Hiroto Tachibana walked over to Yukinoshita Yukino, stepping into the same patch of tree shade.
However, he simply walked over, positioned himself there, and casually cast his gaze out across the sports field.
The sunlight halted right before him, the stark boundary of the shade falling precisely over the tips of his sneakers, creating a sharp contrast between light and dark.
As the wind swept through, the leaves rustled rhythmically for a brief moment.
Yukinoshita Yukino furrowed her brow, her peripheral vision catching the collective gazes drifting over from the rest of the class.
To be completely honest, she thoroughly disliked the sensation of being utilized as a human shield—using her as a barrier to ward off those hesitant, eager girls.
”Tachibana-kun,” she snapped her book shut, her tone direct.
“You should resolve the complications you invite by yourself.
Furthermore, resorting to this tactic is hardly a permanent, once-and-for-all solution.”
”Is that so?” Hiroto leaned his back against the tree trunk with his hands tucked into his pockets.
“But I didn’t think that far ahead; managing the immediate present is good enough.” He tilted his head to glance at Yukinoshita.
“Besides, didn’t you say you wanted to observe me, Yukinoshita?
Isn’t right now the absolute prime opportunity?”
”Going by your logic, I am bound to revert back to that brilliant, popular class idol from middle school very shortly.”
”Is Tachibana-kun exceptionally proud of that?”
”Naturally,” Hiroto replied without a shred of hesitation.
“I can effortlessly blend into their ranks.
Isn’t that precisely the one thing you are incapable of achieving, Yukinoshita?”
Yukinoshita Yukino lapsed into a second of silence.
”I will not deny the factuality of your statement,” she lifted her head, her gaze locking straight ahead.
“But my current inability to achieve it does not equate to a structural impossibility.
If it were a purely superficial matter of utilizing visual appearance to integrate, while entirely useless to me, it would hardly pose a monumental difficulty.”
Hiroto didn’t counter her claim.
Yukinoshita was entirely correct on this point.
She wasn’t being narcissistic; purely based on raw looks, if she genuinely desired to integrate into a social circle, it would be remarkably simple—she would merely need to learn to mimic Eriri’s methodology.
Eriri could easily execute a trivial, superficial feat like that, and for Yukinoshita, it would be even more effortless.
Yet Yukinoshita deliberately chose not to.
She refused to deceive others or herself; or rather, she was simply unwilling to do so.
She harbored no desire to possess those highly fragile, superficial relationships that fractured at the slightest touch.
Gathered in clusters of twos and threes, the girls of the International Culture Class repeatedly let their gazes drift toward that identical patch of tree shade, whispering softly among themselves.
Seeing that Yukinoshita didn’t harbor the slightest intention of driving Hiroto away, several girls who had initially intended to approach and strike up a conversation looked at the pair beneath the shade, looked back at one another, and gradually reined in their lingering intentions.
The class bell rang.
The two classes assembled.
The sports field surged with a sea of heads as everyone began scouting out appropriate partners for the paired drills.
Within the ranks of Class 1-B, Ikuyo Kita stood similarly surrounded by a tight circle of friends.
She smiled dynamically while chatting with them, yet her gaze continuously swept back and forth across the grounds.
Then, she spotted the two individuals beneath that specific tree shade.
They were simply far too conspicuous to miss.
Kita uttered a quick word to the friends beside her, before walking over toward that patch of shade in a perfectly open, natural manner.
“Tachibana-kun!
Yukinoshita-san!”
The students of Class 1-B collectively tracked Kita’s movement with their eyes, following her path all the way to the edge of the shade.
The exact instant their eyes landed squarely on Hiroto, their expressions lit up instantly.
”Who is that guy?
He’s insanely handsome!”
“He seems to belong to the International Culture Class…
Why haven’t we spotted him before?”
“Kita, that sly girl!
To think she recognized such a handsome guy and didn’t utter a single syllable to us!”
Several girls huddled together, keeping their voices remarkably low but speaking at a rapid-fire velocity.
A few were already mapping out exactly how they were going to rigorously interrogate Kita the moment she returned: what her relationship with that guy was, how they met, whether she possessed his contact info, and what his personality was like.
Beneath the shade, Kita was clearly entirely oblivious to the fact that an ironclad cross-examination awaited her back in the ranks.
At this moment, she simply squatted near the perimeter of the shade with her hands resting on her knees, staring up at Yukinoshita and Hiroto with a beaming smile.
”By the way, Ryo-senpai truly places an incredible amount of trust in me,” she noted with a touch of playful smugness in her tone.
“When I initially joined the band and my guitar skills were completely abysmal, she didn’t criticize me at all.
Later on, when I put on a front of being highly proficient, she actually concluded that it was my unique, personalized style of performing.”
Leaning against the tree trunk, Hiroto remarked with a deadpan expression, “I suspect that wasn’t a manifestation of blind confidence in your abilities, but rather a display of her own blind self-confidence, or perhaps a sign that she simply didn’t care about you in the slightest.”
”Ehh-ee-ehh?
Is that truly the case?” Kita’s face instantly crumpled.
“How heartbreaking.”
”Though Ryo-senpai is undeniably a highly intriguing, intensely distinct individual,” she tacked on as a quick supplement.
”Intensely distinct?” Yukinoshita closed her book, her tone entirely flat.
“Rather than phrasing it that way, it would be far more accurate to label her an absolute weirdo.”
It wasn’t that Yukinoshita was talking bad about Ryo behind her back.
It was primarily due to the fact that Yukinoshita had personally witnessed someone brand Ryo as a weirdo, and Ryo had accepted the label with absolute glee.
To be visibly delighted upon being called a weirdo—she truly was an absolute weirdo.
”No, no, no,” Hiroto waved his hand.
“When it comes to Ryo, she should be categorized as an eccentric genius instead.
Yukinoshita, you should be fully aware of this by now.
Labeling her a weirdo actually makes her happy.
Though looking at it from this perspective, Yukinoshita-san behaves quite like an eccentric genius yourself.”
A subtle, knowing smirk played across the corner of Yukinoshita’s mouth.
“Heh.
And what of a pervert who takes pleasure in gathering information on teenage girls?
Are they not cut from the exact same cloth?” Her gaze locked onto Hiroto.
“Tachibana-kun qualifies as an eccentric genius in his own right.”
Hiroto maintained a completely unwavering expression.
“Yukinoshita, that addition of yours is entirely superfluous.
Simply calling me a genius is more than sufficient.”
Kita burst into a sudden fit of giggles right beside them.
Further away, standing at the absolute edge of the crowd, Eriri’s gaze hadn’t wavered from that specific tree shade for a single frame.
Kita, the popular student from Class B—she recognized her.
The fact that Kita could interact so harmoniously with Yukinoshita already caused a wave of surprise to ripple through her.
Given Yukinoshita’s baseline personality, standard individuals simply couldn’t get within arm’s reach of her.
But why on earth was Hiroto Tachibana right there as well…?
And it wasn’t merely a matter of getting along smoothly; the two of them standing there together actually looked remarkably well-matched.
Eriri bit her lower lip, a tight, suffocating sensation welling up within her chest.
Right at that exact instant, her phone delivered a sharp vibration.
She lowered her head to look; it was an incoming email dispatched from an entirely unrecognized number.
「Eri Kashiwagi, I managed to secure that limited-edition game you desperately wanted.
I have a few matters I’d like to trouble you with, if that’s alright?」
Eriri’s brow furrowed tightly.
Her fingers flew across the screen as she rapidly typed out a reply:
「Who are you?
And as for this ‘Eri Kashiwagi’ person, I have absolutely no idea who that is.」
Although she was entirely clueless as to how the sender recognized her burning desire for that specific game, as the precious young lady of an elite, historical family lineage, if she genuinely wished to acquire something, securing it was a trivial matter.
Consequently, she didn’t harbor much active attachment to the limited-edition game itself.
What gripped her attention far more intensely was: Who exactly is this person?
And why do they possess knowledge regarding her…
hidden identity?
The response landed almost instantly.
「To think you’ve entirely forgotten me after a mere ten years apart.
Eriri.」
Eriri stared fixedly at the screen, her fingers freezing completely solid.
Ten years apart?
She rapidly scanned through the deep recesses of her memories, searching for an individual she hadn’t seen in ten years who simultaneously possessed explicit knowledge regarding her hidden identity.
To put it completely bluntly, who else could it possibly be?