"Whoosh—!"
A soft spring breeze drifted across the rooftop.
After finishing his bento, Kasumigaoka Touji stood and stretched lazily toward the sky. Just then, a delicate pinkish-white cherry blossom petal danced on the breeze and landed gently on his hand.
"Huh... it actually floated all the way up here."
Touji blinked in surprise, holding the petal between his fingers with a curious gaze.
"What's up?"
Kasumigaoka Utaha, sipping ginger-infused brown sugar tea from her thermos, looked over with slight interest, her violet eyes glinting in the sunlight.
"A cherry blossom petal," Touji said, turning it slightly in his palm.
"Hmm… cherry blossoms occasionally drift up here, but it's rare." Utaha shrugged elegantly, speaking from experience. This was only the second time she'd seen one on this rooftop.
She tilted her thermos toward him with a mischievous grin curling at her lips. "Here, for my dear Otouto-kun, who recently had his 'monthly cycle.'"
Touji twitched, his expression flat. "...Thanks. So considerate."
"Of course! I'm a kind and caring onee-san, after all." Utaha lifted her chin proudly, her tone playful.
Touji took a small sip from the thermos, letting the sweet-spicy warmth settle in his throat before handing it back.
Then, with a small smile, he held out the petal to her.
"Eh?" Utaha blinked.
"It is said that the speed at which cherry blossoms fall... is five centimeters per second," he said softly, opening his palm and allowing the petal to flutter down.
Utaha watched it drift lazily to the ground before scoffing lightly. "That's false, you know."
She began capping her thermos, speaking with the authority of a novelist and a woman of reason. "Objects in free fall experience acceleration. Petals don't fall at a fixed speed, especially with air resistance, varying petal shapes, and other factors. So the idea of five centimeters per second as a constant speed is basically impossible."
"However…" she paused, her gaze softening, "…it's a beautiful thought."
There was something oddly romantic about it—the image, the sentiment, the idea that even nature's gentlest things had their own rhythm.
Inspiration flickered in her eyes like a candle catching wind. Without hesitation, she pulled out her phone, opened her notepad app, and began typing rapidly.
She leaned back against the bench, legs crossed in elegant confidence, and instinctively settled into a comfortable writing posture. Her smile grew soft, dreamy.
Utaha was in her zone.
Touji's eyes slowly wandered—not to her face, but down her figure.
Her legs, wrapped in sheer black stockings, crossed effortlessly, the silky shimmer of the fabric catching the light. They were flawless—graceful curves, smooth contours, perfectly proportioned. Not even fashion models could compare.
And yet… the upper half of her lifted thigh, near where her skirt slightly bunched—
"Tch…"
No anti-gravity anime skirts in real life, huh? Reality was far more seductive.
Unable to resist, Touji reached forward and placed his hand gently on her knee. Then, with two fingers, he began walking them across her thigh like a pair of tiny legs.
"Wha—?!"
Utaha flinched and instinctively kicked at him. "O-Oi!"
"When a girl says 'stop,' she usually means 'keep going,' right?" Touji teased, fingers marching on undeterred. "Utaha-chan~ are you perhaps enjoying this?"
"You're such a pain!" Utaha blurted, finally shoving his hand away and lowering her leg with a huff.
"Otouto-kun, what twisted understanding do you have of girls?!" she exclaimed, brows furrowed.
"Or wait, are you just trying to take advantage of your onee-san under the guise of confusion?"
She narrowed her eyes and gave him a calculating once-over, as though re-evaluating her entire impression of him. "Or… could it be you get excited when your nee-san looks at you like you're a piece of trash?"
Touji held up his hands in surrender. "No way. I'm not a masochist."
"Really now?"
"I just wanted Utaha to understand that real life is never as smooth and perfect as fiction. Even in peace, ripples form."
Utaha's mouth twitched.
"That's exactly what I said this morning!" she said incredulously.
Touji grinned. "I'm quoting greatness."
Kasumigaoka Utaha twitched the corner of her mouth and said in a long-suffering tone: "Touji-kun, a man who's too petty is seriously ungentlemanly~."
"I'm only petty like this with you," Touji replied, shrugging casually as he leaned against the railing.
"Hmph, that doesn't make it any better," Utaha sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of her nose as though she were dealing with a particularly difficult child. "How am I supposed to be happy with this kind of treatment?"
"It's fine as long as I'm happy," Touji said with a teasing smirk.
"Ugh, you're such a pain, Touji-kun!" Utaha groaned, casting a sharp glare at him. "Trash! Absolute trash!"
She turned away, pretending to ignore him as she focused on her phone. "Trash-kun, stop bothering me already. I'm trying to record this precious flash of inspiration. Don't ruin it."
But Touji wasn't about to let her off that easily. He leaned in and gave her cheek a gentle pinch, feeling the softness under his fingers.
"Is that how you ask for favors, Utaha-san?"
"...I was wrong!" she suddenly yelped, trying not to lose her thread of inspiration. She lowered her head, her tone exaggeratedly meek. "Dear Otouto-kun, please let me focus on this. I promise to repay you handsomely later."
Touji raised an eyebrow, amused. "Wouldn't it have been easier to say that in the first place?"
Still chuckling, he ruffled her hair affectionately, like petting a particularly spoiled cat, then stepped away and left her to her writing.
Utaha rolled her eyes but didn't say anything. She was used to his teasing, and honestly, it would have felt weird if he didn't poke fun at her at least once a day.
Left with nothing else to do, Touji wandered the rooftop for a bit, then pulled out his phone and casually started chatting with Kani Nayuta. The idle conversation helped kill time.
…
Time flew by quickly, and before he knew it, it was already 1:20 PM.
"Class is about to start. Let's head back," Touji called out.
"Mm." Utaha checked the time. Only three minutes left. She picked up her thermos and bento box and nodded. "Let's go."
The two walked down from the rooftop together. As they reached the third floor, Utaha's gaze shifted to Touji's back.
Touji instantly noticed the feeling of being watched and turned around, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Oi... what are you planning?"
"Touji-kun, your butt looked dirty," Utaha said smoothly, her expression blank. "I was thinking I should pat it for you."
"How very kind of you," Touji deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "But no thanks."
He quickened his pace, clearly unconvinced. He hadn't sat on anything dirty, so it was definitely a trap. Was she planning to smack him? Kick him? Maybe both?
"Geez…" he muttered.
…
Back in the classroom—
Kasumigaoka Touji glanced over at Mayonaka Kokonoka, who was napping soundly at her desk, totally unaffected by the noise and commotion.
"Ah—right," Touji suddenly remembered. "I forgot to have Utaha-nee fill out the club application form."
Oh well, he'd get it signed in the afternoon. There was still time. After all, the fifth club member hadn't been found yet anyway, so there was no rush.
Still… the way Kokonoka could sleep like a log even in such a noisy classroom—wasn't that kind of impressive?
Touji couldn't help but admire her bizarre talent.
Just then—
"Ding-a-ling-ling~!"
The bell rang, signaling the start of afternoon classes. Right on cue, a pink-haired girl wearing a skirt over her tracksuit slipped into the classroom from the back door like a stealthy ninja.
Touji blinked.
"Bocchi-chan… your timing is scary perfect."
She'd made it exactly as the bell rang again. Wasn't that what she did yesterday too?
It was oddly impressive—her ability to sneak in right on the bell without ever being early or late.
Touji couldn't help but wonder: where was she hiding before?
As if answering his own question, he imagined her crouched in the dark corner of the staircase, hiding like some sort of socially anxious ninja.
He frowned slightly, a hint of sympathy flickering in his eyes.
"Social anxiety, huh… must be rough."
Even if she tried her best, Bocchi-chan was clearly fighting her own daily battle—and somehow still showing up, right on time.
Respect.