CHAPTER XXXV
-Curtain Call-
Ayaka’s voice sang out, “Reina-san~,” as she tiptoed into the classroom toward Reina, who was circled by a cluster of eager fan girls. The group was buzzing over the latest Swiss recipe Reina’s mom had apparently mastered, but the energy shifted the moment Ayaka called out. The chatter died off, and every head—Reina’s included—swiveled to watch Ayaka’s approach. Reina stood awkwardly, mouth half-open, eyes flickering from her followers to Ayaka’s advancing figure.
“Ayaka-san?” Reina asked, clearly thrown off by the interruption.
“Tada!” Ayaka beamed, brandishing her left wrist. “You’ve seen a bracelet like this on Yuzuki’s hand, haven’t you?”
Reina paused, gaze dropping to the bracelet and recognizing the uncanny resemblance.
“You see~” Ayaka sang, grin widening, “Yuzuki and I are now BFFs!”
“WHAT?” Reina blurted, incredulous. Her own fan girls exchanged whispers, some breaking out in sly laughter, already speculating how Yuzuki and Reina had never really matched as friends.
“Yep~ That’s why she was all dull with you earlier this morning,” Ayaka teased, milking the moment.
“B-because of the Social class test! That’s why!” Reina protested, her voice hitching with uncertainty.
Ayaka leaned in, voice lowering playfully. “Aweee. Sure, Reina-san. But see? She isn’t comfortable with you these days. That’s why you didn’t get the real reason.”
“Wha—what?” Reina faltered, hurt and confusion creasing her face.
Ayaka only giggled, relentless. “Why do you think she didn’t want you to walk home with her yesterday? It’s because she wanted to go with meee!”
All eyes were on Reina—her usual composure shaken as Ayaka’s words lingered, the dynamics of friendship in the classroom subtly, publicly upended.
Yuzuki placed her stack of documents carefully on the teacher’s desk.
“Here, Sensei. The other half is being brought by my friend,” she said politely.
The teacher glanced up, smiling warmly. “Thank you so much, dear.”
“You’re most welcome, Sensei,” Yuzuki replied, bowing before she made her exit.
Returning to her classroom, Yuzuki was immediately greeted by a tense scene: Ayaka and Reina stood face to face, a semicircle of Reina’s fan girls hovering nearby, all snickering and whispering with barely-concealed glee. Reina’s posture was rigid, her lips pressed into a frustrated line.
“Yuzuki-chann!” Ayaka sang out as soon as she spotted Yuzuki, launching herself forward and wrapping Yuzuki in a sudden hug.
“Umhh… could you get off?” Yuzuki asked, a hint of exasperation in her voice.
“Nope!” Ayaka replied brightly, tightening her hold and refusing to let go.
Yuzuki let out a resigned sigh, glancing up—only to see Reina glaring at her, one hand pressed to her chest as if holding back words, mouth set and trembling, eyes narrowed in hurt and accusation. For a brief instant, Yuzuki recognized the sting of fractured friendship; before she could speak, Reina turned on her heel, her fan girls forming a protective swarm around her.
As they filed out, the girls nudged, pushed, and bumped past Yuzuki, tossing smirks and whispered taunts over their shoulders as they went. Yuzuki, off balance for a moment, could only watch them leave.
“What’s wrong with them?” she muttered, looking back, while Ayaka—still latched onto her arm—refused to be shaken off.
“Yuzuki-chan! Ignore them!” Ayaka chirped, still relentlessly cheerful. “You should eat your lunch. Break is almost over~”
“Right…” Yuzuki answered, voice trailing, still feeling the chill in the air and the weight of hostile stares even as she tried to settle back into her day.
With only three minutes left before the break ended, Ayaka perched in the chair in front of Yuzuki, the two sharing lunch at Yuzuki’s desk. The remaining time ticked down, and the classroom hummed with the end-of-break restlessness.
There are only three minutes left… where is Reina-san? Yuzuki wondered, eyes habitually drifting to the door, almost hoping she would appear—but there was no sign of her.
At that moment, the classroom door slid open and the male janitor walked in, following a boy towards a cluster of desks. The boy had flagged him over to wipe up a puddle where water was spilled. Without much fuss, the janitor crouched and began mopping.
A few desks away, a group of girls near Yuzuki suddenly let a can tumble to the floor—cold tea sloshed out, seeping across the tiles between Yuzuki’s and another seat. One of the girls called out, “Excuse me, can you please wipe here? My cold tea accidentally got spilled.” She pointed to the spreading stain.
The janitor nodded and strode over, mop in hand. Ayaka, as he passed, quickly slipped out from her seat and was called aside by a friend, leaving the group of girls to drift away and Yuzuki quietly alone with the janitor.
In a low, hushed tone meant only for her, he murmured, “You’re Rin’s tether, right?”
Yuzuki blinked, caught off guard. “Yes…?”
Just then, the shrill ring of the bell signaled break was over. Students began filtering back to their seats, but the janitor straightened, looking at her intently.
“If so, where is Rin?” he asked, voice low but urgent.
“I—I don’t know…” Yuzuki stammered, face dropping, her lips pressed and her voice almost a whisper.
He frowned, turning to face her squarely. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Where is Rin? I haven’t seen him today. Nor the Korobokkurus. Where are they?”
Her answer could only be honest and uncertain: “I—I don’t know…?” she said, eyes wide and earnest.
Without another word, he turned away—no reply, just the quiet squeak of the mop as he left her to the confusion and growing anxiety in her chest.
Knock Knock.
There was a firm rapping at the door.
“Imei~ doa o kakunin shite. Darekaga nokku shi teru,” called the old woman from the living room, her voice echoing to the kitchen where Kisaragi Mei was working. Mei, mid-sip of the simmering soup she’d just prepared, set down the ladle and hurried to the entryway.
(Translation: Mei~ Check on the door. Somebody’s knocking.)
She pulled the door open, only to find two towering men in crisp black suits, their build and presence reminiscent of bodyguards. One of them fixed her with a steely gaze and announced in a deep, formal voice, “Our boss would like to speak to the Head of Kisaragi family.”
“What?” Mei spat, fingers tightening on the doorknob. “Must be a joke. You’ve got the wrong house. Get lost.” She moved to shut the door, but the quieter of the two men caught it with one giant hand, not budging.
“Let go,” Mei demanded, anger rising in her tone.
The spokesman’s voice dropped lower, a warning edge to his words: “Madam, LET US IN.”
“NO!” Mei’s glare met their sunglasses without flinching.
The commotion brought the elderly matriarch from the living room, her cane tapping the floor as she approached. She observed the standoff, eyebrows raised.
“Hahaoya!” Mei exclaimed. “Chū ni haitte kudasai.”
(Translation: Mother! Please go inside.)
But the old woman ignored the request. She slammed her cane on the tiles, sizing up the two men.
“Oi! Omaera ōotoko futari wa dareda? Nani ga shitai nda? Hoka ni shigoto nai no ka? Omaera no kudaranai shigoto demo mitsukete koi. Dameda! Hayaku deteike!” she barked, not the least bit intimidated.
(Translation: EYY! Who’re you two big men? And what do you want? Do you have no other job? Go fetch your worthless selves some work. No go! Hurry away!)
Almost as if her words physically parted them, the two bodyguards stepped aside. And there—standing directly behind—was a woman whose presence seemed to chill the summer air. Her hair, white as moonlight, was styled immaculately in a bun; her clothing was all snowy, formal lines; her eyes, cold and unreadable, seemed carved from glass. In her hands, she clutched a slim white purse.
She moved forward, entering the entryway with the confidence of someone who belonged, bowing low with practiced grace. “Mikazuki Ayame,” she announced, rising smoothly. Her gaze never flickered from the matriarch. “Mata aete ureshī yo, o gibo-san.”
(Translation: Mikazuki Ayame. Good to see you again, Mother-in-law.)
The old woman drew back in disbelief, words trembling: “Mi… Mikazuki Ayame?”
“Ayame! WHY’RE YOU HERE?” Mei snapped, voice trembling with anger and old wounds. “Wasn’t it enough to insult our family? Now you show up again, just to—”
Ayame silenced her with a calm, raised hand, voice glacial but controlled.
“Mei. This is his family, not yours. Don’t break your back trying to belong to people who only let you in when you were at rock bottom. That’s not love—that’s leverage. Pity them. That pity will pay you back in ways their approval never could.”
Mei, left speechless, faltered; the old woman, meanwhile, shrank a little under Ayame’s gaze, the years of their history heavy in the silence.
Then, Ayame softened, tilting her head ever so slightly, a serene smile on her lips that was all moonlit composure:
“Dewa, okāsama, ocha o nominagara tanoshī kaiwa o shimasen ka?”
(Translation: Well, then. Dear Mother, shall we have a delightful conversation over a cup of tea?)
The old matriarch could only nod—her defiance evaporating into horror—as Ayame’s chill presence swept quietly, commandingly, into the heart of the home
Kaito stormed into the classroom, the energy unmistakable as his friends trailed behind him, a raucous crowd. He leaped onto the platform at the front, shouting over the general murmur, “EVERYONE! LINE UP! Class 3-L’s PE has been rescheduled due to assembly reasons and the NEW PE teacher requested our class come to the ground!”
For a microsecond, silence—and then chaos. The boys erupted in a wild chorus of cheers and whoops. They bumped fists and slapped each other’s backs, some jumping over desks, others playfully wrestling in the aisles. Desks screeched as boys hopped over them, nearly tripping on bags and tripping each other in the infectious excitement. The air was thick with celebration; a full-on carnival had broken out among the boys, their laughter and howling voices echoing down the corridor.
“WAHOOOOOO!” shouted one of the boys, pumping his fist into the air as two of his friends tackled him into a mock wrestling match near the door.
“YOO, LET’S GOOOOO!” someone yelled, sliding over a desk and high-fiving another as they nearly knocked over a chair in excitement.
Another boy, climbing onto a desk to get everyone’s attention, bellowed, “NO SOCIAL PERIOD! BEST DAY EVER!”
“Bro, I told you something good was gonna happen today!” a boy cackled, giving his friend a wild, two-handed shake.
“They said the new PE teacher’s like a model!” one girl gasped to her friends, eyes wide with thrill.
“Oh my god, seriously? I heard he played pro soccer!” her friend squealed, already snapping her lunchbox shut.
A group of girls clutched each other, jumping in place as one shrieked, “No test, no boring class—this is a MIRACLE!”
Even the soft-spoken students couldn’t hide their smiles, the buzz spreading as pencils hit the tablets and notebooks were slammed closed.
“Let’s go scope out the teacher before the boys get all sweaty!” one girl joked, earning a laugh from her circle.
The girls caught the wave too, disbelief cracking into giddy smiles. Excitement buzzed, fueled by twin rumors: the mysterious, “insanely handsome” new PE teacher—and, maybe even better, the chance to skip the dreaded Social Period and the test that came with it. Suddenly, lunchboxes were snapped shut and pencils dropped as chattering broke out in clusters.
Among the frenzy, Himari’s worried expression cut through. She hurried towards the center of the commotion where Kaito was being bear-hugged, headlocked, and jostled by his friends. The boys stilled at her approach, the attention in the room moving to the student prefect.
“Kaito-kun,” Himari said, tension pinching her brow, “We have a social test today. How did Amagi-sensei even agree to let us out?”
“EHHHHH~” groaned the pack of boys in dramatic unison.
“You wanna write it? Then you stay and do it yourself!” one jeered.
“Yeah, let her stay back and enjoy,” another boy called out.
“Pass me your notebook, I’ll write your name for you, just GO!” another teased, laughter swelling all around.
“Bro, you can’t be serious!” rang another voice among the general din.
Kaito just shrugged—unbothered and clearly loving the rare moment of chaos. “Eh, nah. Idk. And idc,” he announced, wriggling free from his friends and darting for the classroom door.
“EVERYONE! TWO LINES! NOW!” he shouted back, his voice ringing with authority, as students began streaming out to join the forming lines.
In the middle of the surge, Reina—looking distinctly cross, her lips pressed tight—dodged under Kaito’s arm and disappeared into the classroom, brushing right past. Yuzuki caught a glimpse, her curiosity piqued by Reina’s mood, but she didn’t get a second to dwell.
Sayaka grabbed her hand with infectious energy. “LET’S GOOOOO!” she squealed, pulling Yuzuki into the river of students pooling into chaotic lines, leaving the classroom echoing with noise and rapid, happy footsteps.
The seconds that followed were a blur of rushing feet, excited shouts, and everyone—no matter their mood—caught up in the sudden freedom of a day gone unexpectedly sideways.
Beneath the bright autumn sun, Class 3-B hustled out of the dressing rooms, laughter spilling as they swapped their uniforms for PE kits and switched school shoes for outdoor shoes. Energy buzzed in the air—a blend of anticipation and thrill—while students gathered in the sprawling school ground, forming a loose circle at the teachers’ direction.
And then he arrived.
The new PE teacher strode into view with enviable athletic grace: Nakamura Takeshi, tall, broad-shouldered, dashing enough to stop every conversation mid-sentence. His dark sports jacket was slung over his shoulder, cap tipped low, a crisp whistle and clipboard in hand. As he crossed to the center, murmurs swept through the crowd—most of the girls outright gawking, a few nearly clutching each other for support.
Nakamura paused, nudged his cap up with a thumb, and flashed a dazzling, confident grin.
“Alright—listen up, everyone! Name’s Nakamura Takeshi—just call me ‘Coach’ or, if you’re brave enough, ‘Captain Nakamura,’” he said, his voice charismatic. “I’m new to the school, fresh off a couple of years training at placements abroad and, yeah, I might’ve played a little pro soccer back in the day.”
To be Continued...
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