"The closest you've ever been?"

The moment those words escaped Lisa Shiraishi's lips, even she seemed taken aback by her own boldness.

'Wait, that sounded way more suggestive than I intended!'

Her cheeks flushed pink as she realized how that must have sounded to someone like me.

Shiraishi-senpai had always been the pursued one, never the pursuer. Watching her fumble with such direct expression was... unexpectedly adorable. Like watching a pristine ice queen try to learn how to flirt—endearing in its awkwardness.

"That must be because Shiraishi-senpai's standards are too high," I said with practiced ease, keeping my tone light and teasing. "Ordinary college students probably can't even register on your radar."

Truth is, most guys are probably too intimidated to even approach someone like her. Those looks combined with that untouchable aura? Yeah, good luck with that.

"N-No! That's not it at all!" she protested hastily, her hands fluttering nervously. "I just... I haven't met the right person yet..."

The way she said it—so earnest, so vulnerable—made something twist in my chest. Here was this goddess-tier beauty, practically glowing in that traditional kimono, looking genuinely worried that I might think she was some kind of snob.

I leaned in slightly, close enough to catch the subtle scent of cherry blossoms from her hair. "So do you think I'm suitable, Shiraishi-senpai?"

The effect was immediate and devastating. Her fair skin turned the most delicious shade of crimson, and those usually composed eyes began darting everywhere except at me. She tilted her head to the side—a classic shy girl move that would've made any light novel artist weep with joy—while her slender fingers worried at the fabric of her kimono.

Those soft pink lips parted as if to speak, but only silence emerged.

The sight of her struggling so adorably made my protective instincts kick in. Sure, I could've pressed the advantage, but watching Shiraishi-senpai in distress felt like watching someone torture a kitten. Completely against my moral code.

"Don't overthink it, Shiraishi-senpai," I said, deliberately breaking the tension with a grin. "Today's a rare school festival! Let's go enjoy ourselves instead of getting tangled up in heavy conversations."

Without waiting for her response—partly because I was pretty sure she'd need another five minutes to form coherent sentences—I strode forward into the festival crowd.

"H-Hey! Wait for me, Ginjo-san!"

The relief in her voice was palpable as she hurried after me with those quick, small steps that made her kimono swish hypnotically.

Note to self: traditional Japanese clothing on beautiful women should be classified as a lethal weapon.

The game area was absolutely packed, buzzing with the kind of infectious energy that only school festivals could generate. Laughter and cheers echoed from every direction, creating a symphony of pure fun.

"This looks perfect—let's try this one, Shiraishi-senpai."

I stopped at a traditional archery booth, complete with a wall of colorful balloons serving as targets. The classic festival game setup, but with an authentic Japanese twist that appealed to my sense of aesthetics.

"Ladies first," I said with a theatrical bow, gesturing toward the shooting line. "Show me what you've got, Shiraishi-senpai."

"Eh? Bow and arrow?" She blinked at the equipment like it might bite her. "I'm really not good at this kind of thing..."

The way she's looking at that bow like it's some alien artifact was absolutely precious.

"Come on, you've got to at least try," I encouraged, gently guiding her to the line. "Just aim for the balloons and let instinct take over."

"Alright, everyone!" the enthusiastic booth attendant announced. "Our beautiful kimono-wearing senpai is about to take her shot!"

With no escape route left, Shiraishi-senpai reluctantly picked up the bow. The sight of her struggling to draw the string properly—her kimono restricting her movement, her face scrunched up in concentration—was the kind of gap moe that could power a small city.

She's trying so hard it's actually painful to watch.

Five arrows. Five spectacular misses.

"What a shame! Our kimono senpai's challenge ends in failure!" the attendant announced with theatrical disappointment.

The pout that followed was legendary. Shiraishi-senpai's lips pushed out in the most delectable expression of frustration I'd ever witnessed, her cheeks puffed slightly in indignation.

"This game is rigged," she muttered darkly. "I don't think they want anyone to actually win those prizes."

"Don't worry, Shiraishi-senpai," I said, already moving to the shooting line. "Watch and learn from a master."

Time to show off a bit. I took my stance—left shoulder to target, feet positioned properly, weight distributed evenly. The muscle memory from years of kyudo club training kicked in automatically.

Sorry, senpai, but I've been doing this since middle school. Time to be ridiculously cool.

Draw. Aim. Release. Perfect bullseye.

"First shot—direct hit!"

Four more arrows followed in quick succession. Four more perfect hits.

"Incredible! Our handsome senpai has achieved a perfect score! This is our first grand prize winner of the day!"

The announcement drew a small crowd of onlookers, but all I cared about was the expression on Shiraishi-senpai's face. Her eyes had gone wide with amazement, practically sparkling with admiration.

"I had no idea Ginjo-san was so talented!" she gushed, clutching the oversized prize plushie I'd won for her. "First swimming, now archery—what other hidden skills are you hiding?"

"Even though I'm terrible at shooting myself, watching Ginjo-san shoot was incredibly exciting!"

Wait. Did she just...? No, that had to be innocent. This is Shiraishi-senpai we're talking about. Pure as driven snow. Definitely not making accidental innuendos.

"Now you know how amazing I am," I said with exaggerated pride, chest puffed out comically. "I've got plenty of talents you haven't discovered yet, Shiraishi-senpai."

If only she knew I'd been in the kyudo club since middle school. But where's the fun in revealing all my secrets at once?

We made our way through the festival, trying everything from ring toss to riddle games. Watching Shiraishi-senpai gradually shed her usual reserved demeanor was like watching a flower bloom in fast-forward. Her genuine delight at each game, her competitive spirit emerging bit by bit—it was intoxicating.

"Shiraishi-senpai is really enjoying herself," I observed, watching her practically bounce with excitement.

"This has been the most fun school festival I've ever experienced," she admitted, her smile radiant. "I never tried these games before—I had no idea they could be so entertaining!"

Of course she's never played festival games before. Probably spent every previous festival being admired from afar like some untouchable shrine maiden.

"Ginjo-san! Look—goldfish scooping!" She grabbed my arm without warning, her enthusiasm overriding her usual propriety. "We have to try this!"

The sudden contact sent electricity up my arm, but I managed to play it cool as she dragged me through the crowd toward the goldfish booth.

"Boss, two nets please!" She placed 200 yen on the counter with determination.

"Thank you for your patronage, miss!"

Armed with our paper nets and bowls, I approached the goldfish pond with supreme confidence. After my archery triumph, how hard could this be?

Famous last words, Ginjo.

I aimed carefully at a particularly sluggish-looking goldfish and swooped down with my net.

Miss.

Okay, that was just a warm-up.

Another attempt. Another miss.

"Come on, you slippery little..." I muttered, growing increasingly frustrated as the goldfish seemed to actively mock my efforts.

I'm starting to understand why Akashi gets so worked up about things not going according to plan.

After depleting all my attempts with zero fish to show for it, I stepped back in defeat, watching in amazement as Shiraishi-senpai approached the pond with zen-like calm.

"Ginjo-san, you can't rush these things," she said softly, demonstrating a technique that belonged in a martial arts manual. "You have to be patient."

She leaned forward slightly—and I definitely didn't notice how the angle made her kimono's neckline more... interesting—carefully positioning her net half-submerged at an angle. With surgical precision, she cornered a small fish and guided it into her bowl.

"Look! I got one, Ginjo-san!"

Her triumphant smile was brighter than the festival lanterns.

How is she so good at everything when she tries? This is the gap moe final boss right here.

Despite a few subsequent failures, she managed to catch three goldfish total. As we walked away from the booth, her carrying a small bag of water with her prizes swimming inside, she looked absolutely radiant.

"You know, Ginjo-kun," she said, using the more familiar suffix that made my heart skip, "they say if you catch goldfish at a festival, you can make wishes equal to the number you caught."

Three wishes, huh? This feels like dangerous territory.

"Really? What kind of wishes is Shiraishi-senpai planning to make?"

She considered this seriously, holding up the bag to watch her goldfish swim in lazy circles. "Well, as a third-year, my first wish has to be getting into a good university. And my second wish is for our water polo club to perform well at the prefecture tournament."

"As for my third wish..."

She turned to look at me, and her smile transformed into something softer, more intimate—the kind of expression that belonged in the climactic scene of a romance anime.

Oh. Oh no. This is it, isn't it? The moment where everything changes?

The festival continued around us, but suddenly it felt like we were in our own private bubble. The colorful lights seemed softer, the sounds more distant. Even the goldfish in her bag seemed to swim more slowly, as if the entire world was holding its breath for her next words.

Come on, Shiraishi-senpai. Don't leave me hanging here.

But maybe some wishes were meant to remain unspoken, at least for now. After all, the best things in life were worth waiting for.

Though if she keeps looking at me like that, my own heart might just make a wish of its own.