335 Yukinoshita Trapped in a Never-Ending Nightmare

In the end, Eriri couldn't get Mitsuha and Megumi to sit down and watch anime with her.

Luckily, Yotsuba—now completely freed from her fate as the shrine maiden of the Miyamizu family—had been on the road to becoming an otaku ever since receiving her first manga donation from Eijisha Publishing.

As for the other two middle school girls—being classic "denpa" types, of course—they couldn't resist the idea that some director or editor had received mysterious transmissions from another world and turned them into anime.

Watching anime for them was more than just fun—it was a sacred ritual.

While others went on anime pilgrimages, they searched for signs of aliens.

That Yotsuba could become friends with them owed much to her own eccentricity.

Thankfully, Hikigaya Hachiman and Zaimokuza Yoshiteru weren't around to witness all this.

Otherwise, those two trauma-ridden water bottles of nostalgia would've been triggered into remembering the painful days of their own "chuunibyou" phase back in middle school, when everyone treated them like idiots.

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"Why?! Why do chuunibyou girls like Yotsuba and Sachiko get to be hugged by beautiful older sisters while watching anime, while we only got disgusted looks from the girls in our class?!"

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By the time Eriri turned on the TV, the ending theme of Maken no Kakusei was already playing.

But she wasn't discouraged in the slightest.

She immediately brought up the pre-recorded episode.

Even though the era of VHS tapes was long gone, most Japanese TVs still came with recording features—often with even more convenient options now.

You could schedule recordings based on the weekly broadcast schedule, and as long as the storage was big enough, you could even record every show on every channel for a week straight.

No need to keep the TV on.

No need to ask Mom to record while you did the dishes.

And of course, as a rich girl, Eriri had premium memberships on every anime streaming platform imaginable.

No matter who tried to snatch the exclusive streaming rights—nothing could interrupt her anime joy.

With a single tap, the video began.

Sitting to Eriri's left was Yotsuba—the ever-standby shrine maiden whose family business had literally been smashed by a comet.

To her right were the murmuring denpa girls, Sachiko and Kayo.

Yukinoshita had originally prepared herself to inspect the results of Hojou's training—but what she didn't expect was that Miyamizu Mitsuha was even more diligent and professional than she was.

"Alright, let's go over it again from the top. We need to make sure you didn't forget anything," Mitsuha said with a bright smile.

Kyousuke looked at the girl practically snuggled into his chest.

Beads of clear, delicate sweat dotted her forehead.

Strands of black hair clung to her face and traced their way down to the corners of her flushed lips.

Her cheeks were still pink from the physical exertion, and her soft chest brushed against him with each slight movement—an afterglow that almost seemed to carry over from the bliss of the previous night.

Everything felt like it was finally back on track.

This was what he'd wished for from the God of Romantic Comedy during the sports festival arc!

High school.

A beautiful girl. A soft, supple body. Sparkling sweat. Sharp, clear commands.

Hair dancing in the wind, slicing sunlight into irregular shapes...

Handing off a baton in a relay, palms pressed together from a fumbled exchange.

Collapsing into her arms after a long-distance run, breathless but smiling…

Wait, that's going too far—cough, cough.

Kyousuke wrapped his arm around Mitsuha's waist, just as she had told him to earlier.

"Alright, let's begin! You all better get hyped—this is the best anime of the year!" Eriri declared with gusto. You'd never guess she just woke up.

"Kyousuke, this isn't study time—it's review time," Yukinoshita said coldly.

'Is it just me, or is his hand a little too comfortable there?!'

Hearing her voice, Eriri quickly paused the video and turned around.

Kyousuke and the others had made their way to the tatami room.

With the soft mats and cushions, even kneeling didn't feel uncomfortable.

It was a perfect space for practicing dance.

From Eriri's angle, all she could see was Kyousuke standing dazedly and Katou Megumi sitting nearby like a docile duck.

The two instructors were hidden just beyond the corner of the wall.

"Idiot! Hurry up and finish already so we can watch together! I am not watching it a second time just for you—it's a pain!" the blonde ojou-sama roared like a tiny tiger.

"OK, OK, OK~!" Kyousuke replied cheerfully.

With Mitsuha as his tutor, of course his progress was fast.

But deep down, he knew Eriri would absolutely make him watch a second time regardless.

Girls had a million reasons to rewatch anime.

"It's just so good!"

"The heroine's first outfit is so cute!"

"That background character definitely sounds like XYZ's voice actor!"

Sure, that's what she told him.

But even if Kyousuke had already watched it once with her, Eriri would definitely drag him along for two more viewings.

And if she watched the first time alone? She'd still grab him for at least two more.

To an outsider, it might seem like she was forcing her anime obsession onto him.

But anyone who had ever sat next to the golden-haired girl—listening to her lively voice chirp nonstop about her impressions, future doujinshi ideas, or wild guesses for next week's episode—would know the truth.

For Kyousuke, 99% of the fun in watching anime came from the adorable girl by his side.

Satisfied with his answer, Eriri resumed playback at Yotsuba's urging.

"Alright, let's go~!"

Kyousuke, of course, had no idea Yukinoshita was brewing bizarre suspicions about him. He could only sense the disapproval in her tone—but he wasn't fazed.

If it weren't for the fact that Megumi and Sakura were watching, he would've ignored Yukinoshita completely and gone right back to holding Mitsuha's waist and enjoying their little dance session.

As Mitsuha began softly humming the tune again, Kyousuke's body followed her lead with smooth, graceful movements.

Sakura applauded excitedly from the side, already half-serious about officially making Mitsuha the Hojou household's private tutor.

When the dance came to an end, Yukinoshita no longer felt the need to ask Kyousuke to perform solo.

She was a genius, after all—and she knew another genius when she saw one.

Just from the look of lingering joy on Kyousuke's face, she could tell he'd never forget this dance for the rest of his life.

"Alright, we've finished the hardest part of the second request from the Service Club. Time to move on to the third."

If Yukinoshita Yukino had been born in the Showa era, she might've led Japan to buy out the entire United States.

That's the kind of relentless, all-or-nothing drive she had—like she was ready to push herself to the brink.

She had only just finished with Kyousuke, and now she was already eager to toss the stealthy Katou Megumi onto the metaphorical chopping block.

"The third?" Kyousuke echoed in confusion.

But she didn't answer. Instead, she turned those pale-blue eyes on Katou Megumi, sending a shiver down the girl's spine.

Megumi felt like a tuna about to be dissected.

'I don't want this kind of presence, thank you very much.'

"Um, I don't think it's that urgent for me, really~~" Megumi said.

That was both true and a lie.

Deep down, the girl liked how being noticed by Hojou made her feel like a heroine rather than just another ordinary classmate.

She liked the way being important to him pulled her into this vibrant, unfamiliar world—one filled with unique, talented people she never would've met otherwise.

In Megumi's seventeen years of ordinary life had never been this colorful.

Never before had so many people revolved around her—seriously analyzing how to help her stand out more.

Sure, Hojou had said it before. Sure, Sakura and Yukinoshita had technically accepted the request.

But Megumi never imagined that everyone would treat her situation like some televised academic symposium—gathering around like scientists discussing the melting of Arctic glaciers, analyzing her from every angle: mentally, materially, even in terms of personality stats.

'If my sister ever finds out that I've somehow become as important as the iceberg that sank the Titanic… her jaw would drop.'

'No, scratch that—she wouldn't even believe it.'

Despite this flurry of thoughts inside her, the girl's fair, delicate face remained as calm and composed as ever.

"I think Hojou should dance one more time, just to solidify it," she suggested softly—not because she was jealous that everyone was taking turns training Hojou, but genuinely for his benefit.

"…"

Kyousuke, at first, suspected that Megumi might've been corrupted by Sakura.

But then he realized—this might actually be a great idea.

If he just pretended to forget everything by tomorrow, he could get Mitsuha to teach him again.

Maybe even at her apartment in Sendagi this time—fewer people, better "performance conditions."

Yukinoshita's flustered face earlier when he lifted her… honestly, it damaged the mature, composed image he had of her.

This body—these arms—had been tempered through countless trials! Don't underestimate me!

"I see…" Yukinoshita said, kneeling properly on the tatami mat.

Her right hand was raised under her nose, as if to sense her breath while she contemplated.

Her pale blue eyes rested seriously on Kyousuke, with the intensity of a shogun evaluating a court dancer.

At her side, Yamauchi Sakura also knelt like a well-trained attendant, her posture humble and deferential.

Kyousuke didn't need to ask—he knew Sakura was fantasizing about some historical drama in her head.

In her imagination, he and Mitsuha were famed dancers from Honshu, hired at great cost by Lady Megumi to perform for the shogun—Yukinoshita.

Megumi's true aim? To report her cousin, who was secretly hoarding two rice barrels in a plot to start a rebellion.

If the dance pleased the shogun, she'd trust Megumi and dispatch regional lords to crush the rice-hoarding cousin.

But Megumi hadn't considered that the shogun's wife had already sent her most loyal servant—Yamauchi Sakura—to keep an eye on the strikingly beautiful Hojou.

And if the shogun truly took a liking to him, Sakura would assassinate Kyousuke on the spot.

…Yes, that's exactly the kind of story Sakura would dream up. Kyousuke knew her too well.

She didn't need books.

The moment she closed her eyes, her thoughts could shoot across 800 universes, playing roleplay games with her alternate selves.

"Begin again!" came the command from Shogun Yukinoshita.

Kyousuke shook off the fantasy and focused, ready to help Megumi accomplish her goal.

Mitsuha stepped aside, smiling, wiping her sweat with a towel she'd already prepared, then smoothing her hair.

"Your arm movements should be light like a butterfly. Let your sleeves flow, like the arc of a paper umbrella…"

Kyousuke moved his arms according to Mitsuha's instructions, all while recalling what Shouko once told him.

'Art truly is universal—as long as it's being taught by beautiful girls.'

As the performance ended, Yukinoshita gave a small nod of approval, and Megumi broke into a smile of genuine relief.

"Very good. From now on, you can practice with everyone."

"Excellent! Operation 'Katou Megumi Special Tutoring' begins now!" Sakura shouted, dragging out the low table normally used by Kyousuke and Kasumigaoka for writing.

Cram school was a common part of high school life in Japan.

It wasn't just for struggling students—elite cram schools were full of top performers aiming for prestigious universities.

Megumi understood that.

Still… having Sakura, a girl a year younger, shout something like that made her feel a little complicated inside.

She raised her index finger and gently tapped her cheek, saying nothing. She knew Sakura was mostly just playing around.

"Why don't we just use the dining table over there?" Yukinoshita asked pointedly.

"Ah~ Yukino-chan, you just don't get it," Sakura said, shaking her head like an old scholar. "The older and more precious an art is, the more it relies on oral tradition."

Yukinoshita knew this was nonsense.

The proper move would be to ignore Sakura and walk straight to the dining table.

But… she couldn't help herself.

"Yes, oral tradition does help maintain secrecy. But it also greatly increases the risk of techniques being lost. I'm not even going to comment on whether this approach is viable—I just want to know what this has to do with tutoring Katou-san."

"Ah~ Yukino-chan, you're so impatient~~ You know, impatient girls aren't very popular~~"

"…"

If her sister hadn't just sent her a photo from the airport earlier that day, Yukinoshita might've thought she was dealing with her instead.

A sudden weight fell onto her shoulders.

'Sakura might still be salvageable. I refuse to let her become like my sister.'

Yamauchi Sakura, disappointed by the lack of Yukinoshita's usual scolding, pouted a little.

But soon, under Megumi's curious gaze, she perked up and spoke enthusiastically:

"Think about it—at a big dining table, everyone's too far apart. But at a small table, it's nice and cozy.

Heads leaning in together. Based on natural science, information flows from high concentration to low. So your knowledge will flow straight into Megumi's brain.

Everyone else uses oral tradition—you two use brain-to-brain transmission! It's neuro-linking! Maximum efficiency!"

…

…

…

Yukinoshita had a whole dictionary of curse words bubbling on her tongue—but sadly, none existed in her actual vocabulary.

If she were confident she could overpower Hojou Kyousuke, she would've cracked Sakura's head open to check if her brain chip was malfunctioning.

Brain-to-brain transmission, seriously?

"Come on, Katou-san."

Yes, the best way to deal with Yamauchi Sakura… was to ignore her entirely.

Engaging with her lunacy like Kyousuke did was just enabling her. Yukinoshita stood up and called out.

"Ehhh…"

Megumi's eyes drifted to the side, dodging Yukinoshita's gaze as she hesitantly spoke.

Being labeled as the "low knowledge concentration zone" for Sakura's bizarre learning theory was a little frustrating…

But her thoughts were on something else entirely.

"I mean… I think the small table's actually kind of nice. It makes the student and teacher feel more like… a team, don't you think?"

She blinked up at Yukinoshita, her voice full of sincerity.

A team…

Student and teacher…

Yukinoshita stared at the girl still seated on the floor.

Those soft, unreadable eyes gave away nothing, leaving Yukinoshita unable to read her emotions—unable to use her famed "emotional insight" technique to see if Megumi was trying to subtly remind her of something.

Yukinoshita Yukino, you just lost to Miyamizu Mitsuha in the art of tutoring Hojou Kyousuke.

When it comes to teaching… you're the one who still has a long way to go.

Megumi hadn't expected her abilities to be questioned twice in such a short span of time.

Seeing the look on Yukinoshita's face, she blinked again.

'Ah… maybe I said the wrong thing.'

"Yukinoshita-san, what I meant was—when everyone's this close together, it creates a kind of warmth that feels different from school. Studying doesn't feel as exhausting," she hurried to clarify.

Phew—

That's more like it.

Even if Yamauchi Sakura really was the world's most contagious mental virus, she couldn't have possibly turned such a pure-hearted girl into a chaos-loving weirdo in just a few minutes.

Yukinoshita let out a soft sigh of relief and gave a small nod. She understood.

"I see… That's something I hadn't considered. I forgot that for some people, studying can actually be a painful experience."

"…Eh?"

This time, Megumi was the one frozen in confusion.

Wait a minute…

That last line sounded kind of rude?

Was Yukinoshita-san… getting back at me?

No, no—she's not Sakura… right?

Meanwhile, the person both of them regarded as a dangerous entity—Yamauchi Sakura—was already rolling on the floor, clutching her stomach and laughing at their awkward exchange.

Well—when she said "almost," she was already on the floor. Just not from cramps.

She'd been laughing like this since childhood. If she flexed, you could even see the faint lines of her abs—she wasn't any less toned than Mitsuha. A bit of hearty laughter wasn't going to take her down that easily.

In any case, the tiny table—barely half a square meter—was now completely surrounded.

Megumi and Sakura sat along the long sides. Kyousuke and Yukinoshita took the short ends.

'Huh?'

Wait a second—this setup… doesn't match Sakura's whole "brain-to-brain transmission" theory, does it?

Unless… she wants me to be the high-concentration side, and transfer my knowledge to her?

Megumi glanced at Sakura with a skeptical look.

But could that be it? Could Yamauchi Sakura, who had been clever since she was little, actually admit she was the dumb one here?

No way.

One idiot in a household was already more than enough.

Any more and it'd be a certified Fool's Paradise.

"Well then! Let the great Yamauchi Sakura—the girl who got a perfect score on the math quiz—begin your lesson, Megumi!"

As she spoke the final syllable, and as Yukinoshita groaned in agony, Sakura triumphantly whipped out her perfect score quiz.

One in each hand. Who knew when she even stuffed them into her pockets?

Here we go again…

Yukinoshita planted both hands on the table, buried her face in her arms, and wished—hoped—begged this was just a nightmare.

"…Eh?"

The bob-haired girl tilted her head, putting on a strangely mature tone of confusion.

"Hahaha, Sakura, maybe let's not make things harder, alright? Megumi's a second-year student—let's leave this one to Kyousuke," Mitsuha said with a soft laugh.

"Oh, right! Megumi, you know Mitsuha's a genius from Ochanomizu University, right? If she's the one helping you, the results will be amazing!" Sakura quickly changed course, though she still didn't put down the perfect-score papers in her hands.