The way Harutaki walked home was the exact same route he had taken that morning to school. It was a bit longer than the shortcut, but the path that ran alongside the stream and rows of cherry trees was incomparable.
It was a narrow road, barely wide enough for a car. The stream that flowed here eventually joined the sea, shallow enough that it probably wouldn’t even reach one’s ankles. Clear water trickled along beside the road, carrying with it the occasional petal drifting down from the cherry blossom trees. Bathed in the evening sun, it was a scene like something out of a painting—
And in the middle of that masterpiece, there was the silhouette of a girl, standing with the spring breeze.
A dark choker accentuated the swanlike whiteness of her long, slender neck. The twilight light gilded her black bob cut with a faint golden sheen. It was the same type of asymmetrical style Chouko wore—longer in the front, shorter in the back—but tidier, more refined.
From the uniform, she was clearly also a student of Nichiya High.
…Strange. Had he started preferring short-haired girls now?
Feeling his heartbeat quicken, Harutaki thought for a moment before reaching a conclusion:
It wasn’t about long hair or short hair. He just liked pretty, elegant girls; that was all.
“Take this, villain! In the name of Magical Girl Skydome Fania, I’ll defeat you!”
Just as he was admiring the painting titled A Beautiful Girl by the Falling-Cherry Stream, a shrill, out-of-place voice interrupted.
…Another kid playing out their favorite anime?
Not that he had much room to laugh, given his own Ultraman-inspired “save the Earth” days back then.
Still, his moment of healing serenity was ruined. Frowning, he looked toward the noise and saw something even worse.
“Begone, monster, from our city!”
A stick slapped her exposed white blouse at the waist.
“For justice and peace, we’ll destroy you!”
Another left a red welt on the back of her hand.
Watching, Harutaki felt both anger and the urge to laugh.
Even grade-schoolers now waved the banner of justice to hurt others.
…Should be enough.
Once the five of them tired out and paused, he decided it was time. From the greenery, he grabbed a branch, stripped off the twigs, and marched over, face stern.
“Hey, you four! Ganging up on one of our officers, are you?!”
His voice froze the children. They turned, trembling, to the tall, broad-shouldered newcomer. Compared to the earlier “monster onee-san,” this one was terrifying—towering over her, arms thick as their legs.
“R-retreat! Retreat now!”
Dropping their weapons, they grabbed hands and fled, the three girls even helping carry the boy who couldn’t keep up.
“You think you can escape after attacking one of our officers?”
At 185 cm, Harutaki easily caught up and swatted each of their backsides in turn.
“Ugh!”
“Yah!”
“Eek!”
“Ow!”
Even the boy wasn’t spared.
Damn enviable brat—already having a harem of three cute girls, even if only in elementary school. Deserved it.
Still, the boy had sense. He looked back and shouted, “Thank you, onee-chan!”
Once the brats were gone, Harutaki tossed aside his branch and turned back to the disheveled high schooler.
Her neat black hair was now tousled, strands sticking to her flushed face with sweat.
“You okay… um…”
His eyes flicked briefly to her chest—
Not out of lust, but to check the badge there: Nichiya High.
Silver for first-years, representing dawn. Red for second-years, representing the midday sun. And hers—gold, for third-years. The dusk before graduation, carrying a blessing for the sunrise of the life beyond.
“…Senpai?”
He pulled some wet wipes from his bag and offered them. She took them without hesitation, murmuring thanks, and dabbed at her damp cheeks and the dirt on her uniform.
“I can’t reach my back. Can you?”
The way she said it, like asking a classmate, not a stranger, momentarily stunned him. Only when her violet eyes glanced back did he come to and pull out another wipe.
“Pardon me.”
A faint scent, like body soap, rose with the warmth radiating off her. From shoulder blades to spine, from bra clasp to skirt waistband, every touch pressed her softness through two thin layers of fabric, lodging itself vividly in his mind.
And yet… strangely, his body, usually full of restless hunger, felt no desire.
Was it because she wasn’t his type?
Because they were complete strangers?
He couldn’t tell. He just carefully wiped away the grime.
“I got the worst of it. The rest, you’ll need a dry cleaner.”
“Mm. Thanks…”
She nodded. Even then, her face, like an ice sculpture carved by a master, remained unchanged. Even her amethyst eyes, when they briefly met his, showed not a flicker of emotion.
The senpai seemed to notice what he was thinking. Gathering her skirt, she sat back down on the roadside and explained,
“Please don’t take it the wrong way. I’m just… not very good at showing my emotions.”
“I can understand that. After all, someone who went out of their way to do what you just did couldn’t possibly be a cold, heartless person.”
He agreed lightly, but after a moment’s hesitation, couldn’t help blurting out,
“Why didn’t you just stop those girls directly? Wouldn’t it have been better to drive them off—”
“That’s what you were about to do, wasn’t it?”
“People passing by, the residents here, they all saw. Some of them might have looked at you with contempt, thinking things like ‘So that’s the kind of student Nichiya High produces,’ or ‘How shameful.’ Would you really not mind being seen that way?”
Her voice was like the stream flowing past them—calm, unruffled, and cold as she laid out her thoughts:
“When you stepped in to help that boy, who exactly were you trying to show it to? If not for someone else’s gaze, then why worry so much about what they think?”
Her delicate right hand, pale as bamboo shoots in spring, pressed lightly against her chest. She spoke slowly, without hurry.
“As long as I feel happy for having done the right thing, that’s enough.”
“But, Senpai… there isn’t even a trace of happiness on your face.”
Senpai gave him a sidelong glance. Her expression didn’t shift in the slightest, yet for some reason, Harutaki could clearly feel her displeasure, like she was scolding him for making such a poor joke at the wrong time.
“They’re just children. A child’s world is divided into black and white, right and wrong, without understanding why. They don’t know about empathy or compassion. I’m not their parent or teacher. I don’t have the right, nor the ability, to teach them those things. And besides—”
She paused, then continued.
“Running away together leaves fewer scars than being scolded apart and going home in silence, burdened with resentment.”
“…Well, yeah. That brat got to run off surrounded by cute girls. Even I’m jealous of his little harem.”
Harutaki grumbled jokingly under his breath.
“Even though he was the one getting bullied…”
He thought of having Sae on his left arm, Minako on his right, and Nogami sitting on his lap—yes, perfect. Tonight’s dream would be glorious.
Still, he had to admit Senpai’s way was far more thoughtful than his own. He had only thought about stopping what was in front of him, never about what would happen afterward to that boy.
Would the bullying just get worse?
Would the boy be isolated or rejected even more?
Either way, it wasn’t his problem… was it?
For a moment, Harutaki wasn’t sure if he wanted to act out of kindness and morality, or if it was just his pent-up anger from dealing with Nogami.
“Mind if I sit?”
With Senpai’s quiet nod of approval, he lowered himself to the roadside beside her and sighed, half in self-mockery.
“…I thought I was special. Mature, even.”
Then, with a trace of hesitation, he asked, “Couldn’t you have done to those girls exactly what they were doing to him? If you turned it back on them, even little kids would understand what it feels like to be bullied.”
“Mm… I don’t know if you’re mature or not. But you are special, in the sense of being that famous scumbag junior who doesn’t hesitate to smack little girls on the butt.”
Harutaki: “?!”
Wait, his reputation at school had already spread that far?!
Seeing his awkward attempt to defend himself, Senpai pressed on, her voice still as emotionless as ever.
“Really, that’s what you wanted to do to Nogami, wasn’t it?”
“Different positions, different consequences. If I, as the stronger party, resorted to violence, those four would only learn to admire that kind of domination. That’s nature, yes, but we’re human, not beasts. We have morals and order.
“From your perspective, though, against Nogami? Retaliation in kind is exactly what you should do.”
“…Tch. What a mess. All I wanted was to stop Nogami’s bullying, and now I’ve gotten myself dragged into this whole storm.”
Despite her cool, aloof aura, Harutaki couldn’t shake the strange feeling that Senpai was easy to talk to, like the moon in the night sky: cold and distant, yet impossible not to be drawn toward.
“Looking at it now, you’re really not very mature.”
Senpai rested her elbow on her knee, her cheek propped in her palm, tilting her face just slightly toward him. Her violet eyes narrowed faintly as she spoke softly,
“Even an immature kid wouldn’t pull something like that; otherwise, there’s no way they’d have ‘survived’ peacefully up to their second year of high school. Of course, there are two exceptions—”
“First—you’re not actually from Japan.”
“Ahaha… there’s no way that could ever happen, right?”
Hearing that, Harutaki couldn’t help but swallow hard.
“…Right. I don’t think so either.” She nodded.
“So that leaves the second option—you’re simply an idiot who doesn’t think about the consequences before acting.”
“Being told I’m an idiot by a gorgeous senpai isn’t exactly the reality check I wanted…”
“But look at it another way. Aren’t heroes usually like that? Helping first without asking questions, then dealing with the aftermath later?”
With that, Senpai extended her left hand. While Harutaki watched blankly, she lightly patted his head, brushing away a few stray cherry blossoms caught in his hair.
“These days, most stories end with the dragon-slaying hero turning into the new dragon. I support your resolve to fight back, but remember your original goal was to stop bullying.”
“…If I fail, can I come to Senpai for comfort?”
“You can.”
Trying to spot even the tiniest crack in that utterly tranquil, bottomless-lake expression, Harutaki stubbornly pressed on:
“Then… what about the legendary lap pillow that’s said to restore your spirit a full hundred percent?”
“If you really need it.”
Was he too fickle? Just a little while ago, he’d been daydreaming about life with Chouko. Now he couldn’t stop wanting to date this senpai.
Damn it… even though his cute little sisters at home were wonderful, the older-sister type had its own irreplaceable allure.
With that thought, he stood up, dusted off his pants, and grabbed his bag.
The sunset had already faded, leaving only a trace of red-orange, announcing that it was almost time for the moon and stars to take the stage.
A pity. No matter how many questions or feelings lingered, their first meeting could only end here.
“Senpai, can I ask one last question?”
“…Alright.”
“What’s your name?”
“Shirasagi. Shirasagi Miyabi.”
The name suited her perfectly—elegant and beautiful like a white heron (Shirasagi).
“Then, Shirasagi-senpai, would you go out with me?”
Of course, he knew she wouldn’t answer. Still, as the moment of parting approached, Harutaki couldn’t resist wanting more time with her.
“You already used up your last question.”
Shirasagi-senpai stood, brushing the dust from her skirt. Without looking back, she asked,
“You’re not really some serial flirt, are you?”
“It’s your fault, Senpai. What am I supposed to do when you make me fall for you?”
“Then look forward to our next meeting.”
Saying so, she turned her back to him, rummaging through her bag. Her bob cut framed her slender neck so gracefully that Harutaki couldn’t help admiring her impeccable choice of hairstyle.
“I’m Hoshikawa Harutaki, Class 2-3. I’ll be in your care from now on, Shirasagi-senpai.”
Saying that, he strode off toward home, deliberately leaving behind what he thought was a cool, dashing silhouette, walking so quickly it seemed he felt no regret.
But a moment later, when Miyabi paused with her phone in hand, ready to say something, she realized that handsome junior had already vanished. With a small frown, she twisted a lock of her hair between her fingers.
She was used to people stopping her to exchange Line IDs—so much so that only now, after he’d left, did she realize Harutaki hadn’t asked once. She’d even pulled out her phone to offer, but he was gone.
“…Honestly.”
Still, since they went to the same school, and since he was “famous” throughout campus, finding him later wouldn’t be hard. She set her worries aside and checked her schedule.
As a third-year staring down exams, an idle evening stroll under the cherry blossoms was already a rare luxury. Starting tomorrow, she’d be back to two solid weeks of cram school, all in preparation for her first nationwide mock exams.