Beyond Hayasaka Ai, Shinomiya Kaguya possessed no friends her own age. No one to whisper secrets to beneath shared blankets, no confidante for the strange, thrilling confusions of adolescence. The Shinomiya compound had raised her in emotional quarantine—tutors instead of playmates, etiquette drills instead of slumber parties.
The result of such suffocating cultivation was a girl who had become abnormally sensitive to anything suggestive. Vague words. Lingering pauses. The space between syllables where meaning could twist into something shameful.
For approximately thirty seconds, Shinomiya Kaguya's mind went completely blank—a white screen of static where her formidable intellect should have been.
Then, slowly, reluctantly, like a computer rebooting after a crash, her cognitive functions limped back online.
He meant... a smile. Just a smile.
The realization of her own misunderstanding hit her like a truck. Heat flooded her face so fast she felt dizzy with it, crimson spreading from her cheeks down the pale column of her throat, disappearing beneath her uniform collar.
To Kazama Haru, the transformation was striking. The ice princess who had moments ago radiated cold authority now stood before him flushed and trembling, her composure shattered into a thousand glittering pieces. Those ruby eyes—usually so controlled, so calculating—now darted anywhere but his face.
This is more like it, he thought, watching the way she bit her lower lip hard enough to leave a mark. A girl in her adolescence should show such expressions. Always maintaining that frozen mask isn't healthy.
When Kaguya finally gathered enough courage to look at him, she found that infuriating smile still playing at the corners of his lips. Soft. Knowing. Victorious.
Her entire body trembled with fury.
That—that scoundrel! Her thoughts came in sharp, fragmented bursts. He did it on purpose! His usual speaking speed is never that slow—he deliberately... he made me think...
She couldn't even finish the thought without wanting to combust.
As if sensing the perfect moment to twist the knife, Kazama Haru spoke again. His voice carried the scent of spring grass and something warmer beneath—sandalwood, maybe, from whatever soap he used. It curled through the afternoon air between them.
"I want you to smile at me."
Kaguya's breath caught.
"Not a social etiquette smile," he continued, each word unhurried, savoring. "A genuine smile. From the heart."
What kind of request is that?!
This wasn't submission. This wasn't defiance. This was something else entirely—Kazama Haru was rewriting the rules. Transforming her one-sided dominance into an "equal exchange game" she had never agreed to play.
I serve you, his relaxed posture seemed to say, not because of your oppression, but because I choose to participate. And the initiative? It's in my hands now.
Kaguya's pupils contracted violently.
Her chest heaved beneath her uniform, the fabric pulling tight with each agitated breath. The shame from before—that mortifying misunderstanding—crashed back over her in a fresh wave, and she felt her face burn even hotter.
Setting aside the deliberate misunderstanding he'd caused, the request itself was—
Flirtatious. He's flirting with me. This servant is actually—
Her slender shoulders began to shake. Not from cold. From the sheer overwhelming collision of embarrassment, indignation, and something else she refused to name. Something that made her heart beat too fast and her palms feel damp.
"Hah..." A breathless, incredulous laugh escaped her throat. "Do you even deserve it?"
Her voice came out higher than intended, betraying her. She fought to steady it, to reclaim even a shred of her dignity.
"To have me smile for you as a reward? Who do you think you are?"
[First time breaking Shinomiya Kaguya's icy facade — Rewarding 3000 Wish Points]
[Wish Points Balance: 24850]
The familiar chime sounded in his mind. Looking at the girl before him—composure clearly shattered, yet still stubbornly clinging to her dignified image like a drowning person gripping driftwood—Kazama Haru allowed his satisfied smile to deepen.
"Aa, Shinomiya-san." His tone was almost fond. "You would indeed say something like that."
He shrugged with practiced helplessness, as if this outcome had been inevitable from the start.
"Alright then. Let's table that discussion for now. If you have no further instructions, I'll return to archery practice. The national competition won't wait."
He turned away.
No hesitation. No lingering glance. No desperate hope for her to call him back.
He simply left.
Kaguya could only glare at his retreating back, her fierce gaze burning into those broad shoulders with all the intensity she could muster. Her fingers curled into tight fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms.
This feeling...
The loss of control. The humiliation. The way he'd turned her own game against her with such effortless ease.
For the first time, she truly saw this "loyal dog." His image carved itself into her memory with crystal clarity—the relaxed set of his shoulders, the confident stride, that damnable smile.
She would remember this.
Yet her trembling fingertips and racing heartbeat honestly revealed the truth:
[Today's match result: Shinomiya Kaguya's complete defeat]
---
After leaving the Archery Club, Kazama Haru walked without pause toward the Astronomy Club.
He'd already arranged with Takamatsu Tomori to visit RiNG together—continuing their search for a bassist while work-shopping new material. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the walkway, painting everything in shades of amber and gold.
Through the classroom window, he caught sight of the scene within.
Ryuju Momo—Momo-chan to those brave enough—lounged across the worn leather sofa in her JK uniform with all the boneless grace of a cat in a sunbeam. Her fair calves, encased in sheer black tights that clung to every curve, swung lazily over the armrest. The fabric caught the light with each idle kick, highlighting the toned shape of her legs.
She held her phone in both hands, thumbs dancing across the screen. Some new Pokémon mobile game, judging by the colorful flashes. White earbuds nestled in her ears—a thoughtful gesture to keep the sound effects from disturbing Tomori's concentration.
She can be considerate when she wants to be, Haru noted.
Takamatsu Tomori, meanwhile, was hunched over a desk near the window. Her small frame bent close to a notebook—the one with the pill bug illustration on the cover—and a pencil moved steadily across the page. Her hair fell forward, partially obscuring her focused expression.
The light caught dust motes drifting lazily through the air. The room smelled of old books, chalk dust, and the faint sweetness of Tomori's strawberry shampoo.
Two people with completely opposite personalities, quietly absorbed in their own worlds. Minding their own business.
Unexpectedly harmonious, he thought with a soft smile.
He knocked gently before sliding the door open.
"Haru-kun! You came!"
Tomori's face lit up like a sunrise. She practically bounced in her seat, pencil clutched forgotten in her hands, that radiant smile transforming her delicate features.
Momo merely lifted her gaze from her phone screen, gave him a slight nod of acknowledgment, then returned to her game. Her version of a warm greeting.
"The lyrics..." Tomori's voice trembled with nervous excitement. She rose from her chair, clutching the notebook to her chest like a precious artifact. "I-I pretty much finished them!"
Like a child presenting a homework assignment for praise, she held out the notebook with both hands, offering it to him as though it were treasure.
"Seriously? Akari, your efficiency is amazing!"
The genuine admiration in his voice made her cheeks flush pink.
It had only been two days since they'd discussed writing lyrics together. Two days, and she'd already completed a full draft. Her dedication was nothing short of remarkable.
Haru accepted the notebook carefully, treating it with the reverence it deserved, and began to read.
Watching him become absorbed in her words, Tomori found herself equally absorbed in him.
Her hands hung at her sides, fingers curling into loose fists. She held her breath without realizing it.
Will he like it? The lyrics I worked so hard on... will Haru-kun think they're good?
Her heart hammered against her ribs.
If he likes them... will he give me a reward?
The memory of yesterday surfaced unbidden—his large, warm hand settling gently atop her head. The way his fingers had threaded through her hair, the tender pressure of his palm, how safe and cherished she'd felt beneath that simple touch.
Heat crept up her neck.
And then there was what Momo had mentioned so casually, that teasing whisper about kisses...
What would it feel like? The thought arrived before she could stop it. His lips... would they be soft? Would he taste like the coffee he drinks? Would he cup my face in his hands, or pull me close by the waist, or—
Her face burned scarlet. She pressed her thighs together unconsciously, suddenly very aware of how warm the classroom had become.
S-stop it! Don't think about that! He's reading right now!
But her gaze remained fixed on his profile. The strong line of his jaw. The way his dark hair fell across his forehead. The slight part of his lips as he mouthed certain phrases silently.
"This..."
Haru's murmur drew her back to reality.
His expression had shifted. Gone was the casual interest—in its place, something deeper. More affected. He was completely immersed in the words she'd poured her heart into.
"Trapped in the mire of confirming right and wrong,
In a night with nowhere to go.
I am all alone.
Closing my eyes, fearing to stop.
Rushing forward, yet leaving wounds once more.
As anxious as ever.
How can I find it?
Why can't I do it?
To me, who cannot breathe—
You desperately call out..."
The verses continued, each line more vulnerable than the last. Raw emotion distilled into careful syllables.
"May each passing day become our memory.
Engraved in the same heartbeat.
We promised to live together;
Our destination is here.
Let's go back."
Unlike typical songwriting conventions where the title appeared at the beginning, it wasn't until the final page that Haru found what Tomori had written in elegant, careful strokes.
The characters gleamed under the fading sunlight:
[Kyūsai no Chi]
(Place of Salvation)