"Ah, hello. I'm Kazama Haru from Class 1-C. I'm here to observe."
Unable to determine Shinomiya Kaguya's current grade, Kazama Haru kept his attitude respectfully neutral—better safe than sorry when dealing with senpai territory.
"The club president and seniors have gone to another school for an exchange match today." Shinomiya Kaguya's voice carried zero warmth, crisp as freshly cracked ice. "If you want to join, the application forms are over there. They'll review it when they return."
Just another curious first-year. How tedious.
"Understood. Thank you." Kazama Haru nodded, retrieved an application form from the wooden shelf, and began filling in his personal details.
The dojo smelled of polished hinoki wood and bowstring wax, afternoon light slanting through the high windows in dusty golden bars. Throughout the process, Shinomiya Kaguya showed absolutely no intention of making small talk, returning to her solitary practice with mechanical precision—nocking an arrow, drawing the bowstring to her cheek, releasing with a soft hyun that sent the shaft straight into the target's center ring.
Kazama Haru scratched his cheek, feeling the awkwardness settle like humidity.
Yare yare... The good news? He'd successfully encountered Shinomiya Kaguya. The bad news? The current Shinomiya Kaguya was firmly locked in what fans called her "Ice Mode"—the Kaguya who existed before her heart began to thaw.
In this stage, she operated purely on risk-averse logic, every action filtered through the Shinomiya Family's cold doctrines. Utilitarian. Suspicious. Vigilant to the point of hostility. Her expression when dealing with others might as well have been carved from marble.
Honestly? Besides being ridiculously bishoujo-level beautiful, there wasn't a single approachable thing about her right now.
"What, you're still not finished? Hurry up and leave already."
As if determined to prove his assessment correct, barely a minute after he completed the application, Shinomiya Kaguya's crimson eyes narrowed with visible irritation.
This one's lingering gaze is revolting. Another pest drawn by appearances.
Kazama Haru felt zero inclination to indulge her tsun attitude. "I came here to observe. Does the Archery Club have some rule against visitors staying? Or will my presence somehow throw off your aim?"
Shinomiya Kaguya clearly hadn't expected such direct pushback from a mere first-year. Her elegant features twisted with even deeper disgust. "No such rule exists. It's simply that being stared at by your lecherous gaze makes me physically ill."
"Maa, don't worry yourself." Kazama Haru waved dismissively. "I'm not particularly interested in pettanko figures anyway."
"Wha—" Kaguya's composure cracked like thin ice. "You really are nothing but a brain-dead pervert after all!"
Her chest size—or rather, the conspicuous lack thereof—remained one of the few insecurities that could pierce Shinomiya Kaguya's iron composure. Hearing this commoner dare to weaponize it against her, those crimson irises flared with genuine killing intent, cold enough to frost glass.
Her grip on the bow tightened. For one dangerous heartbeat, the urge to point that arrow directly at his smug face nearly overwhelmed her self-control.
I could. The family would handle the aftermath easily enough.
Even with the Shinomiya Family's resources, should she truly commit such an "unfortunate accident" out of impulse, covering it up would be trivially simple. However—her own rigid standards wouldn't permit it. And violating the Archery Club's first and most sacred prohibition— never point a drawn bow at a person —was beneath her dignity.
Shinomiya Kaguya exhaled slowly through her nose, forcing the murderous impulse back down.
"With someone of your caliber joining, this club will surely descend into chaos." Her tone dripped with aristocratic contempt. "That incident at the school gate the other day—you were involved with those yakuza-looking delinquents, weren't you? Anyone mixed up in such sordid affairs is clearly not a clean individual."
"Oi, oi. They approached me first." Kazama Haru held up both hands in protest. "I was simply acting in self-defense."
"Hmph."
Shinomiya Kaguya snorted dismissively, apparently having lost all interest in hearing his "excuses." She turned away with deliberate finality, drawing another arrow and sighting down the shaft toward the distant target.
Utterly beneath my notice.
Kazama Haru wasn't discouraged. This Ice Queen had received a ruthlessly pragmatic education since birth, conditioned to view every stranger as a potential threat or tool. Building any kind of connection with her would require patience measured in weeks, possibly months.
For today, successfully submitting his Archery Club application—securing a legitimate reason to share space with her regularly—was victory enough.
He pulled out his phone, checking the time. The screen read 4:47 PM. Almost time to head out for his appointment with Sakiko.
"...Etto." Kazama Haru paused, running fingers through his dark hair. "Although you spoke harshly first, I shouldn't have said something so tasteless in return. I apologize."
During the silence, he'd managed a quick internal reflection. Since he'd taken the Wishes of girls as his responsibility, mocking any woman's figure was fundamentally hypocritical. Whether blessed or modest in that department—all deserved equal appreciation.
"If things go as expected, we'll be sharing this clubroom for quite a while. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu."
After a proper bow—spine bent at the correct respectful angle—Kazama Haru didn't bother waiting for a response that clearly wasn't coming. He simply shouldered his bag and walked out through the dojo's sliding doors, leaving the scent of wood polish and bowstring wax behind.
"Hmph. No matter how desperately a lowly person wraps themselves in pretty manners, it cannot disguise the ugliness within."
Watching his retreating back until it disappeared around the corner, Shinomiya Kaguya's expression of icy disdain only intensified.
Such transparent attempts at ingratiation. Pathetic.
She despised these frivolous types the most—men who, blessed with moderately acceptable faces, invented endless excuses to approach her or performed increasingly desperate stunts to capture her attention. Did they truly believe such behavior would endear them to her? It only deepened her revulsion.
The thought of sharing her sacred practice space with such a person, potentially enduring his persistent harassment for months to come, filled her with genuine anxiety. Even her bow-holding hand trembled slightly at the prospect.
Kaguya lowered her gaze in frustration—and inevitably caught sight of her own modest chest beneath the hakama.
"Tsk."
She clicked her tongue sharply, irritated at herself for letting that man's crude jab burrow under her skin.
I am a Shinomiya. We do not suffer insults without returning them tenfold.
Silently, she made a vow. The next time she encountered Kazama Haru, she would ensure he experienced equal—no, greater —humiliation. The mental image of him kneeling at her feet, stammering desperate apologies, brought a thin smile to her lips.
Shinomiya Kaguya drew another arrow, the fantasy warming her cold heart as the bowstring sang.
---
[Café 「Reminiscence」— April 15th, 5:23 PM]
"Kazama-kun, over here~!"
Following Togawa Sakiko's cheerful voice, Kazama Haru scanned the café interior—warm lighting, the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans mingling with buttery pastry, soft jazz filtering through hidden speakers—until his gaze landed on a window booth bathed in golden afternoon light.
Or rather, them.
Seated beside Sakiko herself was a girl whose presence made Kazama Haru's eyebrows rise in genuine surprise.
Wakaba Mutsumi.
Light green hair cascading past her shoulders like willow branches. Golden eyes holding the stillness of undisturbed pond water. Skin pale as fresh snow.
She's bringing the confirmed members to meet me already?
Processing this development, Kazama Haru approached with an easy smile and slid into the booth across from them. "Good afternoon, Togawa-san. Sorry for the wait."
"We simply arrived too early, desuwa~"
Sakiko's signature ojou-sama laugh chimed softly as she extended one manicured finger toward the laminated menu on the polished table. "We've both ordered already. What would you like, Kazama-kun? My treat today."
"Then I'll have a latte, please. Let me judge this establishment's skills." Understanding this was a business meeting, Kazama Haru didn't waste time on false modesty.
"Ufufu~ It definitely won't compare to your craftsmanship." Sakiko covered her smile demurely, then gestured toward the silent girl beside her.
"Mutsumi, this is Kazama-kun—the one I mentioned before. His drink preparation abilities are truly the finest I've ever witnessed. You absolutely must experience his craft sometime."
"...Hello." Wakaba Mutsumi inclined her head the barest degree, those golden pupils betraying almost zero emotional fluctuation.
Another person Sakiko has found. I wonder what he's actually capable of.
In her own way, she could also be classified as a kuudere beauty—quiet to the point of seeming detached from the world around her.
Even knowing it was rude to stare, when confronted with Wakaba Mutsumi at this proximity, Kazama Haru found his gaze reluctant to drift away.
Her complexion possessed an almost supernatural quality—pale and flawless, practically luminous in the café's warm lighting. It awakened an inexplicable urge to reach out and confirm its texture was real. Her light green hair fell in natural waves, making her already quiet demeanor seem even more ethereal.
When their eyes met, those calm yet somehow innocent golden irises stirred an unexpected protective instinct somewhere deep in his chest.
Truly... a girl as exquisite as a bisque doll.
"You must be curious about who this is, ne?" Sakiko's eyes sparkled with mischief as she gestured grandly. "This is Wakaba Mutsumi—my osananajimi since we were children."
childhood friend.
"A pleasure to meet you, Wakaba-san." Kazama Haru offered a polite nod.
A server materialized silently, placing a steaming latte before him. Sakiko lifted her own black tea, took a measured sip, and when she lowered the cup, her expression had shifted—playfulness replaced by something sharper, more serious.
"Now then, Kazama-kun. Since introductions are complete, let's proceed directly to business."
Kazama Haru rested his chin on his interlaced fingers, meeting her intense golden gaze. "A community of destiny... correct?"
"Hai." Sakiko set down her teacup with deliberate care. "Every word I'm about to share comes genuinely from my heart—concepts I've refined through countless sleepless nights of contemplation."
This is it. The moment everything begins.
"To speak plainly: the 'community of destiny' I envision is a Band project that has blossomed in my heart over many years. One I'm wagering my entire future upon."
"A revolutionary performance style incorporating theatrical elements—similar to Western opera, manifesting as an elaborate [Masquerade]." Her voice swelled with passion, a flush of excitement coloring her soft cheeks. "I've christened it [Ave Mujica]."
"Western opera, huh..." Kazama Haru lifted his latte thoughtfully, the ceramic warm against his palms, and took a contemplative sip. Rich, adequately bitter, hints of caramel. Acceptable. "I'll admit that's entirely outside my experience."
"That presents no obstacle whatsoever, desuwa~"
Sakiko's smile radiated absolute confidence. "This may sound like shameless self-praise, but please—have faith in my capabilities, Kazama-kun."
"As founder and director, I will personally handle all creative responsibilities: scriptwriting, choreography, staging, character concepts. The other members need only perform precisely according to the script, fully unleash their musical talents, and lose themselves in the stage."
Observing Kazama Haru absorbing each detail with focused attention, Sakiko allowed herself a satisfied sip of fragrant tea before continuing.
"To properly highlight the Band opera's dramatic charm—creating that theatrical experience of narrative delivered through music—I've decided to weigh our composition heavily toward guitars. Specifically, a twin-guitar formation."
"One of those guitarists sits beside me now."
Her gaze turned toward Wakaba Mutsumi, eyes softening with genuine trust. "Mutsumi is an undeniable master of the instrument. With her presence, our performance quality is absolutely guaranteed."
I will not disappoint you, Sakiko. Mutsumi's expression remained unchanged, but something flickered briefly in those golden depths.
Sakiko turned back to face Kazama Haru directly.
"I'm certain you've already deduced this, but... the other guitarist I desire for this formation—is you, Kazama-kun."
She leaned forward slightly, afternoon light catching the determination blazing in her eyes.
"That day, you mentioned being quite skilled with the guitar. That wasn't merely idle boasting... was it?"