Chapter 2: Encounter

Fridays at Private Nanaho High School in Nanaho City buzz with a strange mix of excitement for the weekend and the lingering dread of it still being a weekday—a vibe that feels like anything could happen.

That said, it had nothing to do with me, Kuroki You. After all, I don’t have any friends. No special events were going to occur. It’s a reality I chose for myself, so it’s not sad, but it is a bit pathetic.

I’ve got a few online acquaintances, faceless as they are, and that’s enough. Being alone is relaxing, I’m not chasing interactions, and I’m fine just exchanging greetings with classmates. It’s my fault, really, for keeping to myself. Even now, after lunch, I’m holed up with earphones in, glued to a smartphone game.

My seat at the back by the window is prime real estate, except for one nagging issue.

The smartphone game, Air Pocket Walker.

You control a character dropped onto an isolated island, teaming up with two others to take down enemies. Its simplicity is addictive, and the rush of winning hooks you fast. Unlike other titles that scream “Beginners Not Welcome,” this one’s built for everyone—newbies, core gamers, streamers, even casual viewers turned players. The smartphone version tweaks the controls and strategy from the PC version, but it’s perfect for killing time during my solo lunch breaks.

“…Alright, this is looking good,” I muttered. My team’s still alive, supplies are solid, and we’ve secured the safe zone. One more win, and my rank in Air Pocket Walker’s smartphone version will hit “Ultimate,” —the highest rank— for the season. It’s not like ranking up changes much, but it feeds the tiny spark of pride I’ve got.

Just stay calm, and take out the enemies… My hands, a bit sweaty, tightened around the phone—and then it happened.

“Kyaa! Hey—”

“…!?”

A sharp jolt hit my back. Caught off guard, I braced both hands against the desk, barely keeping myself from face-planting. The chair and desk clattered, followed by the sound of something hitting the floor.

“—Ah, sorry!” A flustered voice came from right in front of me. A girl stood there, peering down as if checking on me.

I froze, breath caught in my throat. The high school girl before me could be pegged as a “gyaru JK” at a glance, but that label didn’t do her justice.

Toudou Mashiro. Her name alone carries weight—not just in our class or at school, but nationwide as a self-proclaimed “ordinary person.” A second-year, 17 as of May, standing over 160 cm with fair skin and slender limbs, her model-like nine-head proportions are striking. Her long, ashy blonde hair—unusual for a Japanese person—is, shockingly, her natural color.

Back in middle school, she won a nationwide beauty contest run by a major company. Her prize? A soft drink commercial and a terrestrial TV debut under the painfully cheesy tagline “Angel-Level Beauty Descends.” After that one ad and some media buzz, she hasn’t done much else in the spotlight. Yet, her SNS following sits at a cool 300,000—a number that laughs in the face of her “ordinary person” claim.

Now, why do I know so much about Toudou Mashiro? Simple: I looked her up. Even I get a little curious about having a celebrity in class. What started as casual research on my bed after a bath spiraled into a late-night deep dive. That’s the extent of my investment.

Toudou, with a cautious air, repeated her apology, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

“I’m really sorry…? I got a bit too much momentum…”

“Ah, yeah…” A beautiful girl’s face is like a weapon. Intimidated, I couldn’t muster a proper response.

It felt like an eternity, but only a few seconds had passed. I stayed frozen, while Toudou Mashiro—someone who shouldn’t be standing there like some real-life version of a screen idol—watched me with a troubled expression, waiting for a reply.

“Um, are you okay…? I’m really sorry,” she said.

“You don’t have to apologize so much. I’m fine, don’t worry.” I wasn’t fine, but I played it cool, keeping my tone steady.

My gaze flicked subtly behind Toudou. A cluster of girls stood by the lockers—a vibrant group of gyarus, each with their own distinct flair. As I mentioned, my seat at the back by the window is prime, but it comes with one drawback: this gyaru group, centered around Toudou Mashiro. Some are even from other classes.

They’re not your typical gyarus, though—no hint of vulgarity. They’re sharp, intellectual types, all solid students. A rare breed, you could say, an intellectual gyaru group. One of them had her hand outstretched, wearing an “oops” expression. They were probably messing around, and Toudou got shoved harder than intended, crashing into my spot.

Here’s the thing: I’ve got sharp, mean-looking eyes. When I’m locked into a game, my little sister teases that I look like I’d “punch and kill my opponents.” That’s probably why Toudou and her intellectual gyaru squad were eyeing me warily, like I was trouble. It’s unfair, honestly. I’m no tough guy—I’m a total coward.

Toudou pointed cautiously at the floor. “Ah, but… that…”

“Really, don’t worry about it,” I said, brushing it off. I’ve had these mean eyes since I was a baby—should I throw that in? No, that’d freeze the air, and my heart would ice over too. Still, Toudou’s concern was almost comical. She didn’t need to fret this much over a little bump.

But she kept gesturing, urging me to look where her finger pointed. “Hey, can you look down? That, probably…”

“Down…?”

What was she so fixated on? Then it hit me.

“Ah.”

My smartphone lay on the floor. If it was just that, fine. But the screen looked cracked, no matter how you sliced it. I must’ve dropped it when she bumped me.

I didn’t panic, though. “It’s probably just the protective film that’s cracked…” Yeah, just the glass film. If I checked calmly, it’d be fine.

I stood, bending down to grab the phone. “Sorry…! It really is cracked, right…!?” Toudou exclaimed, crouching at the same time to pick it up for me. Our movements synced, and suddenly, my view was flooded with her presence—sparkling ashy blonde hair, big eyes, sharp features, pink lips, and her loose shirt dipping to reveal a glimpse of her chest.

Her skirt, dangerously short, hinted at something—wait, was that pink? No, I definitely saw something pink.

“Guh…”

A strange sound came from my throat, and at the same time, my posture as I reached for the smartphone completely collapsed. Trying to regain balance, I ended up slamming my knee into the floor. It didn’t hurt—but for some reason, there was a cracking sound.

“Ah, the screen…” Toudou murmured softly.

I cautiously lifted my knee. There it was—my smartphone, its screen a pitiful web of cracks. No way was this just the protective film. It was shattered beyond repair.

“Aah…”

Like cradling a fallen baby bird, I picked up my phone. The game was still running. Through the fractured screen, my character lay sprawled, defeated. Fourth place. I felt a pang of guilt for the random teammates I’d let down.

“It… got even more cracked. I’m really sorry…?” Toudou said, awkwardly covering her mouth with her hand.

What I wanted her to cover wasn’t her face but—never mind. I couldn’t say that, not even if my life depended on it.

“No, no matter how you look at it, this is my fault…” I muttered. Sure, Toudou’s bump started it, but this was self-inflicted damage.

Feeling the awkwardness settle in, I tried to look down, but that flash of pink caught my eye again. I snapped my gaze upward—straight into Toudou’s face, beautiful enough to stop my heart.

“Um, what should I say… really,”

“No, it’s fine already. It’s my fault.”

“But I bumped into you.”

“Don’t worry about it anymore.”

Toudou’s eyes drifted to the game screen. “But you ended up in ‘fourth place’…?”

“You’re talking about the ranking!?” Her comment jabbed at my gamer’s pride, and my voice came out sharper than intended. Between the shock of the broken phone and Toudou’s proximity, my nerves were a mess.

Behind her, the high-IQ gyarus muttered among themselves. “That surprised me,” one said. “Anyone would get mad at that,” another chimed in. “We should discuss this constructively,” added a third, or something like that.

It hit me—I was the center of attention. I just wanted to escape. You know those “lies that are okay to tell”? This was the moment for one.

“Um, Toudou-san? My eyes are bad, so I can’t help looking mean, but I’m not mad. Also, I was planning to change my phone model anyway. Today, I was going to do the model change.”

My voice was flat, robotic.

“Eh? Is that so…?” she replied, hesitant.

“Yeah, yeah…!”

Even my terrible acting seemed to nudge the situation forward.

“I see, you were planning to change models… Then, is the smartphone okay…?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine…”

This should wrap it up. Good. The phone was toast, but everything else would go back to normal. The surrounding students, including the gyarus, seemed to sense it too—the tension in the air was fading. I was grateful for my classmates’ tact.

But Toudou Mashiro’s focus was elsewhere. Even on the broken screen, the game’s results screen shifted automatically as time passed, moving to the rank points award without a tap.

“You’ve been promoted to the highest rank this season,” the screen announced.

In the classroom, Toudou was the only one still fixated on the cracked display. Her head tilted in confusion, like a scene straight out of a gravure shoot.

“You got promoted even though you were fourth…?” she said softly.

I matched her quiet tone without thinking. “Maybe because I defeated a lot of enemies…”

“Kuroki-kun, you’re good at games, huh.”

“Well, about average…”

This wasn’t the time for this conversation, but before I could steer it elsewhere, the chime signaling the end of lunch break rang out.