Surrounded on three sides by mountains, a rural city with a long history.
Near the foot of the mountain is the classroom of class 1-3, at the private Gorobogakuen.
From the classroom window, one can see sakura, or cherry trees in leaf, whose pale pink blossoms have given way to lush, fresh green foliage.
It was the beginning of May, and the students who were nervous at the start of the school year had now fully adapted to their new lives.
They had gotten to know their classmates' personalities, their relationships had become somewhat established, and various groups had formed within the class. Among them, one group in particular stood out.
"Wait, if you look closely, Nabacchi has a piercing!"
"Wow, just on one ear, it's subtle and so cute!"
"I love the idea of a piercing, but I'm a little hesitant when I think about making a hole in my ear."
"I know, right? Even though you think it's for fashion... Kotori-chan is so amazing!"
"It's nothing, really..."
At the center of the conversation was a girl with a cool expression, who spoke little and could even seem curt.
She had brightly dyed hair, full makeup, and wasn't shy about showing her thighs and chest. She always wore a somewhat languid expression.
This girl, with her slightly cold and aloof impression, was Nabata Kotori.
Kotori's friends were also flashy and cute, just like her.
It seemed they were getting excited about the piercing Kotori had worn.
Whispers about it were spreading throughout the classroom.
Drawing attention, they were the very top of the class caste, the "First Army Girls."
"............"
In contrast to the flashy girls, Hashio Takumi was propping his cheek up in a corner of the classroom, watching them with his naturally unfriendly gaze.
As Takumi watched Kotori with a look of distaste, someone from outside their circle suddenly spoke to her. It was a slightly flippant-looking boy with brown hair.
He gave a shallow, fawning smile and forcefully cut into their conversation, waving his hand.
"Oh, Nabata, that looks good on you. But wouldn't something a little flashier be better for you?"
"Is that so?"
"I think you, Nabata, wouldn't be overshadowed by something bigger and more showy. Hey, wanna go pick out a good one together sometime?"
"...Whatever."
The boy spoke with enthusiasm, but Kotori's response was completely cold.
At her obvious lack of interest, the girls around her snickered and chided him.
"Hey, hey, you're not wanted here."
"Besides, Kotori-chan isn't interested in boys."
"Haha, read the room, would ya?"
"Geez~"
Shrugging his shoulders ostentatiously, the boy left the spot.
When Kotori let out a large, bored sigh, small giggles trickled out from her friends.
Kotori's response was clearly cold and unfriendly, but it was also strangely well-practiced.
From various parts of the class, friendly comments could be heard, like "Nabata-san is as cool as ever!" "It's amazing how she can be so curt and still pull it off," "I kind of want her to give me the cold shoulder, too," and "Haha, I get that."
Hearing these whispers, Takumi frowned. He looked at Kotori, who was at the center of the attention with her aloof expression, and gave a bored snort. There was no one around him.
Both were unfriendly, but Kotori was surrounded by people, an unapproachable "flower on a high peak."
Meanwhile, Takumi was holding his breath and was isolated in a corner of the classroom.
They were two complete opposites.
A relationship that, like oil and water, should never have mixed.
Just then, Takumi's phone chimed with a message notification.
When he checked it, Kotori's name was on the screen. The message was a sticker of a cat stretching with its front paws thrown forward.
Kotori herself was still in her circle of friends, with her usual aloof demeanor.
Seeing the message, which indicated a certain request from Kotori, Takumi furrowed his brows.
---
That afternoon, after school.
In Kotori Nabata's room, which had an unusually well-stocked bookshelf, some merchandise of shonen manga characters, and cosmetics and fashion magazines scattered on the floor—as if to say she had recently discovered fashion—her pathetic words echoed.
"H-Help me, Takumi..."
Sitting across a low table, Takumi crossed his arms and sighed with a stern face.
Kotori sat on the floor, her legs tucked underneath her, with her shoulders trembling fearfully and her back hunched. She looked up at him timidly and begged for his help.
Seeing her completely different from how she was in the classroom, Takumi pressed his throbbing temple and questioned her.
"...What is it this time?"
"W-Well, actually, today after school, they wanted to go to Futaba..."
"Futaba? The coffee chain?"
"Yeah, that Futaba, at Kingyo Mall. A new drink... I think it was called the Strawberry Mix Milk Something... came out."
"Ah, that one. I think I saw promotions for it on social media. So why are you at home?"
"A-After I ran an errand, I was going to go. They're waiting for me, and, um..."
Kotori looked down, her words trailing off.
It was nothing complicated; her usual group of friends had simply invited her to go to Futaba after school.
By the way, Kingyo Mall was the largest commercial facility in the area, with over 200 specialty stores and a cinema complex. Takumi and Kotori had been using it frequently since they were children.
Takumi let out a big, dramatic sigh and said curtly, "Then just go."
At that, Kotori's eyes welled up with tears as she spoke quickly.
"N-N-No way. The First Army Girls are so loud and pushy, I-I'll get eaten alive...!"
"No, you won't. And besides, you're one of those First Army Girls now, aren't you?"
"Y-Yeah, but..."
Takumi glared at her with a look of exasperated disbelief.
The real Kotori was timid and had low self-esteem. Who could have imagined that her quiet behavior at school was just because she was bad at talking? If everyone found out that this girl—secretly admired by the boys as the "Ice Princess on a High Peak"—was like this, who knows what they would think.
Kotori continued to make excuses.
"F-Futaba is such a sparkly place, I've never been, and it's scary. ...And at Futaba, you have to say a kind of spell when you order, don't you? I'm still practicing, and I've only just memorized 'Short White Mocha Non-Fat Milk Decaf'..."
"Oh, you said that without stumbling. It really does sound like a spell, that's amazing."
"E-Ehehe. You think so...?"
When Takumi praised Kotori's "spell," her expression changed completely, and she scratched her cheek with an embarrassed smile.
Seeing her so easily pleased, Takumi gave a wry smile and said, "Yeah, yeah. If you can say that so smoothly, you'll be fine. Go on with your head held high."
"B-But, but, today they want a new drink, so I can't use that spell..."
"If it's a new one, you could just try the basic flavor and not use a spell, couldn't you?"
"Ugh... But, um, it's my first time at Futaba, and I'm scared, and it's embarrassing... So, um, c-could you help with the usual...?"
Saying this, Kotori's face turned even redder. She fidgeted and looked up at him timidly, asking in a hesitant voice.
To an outsider, it would have seemed like a cute request. And Takumi knew exactly what she was asking for.
"Help with the routine...?"
"Y-Yeah."
In this case, the "routine" was a mental control method used in sports and business, where a person repeats certain gestures or actions to relieve tension and anxiety and achieve mental stability.
The naturally timid Kotori had a routine that she always did when she needed to face something nerve-wracking or scary, like hanging out with the First Army Girls.
Takumi was her partner in this. It wasn't the first time.
And yet, Takumi made a sour face, but he swallowed and confirmed.
"Are you sure?"
"Y-Yes, I am!"
"..."
"..."
For a while, their intense gazes intertwined uncomfortably.
Their cheeks grew hotter and hotter.
The temperature in the room seemed to rise abruptly, as if anticipating early summer.
Takumi suddenly looked away and said gruffly, "Alright."
"Mm."
Kotori nodded and looked down, then tightly gripped the hem of her skirt before moving to the bed on her knees.
After a moment of hesitation, Kotori moved her hands from the sides of her skirt up to her waist—and with a rustle, pulled her underwear down to her knees. She whispered in a voice so faint it was barely there:
"P-Please..."
"...Got it."
Post a Comment