Thwack.
The arrow did not hit the bullseye.
It didn't even hit the target.
It hit the wooden rafter directly above the target, splitting the pristine cedar with a loud, tragic crack.
Fuyumi stared at the rafter.
I stared at the rafter.
"Well,"
I squeaked, slowly lowering the bow while my face burned hotter than a supernova.
"The good news is, if a giant killer bird ever attacks the ceiling of this dojo, I have completely neutralized the threat."
Fuyumi slowly let go of my hands.
For a second, I thought the icy goddess was going to banish me to the absolute shadow realm.
Instead, her lips twitched, and she let out a short, quiet huff that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
"Your aim is atrocious, Kurogane. But your reflexes aren't terrible. Go home and rest your arms."
Before I could apologize for damaging school property, a delicate, lace-gloved hand wrapped around my wrist.
"Excellent work, Fuyumi,"
Shiori purred, pulling me away from the archery line with effortless, wealthy strength.
"But I believe it's my turn to borrow our entertaining underclassman. Kurogane-san, my driver has brought an imported French pastry assortment to the tea room. You will accompany me."
"Pastries?!"
My inner fat cat awoke from its slumber.
"I mean—Senpai, I don't think my digestive system is cleared for imported French luxury!"
"Nonsense,"
Shiori smiled, her golden eyes glittering with pure mischief.
"Consider it payment for the amusement."
The next morning, my arms felt like two overcooked pool noodles.
Walking into the classroom was an absolute struggle, my limbs refusing to cooperate after whatever torment they’d been through.
But the moment I finally slumped into my desk, a beautifully wrapped, pastel-pink bento box was lovingly pushed directly into my face.
"Good morning, Kurogane-san!"
Haruka beamed, her cheeks dusting with a lovely shade of pink.
"Since you couldn't eat lunch with me yesterday, I... I made you a homemade bento! I made sure to include extra tamagoyaki!"
Ding!
[HEROINE’S HOMEMADE BENTO EVENT TRIGGERED! CONGRATULATIONS, YOU ARE OFFICIALLY THE PROTAGONIST NOW.]
A neon sign might as well have flashed in my mind.
"Hinata-san... you are an actual angel sent from the heavens,"
I wept internally, gripping the bento box like it was a holy relic delivered straight from the gods of anime tropes.
"I will eat every single grain of rice with tears of gratitude."
Before she could blush any deeper, the morning bell suddenly cut through the air with perfect, tragic timing.
"Oh, the bell rang,"
I said, reluctantly tearing my eyes away from the holy bento.
"Let's talk again later at lunchtime, Hinata-san!"
She gave a cute, understanding nod and hurried to her own seat just as the teacher slid the classroom door open.
The instructor walked in with a heavy stack of papers, clearing their throat to signal the start of homeroom, and immediately began teaching.
My body was trapped in another boring lecture, but my soul was already at twelve o'clock, staring at that pink bento box.
The final bell of the morning echoed through the halls, liberating us from the teacher's monotonous drone.
Thanks to a miraculous scheduling fluke, the dreaded fifth period had been canceled today.
We had a completely free afternoon.
I turned to Haruka, i clenched the holy bento box before looking up.
"Hinata-san, since I promised to go to the library with you, let's head over there after lunch. The schedule fluke so there's no fifth period today, we can finally go read in peace."
Haruka's eyes widened, a bright, happy smile instantly taking over her face.
"Ah! You remembered!"
With our unexpected free time secured, the prospect of a quiet library date felt like the ultimate reward.
It was the perfect, classic heroine-route scenario—quiet corners, dusty bookshelves, and a peaceful atmosphere far away from the chaotic drama of yesterday.
"Kurogane-san, We have to secure the bench before the breeze dies down,"
Haruka said, practically vibrating with excitement as she carefully packed her pastel-pink bento box into her tote bag.
"Lead the way, Captain. My legs are functioning at roughly twelve percent capacity, but my stomach is ready to conquer continents,"
I groaned, pushing my thick glasses up the bridge of my nose as I stood up.
By some miraculous alignment of the stars, the three elite boy-band members had been drafted into an emergency athletic department meeting to discuss 'sportsmanship and behavior,' which was code for the principal yelled at them for acting like absolute menace-tier bullies in the hallway.
This meant Haruka and I were entirely free to ascend to the highest point of Youka Academy without a single reverse-harem script pop-up blocking our path.