Chapter 8: Progress on the Bullying Issue

──September 6──

Determined to learn from yesterday’s lapse, I rise a bit earlier to prepare. It wouldn’t do to keep Ichijou-san waiting.

“Oh, you’re up early. Is Ai-chan coming over again today?” Mom’s usual warm smile greets me. Nii-san, too, flashes a silent grin. Their normalcy feels like a quiet shield, keeping my worries at bay.

“Yeah.”

“That’s wonderful. Make sure you invite her for kaki fry tonight, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll tell her.”

Mom’s affection for Ichijou-san knows no bounds, and it’s no wonder. She’s the one who stood by me most steadfastly when I was at my lowest.

Stepping outside, I find her already waiting, her angelic smile radiant as ever. For a fleeting moment, it’s as if soft white wings shimmer behind her.

“Good morning, Senpai!” Her voice brims with cheer.

“Morning, Ichijou-san.”

We begin our walk, the slow rhythm of our steps settling into a comforting routine.

“Oh, right, Senpai! I have something for you.” She rummages through her school bag with a spark of excitement.

“Huh? It’s not my birthday, you know.” I feign nonchalance, though her gesture catches me off guard.

“It’s not that!” she retorts playfully. “It’s a thank-you for hanging out at the café yesterday. Here, take this.”

She hands me a slightly thick envelope, likely holding a notebook or something similar. Her shy smile softens the moment.

“Can I open it?”

“Of course. It’s not something tacky like money, I promise.”

Opening it, I find manuscript paper covered in familiar handwriting—a story I know by heart. My eyes dart to the title. It’s the original draft of my novel, the one I thought the literature club had discarded.

“How did you get this?” My voice trembles as I clutch the envelope, as if cradling the manuscript itself.

“I worked hard to rescue it yesterday.” Her mischievous grin betrays a hint of pride.

“Why do you have this, Ichijou-san?” I press, still gripping the envelope tightly.

“Just a little effort, that’s all.”

“A little effort? I never even told you I was in the literature club, did I?”

How could she know? My mind races.

“Well, when I visited your place, I noticed a ton of novels in the break room, plus some literature club magazines.”

“That’s hardly enough to figure it out.” It’s too flimsy a clue. I could just be a novel enthusiast who picked up the club’s magazine on a whim.

“True. In a detective novel, that wouldn’t pin down the culprit. But this is reality, so I did some digging. There’s a girl in my class, Hayashi-san, who’s in the literature club. I asked her, and it was easy to confirm.”

Hayashi, a junior. Quiet, glasses, braids—the quintessential literature club member. I vaguely recall teaching her something before summer break, but we barely spoke.

“Then she must’ve looked down on me, right? Hayashi-san.” With those rumors swirling, the girls in the club probably despise me. Ichijou-san’s just too perfect to understand.

“Well, she mentioned overhearing the seniors talk about the rumors,” she admits, her tone gentle.

“Yeah, exactly…”

“But she wasn’t convinced you were guilty. Before summer break, you taught her how to use Word, right? She remembered your kindness and said she couldn’t believe someone like you would do those things.”

I pause, recalling that moment. Hayashi struggled with computers, so I showed her simple tricks—adding ruby text, registering words. Nothing major.

“Talking to her made it clear, Senpai. You were being harassed by people in the literature club, weren’t you?”

“…Yeah.” The admission slips out quietly.

“The club president was throwing out your belongings without permission. So I asked Hayashi-san to help. I begged her to save even a little of your stuff.”

This girl… I’m at a loss for words.

“But Hayashi-san is shy and couldn’t act openly, though she did what she could. With teary eyes, she nodded and gathered as much of your manuscript as possible. This was all I could recover.”

“You snuck into the clubroom?” My voice rises in disbelief.

“Yup. After we had tea at the café, I went back to school just before closing time.” Her refined demeanor hides a reckless streak.

“How’d you even get in? The clubroom’s locked, isn’t it?”

“I… lied. I said Hayashi-san asked me to pick up something she forgot.” A flicker of guilt crosses her face, and I can’t help but sigh.

“Why go that far?”

“Because it’s awful, isn’t it? Having someone’s hard work destroyed by another person’s malice.” Her eyes, tinged with guilt, meet mine.

“Thanks for going out of your way,” I murmur. The manuscript wasn’t well-received in the club—maybe they overlooked it when discarding things. Memories of that day flood back. The president, someone I thought I was close to, tore it apart with harsh criticism.

“It was really interesting, you know,” Ichijou-san says, her voice carrying a touch more weight.

“You read it?” My surprise shifts to curiosity.

Her expression turns apologetic as she bows her head. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I read it last night in a frenzy. That’s why I’m a bit sleep-deprived.”

Now that she mentions it, faint dark circles shadow her eyes.

“What’d you think?” I ask, unable to resist. After losing confidence in my work, her opinion feels like a lifeline.

“It was amazing. Truly interesting. Senpai, you’ve got talent!” Her confident laughter washes over me, restoring something I thought I’d lost.

“Thanks. That gives me a bit of confidence.”

We resume walking, our steps aligned, moving forward together. Step by step.

──Kitchen Aono, Takayanagi-sensei’s Perspective──

The principal and I arrive at Kitchen Aono. Initially, we planned to visit during lunch break, but Aono’s mother requested an immediate meeting, so we scheduled it for 9:30 AM, before the shop opens.

Aono’s case has been assigned to Mitsui-sensei, who begins his supplementary lessons today. Thanks to the principal and vice-principal’s swift actions, Aono’s academic delay should be limited to a single day. We’re still finalizing how to address credits for subjects like PE and arts, but plans for makeup lessons or reports on weekends and after school are nearly complete.

Today, Aono himself isn’t here—just his mother, the principal, and me.

“So this is Aono-kun’s home,” the principal remarks, clutching a paper bag tightly. Inside are documents we prepared, detailing what we know and outlining next steps.

“Yes.”

“Takayanagi-sensei, I’ll bear ultimate responsibility as the head of the school. Your role is to convey the facts clearly and support Aono-kun and his family. Though, honestly, I’m not worried—you’d do this without my saying so.”

“You give me too much credit. My hands are shaking, and my heart’s racing.”

In moments like these, nerves are inevitable. If I could flee, I would.

“That’s only natural. I feel it too. But we teachers hold enough weight to shape a student’s entire life.”

“Exactly.”

That’s why we can’t turn away.

“I’m certain his parents will understand you, Takayanagi-sensei. Let’s go.”

──Mother’s Perspective──

“We’re deeply sorry for this situation.”

The principal and Takayanagi-sensei, Eiji’s homeroom teacher, bow deeply the moment they step through the entrance. I had steeled myself for a half-hearted apology and vague promises, but their earnest sincerity catches me off guard. Minami-sensei was right—these are dedicated educators.

Onii-chan adores Eiji and might lose his temper, so I asked him to focus on the shop’s opening preparations.

“Please, raise your heads. When did you first learn of this issue?”

Takayanagi-sensei, tall and lean, responds promptly. “During homeroom on September 4th. I was away until the 3rd, advising a shogi club tournament, so I entrusted the class to the assistant homeroom teacher, Ayase-sensei. When I heard Eiji-kun was feeling ill and went to the infirmary, I noticed graffiti on his desk. I reported it to the vice-principal immediately, who informed the principal, and we began discussing our response.”

“You noticed so quickly. To spot signs of bullying the moment you returned, even when the assistant teacher missed them…” I’m genuinely stunned by his attentiveness.

“Yes. There was an odd tension in the class that day, which raised my suspicions. This may sound like an excuse, but Ayase-sensei is a first-year teacher, fresh from college, and lacks experience. She likely didn’t recognize the early signs. She feels deeply responsible.”

“I see. Let’s set aside the assistant teacher for now. What I want to know is how you interacted with Eiji that day, Takayanagi-sensei.”

“I couldn’t meet Eiji-kun that day. He left the infirmary and didn’t return to class. With the vice-principal and Mitsui-sensei, the guidance counselor, we searched for him. After a witness saw him leave school, Mitsui-sensei contacted you, ma’am.”

“I see…” That aligns with the call I received from the infirmary teacher.

“That day, we had Imai-kun help us reach Eiji-kun, and yesterday we heard his side of the story. This document summarizes what we know so far.”

“Thank you. I’ll read it.”

The report explains how Eiji was entangled in a romantic misunderstanding, sparking false rumors. Though names are omitted, it confirms fact-checking with Miyuki-chan and the alleged affair partner. It also notes that two classmates suspected of leading the harassment are under investigation. The school pledges to support Eiji’s academics, with supplementary lessons starting today.

“Sensei, is this final note serious?” The document states: “The confirmed acts include crimes such as property damage, defamation, theft, and intimidation. We are considering consulting the police and imposing strict penalties, including expulsion or suspension, for the involved students.” I’ve heard schools often shy away from police involvement in bullying cases.

Takayanagi-sensei responds without hesitation. “Yes. The school cannot condone such behavior. Whether to report defamation or intimidation to the police is up to you and Eiji-kun. We’ve learned the bullying group even threatened to harass this shop. As for the graffiti on desks and shoe lockers, the school has suffered property damage, so we’ve already consulted the police.”

“Don’t schools usually avoid involving the police?” I can’t help but ask.

Before Takayanagi-sensei can reply, the principal speaks up. “Three hundred fifty-four. That’s the number of high school students who died by suicide in 2022, due to bullying, health issues, or family problems.”

The number pierces me like a blade.

“If you include suicide attempts, the number of students whose lives were derailed by bullying is far higher. This is just the tip of the iceberg. And now, an incident like this has occurred.” His voice carries unwavering resolve. “When a situation could lead to life-or-death consequences, our priority is the victim—Eiji-kun. We adults must act for his future. The school’s reputation is secondary. For the perpetrators’ futures, covering this up would harm their character. Education means giving them a chance to atone.”

The elderly principal meets my gaze earnestly. “To protect Eiji-kun, we need your support.”

──After School──

I’m walking home with Ichijou-san again, our steps falling into a familiar rhythm.

“Senpai! How were the supplementary lessons?” she asks brightly.

Since I was prioritized to catch up on the curriculum after missing classes for mock exams, I’ve been getting extra lessons.

“They were clear and helpful.” The one-on-one sessions allowed the teachers to explain things thoroughly, with a kindness that put me at ease.

English was taught by the principal himself. “Aono-kun, I’m deeply sorry for the painful experience you’ve had at my school. If anything troubles you, come to me, Takayanagi-sensei, or Mitsui-sensei. Students have a right to rely on their teachers.” His large frame swayed slightly as he spoke, his warmth enveloping the room.

In twenty minutes, he clearly covered key grammar, vocabulary, and expressions from the textbook. “Let’s use the remaining time for listening and speaking skills,” he said with a smile, pulling up a foreign comedy drama on his laptop. Unlike textbook audio, the dialogue was fast, brimming with slang.

He paused at key moments to explain. “Here, two words blend together in speech. Native speakers pronounce it like this.”

“This ‘wanna’ phrase rarely appears in Japanese high school English, but it’s common in American English. Some Brits view it as an Americanism. It’s the same as ‘want to,’ expressing desire. Aono-kun, have you seen Armageddon? The movie about stopping an asteroid. Its theme song uses this phrase in the lyrics.”

The principal’s lessons were engaging and genuinely fun. A former rugby player, he’s also a movie buff, owning hundreds of DVDs and Blu-rays. He chose this romantic comedy about nerdy scientists in absurd situations to lift my spirits. His thoughtfulness touches me deeply, and I’m grateful beyond words.

※

“The principal’s classes sound so relaxed. They seem like fun!” Ichijou-san’s eyes sparkle. “Honestly, Senpai, you’re surrounded by amazing people.”

She’s not wrong. Right in front of me stands a girl who became my greatest ally mere minutes after we met.

“Senpai, I’m sorry if this feels like meddling, but there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Her glance toward the school gate draws my attention. There, standing with a tearful expression, is Hayashi-san, the literature club junior.

Hayashi-san approaches, head bowed, her face etched with anxiety. Ichijou-san gently prompts her. “Hayashi-san, you have something to say, right?”

She nods faintly. Knowing she helped recover my manuscript, I soften my tense expression, facing her with as much warmth as I can muster.

My relaxed demeanor seems to ease her slightly. In a trembling, tear-choked voice, she begins. “I’m so sorry, Aono-senpai.”

She bows so deeply I worry she’ll topple over, holding the position as she speaks. “You were kind to me in the club, but I was too scared to stand up for you. I got swept up by everyone else and didn’t believe in you. I’m not like Ichijou-san—I couldn’t protect your precious manuscript. I should’ve been there for you, but I failed. I’m so sorry.”

Though her face is hidden, tears glisten as they fall, fragile droplets scattering on the asphalt. “I’m the worst. I knew you couldn’t have done what the rumors claimed, but I was too afraid of being left out to do the right thing.”

Her trembling figure radiates pain.

Unlike the president and others, she never directly harmed me. From this morning’s conversation, I learned she was the only literature club member who hadn’t blocked me online.

She doesn’t owe me an apology. Those who actually hurt me should be the ones begging for forgiveness with this kind of sincerity. Even if they did, I wouldn’t forgive them easily, but I’d want to hear their words.

“Raise your head, Hayashi-san. You didn’t do anything to me directly. And you helped Ichijou-san a lot, didn’t you?”

“But…” Her voice wavers, unconvinced.

That’s how it always is. The honest ones suffer most, while the truly guilty carry on without a care. She’s the former, tormented by guilt she doesn’t fully deserve, caught up in others’ malice.

“You apologized sincerely. That alone means so much to me. Besides Ichijou-san, Imai, my parents, and teachers, you were the first in the club to believe in me, Hayashi-san. There are others who should apologize before you, and your words make me feel saved. So please, forgive yourself.”

At that, she breaks into sobs. Ichijou-san swiftly wraps her in an embrace, steadying her trembling classmate. This school’s idol is truly kind, her gesture almost saintly in its grace.

“It’s okay, Hayashi-san. Your sincerity reached Senpai. I’m his best friend, so you can trust me on that.” Ichijou-san strokes her head gently, holding her close.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Hayashi-san repeats, her apologies spilling out between sobs.

※

After parting with Hayashi-san, who finally stopped crying, Ichijou-san and I head home together. It’s our third day walking side by side, and the curious stares from passersby have mostly faded. Habituation is a strange thing.

“Hayashi-san’s quitting the literature club, it seems,” Ichijou-san mentions.

“I see.” A quiet relief washes over me. I’d worried it might be unsafe for her to stay in that club.

“Thanks, every time. Why do you go so far for me?” I ask, genuinely curious. I’m always in her debt.

“That goes for you too, you know. That day on the rooftop, you risked your life to save a junior you didn’t even know, soaked in the rain. You were ready to throw everything away. Stopping someone in a place like that—you could’ve fallen yourself.”

“Nah, that was just a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“Even so, not many could act like that on instinct. Back then, I was reckless and desperate, but now I’m truly glad to be alive. All thanks to you.”

“Still… you even mediated between me and Hayashi-san.”

I owe her more than I can repay in a lifetime.

“I know you lost a lot because of this incident. It’s not my place to say, but it’s not everything. There are people like Hayashi-san who believe in you. I wanted you to know that.”

Her shy smile, bathed in the glow of the sunset, is so beautiful I can hardly meet her gaze.

“The best thing to come out of this mess was meeting you, Ichijou-san.”

She blushes faintly, murmuring with downcast eyes, “That’s not fair, Senpai, you idiot.”

“You don’t like hearing stuff like that?”

“…I don’t dislike it.”

Her shy demeanor fills me with quiet happiness.

※

We walk home, chatting about trivial things. Despite being best friends, we’ve only just met, so there’s an endless well of topics to explore, our conversations flowing effortlessly.

Tonight, I’ve got to make sure Ichijou-san tries the kaki fry.

“By the way, why do you love kaki fry so much, Ichijou-san?”

“Oh, it was my late mother’s specialty. She’d make it for my birthday, and I can’t forget the taste.”

It’s the first I’ve heard of her mother’s passing. A pang of regret hits me for asking.

“Sorry, was that insensitive?”

She shakes her head, smiling softly. “Not at all. You told me about your dad passing away, didn’t you, Senpai? I felt I should share it too.”

Right, I mentioned Dad during lunch in the break room.

“Well, it might not top your mom’s kaki fry, but I hope you enjoy ours.”

Kaki fry was Dad’s specialty too. Frying plump oysters and pairing them with homemade tartar sauce is a Kitchen Aono tradition from fall to winter.

“Our tartar sauce has a secret ingredient—shibazuke pickles. The tang keeps it refreshing. It’s my late dad’s recipe, so look forward to it.”

“I’m excited! My mom used sautéed onions in her tartar sauce, and it was delicious. Brings back memories.”

As the son of a diner owner, I get it. Sautéing onions just for sauce is no small effort. Her mother must have loved her dearly.

Ichijou-san’s petite but a real foodie—she polished off her lunch in no time. Pointing that out would be rude, though, so I keep it to myself.

As we chat about such lighthearted things, a car pulls up beside us. An elderly man with white hair steps out—Minami-san, Dad’s best friend and the former mayor.

“Eiji-kun, it’s been a while. Did I interrupt a date? You look well, and that’s what matters.”

Ichijou-san eyes Minami-san curiously, then whispers, “Senpai, why’s the former mayor talking to us so casually!?”

“Oh, Minami-san was my late dad’s friend. He still treats us like grandkids.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Is that so…?” She forces a stiff smile.

Minami-san supported Dad’s volunteer work, even as mayor, prioritizing permits for food drives in city parks. He built on Dad’s efforts, creating ordinances for public-private partnerships to fund children’s cafeterias. Our city’s reputation as a family-friendly hub in the capital region owes much to his tenure.

After three terms, he retired and founded a volunteer group to continue Dad’s legacy. Now in his seventies, this principled grandpa works tirelessly for poverty alleviation and support for the disadvantaged, often stopping by Kitchen Aono to check on us.

“I’m heading to your place now, Eiji-kun. Want a ride? I’ll drop you off. And you, young lady… could you be…?”

Nervously, she introduces herself. “I’m Ichijou Ai. It’s been a while, Mayor Minami.”

“No ‘mayor,’ please. I’m retired. Ichijou-san, huh? I thought so. You’ve grown into quite a beauty. I barely recognized you. So, Mamoru-kun’s son, Eiji-kun, and you are walking together. Must be fate.”

Apparently, Ichijou-san’s parents are prominent figures. I listen without prying.

“Mayor Minami, I’m not connected to my father anymore,” she says firmly.

Minami-san looks surprised but nods with a knowing smile. “I see. Well, hop in the car. There’s something I’ve been meaning to apologize to Eiji-kun for.”

The old gentleman gestures warmly, inviting us into the car.

※

We ride with Minami-san to a nearby park, the car’s gentle hum filling the quiet between us.

He glances at me, his voice soft but deliberate. “I want to talk about your dad. Should Ichijou-san step away for a bit?”

I shake my head. “It’s fine. I’ve got nothing to hide about Dad.”

His warm smile deepens the lines on his face. “You’re just like your dad in that way. Truly his spitting image.”

Growing up, adults always said, “Be a fine person like your dad.” As a kid, it felt like a heavy expectation, but after he passed and I began to understand his life, it turned into pride. I want to be as close to Dad as I can, though I’ll never outshine that saint of a man. Sitting on a park bench, Minami-san’s voice softens, carrying the weight of years.

“It’s been years since Mamoru-kun passed. Time moves so fast it’s hard to believe. You’ve grown so much, Eiji-kun.” His sad smile recalls the grief he showed at Dad’s funeral, deeper even than our family’s.

Minami-san was Dad’s partner in volunteering. Dad ran food drives and a children’s cafeteria, and their shared passion forged a close bond. Later, as mayor, Minami-san championed policies to make the city more livable, amplifying Dad’s work from a broader stage.

“You’ve become a fine high schooler, Eiji-kun. That’s why I wanted to talk properly. I don’t know how long I’ll stay healthy.” His voice trembles as he bows, eyes glistening. “I’m truly sorry. I feel like I took your dad away from you kids.”

Another apology today. I’m not used to this.

“Minami-san, please raise your head.”

“Thank you. You’re so kind. But I need to apologize properly. Your dad was my ideal—a responsible, kind, remarkable man. I leaned on him too much. Between Kitchen Aono and volunteering, I let Mamoru-kun carry too heavy a burden. Knowing his sense of duty, I should’ve seen he’d push himself too far.”

He gazes at the sky, regret etched in his expression. I understand his guilt. For Minami-san, time stopped when Dad died—a grief unique to those who loved him most.

“Even so, it was Dad’s choice,” I say, deliberately using the formal “Dad.”

“I’m the one who made him choose.” His voice cracks, burdened by the belief that he pushed his ideals onto Dad, driving him to overwork until he collapsed.

But that’s not true. “Dad was smiling, satisfied. His face in death was truly content. No matter what, Minami-san, I don’t want you to deny Dad’s will.”

Dad lived for his ideals. No one should carry regret for that.

“…I see.”

“You’ve carried on Dad’s ideals perfectly. He always said, ‘If someone continues my work, it’s like I’m still alive.’ You’re supposed to be living on with Dad, Minami-san. He’d be mad if he knew you were regretting it. For sure.”

Minami-san’s teary smile breaks through. “You’ve really grown. I thought of you like a grandson, but today you’re the one teaching me, Eiji-kun.”

His kind gaze warms me. “That’s exactly why I can’t forgive those who tried to harm you. It might be meddling—you’re becoming a fine adult. But you’re still a high schooler who deserves protection. For your dad’s sake, I’ll fulfill my duty as an adult. I’ll protect you, absolutely.”

Thinking of Dad’s smile and Minami-san’s care, my heart swells. I’m surrounded by people shielding me, and in that moment, we laugh together, the weight lifting slightly.

※

Minami-san mentions he has something to discuss with Mom, so Ichijou-san and I stroll through the park to pass the time. By the time we return, Nii-san will likely have his special kaki fry ready.

“Well, the week’s over,” I say, exhaling.

“Yeah, thanks to you, I somehow made it through.”

It’s been a chaotic week, to say the least.

Tomorrow’s Sunday. Takayanagi-sensei advised, “You’ll need a day of makeup lessons eventually, but for this Sunday, take it easy. Fatigue hits hard once the tension fades.” I plan to follow his advice, though I’ll miss seeing Ichijou-san.

“Hey, Senpai? Can I make one selfish request?”

“Of course.” I’d grant her countless wishes, not just one, so I answer without hesitation.

“So reliable,” she teases, her shy smile softening as she looks down. She stops walking, standing before me with the sunset glowing behind her. “Will you go on a date with me tomorrow? A proper date this time.”

Her gaze, steady and warm, catches me off guard, the sunset framing her like a quiet promise.

※

I catch my breath at Ichijou-san’s proposal. A weekend date with her is the kind of thing any guy at school would dream of—a rare prize I can hardly believe is mine. For a moment, hesitation grips me. Am I really worthy? But being with Ichijou-san has become my normal, and the thought of seeing her on Sunday sparks joy. After our date yesterday, this second invitation sends a thrill through me.

“Is it okay with me?” I ask, still processing.

“It has to be you. That’s why I asked.” Her voice is firm, her eyes steady.

A weekend date carries more weight than an after-school hangout, charged with the unspoken dynamics of something deeper. I’ve been on plenty with Miyuki, so it’s not my first, but this excitement feels new, almost overwhelming.

“Thank you. I’d love to.” I manage a smile, hoping it hides my nerves.

She exhales in relief, though a playful pout follows. “Senpai, you’re too mean. I was sure you’d say yes, but you paused so long I got nervous.”

“Sorry, I just couldn’t believe I’d get a weekend date with the Ichijou Ai.”

“Really, that’s exactly it. Idiot.” Her blush and flustered attempt to hide it are endlessly endearing.

“So, where are we going?”

“I want to shop at the station. Also, there’s a movie I’d like to see. Wanna watch it together?”

“A movie? Nice. I love movies.”

I’ve been told to study stories for my novel writing, so I watch films when I can. Human dramas are my thing—people say my taste is old-man-ish, probably Nii-san’s influence. Favorites like The Shawshank Redemption and 3 Idiots aren’t exactly high-schooler fare, but I love them.

“Great. There’s a revival screening of classic films at the station’s theater. It’s a movie from before I was born, and I’ve always wanted to see it on the big screen. Is that okay?”

Her choice catches me off guard. A classic film? Could Ichijou-san be a movie buff? The thought delights me.

“Wow, that’s refined. What’s the movie?”

“This one!” She holds up her phone, the screen displaying the title of a renowned American human drama classic.

Her un-high-schooler-like pick makes me laugh—it’s right up my alley, and I’m thrilled. “That’s perfect. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Oh, you too, Senpai? That’s awesome.”

We dive into an excited chatter about movies, our shared passion bridging the moment.

※

At Kitchen Aono, we settle in for dinner. Minami-san, having finished his talk with Mom, is already enjoying an early meal—a nikomi hamburger set, a staple since the diner’s founding. The patty, simmered in rich demi-glace sauce and topped with a soft-boiled egg, brings a childlike glee to his face.

“I ate this the first time I came here. It’s still so good. You’ve kept the taste from back then…” he says, nostalgia lacing his voice.

Nii-san listens with quiet joy, soaking in Minami-san’s stories. Mom brings over the kaki fry set, the diner still quiet before the evening rush. “Here you go.”

Ichijou-san’s eyes widen. “Wow, it looks delicious. It even comes with ebi fry. Is that okay?”

“Of course! It’s on the house, so eat up!” Mom beams, her affection for Ichijou-san clear. The tartar sauce portion is noticeably generous, and the extra ebi fry screams VIP treatment.

Mom and Minami-san act as if everything’s normal, a deliberate effort to keep my worries at bay. Their care fills me with gratitude. Watching the school’s idol savor kaki fry from the best seat in the house, I feel truly blessed by the people around me.

──Kitchen Aono Break Room, Mother’s Perspective──

After dinner, I borrow a moment of Ai-chan’s time, leading her to the break room. There’s something I need to say.

“Thank you, Ai-chan.”

She shakes her head with a smile. “No, thank you for the delicious meal. The kaki fry was amazing.”

She’s such a good girl—almost too good for Eiji. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Normally, I’d brew tea and chat about lighthearted things, but that can wait until this storm passes. “Ichijou Ai-san,” I say, using her full name deliberately.

She looks surprised but quickly recovers, her usual smile returning. She seems to sense what’s coming.

“Thank you so much for believing in my son, for supporting Eiji. As a parent, I can’t thank you enough. I’m so glad you were on his side.” I bow deeply, my voice steady despite the weight of my words. From what the teachers shared, the bullying began the first day of the second term, with rumors brewing even earlier. Ai-chan was one of the few who stood by Eiji when the world turned against him, risking herself to help. She and Imai-kun have my eternal gratitude, a debt I can scarcely repay.

I needed to thank her properly, to acknowledge how much her presence saved Eiji.

“Mom, please raise your head. I didn’t do anything grand. If anything, I was the one helped. I’m with Eiji-senpai because I want to be.”

Her kindness overwhelms me, and I can’t help but pull her into a hug. She leans into it warmly, her sincerity palpable.

“If anything happens, I’ll absolutely help you. You’re not alone anymore.”

“Yes,” she replies cheerfully, her voice a quiet promise.