"Good morning!"
"'Morning~!"
At 8:40 AM, students gradually trickled into the classroom, exchanging greetings with the casual ease of daily ritual. The atmosphere hummed with youthful energy—chalk dust motes drifting through slanted morning light, the faint sweetness of someone's strawberry milk carton already open.
Kazama Haru, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, yawned his way through the door. He'd stayed up far too late turning thoughts of Sena Ajisai over in his mind, and now exhaustion clung to him like humidity.
Sleep-deprived and unhurried, he shuffled into the classroom.
Just like yesterday, the first thing that caught his eye was Amaori Renako's striking pink hair—cotton-candy bright against the morning's neutral palette.
It seemed as if yesterday's karaoke incident had never happened. She was gathered with the gyaru clique led by Nakamura Riko, laughing along as they recounted the hilarious performance of[Wakaba]on last night's variety show, occasionally chiming in with supportive remarks timed perfectly to keep the conversation flowing.
Speaking of which...
It was because of a single strand of that pink hair that he'd been subjected to Ajisai's merciless interrogation yesterday.
He silently vowed to find an opportunity to make that pink-haired troublemaker personally experience the pressure he'd endured.
A faint smile tugged at his lips as he recalled yesterday's events. Kazama Haru walked directly toward Renako.
"Ah, Kazama-san, good morning~!"
Seeing him approach, the gyarus' eyes lit up with barely concealed delight, greeting him eagerly.
"Kazama-kun, why are you smiling so happily today? Did something good happen? Tell us, tell us~!"
"Kazama-kun, did you watch Wakaba's comedy bit last night? Wasn't it super hilarious?" This most flirtatious greeting came from Nakamura Riko herself, her glossy lips curved into an inviting smile as she leaned slightly forward, gold hoop earrings swaying.
Ara, he came straight to us again. Maybe today's my lucky day~ Riko's painted nails tapped against her desk.
Kazama Haru nodded in acknowledgment to each of them, but his gaze ultimately settled on Amaori Renako—the only one who hadn't proactively greeted him.
Facing his direct stare, Renako felt her heart ignite like a furnace.
Just like during her internal struggle last night, she was still deliberating whether she should easily reveal her best friend relationship with Kazama Haru in front of the class.
Rationally speaking, the consequences of offending Nakamura Riko versus maintaining a best friend relationship with Kazama Haru were two things that couldn't be weighed on the same scale.
The former was clearly more catastrophic.
If I acknowledge him now, Nakamura-san will definitely...
"?"
Seeing Renako still refusing to meet his gaze, confusion flickered across Kazama Haru's features.
Even so, his eyes remained fixed on her slightly trembling form—the way her fingers gripped the fabric of her skirt, knuckles whitening.
Is she... afraid?
From birth, Kazama Haru possessed a delicate sensitivity to emotions, coupled with sharp observation. He detected the abnormality in Renako's state almost instantly.
His peripheral vision swept the circle. Nakamura Riko and the others were all staring at Renako now, following his gaze like predators scenting weakness.
Their expressions held confusion, mockery, and that subtle hint of displeasure—the kind that preceded social execution.
Ah... so that's what she's worried about.
Understanding dawned. He'd considered yesterday that his "special attention" might lead to Renako being resented or even ostracized by these so-called classmates.
That was precisely why he hadn't deliberately approached her in class from the beginning.
It seemed Renako had also sensed this possibility with painful clarity.
The lesson of being isolated for trivial matters throughout three years of junior high was truly unforgettable.
"...Sigh."
With an almost inaudible exhale, Kazama Haru decided to cooperate with the girl's self-preservation. He shifted his gaze and walked toward his seat without looking back, footsteps measured against the linoleum floor.
Behind him, piercing laughter and teasing erupted almost simultaneously.
"Ahahaha, Renako, what kind of reaction was that?! Just one look from Kazama-kun and you're so nervous you can't even say hello?"
Nakamura Riko seemed thoroughly satisfied with Renako's "sensible" behavior, laughing heartily and showing absolutely no mercy. Her perfume—something aggressively floral—seemed to thicken the air.
"Seriously, Renako, could you be any more of a loser? Ahaha~!"
The heavily made-up gyaru with the puffy sleeves exaggeratedly covered her mouth, deliberately raising her voice several decibels so everyone in class could witness Renako's humiliation clearly.
Pathetic. At least she knows her place. The gyaru's kohled eyes glittered with petty satisfaction.
"A-ahaha..." Amaori Renako awkwardly scratched the back of her head, forcing out an ugly smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Listening to their piercing laughter wash over her, Renako finally released a quiet breath.
Judging by Nakamura-san's reaction, my current performance should count as "fitting in"... right?
But the moment she recalled Kazama Haru's resolute back as he walked away—and that subtle sigh she'd caught with painful acuity—her heart clenched as if gripped by an invisible fist.
Kazama-san truly took his best friend declaration from last night to heart.
That's why he'd specifically walked over to greet her.
Yet her attitude had been utterly terrible. Not only had she failed to show sincerity by speaking first, she hadn't even managed to look him in the eye.
Such a weak self... truly a total loser.
As the Nakamura clique's topic shifted seamlessly back to "makeup techniques," Amaori Renako's expression filled with unspeakable bitterness, her pink hair falling forward to partially obscure her face.
To cater to the emotions of these "friends," to live so cautiously just to avoid offending them, and in exchange, betray and sacrifice the unreserved kindness of a real friend...
. ..Is this truly the school life I wanted?
…
"Kazama-san, good morning."
The moment Kazama Haru settled into his seat, Takamatsu Tomori turned around eagerly from the desk in front, her greeting soft but genuinely warm.
A sweet, faint smile even graced her lips—small but unmistakably present.
This surprised Kazama Haru. He realized she'd developed considerable trust in him since yesterday.
"Mm, Akari-san, good morning." He returned a smile of his own, unguarded.
*I said it earlier but the kanji for Tomori and Akari are the same so I left it as is.
"Mmn..."
Perhaps unaccustomed to him using her first name, or perhaps because his smile was too gentle, Takamatsu Tomori unconsciously let out a cute, almost animal-like sound—the kind of surprised squeak a small creature might make.
He called me Akari again... my chest feels warm. Her pale fingers curled against her desk's edge.
Immediately after, her gaze drifted toward Amaori Renako, who had returned to her seat alone, pink head bowed.
"Not greeting Amaori-san... is that okay?"
In the past, Tomori had always been immersed in her own world, rarely paying attention to classroom dynamics.
But today, from the moment Kazama Haru entered, her gaze had locked onto him—and thus she'd witnessed the entire scene unfold.
Moreover, with her delicate sensitivity, she'd noticed Renako's mood visibly plummet the moment Kazama Haru walked away without a word.
Kazama Haru retrieved his textbook for first period from his backpack, closed his eyes, and rubbed his sore neck with one hand. Honestly, he wasn't sure how to explain this complicated situation to the naturally innocent Takamatsu Tomori.
So he chose deflection.
"Let's set that aside for now. I have something more important to tell Akari."
"What is it?" Takamatsu Tomori's pink eyes brightened with immediate interest, her earlier concern momentarily shelved.
"After thinking it over last night, I've decided which position I'll take in the band." Kazama Haru leaned back slightly, a teasing edge to his voice. "Guess which one?"
Takamatsu Tomori's brow furrowed delicately. Her right thumb rotated unconsciously against her left palm—a thinking habit. After serious consideration, she spoke:
"Is it... the keyboardist?"
"Eh?" Now it was Kazama Haru's turn to look surprised. "Why would you think that?"
"Because... Kazama-san gives off a very... reliable feeling."
Takamatsu Tomori's gaze fixed intently on his right hand, resting naturally on the desk's surface.
"Also, Kazama-san's hands are very kirei... very beautiful. They seem suited for playing such an instrument."
The hand in question was indeed long and fair, the joints clearly defined—elegant in a way that warranted her highest level of praise.
"I'll accept that beautiful hands suit instruments," Kazama Haru said slowly, "but how exactly is reliability connected to being a keyboardist..."
The question caught in his throat.
The instant he formed the words, the answer surfaced unbidden in his mind—clear as a struck chord.
Togawa Sakiko of MyGO!!!!!.