Unknowingly, only a week remained until the July 14th Toyogasaki finals.
"You head back to class first."
"Oh, hurry up too, Utaha."
"I know." She lightly pushed Miyahito (already in indoor shoes at the genkan). He smiled helplessly, "I'm going, I'm going, stop pushing," and let her guide him into the hall. Watching him happily enter the classroom, Utaha's smile faded.
Expressionless, she turned around and reached out to open the shoe locker labeled with her name.
Then.
A damp, completely messy locker came into view.
Reflected in her wine-red eyes, Utaha's pair of indoor shoes emitted a faint, nauseating odor.
Her gaze calmly fell on a piece of white paper pinned to the shoes with a thumbtack. It read: "Stay away from Aragaki-kun, bitch."
She didn't say a word. She just silently closed the locker door.
Ever since she and Miyahito started walking to and from school together, this kind of thing had become commonplace for Utaha.
But this kind of petty, underhanded bullying wasn't new to her. Compared to the far worse things she'd endured in middle school, this was nothing.
Bending slightly, she pulled a fresh pair of indoor shoes from a bag carefully hidden behind her schoolbag—completely undiscovered by Miyahito.
She was about to lower her head to change when, suddenly, a few disdainful, mocking chuckles drifted into her ears. Unsurprising, yet grating.
Utaha looked up calmly.
As expected. It was Mogi Toukei, the second-year senpai who had confronted her in the restroom that day, confessed to Miyahito the next day, and got instantly, ruthlessly rejected.
A faint, dismissive curve touched Utaha's lips. She ignored Mogi, the obvious culprit.
After silently changing her shoes, she turned her head and, looking at the slightly startled senpai, mouthed a single sentence without making a sound:
"Miyahito is mine."
Then, she turned around, her posture elegant and composed as she stepped onto the genkan platform and walked calmly toward the first-year corridor.
Knowing full well the boy you like doesn't feel the same, yet instead of trying to improve yourself, you target your rival.
Don't you realize that only destined losers resort to tricks like this?
Hmph. Boring.
However.
The moment she slightly glanced aside and smiled faintly at the boy happily waving at her from the classroom—along with Kyoko and the others—the smile vanished.
As Utaha withdrew her gaze, an almost imperceptible trace of disappointment flashed in her eyes.
Why haven't you confessed yet, Miyahito?
Meanwhile.
"Why haven't you confessed yet, Miyahito?"
Sitting backward on his chair, arms resting on the backrest, Tooru looked at Miyahito, who had just returned to his seat, completely bewildered.
"I'm preparing."
Miyahito's answer was the same as always.
"I know you're preparing." Hearing the familiar deflection, Tooru sighed helplessly, his tone growing anxious. "But how long have you been 'preparing'?"
"Give me a straight answer. When exactly are you going to confess?"
"Miyahito!" Kyoko, sitting next to him, put down her textbook and looked up. "Hesitation is what I hate most."
"If you like her, confess. If you don't, make it clear."
Just then, Yuki finished talking to some classmates and walked over, slapping Miyahito hard on the back, nearly sending him face-first to the floor.
"Mou! Do you realize you're just stringing Utaha along? Miyahito, you scumbag!"
"Cough, cough... You almost killed me, Yuki." Miyahito grimaced, turning to see her "try to change the subject and I'll slap you again" expression. He immediately shut his mouth obediently.
After a moment of silence, looking at his closest friends who had subtly surrounded him, Miyahito quickly raised his hands in surrender.
"I'm wrong! I surrender!"
Following the subtle signals from Tooru, Mama Hori, and Boss Yuki, he lowered his hands and spoke honestly.
"I'm planning to confess on the last day of finals."
"A whole week?!" Mama Hori stared in disbelief as he nodded, a dark frustration quickly crossing her face.
Seeing Hori's index finger subtly curl (ready for a forehead flick), Miyahito—who had survived countless flicks from her—panicked and explained rapidly.
"Because finals are coming up, I don't want my confession to distract Utaha! It's crucial for her chances at getting a special recommendation to Waseda University in her third year!"
He didn't even pause for breath, rattling off the long, unpunctuated sentence at lightning speed.
Slightly stunned by his outburst, Hori, Tooru, and Yuki paused.
Thinking it over.
Miyahito had a point. If Utaha truly wanted that university recommendation in her junior year, her first-semester finals scores were critical.
"Fine."
Waving her hand helplessly, since their clueless boy had a solid plan, Hori saw no reason to ruin it.
With Hori's stance, Yuki and Tooru could only helplessly (damn, I really wanted to watch the drama) accept his explanation.
Just then, Iura Shuu from Class D suddenly appeared at the back door of Class B and loudly called out to Miyahito, who was sitting with Tooru discussing confession lines.
"Miyahito."
Catching his attention, Iura didn't say anything else, just waved him over, signaling him to come out.
Seeing Iura's serious expression, a confused Miyahito stood up, told Tooru,
"I'll go see what Shuu wants."
"Oh."
"Come back soon. Tachibana-sensei's class is next."
"Got it, Mama Hori."
A short while later, Miyahito returned to the classroom.
Only.
"Miyahito, what happened?" Seeing his face dark enough to drip water and the chilling aura radiating from him, Hori quickly asked with concern. "Did something happen? What did Iura tell you?"
Hearing Hori's concerned voice, Miyahito's gloomy expression paused for a few seconds. He then looked up, meeting the eyes of Hori and Yuki beside him, and Tooru, who had turned around in his front seat.
The next second, his expression shifted instantly, reverting to the sunny boy he was before leaving. His voice brightened.
"Nothing, just a small thing."
"Shuu said Class D isn't convinced about last week's basketball match. They want a rematch during PE later."
A lie.
The three instantly recognized it. They exchanged a subtle glance.
Clearly, Miyahito didn't intend to tell them the truth.
[Should we ask Shuu?] Tooru's eyes asked Hori.
After a brief thought, Hori shook her head slightly.
[Better not. Miyahito hates that.]
Noticing their silent exchange, Miyahito smiled casually and deflected.
"I'm really fine, Mama Hori. Stop making a fuss."
"Tooru, what do you say? Give Class D a painful lesson during PE later?"
Hearing this, Tooru and Hori paused. Then Tooru laughed, playing along.
"Absolutely! Those guys really need to be taught a lesson."
"Don't they know Class B has the championship shooting guard, Toyogasaki's only MVP, Miyahito?"
"You two better take it easy during PE later."
And as Miyahito, Hori, and Tooru enthusiastically planned the PE match,
Yuki, completely lost in the topic shift, watched them blankly.
Am I... not supposed to be sitting here? she thought.
....
However, during the subsequent PE class,
Miyahito did not do as he said. Instead of bringing Tooru and some Class B guys to play basketball against Class D, he uncharacteristically sat alone under the shade of a tree.
Noticing Miyahito sitting alone under the tree while he and Iura were casually playing tennis, Tooru asked with concern,
"Shuu, what did you tell Miyahito this morning?"
Iura instantly froze.
Sensing the shift, Tooru stopped playing. A bad feeling welled up inside him.
The next second.
"How should I put it..." Iura rubbed his head awkwardly. "You'd better ask Miyahito yourself, Tooru."
"If he was willing to tell you, I wouldn't be asking you." Lowering his racket, Tooru's expression grew anxious. He quickly stepped forward, hooking an arm around Iura's shoulder, and whispered, "Look at him. I'm worried."
Following Tooru's gaze to the boy under the tree, Iura thought for a moment.
Fine. If he keeps bottling it up, it'll be worse.
So, he briefly told Tooru what had happened that morning.
After hearing it, Tooru was completely stunned.
"What did you say?"
"Kasumigaoka is a playgirl? Miyahito's just being used as her wallet? And he's acting like this because of her 'technique'?"
"He's gonna lose it! If Miyahito snaps, none of us can stop him!"
"Who spreads such ridiculous rumors? Are the second-years' brains full of shit? Instead of studying, they're out here chewing on garbage?"
No wonder when he came back earlier, Miyahito's expression looked like he was ready to commit murder.
Even Tooru couldn't help but curse after hearing it.
"Tell me about it." Iura gritted his teeth, his fists clenching unconsciously.
But remembering his recent investigation, Iura's anger stalled, and he spoke with frustration, "But there's nothing we can do now. We can't trace who started it."
Calming down slightly, Miyahito's earlier mention of his confession timeline crossed Tooru's mind, easing his tension. "It's fine. Miyahito's already planning to confess on the last day of finals."
"Once he does, these ridiculous rumors will shatter on their own."
"Yeah." Hearing Tooru, Iura's expression relaxed. "True. As long as Miyahito doesn't drag it out, it'll be resolved soon... ed."
Before he could finish, an emergency occurred over by Miyahito.
[Isn't that 2nd-year Motoyama from the Kendo Club?]
Instantly recognizing the second-year senpai blocking Miyahito's path with a couple of lackeys, Tooru and Iura exchanged a glance. The next second, they moved simultaneously, sprinting toward Miyahito.
By the time they arrived, the clearly hostile Motoyama had already left.
Looking at Miyahito's grim face, and watching him stare straight at Motoyama's retreating back as the senpai walked off with his lackeys, arms around their shoulders, Tooru and Iura didn't know what to say.
An suffocating silence hung in the air for a moment.
"Tooru."
Without looking back, Miyahito started walking toward the school gate.
"I have something to take care of. Cover for me with Utaha during lunch."
"Yeah..." Still processing, Tooru nodded. Then, snapping out of his daze, he turned and shouted,
"Miyahito!"
But Miyahito was already far gone.
Left on the field, Tooru and Iura exchanged glances. The exact same thought simultaneously crossed both their minds:
This is going to be bad.
...
Afternoon. Kendo Club.
"Motoyama, you sure you're okay?" A guy with a buzz cut sitting on the dojo sidelines asked Motoyama, who was in his kendo gear. "That kid's eyes just now... they weren't normal."
"What's there to fear!" Motoyama waved dismissively. "I just asked if that girl's 'technique' was really that good."
"Just a first-year, acting so arrogant? If he dares to show up, I'll properly teach him what it means to be a senior."
"A junior stealing all the spotlight... as if we second-years are dead?"
Before the buzz-cut guy could even chime in with a few flattering words,
Suddenly.
Bang——!
The wooden door of the kendo club was kicked open from outside without warning, crashing heavily onto the floor. The massive sound instantly drew everyone's attention.
Then, a figure in the Toyogasaki boys' uniform, gripping a wooden sword, slowly stepped into everyone's line of sight.
"Aragaki Miyahito! Are you trying to rebel!?"
Recognizing who it was, Motoyama stood up in a panic, yelling toward the entrance.
"You dare barge into the kendo club and act wild? Do you think we don't exist?"
Miyahito, gripping the sword, didn't speak. With a dark, terrifying expression, he stepped over the wooden door fragments on the floor and silently entered the dojo.
He looked up, scanning everyone present.
Good. Everyone from PE class is here. No time wasted.
The next second, Miyahito gripped the hilt with both hands and slowly raised it.
"Motoyama."
The moment the name left his lips, Miyahito, already coiled and ready, lunged forward in a flash, right in front of the panicked senior.
The blunt edge of the wooden sword instantly struck that ugly face...
A short while later, Miyahito slowly stood up straight, breathing slightly heavily.
His gaze swept over the groaning seniors lying around him. Slowly, he raised his right foot and stomped heavily on Motoyama's chest. The senior was on the ground, clutching a broken arm and wailing.
"Pfft—" The stomp nearly knocked the wind out of Motoyama, forcing him to cough up a mouthful of stomach acid.
Yet, the next second, the wooden sword in Miyahito's hand whistled through the air and slapped hard across Motoyama's face.
Watching Motoyama's pathetic, bruised state, Miyahito's eyes showed absolutely no emotion.
After a long, tense standoff.
"If you've got guts, say it again right in front of me."
"Motoyama."
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