"…Alright, humor her a bit."
Feeling the weight of those big, shy, expectant eyes, Fuyukawa Tetsu let out a helpless smile. He glanced at Haruyama, then at the group of boys behind him. "Half-court, three-on-three?"
"Yup!"
He took the bait!
Haruyama, decked out in a number 23 jersey, lit up with excitement. His eyes flicked to Izumi Himawari, standing nearby in a white T-shirt and blue shorts, and his fist clenched unconsciously.
"At least let her remember that I was part of her youthful canvas!" his inner chuunibyou wailed. But his enthusiasm faltered when Fuyukawa shed his black trench coat and white dress shirt, revealing a fitted white T-shirt that hugged his chiseled physique.
This guy's jacked?!
Haruyama's expression grew serious, while the girls nearby practically had stars in their eyes.
"What a body! Oh my gosh, you can see his abs! Even through the T-shirt!"
"Looks slim in clothes, ripped underneath—total dream guy. Himawari's so lucky to have a mature hottie like him!"
"But… isn't the size difference between them kinda huge? Like, even on her tiptoes, she'd barely reach him from behind."
"Hey, don't say stuff like that! You perv! Though, with muscles like that, he could probably lift her waist no problem."
"Wouldn't that just be the wheelbarrow position? Tsk tsk, and you call me the perv."
The kids around them chattered boldly, their topics veering into spicy territory—a reflection of Japan's open yet playful youth culture. Fuyukawa's face darkened with exasperation, but he didn't bother engaging. He handed his clothes to Himawari, whose flushed face mirrored the crowd's excitement, and shot her a look. "My phone's in the coat pocket. If Sayoko calls, pick up. Ignore everything else."
"Got it," she mumbled.
---
Clutching the warm trench coat, Himawari watched Fuyukawa—white T-shirt, jeans, Martin boots, and a bored expression—stretch his limbs. Her eyes swirled with intense emotions. Ignoring the crowd, she leaned in, blushing, and whispered, "Be careful, okay? Don't—"
"Less talk. You'd better put some newspaper under your butt when we get home."
"…Hmph! Stinky old man! I'm not letting you spank me!"
Staring at Fuyukawa's back as he headed to the court, Himawari's face burned. Just then, Konko Yumi, fresh from a long-distance run, sidled up, sipping water. Glancing at Fuyukawa, who was drawing plenty of female attention, she teased with a smirk on her tanned face, "Hey, this guy doesn't seem like the 'cold and heartless' jerk you described."
"Tch, that's because you haven't seen him at home! He's a total villain!" Himawari huffed, clutching the coat and rolling her eyes.
Yumi shrugged, wiping sweat from her chin with the towel draped over her shoulder. "Sure, I haven't known him long, but a mature guy like him playing 'kids' games' with Haruyama for someone's sake? Tsk tsk, seems like you mean a lot to him."
"W-What?! Yumi, don't just say stuff like that!" A flicker of sweetness crossed Himawari's eyes, but she quickly crossed her arms, tossing her head proudly. "He's just showing off for the high school girls! I'm telling you, he's such a perv!"
"Guys being pervy is normal, no? Or do you prefer the kind who act like a block of wood?" Yumi shot back.
"…"
Himawari was stumped. Yumi took a sip of water, grinning slyly. "No comeback, huh?"
"Comeback? Why would I need one? If you like pervy guys, that's your business!" Himawari retorted, giving her a dead-fish stare, clearly done with the conversation.
Yumi just winked. "I mean, you didn't deny liking him."
Boom!
A thunderclap hit Himawari's heart. Her pupils shrank, her face flushed, and her heart raced. But a sudden cheer from the crowd snapped her back to reality. Grabbing Yumi's collar, she shook her frantically. "Yumi, you're dead! You can't just joke like that!"
"Hey, hey, I'm drinking—ugh! The game's starting!" Yumi muttered, fixing her loosened collar. Watching Himawari nervously stare at the court, she smirked. "By the way, Haruyama's no slouch. I heard college basketball teams are scouting him. Your guy might be in for a rough time."
Himawari's eyes flashed with worry, but she bit her lip and shook her head. "No way! The old man never does anything he's not sure of!"
"Who knows? Men are like women—calm and rational until they're caught in an emotional whirlwind. Then their IQ drops to zero—holy crap?!"
Yumi was still teasing when her jaw dropped. The entire crowd gasped in unison.
"He dunked right off the bat?!"
"What kind of freakish athleticism is that?!"
"My gosh, so cool!"
A sharp clang echoed.
The court fell silent.
Everyone stared, dumbfounded, at Fuyukawa hanging one-handed from the rim.
The girls clutching volleyballs dropped them, eyes wide with disbelief.
It all happened so fast. Fuyukawa caught a pass at the top of the key. Haruyama immediately pressed up, stepping onto the three-point line, using his waist, abs, and chest to body-check Fuyukawa's shoulder.
A solid move. Most amateur ballers struggle with their non-dominant hand under pressure. Block one side, pressure the other, and you've got them locked down.
But it didn't work. With his system-enhanced physique, Fuyukawa wasn't planning any fancy dribble moves.
"Idiot! What kind of monster strength is this?!" Haruyama yelped.
Holding the ball with both hands at his right hip, Fuyukawa lowered his center of gravity, tightened his core, and drove his shoulder forward, knocking the shocked Haruyama off balance with a single shove.
One step, and he was through!
His left shoulder cut off Haruyama's path to the ball. As Haruyama staggered back, Fuyukawa's left leg muscles tensed, lunging forward. His right hand flicked the ball upward with a spin.
One step past!
Pure power!
By the time Fuyukawa reached the ball at the free-throw line's right side, Haruyama was two steps behind. Only a lanky, 1.9-meter center stood in his way.
A 1.9-meter frame is intimidating, but high schoolers haven't hit their physical peak. Most tall kids at this age are all height, no muscle—weak in contact and lacking in bounce.
No hesitation. Under the terrified gaze of the center, the stunned look of Haruyama, and the shocked stares of the crowd, Fuyukawa gripped the ball with both hands at the free-throw line, charging straight at the center. His right hand raised the ball high.
Like a torch blazing skyward!
Two powerful strides!
Airborne!
A crisp clang from the rim!
A riding dunk!
As Fuyukawa hung one-handed from the rim, the gym went dead silent, save for the sound of swallowing.
A second later, the crowd erupted into a tidal wave of cheers!
"You said he works late every day, and he's still this explosive?!"
Fuyukawa's raw athleticism ignited the gym. Yumi, jostled by screaming girls, stared at him in disbelief. Like Haruyama, she could tell Fuyukawa's muscles weren't just gym-pumped protein bulk. His 1.86-meter frame made dunking plausible, but the visual impact of that move was unreal!
The gym was on fire!
Watching Himawari, flushed and jumping with the same excitement as the other girls, her eyes brimming with admiration, Yumi leaned in with a grin. "Good call joining the volleyball club."
"Huh? What's that got to do with anything?" Himawari tilted her head, confused.
"It'll toughen you up," Yumi said, glancing at Fuyukawa dropping from the rim and then at Himawari's petite, loli-like frame. "With his strength, one big thrust, and your untrained body would fall apart. You don't want him to… not have fun, right?"
"What?! Yumi, you're dead! Saying stuff like that in a crowd!" Himawari yanked Yumi's cheek, fuming. But as she turned back to the court, her eyes grew hazy and flushed.
Having fun… Wheelbarrow…
Ugh! What am I thinking?! I'm done for!
The earlier comments from the crowd and Yumi sparked some wild images in her mind. But a sudden cheer snapped her out of her rosy daydreams as Fuyukawa blew past Haruyama with a crossover, stopped short inside the three-point line, and nailed a jump shot.
Amid the girls' cheers, he glanced back at her. Blushing furiously, Himawari looked away, muttering, "Always bullying kids, hmph!"
Fuyukawa didn't know what she was thinking. He just knew he was having a blast.
"Smashing some newbies now and then is kinda fun," he mused, dribbling with a light sweat, a faint smile in his eyes as he faced a now-defeated-looking Haruyama. Honestly, he hadn't been too thrilled about this weird "rival showdown" at first. But once his body warmed up, the thrill of competitive sports felt way better than jogging.
"Too bad I don't have anyone to play with usually. Hmm, maybe I'll drag Miyano to a boxing match sometime. She didn't take a break over New Year's—probably itching for action."
Miyano Mitei's curvy figure flashed in his mind. Facing Haruyama's attempt to steal the ball, Fuyukawa didn't hesitate, firing a sharp pass to a teammate cutting to the 45-degree angle for a three.
Pass, move!
The second the ball left his hands, Fuyukawa didn't stop. A quick step, and he cut inside without the ball, ready to catch a return pass. But then, under his widening eyes, his teammate and an opponent chasing the ball collided hard at the 45-degree angle!
A dull thud.
In Fuyukawa's stunned gaze, the two guys barreled straight into Himawari, knocking her to the ground!
It's not uncommon for a ball game to spill into the crowd. The onlookers scattered, and the two guys muttered a quick "Sumimasen" before chasing the ball. But Himawari sat on the ground, clutching her left ankle in pain, sucking in sharp breaths.
"You okay, Himawari?!" Yumi crouched beside her.
Himawari winced, holding her pale ankle. "I-It's fine… just got pressed on a bit." She grabbed Yumi's hand to stand, but as soon as she put weight on her left foot, a sharp pain shot through her, and she gasped again.
"That's a sprain—" Yumi started, unfazed. Sprains were common in track. She helped Himawari up, but by then, the game had stopped.
"What happened?"
Wiping sweat from his chin, Fuyukawa approached, his sweat-soaked T-shirt clinging to his toned abs, drawing curious glances from the girls. His eyes zeroed in on Himawari's ankle, hovering off the ground. No swelling yet, but clearly painful.
"I-It's nothing… hey! What're you doing, you stinky old man?!"
Himawari, embarrassed under the crowd's gaze, started to protest, but before she could finish, Fuyukawa scooped her up in a princess carry.
She froze.
Completely unprepared for him to pick her up in front of everyone at school, Himawari was dumbfounded. Feeling the mix of curious, shocked, and envious stares, she clung to his chest. Fuyukawa, not bothering with chatter, turned to the stunned Haruyama. "We'll finish this another time." Then to Yumi: "Can you grab her bag and clothes for today? I'm taking her home."
Without waiting for a reply, he draped his trench coat over Himawari's T-shirt and shorts and strode out of the gym.
No one expected this ending. As his figure disappeared through the door, the gym erupted.
"Told you Himawari and him are close! A princess carry?!"
"And he's taking her home! Foot massage by a hunk? Sign me up!"
"Did you see how she looked at him? Her eyes were practically dripping. She might lose her home base tonight!"
"Shh—keep it down! Haruyama's about to break!"
"Poor guy, handing his rival a game-winning assist…"
---
Night fell, and snow blanketed the sky.
Tokyo's streets were livelier at night than during the day, filled with people in thick coats enjoying the nightlife. But none of that mattered to Fuyukawa.
"It'll sting a bit. Bear with it."
On a street outside a COSMOS pharmacy, under a tree, inside a black Volkswagen with the heater on, snow fell gently outside. Fuyukawa, now in a dress shirt after shedding his sweaty T-shirt, held Himawari's pale foot in his left hand, a cotton swab with antiseptic in his right.
"Nngh… be gentle…"
The city hummed outside, but the car was quiet, save for Fuyukawa's steady breathing.
Her foot in his hand, Himawari leaned against the door, her cute face flushed under the dim streetlights. She didn't resist, though her fists clenched tightly under the warm coat.
How did it come to this?
She'd deliberately shown up late today, hoping to make Fuyukawa come get her and maybe score a big meal. But now…
Alone with him for once, watching his calm face grow cautious as he applied the antiseptic, Himawari relaxed, her blush deepening. Her toes wiggled instinctively, but he pinched them lightly.
"Don't move."
"Such a rough guy—ow!"
She pouted, ready to tease, but the cold antiseptic hit her scrape, making her wince and suck in a breath. She tried to pull her foot back, but he held it firmly.
"It's just antiseptic. No need to overreact," Fuyukawa grumbled, hungry and annoyed by the night's chaos, though his hands stayed gentle.
Feeling his care, Himawari's eyes softened. "It… hurts a little, okay?"
"Then no antiseptic?"
"…Hmph! You don't know the first thing about being gentle!" Rolling her eyes, she paused, then asked, "Hey, are you going jogging tomorrow morning?"
"Hm? Why?" Fuyukawa raised an eyebrow. He hadn't skipped his morning jogs, though his busy schedule had cut them down to three times a week. With his system-enhanced body, that was enough—after all, he could dunk. But jogging wasn't just for fitness; it was for mental clarity too.
"Well… in a couple of days, when my foot's better, can I join you?"
Recalling Yumi's "fall apart" and "not having fun" comments, Himawari's face reddened, and she avoided his gaze.
"You? Jogging?" Fuyukawa looked surprised, then teased, "It's not a one-day whim. It takes consistency. You, who needs three alarms to get up, shouldn't bother."
"What?! I'll definitely stick with it this time!"
"Sure, like when you believed that internet myth about swimming improving your skin and 'enhancing your chest muscles'? You quit after two days."
"That's because the gym was too far! I didn't have time!"
Himawari crossed her arms, pouting stubbornly, her expression pure "dead duck, hard beak."
Cute. Fuyukawa shook his head, chuckling. "Even the lure of a bigger chest couldn't keep you going. I'd say stick to your A-cups and skip it."
"What?! A-cups?! You jerk, I'll kill you!"
Her sore spot hit, Himawari exploded, lunging to pinch his cheeks. But in her fervor, she toppled into his lap, one hand holding a swab, the other a bottle of antiseptic.
The bottle wasn't capped. Fuyukawa froze.
Seeing her chance, Himawari's excitement spiked. Straddling him, she grabbed his cheeks. "Hmph! Got you now, old man! That's for spanking me before! Little Himawari's getting revenge! Say it—will you listen to me from now on? Dare to spank me again—ah!"
A slap echoed.
Himawari's expression froze. Looking down, she saw Fuyukawa's right hand, swab discarded, had landed firmly on her heart-shaped peach.
Dragon claw grip!
His fingers dug into her blue shorts.
"Ahh!"
A mix of pain and an electric thrill surged through her, straightening her spine. Before she could react, the sound of the bottle cap twisting shut filled the car. Under her teary gaze, Fuyukawa's right hand gripped harder, his left arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her onto his lap.
"You little brat. Give you an inch, and you take a mile."
"Ahh!"
Another slap!
The electric sensation and pressure hit again. Under the car's ceiling light, Himawari let out a muffled whimper, her watery eyes locked on Fuyukawa's, practically dripping. Her body went limp, her breath warm against his shoulder.
Instinctively, she wanted to apologize like before, but something about his scent and the closeness stopped her. Her lips parted, but no words came.
Sure enough, another slap and ripple echoed. Her eyes rolled slightly, but to her surprise, his dragon claw didn't let go—it gripped harder!
"You little…"
Feeling her soft, limp frame collapse against him, her warm breath on his neck, and seeing the passing cars outside, Fuyukawa felt a surge of heat, his eyes growing intense.
No hesitation. His right hand kept kneading, his left lifting her dazed face.
"Old man…"
Himawari's eyes were hazy, her breath soft, her arms wrapping around his neck.
Incredibly tempting. Fuyukawa leaned in for a kiss, but then—
Knock, knock, knock.
A tap on the window. A traffic officer stood outside, looking awkward.
"Sir, you can't park here."