281 Nightfall

"What's wrong? If I remember correctly, your father is a politician too, right? You should be pretty familiar with this kind of move."

This had always puzzled Kyousuke.

According to the information Kisaki had given him, the Yukinoshita family was a classic Japanese household.

Not only running a construction company but also maintaining a strong political presence to ensure their influence.

Whether from a business or a political one, a girl like Yukinoshita Yukino shouldn't exist.

What he'd just done was simply leveraging his own influence to guide public opinion.

Such tactics were commonplace in society.

Small companies hire celebrities to promote products, large corporations pay economists to create false optimism for their stocks.

Politicians enlist sociologists or public figures to endorse their policies…

Someone from Yukino's background couldn't possibly be unaware of such tactics.

Even if her family deliberately sheltered her from society's darker side, with her intelligence, she couldn't possibly be some naïve, pampered princess.

Yet, after spending the whole day with her, she came off as a complete idealist.

Unlike Yukinoshita Haruno—that woman was the textbook daughter of a political family.

The dim orange sunlight filtered through the window, bathing everything in a golden glow.

The closer the sun drew to the horizon, the more blinding it became—almost harsher than midday.

Sakura's brown hair gleamed gold, and Yukino's jet-black hair took on a chestnut hue.

Faced with Kyousuke's question, Yukino pressed the power button on her phone, closed her eyes with some effort, and let out a long breath.

But just a moment later, she opened them again, gazing toward the radiant window.

Her pale blue eyes shimmered as if they too had caught the sunlight.

Under that gaze, Kyousuke suddenly felt a deep wave of guilt—like he'd become a parasite on society, some piece of scum left behind by the world.

Yeah, right.

Did she think just looking at him would stop him from scheming?

"Yes, this is the politicians' favorite trick—disguising their personal desires as proposals that seem beneficial to the people."

"Manipulating the ignorant through all sorts of means to fulfill their ambitions. It's all too common. But just because it's common, does that make it right?"

Her voice was calm again—cool, composed, and clear.

It was as if the lost, uncertain girl from moments ago had never existed.

"Well said, Yukino! Kyousuke, reflect on your actions! You're in high school—start acting like it!"

Yamauchi Sakura-sama, the self-proclaimed embodiment of justice, raised her imaginary gavel in judgment.

"Yes, yes. Now hurry up and help clean. People at home are going to start whining about being hungry soon." Kyousuke responded lazily.

In the rare moments he spent playing with Sakura and the neighborhood kids, he and Sakura had pulled off countless such role-plays—they were in perfect sync.

"Stupid chore boy, how dare you order me, the great captain!" Sakura grumbled as she stood up.

"Don't imitate Eriri. She's not some kind of contagious disease."

"What! Now the nickname 'chore boy' already belongs to someone else? Kyousuke, you're playing favorites!"

Muttering to herself, Sakura flung herself into Shouko's arms, starting a playful tantrum.

As Kyousuke lifted chairs onto the tables, his eyes drifted back to Yukinoshita Yukino.

As Sakura childhood friend, he could tell, what she'd said earlier wasn't directed at him.

The reason she often felt out of place among others… was her.

Forget a rom-com; she didn't even see herself as a high schooler.

Sure, saving the world might be every Japanese teen's fantasy, but until a truck hits them or they get summoned to another world.

No one actually spends every day preparing for it. The ones who do are survival freaks, not students.

But Yukino was different.

She didn't look down on others in that cringey, chuunibyou way.

No—she genuinely held herself to a higher standard, demanding things from herself far beyond what's expected of a teenager.

Listen to what she said: creating a fair and just society, extending a hand to the poor…

She wasn't fantasizing about saving the world; she genuinely wanted to build a utopia.

No wonder her youth was so messed up.

Just look at Yamauchi Sakura and Nishimiya Shouko—the two model high school girls.

They picked fun clubs, passed time with friends, joined school events for the joy of it.

Their biggest dilemmas were what to eat for lunch—grilled meat set or ramen—or maybe saving time by grabbing a yakisoba bun to play mobile games.

After school, it was about which café to hang out in and whether their allowance would stretch far enough for weekend shopping.

Their greatest worries were about crushes.

Maybe by third year, some anxiety about the future crept in.

That is what high school should be like.

Yukino's loneliness and suffering came from trying to take on burdens far beyond her age and ability—shouldering responsibilities she wasn't meant to carry.

"See you tomorrow, Yukino-chan!" Sakura waved.

"…Yeah." Yukino seemed lost in thought, her expression slightly clouded.

But after a moment's hesitation, she added softly:

"See you tomorrow."

Kyousuke and Shouko also said their goodbyes.

They would head straight for the school gates from the special building, while Yukino had to return to the main building to return the classroom key.

The kendo club key wasn't such a hassle—they had early morning and late practice, and teachers couldn't be expected to stay late, so the key stayed with the club captain.

Since they'd also cleaned the classroom, they were among the last to leave school.

The concrete ground reflected the setting sun, painfully bright, so Sakura spun around and started walking backward.

"The theater troupe's performance will probably be Nightfall Dance again. What are you gonna do, Kyousuke?"

She held Shouko with one hand and Kyousuke with the other, using their bodies to block the dazzling golden path behind them.

"What else? Try my best and give it my all, of course." Kyousuke sighed.

When the performance had come up in the meeting, Sakura—leading the Red Team—had insisted he join the theater group.

She said if she didn't get to see him dance, she'd have no energy for the sports festival.

He wanted to tell her to just participate herself, but there was no way he could do events like relay races, cavalry battles, or three-legged races.

Totally not his thing.

And with Shouko looking at him with those big, watery eyes full of hope, he had no choice but to agree.

"Kyousuke-kun!" Shouko suddenly called out.

"Hm?" ×2

"I-I'll teach you properly!"

She raised her right hand—still gripping her school bag—and declared with uncharacteristic firmness.

Kyousuke blinked, then leaned over and gently bumped his head against hers.

"How reliable. I'll be counting on you then. Please take care of me, Shouko-sensei."

"Mm!" Her chubby cheeks lit up with joy.

They strolled home leisurely.

As for the motorbike he'd ridden to school in the morning, he'd already asked one of his guys to park it near his house.

"Welcome home, Hojou-kun." As soon as the door opened, a gentle voice floated from inside the house.

Of everyone here, only Yukino Yukari addressed Hojou Kyousuke in that polite, when they are not alone.

Even though they lived under the same roof now, she still spoke to him with a hint of distance in her words.

Eriri, on the other hand, had complained more than once about it, telling Yukari she didn't need to be so reserved around him.

Of course, the real reason aside from Eriri being a hopeless softie—was that it made her feel a little guilty.

After all, she bossed Kyousuke around all day, calling him things like "useless lackey" or "idiot" without a second thought.

"You bastard! You do remember how to come home—I was about to starve to death!"

Kyousuke hadn't even had the chance to say his favorite line when a furious shout came from inside.

"Sawamura-san, before yelling that, maybe wipe the breadcrumbs off your mouth first~" A cool, teasing voice followed, laced with a slightly sultry note at the end.

"Huh!?" came the rustling of someone scrambling to check their face.

As the trio stepped into the living room after changing shoes, they saw two girls sitting on opposite couches, glaring at each other like sworn enemies.

Eriri was vigorously rubbing her mouth with her sleeve.

Shouko pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh.

She glanced at Kasumigaoka Utaha, thought better of saying anything, and quickly skipped into the kitchen to help bring out the dishes.

"Kasumigaoka Utaha! You liar! I didn't have any crumbs on my mouth!"

"Ah~ but I was talking about your collar."

Utaha reclined on the sofa like she had all the time in the world, idly responding while reaching out to take Kyousuke's bag and placing it neatly beside her.

"Liar! You clearly said my mouth! Don't think I'll fall for your tricks again! That kind of cheap lie might fool a kid, but not me! You love lying so much, your nose's gonna grow!"

Seeing Utaha's nonchalant reaction only made Eriri more riled up.

"No, really—Eriri, you do have crumbs on your collar." Kyousuke sat down and casually brushed a crumb off her T-shirt collar.

As Eriri's expression twisted in panic, he quickly tried to salvage the situation:

"But hey, it's totally normal for an artist to have crumbs on their clothes. Before erasers were invented, artists used bread to rub out charcoal sketches, right?"

"Y-yeah, exactly! It's an artist thing. You wouldn't understand, you pervy third-rate light novel author!"

Still flustered, Eriri raised her chin in mock pride and fired back with her usual tsundere flair.

"Tch~" Utaha uncrossed her legs with a soft sound and snapped her book shut.

Her wine-red eyes fixed intently on Kyousuke.

'So this is how you take sides?'

'This is how much you pamper her?'

'This is how you treat me?'

She didn't say a word, but Kyousuke could clearly read every single sentence written all over her beautiful face.

And that made him feel a little guilty—because in her heart, Utaha-senpai had probably already written a 30,000-word essay about it, and all he could grasp were these three short lines.

"Dinner's ready," Yukari called from the kitchen.

"Coming!" Eriri shouted, jumping off the couch to prove she'd really been starving just moments earlier.

She didn't even notice her slippers were on the wrong feet as she rushed toward the dining table.

'You're really overdoing it, Eriri. That's not "starving"—that's full-on "hungry ghost." Tone it down a little.'

'What an idiot,' Kyousuke muttered in his head—

Only to hear the exact same words whispered beside his ear.

The warm, breathy murmur tickled like static, shooting down his spine and fluttering against his heart.

"You were thinking that, weren't you, Kyousuke?"

The voice had moved slightly farther away.

He turned his head—and realized that Utaha, who had just been on the opposite couch, was now seated right beside him.

Her long legs, wrapped in black stockings, pressed snugly against his.

Even through the fabric of his pants, he could feel their incredible softness and tension.

"Senpai…" he started, trying to respond to the emotions he'd read in her eyes earlier.

That look of quiet sorrow had honestly tugged at his heart.

But before he could say more, her slender fingers pressed lightly against his lips.

The coolness of her touch sent another shiver through him.

The sensation made his throat go dry, his thoughts scramble—he almost forgot they were still in the living room.

But then her next words doused any stray desire like a splash of cold water.

"I have plenty of patience, and plenty of confidence too. I'll wait—until the day you belong to me, completely."

Her normally calm voice now burned with intensity, laced with irresistible seduction.

Every syllable felt like it was trailing fingers along his ears, leaving behind a tantalizing itch.

As he stared into those wine-colored eyes, overflowing with emotion—or maybe obsession—Kyousuke felt a lump catch in his throat.

It was hard to even swallow.

He knew from the start what kind of person Kasumigaoka Utaha was.

Even more extreme than Yukinoshita Yukino, in her own way.

Yukinoshita would scoff at provocation but still confront it head-on.

Utaha, on the other hand, would brush it off completely… while plotting victory with her whole being.

Right now, it felt like he had become her prize.

Unlike Eriri, who was all heart and bluster, Utaha's intentions had always been clear—she was slowly but surely working to eliminate everyone else around him.

Eriri wasn't a rival; she was just entertainment.

Maybe Utaha even thought Eriri was laughably easy to deal with, like some peach-stealing side character in a fairytale.

"Senpai…" Kyousuke began again.

He didn't know what to say, but some vague sense of responsibility as a man told him he had to say something.

"It's okay. Let's eat. I'm hungry too," Utaha said with a soft smile, leaning back and gently pulling him up with her.

The warmth of her chest vanished in an instant, and Kyousuke felt an involuntary pang of disappointment—until he caught sight of Eriri, glaring at him from across the table, still biting down on her chopsticks with blazing eyes.

Whatever thoughts he'd had vanished instantly.

He coughed awkwardly, slipped off the jacket that had probably absorbed Utaha's scent, and tossed it over the back of the sofa before heading to the dining table like nothing had happened.

As they ate, Kyousuke started to realize what had just happened.

Come to think of it, Utaha had clearly started that whole breadcrumb thing.

And yet somehow, she ended up looking like the victim, and he was the one feeling guilty for taking Eriri's side?

Seriously? Had he really been manipulated that easily?

He needed to maintain absolute fairness and justice—wasn't that the Kyousuke way?

Maybe he could use that to change Yukino's impression of him.

After all, her so-called "absolute justice" only seemed to apply when she was dealing with others.

When it came to her father, didn't she skillfully sidestep the topic earlier?

Not a single word about him—just vague criticisms about social issues.

So sly.

Unlike them, he was different.

Even when dealing with someone close, he could still hold fast to fairness and justice.

From that perspective, wasn't he actually the one standing on the side of true righteousness?

As the thought took root, a sense of grandeur surged in Kyousuke's chest.

He felt like he was destined for greatness.

The next time that little Yukinoshita tried to criticize him with her twisted values, he'd fight back with full force.

In her words, the rich should extend a hand of compassion to the poor.

So he would help her sweep away all the thorns in her adolescent love story, leading her to a happy, fulfilled life.

'Ouch! Who just kicked me?'

Oh, it's Eriri. Well, never mind then.

"Eriri, you kicked the wrong person," Yamauchi Sakura said at the same time, bending down with a hand on her shin, wincing in pain.

'Huh!?'

Across the table, Eriri's eyes widened.

Her head darted side to side, glancing at Kyousuke, then at Sakura beside him.

She looked down and mentally retraced the angle of her kick.

Nope—she was sure she didn't make a mistake.

The guy had been grinning like an idiot mid-meal, probably still fantasizing about Kasumigaoka's cheap seduction tactics.

That pervert, brain full of white, filthy thoughts, was still savoring the moment even while eating.

Big boobs? Total cheat move.

You could get as many as you wanted from a plastic surgery clinic.

Hers were—well, whatever!

The point was, not eating properly during meals deserved punishment!

"I didn't… kick anyone! I totally didn't!" she stammered.

Close call—she nearly said she didn't kick the wrong person.

"Sawamura-san," Sakura chided, "if you don't eat properly, you'll never grow up right. Careful or a cop will take you to the station on your way to school and call your parents."

"You're the one who looks like a lost child. Perverts like you are the ones who should be worried about getting detained."

"Oh dear, such pretty problems. It's a curse to be too beautiful, you know?"

"Have you no shame at all…?"

"..."

And just like that, their banter act began right on schedule at the Hojou family dinner table.

Watching them go at it, Yamauchi Sakura, pleased with her prank, glanced at Kyousuke.

Her large golden eyes blinked playfully.

"They get along pretty well, huh?"

The childhood friend sitting beside her easily understood what she meant and answered with a smile. "Yeah."

Yeah, Eriri and Kasumigaoka.

At first, their verbal exchanges were understandable to a normal audience.

But soon, they'd shifted into "encrypted mode," trading obscure references and niche jokes that only they could follow—and retaliate with just as quickly.

That level of chemistry?

They could totally form a comedy duo.

Kyousuke even imagined their group name on the spot: The Everyday Extras.

Pretty catchy, right? Just the name alone would draw tons of attention.

Speaking of extras... what was the real background heroine doing right now?

As he stuffed his face with an overflowing bowl of rice, Kyousuke's mind wandered.

He'd originally been torn between meeting Mitsuha or heading over to Toyonozaki after school today.

But instead, he got roped into a showdown with Yukinoshita, thanks to Sakura.

That kind of uptight girl was his worst nightmare—his easygoing nature just couldn't handle so much structure and control.

Still, at least everything got more or less settled today.

Tomorrow he'd finally be free. No need to even bring Sakura along.

He could float between the Kendo Club, Baseball Team, and Sports Festival Committee.

Three totally different places, meaning no one would really know where he was.

A perfect setup for maximum flexibility.

And so, Kyousuke's action-packed day came to a close—well, almost.

After his bath, he lay down on his bed, picked up his phone, and dialed a number.

"John John, this is Little Bun speaking!" came the cheerful voice from the other end.

Yamauchi Sakura, clearly also lying in bed.

"John has returned to the Land of White Clouds. I'm the Bedtime Story Machine now."

John was one of the characters in the bedtime stories Kyousuke had made up for Sakura.

A rabbit from the sky kingdom, his full name was "John T. Rabbit."

He had fallen into a forest after a manhole cover popped off, where he met Little Bun, a fellow bunny.

In that imaginary forest Kyousuke created for her, there was a shark named Murray who couldn't eat salt, a clownfish with a fear of the deep sea named One-One.

A bunny who had to shed three times a day and was exiled from the Candy Kingdom, and a polar bear who clutched a firepot even in summer because of a natural fear of the cold…

Since elementary school, whenever Sakura had trouble falling asleep, there would always be a gentle voice beside her, softly weaving tales of that magical world.

Silly, simple, and full of warmth.

And this—this was something she never shared with anyone.

Listening as her breathing on the other end slowly evened out, Kyousuke whispered, "Good night," and hung up.

He walked over to the window and looked out into the yard.

The moon tonight was unusually bright, casting the heavy clouds' shadows clearly onto the ground.

Only on nights like this could one truly understand the phrase "frost on the ground." The pale light was so vivid, it felt like daytime.

The new buds on the pine tree by the tool shed were clearly visible.

A few lingering cherry blossoms on the weeping sakura trembled in the breeze.

The pansies and hyacinths in the small flower bed shimmered with a silvery sheen.

Tiny green sprouts had begun poking up where Kaoruko had planted seeds… and across from them, the maple tree named Shizuka stood tall, quietly growing.

Yukinoshita's troubles reminded him of his own.

He had no solution for the situation at home either.

Yukinoshita, brave and steadfast, chose to face her pain head-on, seeking redemption in the struggle.

But Kyousuke, cowardly and greedy, clung tightly to everything, ignoring the volcano that could erupt at any moment.

He lived happily in the now, leaving the pain for his future self.

That, after all, was the perfect picture of a foolish high school boy.

Looks like tomorrow's going to be a beautiful day.

He glanced once more at the radiant moon and, for some reason, found his thoughts drifting back to Yukinoshita.

That girl—rather than the scorching sun that burns all impure things—she was more like the moon that reflected the entire world.

A flower on a high, unreachable peak.

————————————————————————

[April 10, Wednesday]

Today, Eriri didn't stay in bed, because it was Kasumigaoka Utaha who came to wake her up.

This semester, Wednesday was Kyousuke's favorite day.

That's because the morning schedule had two consecutive periods of Classical Literature, meaning he could gaze at Yukari for two whole classes.

Catching his gaze from the corner of her eye, Yukari's large eyes flickered with a hint of panic.

A flush rose to her pale cheeks, and her voice trembled ever so slightly.

Following the path between the desks, she slowly made her way to Kyousuke's side.

Blocking Yamauchi Sakura's curious gaze, she subtly lifted the boy's textbook to shield herself from his intense stare.

Then quickly picked up the pace and moved away from him.

Smiling, Kyousuke gently placed the book down and tapped Sakura on the head as she made a silly face at him.

With one hand propping up his chin, he continued to watch Yukari's retreating back.

Her bright and innocent voice, even while reading classical literature, carried a newfound maturity.

There she stood, tall and graceful at the front of the class, reciting the lesson with a crisp voice.

Just like the lotus in the text—unentangled, pure, and elegant.

And her occasional glances, filled with shy nervousness, were like flowers blooming quietly among lotus leaves.

Back in Itomori, he had long dreamed of such a scene.

And now, finally, it had come true.

Two back-to-back classical literature classes left Kyousuke in high spirits all morning—until lunchtime, that is.

————————————————————————

"Exercising right after eating? That's terrible for your health. At this rate, people are going to collapse before the sports festival even begins."

"Forget dancing—they might not be able to participate at all."

Inside the kendo clubroom, the ever-health-conscious Kyousuke earnestly shared his thoughts with the student leaders.

He hadn't even had time to eat lunch with Yukari.

The moment he stepped out of class, the drama club members had kidnapped him and dragged him here.

He barely had time to finish his bento, let alone drink water, before they insisted on starting dance practice.

"And going to sleep immediately after eating isn't good either," came a cold reply from Yukinoshita Yukino the assistant director and advisor for the drama club.

"Wait, you actually want to nap during such a short lunch break?" Kyousuke asked in disbelief.

"According to Sakura, someone takes a nap for over 30 minutes on the rooftop after lunch—an area that's off-limits to students."

"If he's disturbed, his mood is ruined for the whole day. That's why everyone rushes to the entrance of Class 1-F right after school."

Unbothered by Hojou's attempt to turn the tables, Yukino calmly exposed what everyone already knew.

She had already changed into the school's green gym uniform—same as the others around her.

Seeing no room for negotiation, Kyousuke, lacking any sense of responsibility as vice-captain, slinked to the back of the group.

"Yo, Kendo General. Yuigahama. Fancy seeing you two here," he said casually, glancing left and right at familiar faces.

"Ah—so-so fancy!" Yuigahama was startled, her shoulders jolting before she recognized him and sighed in relief.

"Looking for someone?" Kyousuke asked.

"No! I was just wondering what kind of dance we're doing," she replied quickly, waving her arms frantically.

"Huh? It's based on Yorai Dance, right? Didn't we vote on that last night?"

"Oh… haha… yeah, that's right..." Yuigahama's smile stiffened.

Since the vote wasn't mandatory, she hadn't bothered to participate—avoiding the awkwardness of having to answer which option she picked.

Besides, if the performance turned out bad, she could always pretend she didn't know.

Right after dinner last night, she had watched TV with her mom, then gone straight to bed.

"Nor—"

Beside her, Zaimokuza raised a hand, ready to chime in with a big grin—only to notice Hojou hadn't even looked his way.

He shot a glare at Yuigahama and quickly ducked his head before she noticed.

As for dancing, Zaimokuza was already a veteran.

Among his 3,820 "skills," over 230 were battle dances.

His training in barrier techniques involved many hand seal–like moves, so he'd long since honed his physical coordination.

His best friend Hikigaya Hachiman could vouch for this.

Just yesterday, while walking home, they had a spontaneous ninja-style showdown on a deserted street.

Thanks to his superior speed and technique, Zaimokuza finally got revenge for the three times Kyousuke had landed clean hits on him during kendo practice last term.

————————————————————————

The rehearsal began quickly.

As Yukinoshita had mentioned earlier, the Yorai Dance is a common festival dance with local variations across many prefectures.

Since Soubu High is a prep school, its students came from all over the country.

Several girls immediately raised their hands, claiming they already knew the dance—Shouko included.

As they demonstrated their moves, Kyousuke could tell they weren't bluffing.

His criteria? If he couldn't copy it, it had to be the real deal.

Under Yukino's direction, the group quickly finalized the choreography.

It was a mash-up of simplified steps and random moves clipped from who-knows-where.

The school's judging panel wasn't exactly professional—if it looked good and energetic, that was enough.

Compared to what Kyousuke had seen while researching other school festivals, theirs was still decent.

Many others just seemed like everyone was there to have fun—awkward moves thrown together in chaos, worse than a rain-dance ritual.

The dance themes often sounded like mythical tiffs between tengu and tanuki in the mountains of Kyoto.

With upbeat music playing, students ran barefoot onto the field, bursting into energetic moves no one could decipher.

The background stories were laughable, but hey—it was fun.

A designated cameraman stood by to record the session so they could all practice at home.

Luckily, Kyousuke's mastery over his body was exceptional.

Otherwise, his limbs would've tied themselves in a knot and choked him out by now.

Even mimicking Yukino's movements from the back row felt like some curse had taken over his limbs.

His hands and feet rebelled as if possessed, threatening to destroy their master.

In just two minutes, he had nearly tripped four times.

Thank goodness he was in the back—if anyone saw and spread the footage, those he had defeated in kendo tournaments might start taking dance lessons for revenge.

After all, they hadn't been able to make him stumble even at full strength, but here he was, getting wrecked by a dance.

"Hojou-kun, are you okay?" Yuigahama asked with concern.

His forehead was drenched in sweat, and he looked like he was in agony.

"Not really," he admitted.

If it weren't for Shouko's gentle glances keeping him grounded, he would've run for it.

When life gets tough, nap it off—that had always been his motto.

"You, on the other hand, look like you've danced Yorai before?"

Indeed, though she was also hiding at the back, Yuigahama's movements were graceful and precise.

Every gesture reflected feminine softness and flexibility—beautiful, even without music.

"Ah, well... I joined a local festival with my mom once," she said shyly, stealing a glance at Kyousuke.

She didn't add the obvious truth:

'It's not strange that I can dance. What's strange is how badly you're struggling.'

"I see. So why didn't you volunteer earlier when Yukinoshita asked?"

They were on break now, so Kyousuke sat on the ground to chat.

"Because… I was too embarrassed." She spoke softly.

Taking the lead like that—it was something a girl like Yumiko could pull off, not her.

"Is that so~" he replied lazily, not giving it much thought because he noticed Shouko jogging over.

"Drink slowly, okay, Kyousuke-kun?" she said sweetly, handing him her water bottle.

Inside was a special drink one of her seniors had taught her to make—good for protecting the throat.

"Thanks for looking out for me," Kyousuke said, gently patting her head as she knelt beside him.