Sometimes, I find myself lost in thought.
What kind of person would I have become if I’d been born into a different family, raised in a different environment?
Growing up, I think I was raised a bit more strictly than most other households.
To be precise, though, it wasn’t my parents who were especially strict—it was more my maternal grandparents and my uncle.
My parents were probably about as strict as your average parents, I’d say. These days, I hardly even see them.
Due to the influence of my mother’s family, who have served as priests at the local shrine for generations, I was taught kagura dance by my grandfather and uncle from a very young age.
The year I started elementary school, my uncle passed away from illness, and because of the outdated tradition of passing it down to a single heir, I had to take up the role at just six years old, when it was supposed to be inherited at fifteen.
That year’s festival ended in great success, but I remember throwing up my lunch backstage after the performance.
And just like that, it was decided that I’d continue performing the kagura dance for decades to come, with the dancers being young children.
The neighborhood association went to great lengths to control information, reforming the system to prevent any personal details about the kagura dancers from leaking, and for some reason, I was forced to learn various self-defense techniques.
On top of having to memorize a ton for the different performances in summer and at year-end, I ended up having to learn martial arts on the side.
To make matters worse, I was bullied at school during elementary, so I was mentally and physically exhausted, and pretty darn resentful.
If someone said I’m still like that now, I’d have a hard time denying it.
Unfortunately—or maybe not—I never had the chance to use the self-defense skills I was taught. Not even when I was being bullied.
That’s because the technique I studied the longest was the Self-Defense Force’s combat style, designed for a small child to handle an adult attacker.
It was meant for subduing or, in some cases, killing an opponent—definitely not something to be used in a childish scuffle.
…Or so I was told, over and over, until my ears could’ve grown calluses, by the person who taught me those techniques.
On top of that, I was constantly told, “The reason you’re being bullied is because of you.”
For the record, I still absolutely despise my uncle and grandparents who taught me kagura, even though they’re gone now, and as for the guy who taught me martial arts, I made sure he’d never walk without a cane again when I was in middle school.
It’s true I was bullied, but in the end, I didn’t fight back. Even though I had the power to, I chose not to—it was my decision, me alone.
And I didn’t try talking it out either. I refused to acknowledge that I might’ve been the cause.
Deep down, I knew Kaori wasn’t to blame either.
But once you think, If only that person wasn’t around, it’s hard to shake that feeling.
Even now, long after the bullying stopped, I still feel that way sometimes.
When I started studying for entrance exams, got into high school, and felt a bit out of shape during the summer kagura rehearsals, I experienced a strange sense of peace, like I’d discovered tranquility for the first time.
I have to keep up with kagura practice so I don’t forget the routines, but I haven’t trained in martial arts for about two years since then.
I wish those peaceful days from last year, when I was free from bullying and Kaori, would come back.
—Those were the thoughts swirling in my head as I pinned down a middle-aged man.
“Whoa… Himura-kun, you can do stuff like this?”
Now’s not really the time to be saying that, though.
It happened at the train station closest to our high school, right inside the station.
Just as I was about to board the train, a skinny middle-aged man with a knife smashed the train’s window and started going wild.
The people closest to him were me, Kiritsuki, and Miyajima Alexandra Tomo, who I assume was heading home from school.
At first, I tried to follow the security guard’s instructions and evacuate like normal, but when I saw Miyajima about to get slashed, I instinctively switched gears.
I know amateurs aren’t supposed to get involved in stuff like this, but watching a classmate get hurt when I was fully capable of doing something would’ve been bad for my mental health.
Still, I was surprised at how well I could move.
In gym class, I lose all energy and motivation just from a bit of exercise.
Honestly, I’d rather have been fast enough to join the track team and get cheered on by girls than be able to do stuff like this.
Well, even if I were fast, I probably wouldn’t get any cheers unless my face was better-looking.
After handing the knife-wielding lunatic over to the security guards, I was questioned by the police.
By the time everything was sorted out, it was evening.
Whether it was a good or bad thing that my after-school date with Kiritsuki got canceled, I couldn’t quite tell.
I glanced at the mont blanc placed in front of me and gave a small nod to the waiter.
Just as I picked up my fork to dig in, the blonde beauty sitting by the window across from me turned her gaze from outside and murmured.
“Um… I’m sorry, it’s because of me that you’re stuck here so late…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. Besides, it’s not Sandra’s fault at all, okay?”
My gaze, which had been fixed on the mont blanc, was suddenly drawn to something beyond it.
Past the parfait, to the large, ripe fruits adorning the blonde beauty.
If you piled those onto a parfait, they’d create a sweetness no dessert could ever match.
What even is a female-body-parfait-pile?
What am I thinking? Heatstroke, maybe?
It’s still barely April, a bit early for heatstroke season.
…Season’s the wrong word, huh.
“Himura-kun, where’ve you been staring at?”
Isn’t it obvious? Those magnificent breas—wait, hold on!
“Miyajima-san, when did you change your uniform?”
“Huh? Oh, um, it got delivered this morning.”
Oh, so that’s it. I hadn’t even noticed until now.
Hmm, a blonde beauty in a white blazer is pretty stylish, isn’t it?
Personally, I prefer skirts below the knee, but a slightly above-the-knee mini-skirt vibe isn’t bad either.
The white-based uniform paired with black tights creates a nice contrast, I think.
Saying that out loud would sound creepy, so I’ll just say one thing.
“I kinda liked that knit sweater, though.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to just say, ‘It looks good on you’?”
“Nah, I just thought the platinum blonde hair matched the cream-colored sweater.”
“I kinda get that, but a white uniform is actually pretty—”
“Um, excuse me…!”
Just as Kiritsuki and I were about to get carried away talking about clothes that suit blondes, Miyajima raised her voice slightly.
Kiritsuki, interrupted, shifted her gaze to her, and I followed suit.
“Are you two… dating?”
…Huh?
Miyajima, usually so calm, had slightly flushed cheeks as she asked.
“During lunch, you two are always chatting so happily, and even today, you came to the station together even though your routes home are different…”
Hold on a sec, Miyajima. Are you seriously saying that?
So that’s how it looks through your eyes?
“…Hey, isn’t this kinda working out perfectly?”
Kiritsuki suddenly whispered in my ear.
Are you for real?
Is this actually okay with you, Kiritsuki?
You’re just cool with people thinking we’re a couple, like I’m on your level?
It’s not like I mind people thinking that.
No, wait, maybe I do mind a little right now.
“It’s not about the plan. If she’s thinking that, it means people have thought this for a while.”
Lowering my tone to match Kiritsuki’s, I noticed Miyajima tilting her head slightly from across the table.
“And that’s fine, isn’t it?”
If someone as skeptical as Miyajima-san thinks Kiritsuki and I might be dating, there’s probably a bunch of others who think the same.
“It’s not fine. If people think you’re dating me, that rumor you’re worried about might not even be doing anything.”
“Oh… so the fake-boyfriend strategy might not even be working?”
Exactly.
In that case, the rumor just stays a rumor, and suspicions turn into certainties.
Then there was no point in starting the rumor in the first place.
I thought someone was trying to tarnish Kiritsuki’s reputation by linking her with Kuchiki, who’s got a bad rep…
But if I’m the one in the rumor, it doesn’t mean anything at all.
Hm…?
Wait, could it be the opposite?
Maybe the person who started the rumor also suspected Kiritsuki and I were a thing, and they’re trying to make it seem like she’s cheating with Kuchiki, who’s got a bad rep.
“Um… was I wrong?”
Might as well check.
“No, it’s not that. If you already figured that much out, I don’t think you needed to ask… so why’d you bother?”
“Huh? Oh, well, um…”
Miyajima faltered, her emerald-green eyes darting toward Kiritsuki.
“??”
Feeling the gaze, Kiritsuki’s face practically sprouted a question mark.
She probably found my phrasing odd too.
But, well… I think I hit the mark.
Let’s push a bit further.
“Miyajima-san, something up?”
“N-no, it’s nothing…”
Her eyes were obviously darting around.
This girl’s so cute, wearing every emotion on her face.
She’s probably debating whether to tell me about the rumor.
Also, is she… a little scared of me?
That’s not just my imagination, right?
While I was reeling from the slight shock, Kiritsuki leaned in again.
“What’s this about?”
“Hey, Kiritsuki, how many classmates did you talk to today?”
When I suddenly asked, Kiritsuki looked puzzled but started counting on her fingers.
“Huh? Um… four?”
So that’d be me, Tomiya, Kaori… and including Miyajima-san, that makes four.
“Normally, you’d talk to way more people, right?”
“Huh? Well, some days are like that, aren’t they?”
“Didn’t you feel like people were avoiding you a bit today?”
“I’m not that self-conscious. Lately, I’ve mostly just been talking to you, Himura-kun, or the usual crew.”
So the rumor’s been around for a while, huh?
“…Listen closely, Kiritsuki.”
“Huh? Okay…”
“Right now, Miyajima-san thinks you’re a pretty awful person who got bored of a plain classmate like me and is cheating with a good-looking, womanizing guy from another class with a bad rep.”
“What… No way!!?”
Kiritsuki’s shout echoed loudly through the empty café.
☆Afterword──────────────────
Finally… or rather, casually hitting ☆1000, taking 1st in the daily rom-com rankings, 10th in the monthly rankings, and breaking into the single digits in the overall daily rankings.
Nothing but gratitude.
All thanks to you, the readers.
And somehow, it feels like the story’s starting to move in a bigger way, doesn’t it?
