"Although it happened suddenly, Katou-san... can I touch it again?" Natsukawa Kanade's eyes sparkled with hopeful anticipation, his tone unusually sincere. He didn't look like he was joking at all.
"Moshi moshi, police? Yes, I'd like to report a suspicious person…" Katou calmly pulled out her phone, a deadpan expression on her face.
"Wait—oi, don't actually call them! I was joking, just a joke!" Kanade waved his hands frantically, visibly panicked. Even though he knew Katou wouldn't go as far as reporting him, the sight of her pulling out her phone seriously still sent a cold sweat down his back.
"Even if you're joking… that kind of joke already crosses the line into harassment, you know, Natsukawa-kun?" Katou sighed softly, her brow slightly furrowed with what looked like genuine concern.
Kanade scratched his cheek, a little embarrassed. He couldn't really explain it clearly—not without sounding like a complete degenerate. What was he supposed to say? That he had lost to the desire deep in his heart?
Still, Katou had said earlier that it was better to ask her opinion before doing that sort of thing. So technically, he was following the rules... wasn't he? Then again, being technically right didn't mean much if she looked at him like he was some kind of weirdo.
Thankfully, Katou wasn't one to hold a grudge. She let the matter drop without making a fuss and even shifted the conversation like nothing happened.
"…So, can I continue studying?"
"Of course! No problem at all! Please do!" Kanade quickly nodded, relieved.
Right, they were supposed to be having a study session, not some weird romcom misunderstanding. The whole point of this get-together was to make sure everyone was doing well academically. Just like the ever-diligent Eriri seated next to them—still immersed in her textbook with laser focus, completely unmoved by their antics.
Now that he thought about it, Kanade found it kind of surprising. The usually chaotic, sharp-tongued blonde hadn't raised her voice even once today. She'd been so quiet and focused—it was almost suspicious.
Wait… is Eriri actually taking this seriously for once? Has she finally entered her Study Arc?
His curiosity flared, but he restrained himself. Interrupting her now would only break that rare concentration. He'd just leave her be for now.
Katou, too, had returned to her studies, her attention firmly on her notes. Meanwhile, Kanade—the so-called tutor—was now the only idle one in the room. With nothing better to do, he tiptoed away to Eriri's room, hoping to grab a few manga volumes to kill time.
And no, not those kinds of manga. Eriri did keep a few mainstream series around for reference, usually stuff she claimed to read for inspiration. Yeah, right.
He still remembered what Eriri had told him a while back. Even though she was a respected doujinshi artist—especially under her pen name, Eri Kashiwagi—she didn't want to be boxed into that identity forever. In truth, her dream was to break into the mainstream. To become the kind of artist who could draw serious content and earn the respect of the industry.
"Even if I'm known for drawing… those kinds of things now, I want to be someone people praise and say, 'Wow, she can actually draw a real story too.' That's what I want most."
Kanade admired that about her. But he also knew breaking into serialized manga wasn't easy. Eriri's art was already professional-tier, no doubt about that. Her style had charm, and her characters were definitely attractive enough to draw eyes. But when it came to storytelling… that's where she struggled.
It wasn't that she didn't have ideas—more like, she lacked a narrative direction. She was a genius with visuals, but plot and pacing were her Achilles' heel. That's why she hadn't made the leap to serialized work.
Kanade had wanted to help her with that for a while, but to be honest, his own writing skills weren't exactly stellar. The best he could offer were suggestions as a "typical male reader" and maybe—just maybe—some personal experiences that could be twisted into story ideas.
After all, he did have a somewhat colorful history when it came to love. A string of failures, misunderstandings, and miscommunications that, if properly exaggerated, could totally be turned into a manga plot.
In fact, he already had the perfect title in mind: "I Confessed to Several Girls and Failed, but Somehow They All Ended Up at My Door."
Catchy, right?
Turn that into a quirky love comedy, throw in some tropes, and boom—instant hit. Sure, it sounded cliché, but clichés existed for a reason: because people liked them. And as a debut project, it could be a good starting point for Eriri to gain experience and build confidence.
But… that would mean airing his own dirty laundry. The shameful memories, the cringe-worthy confessions, the failed relationships—it was all fair game. And unless he started the story with "I have this friend, you see…" it'd be pretty obvious who the story was really about.
Yeah, no way he'd admit all that with a straight face.
=================================
Later in the afternoon, the group stayed focused on their studies. Katou left a bit earlier since she lived far away. Kanade continued tutoring Eriri for a little while, helping her with a few problem sets. When he finally got ready to leave, he bumped into Sawamura Sayuri—Eriri's ever-youthful and overly enthusiastic mother—at the front door.
"Why don't you stay a little longer, Kanade-kun? We could have dinner together. In fact, why not stay the night?"
Faced with her motherly warmth and hospitality, Kanade panicked again and declined as politely as he could.
"Th-thank you, but I should head home… I-I'm not a vagrant, you know…"
There was still plenty of time left in the day, which meant Natsukawa Kanade could afford to take things easy for a while. After all, he had some unfinished business from yesterday—no, not going on another date with Kasumigaoka-senpai or anything! He meant heading back to the bookstore to check out the manga and magazines he didn't get to browse through. Their sudden encounter had derailed his plans, and he wasn't the type to leave a shopping mission half-complete.
Pulling out his phone, he casually searched for nearby bookstores and, as luck would have it, there was one not far from where he was. "Yosh," he muttered, adjusting his jacket and setting off.
His original plan was simple: go in, grab what he needed, pay, and bounce. Quick and clean, like a ninja strike. But as fate would have it—anime-style twist incoming—just as he walked up to the register with a small stack of books in hand, he was met with a shock.
Behind the counter, dressed in a plain but tidy work uniform, stood none other than Yukinoshita Yukino.
"…Uso daろ…" Kanade muttered under his breath, momentarily stunned.
Even in such simple work clothes, Yukino was… dazzling. That cool aura of hers was still intact, but the image of her quietly ringing up customers added a surprising layer of charm. There was a sort of understated appeal in her diligence—something that screamed "I'm competent and responsible, deal with it." And for once, her expression wasn't her usual icy glare, but something more neutral—perhaps even kind? No—wait, maybe that was just the customer service mask talking.
Still, the sight of her calmly checking people out while standing up ever so gently from a chair struck Kanade as odd. It was then he remembered—ah, right… she'd injured her foot recently. He had helped her with that, hadn't he? So she wasn't just taking breaks—she had to.
"…Uh, I didn't expect to see you working here…" Kanade spoke up awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice was sheepish, the kind of tone you use when caught doing something just a bit questionable.
Yukino glanced at him briefly. Her tone was cool and professional—classic Yukino—but she didn't cut him down completely.
"Please place the books on the counter, customer. I can't scan them like that."
"Ah… right." Kanade flinched slightly. Her words weren't harsh, but that neutral tone of hers felt like a slap nonetheless.
His hand twitched. He looked down at the books in his arms—and immediately regretted every decision he made leading up to this moment.
Nope. Impossible. There was no way he could let Yukino see the titles he was holding.
"..."
Not noticing the awkward tension hanging in the air, Yukino simply continued in her quiet, almost robotic cashier voice.
"Please proceed to checkout, customer."
Kanade still didn't move. He just stood there, frozen.
There's no way I can show her these... he thought, breaking into a cold sweat. She'll definitely roast me alive… and probably make me write a 10,000-word apology essay in classic literature format.
He considered turning around and pretending he'd left something behind—but just as he started to formulate his escape route, salvation came from an unlikely source.
"Oi! Where the hell are the photo mags in this place? Been walkin' around like an idiot!" a gruff voice barked from behind.
A loud, brash blond delinquent had wandered into the store. His posture screamed "I don't care about society," and his fashion sense confirmed it. For once, Kanade was grateful for this kind of guy showing up.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Yukino's customer-service smile froze on her face. Kanade knew her well enough to see it—she was not in the mood for this.
"They're at the far right, near the door," she replied coldly, her voice back to that razor-sharp edge Kanade remembered so well.
"Hah? What's with the attitude?" the blonde snapped. "Get off your lazy butt and show me, will ya? Don't just look down on people like that with your eyes!"
Kanade winced. Yare yare daze. This guy had no idea what kind of ice queen he just pissed off.
He could almost see the spiritual pressure rising around Yukino. If this were a shonen anime, the entire store would be cracking from the pressure alone.
Alright, Kanade thought, stepping in before the air turned completely frozen. "I'll take him there. I know where they are."
The delinquent turned to look at him. "Huh? Who the hell are you?"
Crack. Kanade casually cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing ominously through the bookstore like a warning from the gods.
"…O-Oi, what's your deal, man?! I'm tellin' you now, hitting people's illegal!"
"Eh? No, why would I?" Natsukawa Kanade gave a small scoff, rolling his shoulders as if he'd just casually stretched. "It's just a little chilly in here, so I thought I'd loosen up a bit. Sou na…"
Violence wasn't really his thing. He didn't want to end up in some legal mess—or worse, being forced to pay hospital bills because he'd decked a guy too hard. Not that this punk was worth it, anyway. And besides, the guy hadn't actually done anything yet, so technically, Kanade had no excuse. If it came down to it, he'd need to frame it as self-defense, at the very least.
"R-Right…" The blonde delinquent faltered, visibly shaken. His gaze flicked from Kanade's build to his face, clearly doing the mental math… and losing. "I-I just remembered… I don't really want those magazines after all. I'm, uh… I'm leaving…"
Kanade blinked. "Wait… was that a question?"
The punk wasn't running. He was… waiting for permission to run? It was so ridiculous, Kanade couldn't help but let a small laugh slip. Did he seriously look that intimidating? Was he being mistaken for some kind of yakuza lieutenant now?
This kind of misunderstanding seemed a little extreme, but well—this is Japan. High schoolers like him were always getting typecast. Every school had its rumored "delinquents" and "enforcers." Kanade just happened to fall into the "don't mess with that guy" category—whether he asked for it or not.
"Eh? Really?" Kanade said with exaggerated disappointment, placing a hand over his chest dramatically. "You sure you don't want me to show you? I'd hate to miss a chance to be helpful~"
To the poor guy, it sounded like a death threat wrapped in customer service. He paled and waved his hands quickly. "N-No need! I wouldn't dare—I mean, I wouldn't trouble you!"
Then, with the speed of someone escaping a cursed doll, the delinquent bolted out of the store.
Kanade let out a long sigh and muttered under his breath, "Yare yare… I was being nice, you know?"
He glanced over at Yukinoshita Yukino, who had remained quiet the whole time. "Are guys like that always wandering in here?"
"No," she replied flatly, shaking her head. "It's rare."
She paused, then, somewhat unexpectedly, added, "Thank you… for earlier."
Kanade blinked. That was… unexpected. Yukino, giving thanks? In public? This was the second time she'd said something like that to him, and the last time had been when he carried her out of the haunted house during the test of courage. Could it be… progress?
"Ah… it's no big deal," Kanade replied, scratching his cheek, a little embarrassed. "Though, technically, it was more of a violent threat than an actual good deed…"
Still, hearing her say "thank you" with her own voice felt like unlocking a rare achievement.
"Oh, right," he added suddenly, remembering something. "How's your foot? You're not overdoing it, are you?"
He'd patched her up not too long ago, and she'd looked in no shape to be walking, let alone standing behind a counter for hours. He couldn't help but worry—though he tried to sound casual about it.
"We can talk about that later," Yukino replied, her voice soft but firm. Then she nodded toward the register. "You still haven't paid. I'll be off soon. Let's talk after."
"…"
Kanade froze.
Shimatta.
He'd been so focused on helping her out—and surviving the awkward showdown—that he'd completely forgotten about the books he was holding. The questionable ones. The kind that could get him roasted alive if Yukino glanced at the titles.
And now he had to hand them over to her, in broad daylight, like a criminal confessing his sins.
This is bad. This is so bad…
He could only pray she wouldn't look too closely. Or that the ground would swallow him up first.