15:58 p.m., Clear skies, Visibility: 20 km

April 29th.

For the forty-second time this month, Harutaki once again found himself walking along the riverside path lined with cherry trees, a place already so familiar he could draw it from memory.

Petals, soft as snow and tinted the faintest pink, spun lazily in the mild spring breeze before settling on the ground. The branches above were still lush and full, just as they had been twenty-eight days ago, as if the blossoms had no intention of ever fading.

And then,

His eyes, almost on instinct, swept toward the riverbank. He’d expected the usual, nothing but the gentle current and empty benches, but this time, his steps froze mid-stride.

Someone was sitting there.

He stood at the corner of the quiet street, staring in disbelief at a figure he’d seen countless times in dreams, but met only once in reality, a silhouette both familiar and distant.

Ah… that short black bob with uneven ends.

So it really was Shirasagi-senpai, not that red-haired walking disaster who’d led him on with false hopes.

…Would thinking that make him too cruel to poor Nogami?

He wasn’t sure why, but though his heart leapt with excitement, his feet instinctively slowed as he approached. His movements turned awkward, furtive even, like some train molester sneaking up behind his target, or a thief creeping through a mall after hours. Step by step, he made his way to where Shirasagi-senpai sat.

“…”

After hesitating a good few seconds, Harutaki quietly slipped to her right side and sat down. He moved carefully, almost reverently, as if afraid to shatter the tranquil, almost ethereal air surrounding her.

“...Hi.”

Yes. That was what he managed after half a minute of internal agony.

For someone who wasn’t exactly a clueless virgin, Harutaki somehow always found himself tongue-tied around this particular senpai. Maybe it was because her face betrayed so little, no cues, no emotions for him to read. Or maybe it was because, to him, Shirasagi-senpai wasn’t just a person.

She was… a goddess.

Sure, in this day and age, words like “goddess” or “angel” had long since lost their grace to memes and mockery, but really, he couldn’t think of a better description.

Cold yet pure, elegant yet aloof. She struggled to show her feelings, but her heart was delicate, perceptive, kind.

“Hi?”

Shirasagi-senpai mimicked his greeting stiffly, almost childishly. Watching her expressionless face trying so earnestly, Harutaki couldn’t help but laugh.

“Is that funny?”

“If you look in a mirror and greet yourself like that, you’d laugh too, I bet.”

“But I wasn’t greeting you.”

“…Huh?”

Kill me now. Someone please let me headbutt the pavement until I disappear.

So this was what people meant by “talking on completely different wavelengths”?

First time experiencing it firsthand, and Harutaki was seconds away from digging himself a three-room apartment with his toes out of sheer embarrassment.

Still… this was exactly what made talking to Shirasagi-senpai so nerve-wracking.

When people communicate, they rely on tiny cues, expressions, gestures, fluctuations in tone. Those nuances made conversations flow. But with Shirasagi-senpai, all those usual tools just, didn’t work. Like a phone fried by an EMP, every signal short-circuited.

“I was just surprised,” she said at last, her tone calm and deliberate. “You hesitated for so long, and then that was what you decided to say.”

“Not very fitting for a self-proclaimed playboy, is it?”

Her voice was soft, almost gentle. Even if the words sounded teasing, there wasn’t a trace of malice in them.

“Oh no. After hearing that from you, the crown of ‘Nichiya High’s Number One Scumbag’ just got a lot heavier.”

He smiled, trying to lighten the air.

“To keep it from slipping off, Senpai, maybe you could lend me your lap? That way my crown stays nice and secure.”

“Then tell me,” she replied serenely, turning her violet eyes toward him, “what spell would make your head ache enough to roll on the ground?”

“…I’m not the Monkey King, you know. No mountain or Buddha’s hand is keeping me down.”

Feeling thoroughly seen through, Harutaki quickly retracted his joke, but it was too late. Shirasagi-senpai continued as if she hadn’t heard him, her voice carrying that detached calm that seemed to part the air itself.

“You’re hiding behind that ‘playboy’ label. Using it as camouflage so you don’t have to face your own emotions. Pretending to be shameless makes it easier to run from the gatekeeper of love. You sneak into the library’s restricted section, trembling at the thought of getting caught, then brag to your friends the next day about how brave you were.”

“Senpai, if you’re planning to punish me with a ‘Piercing Heart Curse,’ you’re still missing a wand,” he interrupted weakly. “Given your style, I’d recommend a fourteen-inch black walnut wand. Core material, maybe one of your own hairs?”

Please, he thought. Any more of this and I’ll surrender right here.

“…I’d bet you’d even justify your excuses with more excuses,” she murmured, half to herself.

“I’m just— ”

“Just trying to show Nogami’s father where you stand, so he doesn’t see you as a threat?”

“Huh? Wait, you know about Nogami’s dad, ”

“Family connections,” she said lightly, cutting him off. Then, tilting her head, she asked, “Tell me, if two children start fighting in the mud and their parents catch them, do you think they’ll avoid scolding just because everyone’s equally dirty?”

“Politics isn’t a game for the shallow. If you play like a child, expect to be treated like one.”

She hadn’t even waited for his answer. And Harutaki couldn’t help but feel that she’d somehow peeled him completely bare, like she could read his mind. Was this world secretly a manga setting? Did psychic senpais really exist here?

“You seem to think you’re on the same level as Nogami’s father, but you’re sixteen. To someone like him, you’re just a child. And aside from a few petty, spiteful adults, no one in that world would seriously punish a kid for a childish scuffle.”

“Vindictive, narrow-minded people can’t become true politicians. They don’t survive long in a world where everyone’s an enemy.”

Harutaki chuckled weakly. “With logic like that, maybe you’ll be a politician someday, Senpai.”

“Maybe…” she said vaguely.

Her words made him realize something.

All that “self-slander” he’d used to prove a point, was it really just a show of attitude?

No. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t.

“Actually, you like that Nogami girl. You just can’t accept that you do.”

“Okay okay, sensei, I surrender, please stop reading my heart out loud…”

Damn it. He knew it, Shirasagi-senpai was definitely an esper.

Clutching his head, he rolled across the bed of cherry petals like a dying man.

“What are you afraid of, then?”

Her slender hand came to rest atop his hair. Despite its delicate look, it held him down as firmly as if it were Buddha’s palm itself.

Rustle, rustle.

Then came the sound of fabric shifting. Harutaki suddenly felt his head lifted, supported by gentle hands, and then,

Softness. Warmth. A subtle give beneath him.

Just like a salon pillow. If the salon were heaven.

He breathed in without meaning to.

Whatever scent lingered around her, it was faint, hard to describe, but… intoxicating. His pulse quickened.

“Senpai, you seem awfully experienced with lap pillows,” he muttered, half-jealous.

So much for becoming a politician himself, he was far too small-minded for that.

“This is my first time,” she said simply.

“Your first time, just like that, given to a fake playboy like me? You sure that’s okay?”

“You really are strange,” she replied evenly.

Even with him resting in her lap, a boy she’d only met twice, her voice stayed utterly calm, a still pond untouched by wind.

“You’ve got the guts to stand up to a cabinet minister’s daughter, yet when it comes to feelings, you’re worse than the average Shinjuku flirt.”

“I’m not scared, I just don’t want to hurt someone under the excuse of love.”

“Then giving my ‘first time’ to you is perfectly fine.”

Unfair. Saying that with such serenity, how was he supposed to keep his composure?

“If you keep that up, Senpai, I will end up confessing to you.”

Half joking, half serious, he went on,

“I mean, I want to be with someone else… I know Nogami’s a terrible person, but even so, the fact that I fell for her, doesn’t that make me a hopeless, lust-driven scumbag?”

“See? There you go again,” Shirasagi-senpai said, gently ruffling his hair like he was a cat purring in her lap.

“Why do you hold yourself to such impossible standards, Hoshikawa? What are you, some hot-blooded shonen protagonist?”

“If I could choose, I’d rather be the protagonist of a school harem story.”

She ignored that, her tone softening even further.

“What Nogami’s done in the past, does it have anything to do with you? You don’t need to blame yourself just because you didn’t punish her enough.”

“But… ”

“At the very least, you’re the only one who ever stood up to her. The only one who actually tried to stop her bullying.”

Her right hand lingered for a moment, then fell naturally back to her side.

Shirasagi-senpai must’ve tucked that shoulder-length strand behind her ear. That’s what Harutaki guessed inwardly, since the towering peaks in front of him blocked his view. Inevitably, a faint image surfaced in his mind, he could almost picture her right ear, usually hidden by her long hair, soft and pale against her skin.

Were her earlobes small or plump? Rounded and smooth, or slender and delicate?

“And… if you stood beside Nogami and saw her bullying someone again, would you just stand there and watch?”

“Probably not. I don’t want to get dragged into her mess.”

After all, if Nogami really did become his girlfriend one day, their relationship and interests would be intertwined. There’s no way he’d sit back and watch her do something that would hurt them both.

A pragmatic egoist, that was probably the best way to describe himself.

“Then tell me, why do you think you shouldn’t fall for her? For the people who might’ve been her future victims, you’re no selfish person… on the contrary, you’re their hero.”

“Others wouldn’t see it that way.”

A scumbag and a wicked woman. They deserve each other, go die together.

He could already imagine the headlines on anonymous forums.

“I don’t think you’re someone who cares much about what others say.”

She sounded like she knew him better than he knew himself. And worse, she sounded confident about it.

“I do care about the opinions of a beautiful girl like you, Shirasagi-senpai.”

“Oh? Then right now, I despise you for saying such shallow things.”

She leaned forward slightly, and her cool, elegant lavender eyes peeked over those peaks, fixing him with an icy stare.

“If you ever come to hate me, I’d have no choice but to end my life~”

“By seppuku, please.”

“No mercy for the condemned? That’s just cruel!”

With that, silence fell between them.

He turned over, of course, facing away, not toward her.

He felt a little guilty toward Nogami, but to him, Shirasagi-senpai was an untouchable being, utterly different from Nogami, who exuded that kind of… lewd, approachable danger.

They simply lay there together, watching the cherry blossoms drift down the stream. Time passed in silence until the warm spring breeze began to lull him half-asleep. Then, finally, Shirasagi spoke.

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