On the dojo floor, the young girl clung to Shiratori Seiya like a koala that had absolutely zero intention of letting go of its favorite tree.
If it weren't for the thick protective gear and kendo uniform padding between them, their position would have looked downright intimate. But even with all that armor? It wasn't exactly better.
Shiratori Seiya, ears burning from the whispers swirling around him, gritted his teeth and lowered his voice. He glanced down at the girl wrapped around him.
"What exactly do you want, Saori?"
"Mmm..."
The young girl in his arms hummed softly—a content, almost dreamy sound—but her grip showed absolutely no signs of loosening.
Seriously?
After speaking, Shiratori Seiya suddenly lifted his head and shot a look at Fujiyama Takeo. The club president couldn't see his eyes through the mask, but he could feel the intensity burning behind that mesh. He quickly blew his whistle and raised the red flag.
"White side foul! Red side wins!"
Hearing Fujiyama's whistle, Shiratori Seiya looked back down at Hasegawa Saori and urged, "Let go, Saori. If you keep this up, I'm really going to get angry."
"Oh."
This tactic still seemed to work like a charm. Hasegawa Saori pursed her lips, tightened her grip on the young man's shoulders one last time—as if savoring the moment—and then reluctantly loosened her hold.
Shiratori Seiya breathed a sigh of relief so deep it probably came from his toes.
"Let's talk in the changing room," he muttered, turning and walking toward the side of the arena.
Hasegawa Saori didn't say a word. Her gloved hand reached out and grabbed the corner of his uniform, and she silently padded along behind him like a shadow that had finally found its owner.
As he stepped off the floor, Shiratori Seiya could vaguely hear fragments of conversation buzzing around him. But he didn't pay them any mind.
Gossip like that? If you ignored it, it would eventually disappear like a headless fly—especially since he barely had any deep interactions with these people anyway.
But just as they were about to reach the changing room, Shiratori Seiya suddenly felt a chill crawl up his spine. His feet stopped on their own accord.
He turned his head.
And there she was—Takahashi Mio, sitting in the corner.
Their eyes met across the space, across the protective gear, across the awkward two seconds that stretched into eternity.
Then, Takahashi Mio raised her hand, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and gave him a gentle smile.
Tsk.
This was exactly the sight he least wanted to see.
If Takahashi Mio had been glaring at him at that moment, things would have been easier to explain. But her current expression—that smiling demon demeanor—meant there was no telling what was going on inside that head of hers.
Unpredictability like that? It always made people feel annoyed.
Shiratori Seiya gestured to her—I'll come out and talk later—then led Hasegawa Saori into the changing room.
Click.
The door closed behind them, and the outside noise instantly dropped to a muffled murmur.
Shiratori Seiya leaned against the door and let out a long, heavy sigh. He reached up and pulled off his helmet, his brows knitting together tightly.
A million questions were jamming up his brain at that moment. He was about to organize his thoughts and demand some answers from Saori—what on earth was going on?—
Thud.
A bamboo sword hit the floor beside him.
He turned his head.
Hasegawa Saori had, at some point, removed her helmet and hair tie. She was now sitting on the floor in a perfect seiza position, her bamboo sword resting by her hand.
The young girl's long hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall, spreading across the floor. The incandescent light above caught the strands, making them shimmer as if dusted with fresh snow. Her hands rested neatly between her thighs, and her fair, slender neck was slightly raised as she stared up at him with those expectant eyes.
Shiratori Seiya's gaze lingered on her neck for a moment too long. That perfect line... it led his memory down a dangerous path—flashes of her back, the curve of her shoulders...
He quickly closed his eyes and shook his head.
Get a grip.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice coming out rougher than intended.
"Mmm..."
Saori pursed her thin red lips, pondered for a moment, then wrinkled her delicate nose. Her voice came out small and wronged.
"Saori's legs are weak. She can't stand up..."
"?!"
Hearing this, Shiratori Seiya's eyelid twitched violently. He nearly laughed out of sheer exasperation.
Others might not know your athletic talent, but I do!
Did she even do any physical activity just now? Back in the day, when she snapped a bicycle pedal with her raw strength, he didn't see her legs going weak then!
Shiratori Seiya rubbed his temples, took a deep breath, and fixed her with a stern look.
"Get up quickly. I still have things to ask you."
Hearing this, Hasegawa Saori's bright black eyes darted around like a mischievous child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Her lips curved downward in an exaggerated pout.
"Saori can't get up," she said, her voice dripping with feigned dejection. "Seiya needs to rub her legs..."
"Before, when Saori was tired from a match, Seiya always massaged her. Are you unwilling now...?"
The young girl tilted her face up, her clear eyes glistening with unshed tears, looking for all the world like she'd suffered the greatest injustice imaginable.
Shiratori Seiya looked into those pure eyes and felt his head spin.
What ancient history was this?!
Yes, in the past, he'd done a mountain of research for Saori's training. Not just diet and exercises—he'd put serious effort into her rest, recovery, and post-workout relaxation. Every day after her training, he'd give her muscle relaxation massages and psychological counseling.
(Though the counseling part was probably overkill. Making her happy was simple—just take her out for a good meal.)
But that was then. They'd broken up two and a half years ago. He had no such obligation anymore. And besides—she hadn't even done any real physical activity today!
When did you become so fragile? It's only been half a year—did you regress into a porcelain doll?
Seeing that she wasn't budging, Shiratori Seiya decided not to force the issue. They could talk sitting down just as well.
Feeling stuffy and sweaty, with his clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin, Shiratori Seiya removed his protective gear and unbuttoned his uniform. Immediately, he felt cooler.
He walked over to Saori and sat down cross-legged in front of her.
After more than half a year, seeing Hasegawa Saori again—her delicate, fair face, those eyes as pure as fresh snow—it was impossible not to feel something.
Past memories stirred in his chest like fallen leaves caught in a gust of wind. He wanted to ask her about university, about her kendo, about how long until she went national...
But now wasn't the time for reminiscing. Sentimentality could wait. First, he needed answers.
Having organized his thoughts, Shiratori Seiya narrowed his eyes.
"I have a few questions for you, Saori. Answer them well, and I'll treat you to a meal."
Hearing this, Hasegawa Saori's eyes lit up like lanterns at a festival. She couldn't help but swallow and nodded obediently.
Sure enough, this tactic still worked.
The young girl's expression registered in his eyes, and a familiar warmth crept back into the room. Shiratori Seiya felt himself relax slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"I remember," he said softly, "Saori, didn't you apply to a university in Kyoto? So why are you at C University now?"
"Mmm..."
Saori bit her lip, her slender brows knitting together as if she'd just been handed the world's most difficult math problem.
She stammered for a long moment before finally squeezing out a sentence:
"Is Seiya not happy to see Saori?"
...Reading my message and replying with nonsense, huh?
He wondered if it was just his imagination, but Shiratori Seiya felt like she wasn't quite as innocent as before. Had she gotten sly?
After a moment's thought, he decided to play along.
"Of course I'm happy," he said. "But I also want to know how you're doing in university. That's why I'm confused. Aren't you supposed to be in Kyoto?"
"Oh."
The young girl seemed convinced by his logic. She shifted her rounded bottom on the floor, looked him straight in the eyes, and said with absolute seriousness:
"Wherever Seiya is, Saori will be there."