The morning breeze brushed gently against his cheeks, while the warm sunlight poured across his shoulders.
Spring, the season of beginnings, the season of life stirring, and everything competing to bloom.
Under the clear blue sky, dark-blue skirts of high school uniforms swayed with the steps of girls, paired with socks in indigo shades, long and short. A youthful fragrance escaped into the air—
Wait. Why was all his attention focused on their legs?
Harutaki tilted his head at that strange thought. His steps into the school gates were light and cheerful, like a weary office worker heading to the izakaya after work—heart full of anticipation.
[Shocking! I actually saw her on the way home from school!]
He had already uploaded the post under that title to the school’s anonymous forum. All that was left was to guide things a little and then sit back to watch the storm unfold.
As they used to say on old 2ch—and now 5ch—
"The quality of a hot thread depends entirely on the second comment."
Trying to force an opinion down people’s throats—whether firm denial or absolute affirmation—never worked.
The trick to steering public opinion lay in presenting both sides “as objectively as possible,” then nudging slightly toward one. Or, by posing as a supporter of one side and posting deliberately disgusting takes, you could push the average reader to side against them.
Accounts used for this were commonly known as “online trolls” or “paid posters.”
[Shocking! I actually saw her on the way home from school!]
Harutaki’s post contained three parts:
The story – From the perspective of an “ordinary student,” recounting how they’d spotted a well-known classmate outside a love hotel. The wording was loaded with shock and disbelief: “impossible,” “maybe,” “could it be.” But the overall impression screamed: It was her.
The photo evidence – Secret shots, heavily pixelated and filtered, yet still recognizable.
-A greasy, middle-aged man with messy hair, gut spilling over his belt.
-A short-haired high school girl with blazing red hair tied in a side ponytail.
-Their uniforms? Clearly from Nichiya High.
-Arm in arm, heading into the hotel.
(For the record, these were “edited” versions—Harutaki had painstakingly cropped out Sae, leaving only Nogami’s outline intact.)The chat log – Supposed LINE messages from the middle-aged man’s perspective.
[Nogami-san, is 50,000 yen okay for one time?][You must use protection. No kissing, no groping.]
[70,000, please, this is all the savings I’ve got…]
[Know your place, you pig! If I weren’t short on cash lately, I’d never waste time with a disgusting middle-aged wage-slave like you!]
The kicker, of course, was that fatal salutation at the start—“Nogami-san.”
The surname Nogami was unique in their school. Combined with the photo of a red-haired student, the evidence “just happened” to line up perfectly with Nogami Izumi.
The post never explicitly said her name. Yet all the dots connected themselves. A “neutral” exposé like this would inevitably attract belief—and attention.
And then came the comments. Posts #2, #3, and #4 were, naturally, all Harutaki’s sockpuppets.
#2
No way, right? I went to middle school with her. She’s rich… I did hear she hooked others up with compensated dating, but not that she did it herself.
#3
Shut your filthy mouth! You dare slander Nogami-san?! I’ve seen her blow through 200,000–300,000 yen a month! Peasants like you can’t comprehend. She’d never stoop to something like that!
#4
Random passerby here. Let’s analyze… If what #3 says is true, then yeah, she’s rich. But most of us only get, what, 30,000–60,000 yen allowance a month? So… logically, I think…
“Man, having nothing to worry about feels great~”
Slumped over his desk, Harutaki muttered dreamily, gaze drifting to Chouko chatting with her friends. Her beautiful face, her figure—just watching was pure joy.
Even Akihisa in the next seat looked easier on the eyes now. From wild boar to cute pet piglet—that much of an improvement.
For the first time since Nogami had set her sights on him over a week ago, Harutaki felt truly at ease. No need to guard against traps, no fear of slipping up. Just a normal high school boy, enjoying youth.
…
Meanwhile, at that same moment, Nogami’s school life was beginning to stir with unease.
Did I wear my hairband wrong today?
Walking through the Nichiya High, she noticed faint, lingering stares from every direction. Sensitive as ever, she frowned.
Her hand reached up to her beloved pink hairband. Nothing out of place. That only deepened her doubts.
“What’s wrong, Izumi?”
Sae tilted her head at her friend’s strange behavior.
“…Nothing.”
Nogami brushed her off, eyes narrowing as she swept her gaze across the passing students.
Nothing. Just strangers from various grades.
But by the time they crossed the courtyard and stepped into the hallways, the odd, prickling sensation had grown worse. Finally, Nogami halted and asked Minako quietly:
“Minako. Do you… feel like something’s off today?”
“Off?”
Minako glanced around. Apart from the extra stares, everything looked the same as usual.
“People look at us in the halls all the time, don’t they? Izumi, are you… on your period or something?”
“Tch. I know that already. I mean…”
Nogami suddenly shot a sharp glare toward a second-year lurking in the corner. The boy flinched but instead of backing down, he smirked. Mockingly.
“…It’s like—normally, mice see a cat and scatter. But today it’s like… an orange mouse teasing a dumb blue cat.”
“Ohh! You mean Jerry and Tom!” chirped Sae, before Minako promptly pushed her head down.
“…That’s actually an interesting way to put it.”
Now serious, Minako reflected on their walk over. Cats and mice, huh… The charm of Tom and Jerry was that the mouse wasn’t afraid, and the cat was the one getting played.
And indeed, once she focused, she felt it too. Those stares—no longer full of dread, but laced with something else. Amusement.
The fear was fading.
How could this be…?
“…We should head back to class first. Then, at recess, we’ll quietly ask around.”
Biting her lip, Minako followed her own advice. Calm as she usually was, there was unease in her eyes.
If Izumi’s aura of intimidation was truly cracking, then Minako would need to secure a new protector soon. Otherwise—