Takahashi‑kun?"
"They're not orders, it's common sense. You're in the wrong classroom, again. And throwing money around like an idiot."
"It's not your money, so shut up!"
"It's your father's money, and you're wasting it on nonsense!"
Hoshino, hidden behind me, whispers so softly I almost don't hear: "It's… it's Takahashi Yuuto, Class 3‑A. Kurokawa‑san's boyfriend…"
"DRAMA! LIVE LOVE TRIANGLE!The yankee in love with you and the perfect boyfriend jealous!This is better than any drama!Kazuo, this is your moment! Do something! Smile! Wink! Pick up the money and say 'thanks, babe'!"
"No," I reply mentally, dry. "I want to see how this ends."
I cross my arms, lean against the wall, and watch the show from the front row.
The argument heats up as if someone had poured gasoline on the fire. Kurokawa Akira steps forward, fists clenched, her voice trembling with contained rage.
"And who the hell do you think you are, huh?! Just because you're class rep and get perfect grades, you think you can control me like a little girl?!"
Takahashi Yuuto doesn't flinch. His voice is pure ice, cutting.
"Because someone has to, Akira! Your father personally asked me to keep an eye on you, and this is what I get! You show up late, skip class, get into fights, and now you're throwing money around like some idiot!"
"That money is MINE! I earned it working weekends at my cousin's bar! You have no right to tell me how to spend it!"
"Of course I do, when you're wasting it on nonsense in front of everyone!"
"It's not nonsense! It's to thank someone who helped me when you weren't there!"
"And for that you give ten thousand yen to Reiji?! Seriously?! The whole school knows what he is! A delinquent who"
"SHUT UP!" Akira screams, her voice breaking. "You don't know anything!"
Behind me, Hoshino trembles harder and harder. Her fingers dig into the fabric of my jacket like it's her only anchor. I can feel her quickened breath against my back.
The rest of the class is petrified. Some stare at the floor, others pretend to be distracted with their phones, no one dares even to cough.
And then it happens. Yuuto raises his right hand, open, with a speed no one expected. Akira's eyes go wide. For a fraction of a second it looks like she'll dodge, but then she squeezes them shut, shrinking, bracing for the impact.
I don't think. I act. My arm moves on its own, fast as a spring. I wrap one hand around Akira's waist and yank her toward me so hard she loses her balance. She falls seated in my lap. Her back slams against my chest. Her head ends up just beneath my chin. Her hands clutch instinctively at my forearm. I can feel her heart pounding like a runaway drum against my ribs.
The classroom falls into absolute silence. Yuuto stands frozen, hand still raised, palm open.
The goddess, for the first time all morning, is mute for a full second. Then she speaks, her voice low, dripping with pure disgust: "That… that bastard was going to hit her.In public.In front of everyone.Cowardly piece of shit."
I don't answer. I don't need to. My eyes are fixed on Yuuto. Cold. Serious. Unblinking.
"Leave the classroom..." I say, voice low but resonating through the entire room. "Now."
Yuuto slowly lowers his hand. Then he smiles. A mocking, twisted smile, full of contempt.
"Or what, Reiji? You gonna hit me? The great yankee protector of troubled girls? What's the matter? You like picking up the scraps everyone else leaves behind? First the little cutter, now my girlfriend… Is that what turns you on? Broken girls?"
I don't move. Not an inch. Akira is still in my lap, trembling, but no longer from fear—now from contained rage.
"I said," I repeat, slower, deeper "leave the classroom. I don't want to fight. But if you force me… you already know how this ends."
I don't raise my voice. I don't need to. The reputation of this body weighs more than any shout.
Yuuto holds my gaze for endless seconds. I see the challenge in his eyes. I see the fear he tries to hide behind arrogance. And then I see him retreat. One step. Two. He adjusts his glasses with a nervous gesture.
"This isn't over" he hisses, more to himself than to me.
Then he spins on his heel, slams the door open, and disappears down the hallway. The door closes with a bang that reverberates through the entire classroom.
And the silence that follows… is deafening.
I feel the damp warmth on my forearm before I realize what it is. I lower my gaze. Akira has her face buried in my chest, her shoulders trembling with each silent sob. Tears fall fast, hot, soaking through the fabric of my white shirt. Her fingers remain clutched around my arm as if letting go would mean falling into the void.
The classroom is deathly silent. No one dares even breathe too loudly.
The goddess, for the first time in all my existence, speaks in a soft, almost maternal voice, without a trace of mockery: "Comfort her, Kazuo…Please.Don't let her cry alone."
I'm so surprised I almost forget to breathe. I've never heard her like this. Never.
I swallow hard. I don't know how to comfort a woman. I never have. Not in my previous life, not in this one.
I lean down a little, just enough so only she can hear, and whisper against her black hair: "If you want… you can stay here. As long as you need."
Akira tightens her grip, as if my voice were the only thing keeping her afloat.
Then, a timid movement beside me. Hoshino, still trembling, pulls a perfectly folded white handkerchief from her pocket. She steps forward, head bowed, and offers it to Akira with both hands, as if it were a sacred offering.
"H‑here…" she whispers faintly.
Akira lifts her face, her eyes red and swollen, the mask of the tough girl completely shattered. She looks at the handkerchief. She looks at Hoshino. And then she takes it with trembling fingers.
"Th‑thank you…" her voice comes out broken, almost childlike.
She blows her nose, wipes her cheeks, but the tears keep falling uncontrollably. And the classroom remains silent. No one says a word. No one moves. Only Akira's muffled sobs and the ticking of the wall clock can be heard.
──────────────────────────────────
Hours later, when the final bell rings, the three of us leave together for the infirmary. Akira walks between Hoshino and me, head lowered, eyes swollen, clutching Hoshino's handkerchief tightly in her hand. She no longer wears her leather jacket or her defiant attitude. She only looks… small.
We leave her seated on the infirmary cot. The nurse, upon seeing her, doesn't ask anything; she simply closes the curtain and drapes a blanket over her shoulders.
Before leaving, I slip my hand into my pocket, pull out the bundle of bills, and place it in her hands.
"This is yours" I say quietly. "I don't want it."
She tries to protest, but she's too exhausted. She only nods and presses the money against her chest.
Hoshino and I step into the hallway. And now, as we walk toward the main exit, she's no longer half a meter away. She's right at my side. Sometimes our arms brush. And she doesn't move away anymore.
She talks. She talks much more than she did this morning.
"Did you know Mochi tried to climb onto the dumpster today and almost fell?" "Do you… do you think Luna will let me take them home when they're bigger?" "Do you… do you like gray cats or orange ones more?" "Have you ever tried green tea ice cream with mochi inside?"
And I answer the same as always: dry, short, boring.
"Yes."
"Maybe."
"Both."
"No."
But every time I speak, her eyes shine as if I'd given her the whole world.
And suddenly…
"Reiji!"
Reika's voice slices through the air like a blade. We both stop. She's walking quickly from the main building, her black hair flawless, posture impeccable, the council insignia gleaming under the afternoon sun.
But her expression isn't the usual cold, controlled president's. It's serious. Very serious. And her violet eyes are fixed… on Hoshino. Who is right beside me. Too close. And who, at this very moment, has a huge smile on her face.
The goddess explodes in my head as if fireworks had gone off inside my skull. "TRIANGLE! LIVE TRIANGLE!The perfect president seeing the dandere stuck to you like a magnet!This is better than a season finale!Jealousy! Killer looks! High‑school drama on god‑tier level!I can't wait for the next episode, Kazuo! Don't disappoint me!"
"Shut up right now" I growl mentally, so hard it almost hurts my head.
In front of me, Hoshino transforms in two seconds. The happy smile she had vanishes as if someone had switched off the light. Her cheeks, already pink, flare into a deep, feverish red. Her eyes widen, flicking to Reika, then to me, then to the floor, then to the sky, as if searching for an emergency exit that doesn't exist.
"Uh… I‑I… I have to… I'm sorry!" she stammers, her voice trembling so much it's barely understandable.
And before I can open my mouth to say anything, she spins around and bolts. Her footsteps echo down the hallway like a frightened rabbit. In three seconds she's gone. Only the echo of her shoes and an imaginary cloud of dust remain.
I stare at the empty spot where she was just a moment ago. Then I turn my head toward Reika. She's standing two meters away, arms crossed under her chest, chin high, the coldest expression I've ever seen on her face. But her eyes… her violet eyes are two blades sharp enough to cut steel.
She walks past me without a word, without looking at me, but stops exactly at the main door, her back to me. She's waiting. It's obvious she expects me to follow.
I sigh (another one, I've lost count) and walk until I'm beside her. The afternoon sun falls sideways, painting a golden halo in her black hair, but it doesn't soften her expression one bit.
"What's wrong?" I ask directly, voice low.
"Nothing." she answers curtly, without turning.
"Reika..."
"Nothing's wrong."
But she's lying, and we both know it. I can see it in the way she presses her lips, in how her fingers dig into her crossed arms, in how her jaw is so tense it looks ready to snap.
"You have to come home right now," she says suddenly, starting to walk without waiting for me. "I'm going to prepare your meals for the whole week. And I won't take no for an answer."
"What's wrong?" I repeat, firmer this time, walking at her side.
"Nothing's wrong!" she bursts out, but her voice trembles slightly on the last syllable.
I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She's red. Not from embarrassment. From pure anger. And something else I don't want to name yet.
"Reika," I insist, softer. "Tell me the truth."
She stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk. Finally looks at me. And in her eyes there's a storm.
"Why is there always a girl clinging to you?," she blurts, voice low but cutting. "Can't you walk five minutes without someone sticking to you like a magnet?"
I open my mouth to answer, but she keeps going, words firing like bullets.
"I'm the one making you bentos! I'm the one helping you with your grades! I'm the one going to your house to cook! And you… you walk around with her smiling as if… as if…!"
She cuts herself off abruptly, as if realizing she's said too much. She turns again and keeps walking fast, almost running.
"Forget it! We're going to your house right now! I don't have all day!"
I watch her walk ahead of me, shoulders rigid, hair waving like a war banner. And for the first time in a long while… I don't know what to do.
I just follow her, in silence, while the sun sets behind us and the air turns heavy and orange.
...
We arrive at the building in complete silence. Reika walks two steps ahead of me the whole time, her shoulders rigid, her black ponytail swinging like a pendulum of anger. Not a word. Only low murmurs I can't quite catch: "…always the same,""…don't know why I bother,""…idiot."
We climb the metal stairs. The sound of her shoes against the iron rings out like gunshots. I open the door; she enters without waiting for an invitation, drops her backpack on the table with a sharp thud, and heads straight to the kitchen. I remain in the living room, standing, not knowing what to do with my hands.
The goddess, for the first time in a long while, speaks in a serious, almost pleading voice: "Kazuo… go to her.She's hurt.Even if she won't admit it, she's hurt.Go, stay by her side, say something, comfort her… please."
"Shut up," I reply mentally, but this time without strength. "I don't know how to do that."
"Then learn now, idiot.Don't leave her alone with that anger."
I sigh, take off my uniform jacket, hang it on the chair, and walk toward the kitchen with slow, measured steps, like someone approaching a wounded animal that might bite.
Reika has already emptied half the fridge: carrots, onions, potatoes, beef, eggs, a packet of miso, rice… All perfectly lined up on the counter as if she were preparing a banquet for ten people. And in her right hand she holds a large, razor‑sharp kitchen knife, slicing a carrot with surgical precision. Tak, tak, tak, tak. The pieces fall perfectly uniform, as if measured with a ruler.
I stop a meter away, cold sweat on my forehead.
"Uh… you cut really well."
I say at last, awkwardly. She snorts without looking at me.
"Obviously."
Silence. I inch closer, carefully, as if the floor were full of mines. I grab a potato and a smaller knife I find in the drawer. I try to imitate her. First cut: the potato slips and the knife veers sideways. Second cut: I nearly slice the tip of my finger. A drop of blood appears on my skin.
Reika sees me from the corner of her eye. She sighs, so loud it almost sounds like a growl.
"Give me that before you amputate a finger." she orders, snatching the potato and knife from me.
She positions herself at my side, so close I can feel the warmth of her arm.
"Look," she says, no longer as sharp as before. "You hold the knife like this, with three fingers, not like it's a hammer. The other hand guides, with the knuckles bent so the blade doesn't cut you. And you cut down and forward at the same time, not just down, or you'll get big, ugly chunks."
I nod at every instruction, saying nothing. She starts cutting again, this time an onion. Tak, tak, tak, tak, tak. The pieces fall perfect, thin, almost transparent. The onion doesn't even cry; it seems to surrender to her skill.
I watch, hypnotized. "You're… incredible." I murmur without realizing.
Reika freezes for a second. Her ears turn red instantly. The hand holding the knife trembles just a fraction. "P‑pay attention!," she blurts, nervous, her voice louder than necessary. "It's not that hard! You just have to practice!"
But she no longer sounds angry. She sounds… embarrassed. And the anger from before has shifted into something else. Something floating in the air between us, between the smell of chopped onion and the sound of the knife against the board.
And for the first time since we came in, the atmosphere doesn't feel so heavy. Though I still don't know what to say. I just stay by her side, in silence, watching her cut, watching her hands move with a precision that feels like magic.
As I slice the carrot with the technique she just taught me (fingers curled, knife angled, firm motion), a memory hits me like a freight train. My old life. Me sitting at the low table in my filthy room, the only light coming from the laptop screen. A bowl of cold instant ramen because I forgot to eat it while it was hot. My phone buzzing nonstop with new videos: Aiko, Mizuki, Yumi… all in positions that broke me a little more each time I watched. Chewing tasteless noodles while crying silently, alone, always alone.
The knife pauses in my hand for a moment. I turn my head slowly. Reika is beside me, focused, slicing onion with a precision that looks like art. Her black hair falls slightly over her face; she brushes it back with the back of her hand, frowning when a slice isn't perfect. Her uniform sleeves are rolled up to her elbows, and a stray lock dances with every movement.
A small, sincere smile escapes me without permission. It's… nice. Having someone here. Having the smell of homemade food filling the apartment. Having someone who cares that I eat something not wrapped in plastic.
Reika must feel my gaze because she suddenly turns her head. And catches me smiling like an idiot. Her cheeks flare red instantly.
"W‑what?" she asks nervously, the knife trembling a fraction. "What is it? Am I cutting wrong?"
"No," I say, my voice softer than I expected. "You're cutting perfectly. You're… amazing, like a housewife."
She freezes. The knife stops mid‑air. Her ears turn red like tomatoes.
"D‑don't say stupid things!," she blurts, her voice high and nervous. "I'm not anyone's housewife! I'm just… just cooking because… because I felt like it! Idiot!"
But she can't hide the tiny smile that slips out.
We keep working in silence after that. She sautés the beef, I chop the potatoes, we add broth, soy sauce, a bit of wine she brought (where did she even get wine?), and the smell begins to fill the entire apartment. A warm, comforting smell I've never had here before.
An hour later we're both sitting on the floor of the living room, the low table between us and the steaming pot in the middle. Reika has put on a white apron with small frills she pulled from her backpack. She says she always carries it just in case. It looks ridiculously good on her.
She serves two generous plates: beef stew with carrot, potato, onion, and a bowl of perfectly cooked white rice on the side. She hands me the plate with both hands, slightly trembling.
"C‑careful… it's hot."
My cheeks warm just from looking at the food. Real food. Made for me.
I take the spoon, scoop up a piece of meat with sauce, and… God. The flavor hits me like a wave. The meat melts, the sauce is rich, deep, with a sweet note and a spicy kick I don't know where she got. The vegetables are cooked to perfection, the rice has that perfect sticky texture.
My eyes go wide. And I start eating like there's no tomorrow. Spoon after spoon, nonstop, burning my tongue and not caring.
Reika stares at me, horrified.
"Stop! You're going to choke! Eat slower!"
"It's too good!" I exclaim with my mouth half full. "It's the best stew I've ever tasted in my life!"
She falls silent, cheeks red, eyes shining.
"It's… it's not that great…" she murmurs, lowering her gaze.
"Yes it is! It's incredible! Please, come back tomorrow! And the day after! And every day! I beg you!"
I'm already serving myself another plate without asking, spoon trembling with excitement. Reika stares at her own plate, barely touching it. Her cheeks are so red they look like they're burning. Her eyes shine as if she might cry, but in a good way. Her fingers clutch the spoon tightly.
"Idiot…" she whispers, so low I almost don't hear. "Of course I'll come back tomorrow…"
And she nods, shy, almost hiding her face behind her bangs.
And I keep eating, with a huge smile I can't erase. Because for the first time in two lives… I have homemade food. And someone who made it just for me.
...
The pot is completely empty. Not a drop of sauce, not a lonely carrot. Only the shine of metal at the bottom and a smell that has seeped into every wall of the apartment and that I never want to leave.
I'm leaning back against the sofa, belly full to bursting, one hand pressed against my stomach as if I had to hold it in to keep it from exploding. Reika is sitting across from me on the floor, legs tucked to one side, apron still on. She stares at her own empty plate with a strange expression, as if she can't believe someone actually ate every last crumb.
"Thank you," I say quietly, sincerely. "Really. It was… incredible."
She shakes her head quickly, her black hair swaying like a curtain.
"It's nothing… really."
"No," I insist, meeting her eyes. "It's the best thing I've eaten in years. Literally."
Correction: in two lives.
Reika goes silent for a moment. Then lets out a small laugh, almost timid, barely audible.
"I wish… I wish my family and friends were like that." she murmurs, more to herself than to me.
I frown, confused. "What do you mean?"
She presses her lips together, hesitates, fiddles with the tip of her apron.
"Haruto… never enjoyed anything I cooked. Once I made him a whole bento for his tournament in Kyoto. He opened it, looked at it for two seconds, and said he preferred the combini bento because "it was more practical." He didn't even taste it. Since then… I always eat alone at home. My mother doesn't even bother to try what I leave prepared for her. She says she's "on a diet." And my friends from the council… they always have plans, always busy."
The silence that falls afterward is dense, heavy. I stare at her. And without being able to help it, a huge, genuine smile spreads across my face.
Reika lifts her gaze, nervous.
"W‑what? Why are you smiling like that?"
"Because tomorrow," I say, still smiling "you're going to have to make another bento. And the day after another. And every day. Because I will eat it all. And I'll be hungry again tomorrow. So… please, come back."
Her eyes go wide. Her cheeks flush instantly. And she nods, so fast and shy it looks like she might snap her neck. "Y‑yes… of course… I'll come back…"
──────────────────────────────────
Hours slip by without us noticing. We talk about everything and nothing: recipes, cats, teachers, bad movies, how she hates cilantro, how I love it. She laughs at my dry comments. I laugh at her failed attempts to sound serious when telling student council anecdotes.
When the clock strikes nearly ten, Reika suddenly jumps up, as if realizing the time all at once.
"I have to go! Tomorrow I've got a council meeting first thing!"
She hurriedly takes off her apron, folds it carefully, and tucks it into her backpack. I walk her to the door. She puts on her shoes, turns one last time, and looks at me with those huge violet eyes.
"So… tomorrow at six?"
"At six" I confirm.
She smiles. A small, sincere smile, without the mask of the perfect president.
"Good night, Reiji."
"Good night, Reika."
I close the door. And I stay there, standing, back against the wood, with a stupid grin plastered across my face.
The goddess finally speaks. Her voice soft, seductive, almost mischievous: "Look how sweet…The reincarnated cuckold happy because a pretty girl cooked him stew…Who would've thought, Kazuo~Are you going to fall in love, huh? Going to melt completely?"
"Screw you, pest." I reply, but without malice.
"Hey! I'm being affectionate!You should thank me!All of this is thanks to me, putting you in this perfect body and setting you on the path of broken but adorable girls!"
"Go to hell."
"Ungrateful! Spoiled! After everything I've done for you!"
I laugh out loud, alone, in the middle of the empty living room. And for the first time in a very, very long time… I feel happy.
I walk to my room, throw myself on the bed without even taking off my shoes, and close my eyes with that smile still stuck to my face.