Twenty

Day after day, my brain feels like it's on a permanent loop about senpai. It's borderline creepy—like I can't let a single thing about him slip past me. So yeah, even after school, I've ended up tailing him to his part-time job in Meguro City. Not that he's thrilled to see me there or anything. But lucky for me, I've got a solid excuse: Sakamoto works there too. Pure coincidence, obviously.

Watching senpai in action at work is like peeking behind the curtain. The way he treats me compared to everyone else—especially Sakamoto—is night and day. With me, it's all icy stares and biting comments, but with Sakamoto? Sure, he yells when Sakamoto screws up, but there's this weird undercurrent of comfort. Like he actually trusts the guy. A couple of times, I even caught senpai chuckling at something Sakamoto said while they were huddled behind the counter. And when some fussy customer decided to go off on Sakamoto, senpai was right there, shutting it down.

Am I jealous? Yeah, maybe a little. Well… Sakamoto's not tangled up with Maki, after all.

"Don't you think so?" Furuta's voice snaps me out of my thoughts, pulling me back to the café table. He's sitting across from me, sipping on a tall milk tea like a middle school girl trying to keep up with the latest boba trend.

But I couldn't care less about his tapioca pearls.

"Hm? Think what?" so I ask, trying to play it cool while sipping a latte I don't even like.

"Naoki-kun and Morikita-san. They seem close, don't they?" Furuta says, completely unfazed that I wasn't paying attention before. "I didn't know Morikita-san could smile like that. He's always so cold with everyone."

Oh, so he noticed that too. But nah, talking about senpai with Furuta isn't what I feel like doing right now. I shift the topic instead, because messing with Furuta's clueless head is way more entertaining. 

"Are you feeling threatened by him?" I ask, raising a brow and flashing a smug grin. Furuta's face scrunches up, all confused, like he's trying to process what I just said. Perfect. I lean back in my chair and add, "He could be your biggest rival, you know. And before you know it, poof—you've lost your beloved best friend."

"Eh?" His confusion levels up.

Man, this boy. His face is practically a blank slate with a big question mark slapped on it. Clearly, he doesn't catch the hint. But I don't bother explaining it to him—what's the fun in that? I just chuckle, take a sip of my latte, and let it hang in the air.

Still, the thought lingers in my head as I set the cup back down. What if Sakamoto finally grows a pair and confesses his feelings to Furuta? And what if—big if—Furuta shuts him down? Will they stay friends, or will it spiral into a mess? Something messy and irreversible… like what happened to Horie-san.

The idea sends a chill through me, but I keep my expression neutral, letting Furuta sit there, completely unaware of the chaos brewing in my head.

Cling—

The café door chime suddenly rings, and my focus shifts. A new customer walks in, greeted warmly by one of the staff. The tailored suit, the confident stride—this guy's not just anyone. And sure enough, it's someone I know all too well: Maki's stepdad… and senpai's father.

Miura-san.

He's been a regular fixture ever since I started haunting this place. Like clockwork, he heads straight to the counter, plants himself on a stool, and faces senpai. And as always, senpai's expression hardens the moment their eyes meet. That discomfort, that tension—it's thick enough to choke on.

I've eavesdropped on enough of their exchanges to piece together that their relationship is, let's just say, not great. Miura-san might try to act cordial, but senpai? He's got a wall up so high it's practically in orbit. I don't need a play-by-play to guess why.

Since senpai became my recent attention, I've spent more hours than I'd care to admit watching old interviews about Horie-san's death. Senpai, cornered by reporters, fleeing the scene like a caged animal. Akizuki-san, brushing off questions like they were specks of dust on her designer clothes, never once defending her son. And then there's Miura-san. Polished, composed, and somehow… wrong.

That media conference from three years ago still sticks in my head. His words were careful, calculated.

"We wouldn't deny their closeness, but there's no official report claiming that Morikita-kun is involved. Hence, for now, we cannot blame for what happened to Horie-san."

For now. The phrase felt like a knife disguised as a handshake.

I remember reading the comments on that video—people either accusing Miura-san of covering for his son or ripping him apart for being a garbage parent, just like Akizuki-san. No one seemed to nail the real answer, but I think I've got it: money and fame. That's what it always comes down to, doesn't it?