The scene quieted once again.
Shokuhou Misaki's face twisted into a gritted-teeth glare, her eyes fixed on Haramura Makoto as if she wanted to bite him fiercely.
"I—I'm—just—a—kid. I haven't even started to develop yet, do you understand?"
The so-called "plain" appearance had its merits—the idea that anything bigger was unnatural was just a disgusting fantasy born from boys full of dirty thoughts.
In truth!
Those were just stubborn words from girls who had already gone through puberty and knew they would never have that perfect figure.
D—That was a man's dream and a woman's ambition.
If it were truly possible, no girl would say she didn't want it.
Likewise, for flat-chested girls, being judged about this feature would definitely send them into a frenzy.
Perhaps this theory doesn't apply to all girls, but for Shokuhou Misaki, it absolutely did.
"Okay, okay, there's still a chance I'll grow, alright?"
"I believe you, of course I do."
The tone was unmistakably perfunctory.
Even the dullest person could read Haramura Makoto's meaning from his face and tone.
But it was precisely this attitude that made Shokuhou Misaki's temper flare even higher.
"You—this—guy!"
Like a clay idol dragged across the river burning with anger, and especially for Shokuhou Misaki, who had quite the temper normally.
"There, feel any better now?"
Ignoring her clawing gestures beside him, Haramura Makoto smiled faintly and said matter-of-factly.
"What do you mean?"
Her fist, clenched and powerless, was already at his ear—but suddenly came to an abrupt halt.
Likewise, Shokuhou Misaki's previously distorted angry face calmed.
Her gaze shifted from fiery anger to a puzzled calm.
"Pretty obvious, isn't it?"
"That look on you—the pressure pressing you down, just wanting to run away—I saw it all from just a glance."
Haramura Makoto chuckled, avoiding her eyes as he stared at the still lake, his gaze as calm and unruffled as the water's surface.
Her raised small hand naturally fell as her clenched fist grew even tighter, veins visible beneath her pale skin.
Silence returned, heavy with only the sound of wind and insect song.
This tranquility continued for some time.
"Ha…"
A long sigh escaped—the sound of deflation.
The source was none other than the troubled Shokuhou Misaki herself.
"This strange ability that can see through hearts, yet it's only someone powerless."
Her posture relaxed, spine and shoulders loose. If moments earlier she was a tense cat ready to pounce, now she felt more like a rabbit safe in its burrow.
"Power or no power has nothing to do with it."
Haramura Makoto shrugged, hands open in mock helplessness.
"It's all just experience and another kind of talent anyway. And by the way, I'm not powerless."
"What difference does it make?"
A slight smirk tugged at Shokuhou Misaki's lips.
It wasn't quite mockery—it was more the smug glee of finally gaining the upper hand in a conversation she'd been losing since it started.
"Level 1 spatial distortion—can't even break a pencil, right?"
"Ugh, your words cut sharp, leaving me speechless."
Haramura Makoto laughed bitterly.
He had no argument here.
Right, he lived in Academy City too, and though young, was simply a student in this city.
Naturally, he had undergone the capacity development process unique to this city.
Drugs, hypnosis, electrotherapy—odd punishment-like methods to develop powers. He had gone through them all since he arrived at age six.
But unfortunately, he wasn't the chosen one like the girl beside him.
Though he had developed some power, slightly stronger than those who didn't even know their abilities, ten years as a Level 1 barely made him different from a powerless person.
"You sure don't give an inch."
He wasn't angry—at least not anymore.
He was long used to this kind of insult for his stagnant power.
And he knew the girl was just proud.
She wasn't mocking him on purpose; she was just retaliating with equal force for his teasing about her small chest.
In Academy City, mocking the powerless or weak was a devastating blow.
"Hmph."
She turned her rosy cheek aside and pouted her pink lips.
Haramura Makoto avoided her gaze, and she didn't really want to meet his eyes either.
She knew what she said earlier was a bit much.
But apologizing would be out of the question.
"So… are you willing to start talking?"
"Sometimes saying things out loud makes you feel better. I'm free today, lots of time."
Maybe Shokuhou Misaki now resembled her past self in some ways.
Though their connection was shallow, Haramura Makoto just couldn't walk away.
Simply put, he couldn't let go.
Leaning back on the chair, turning his head, he looked at Shokuhou Misaki's delicate, still slightly baby-faced profile and quietly said,
"After all, you're just a delinquent gang leader."
Though the gaze piercing was mild, she couldn't ignore it, muttering helplessly.
As their eyes met, she somehow found herself nodding.
"All right…"