"Renako, how are you getting along with the Game Club members?"
Monday afternoon light spilled across the campus walkway like honey through a filter, catching on the edges of sakura petals that had overstayed their welcome. Kazama Haru matched his stride to Amaori Renako's shorter steps, the familiar rhythm of their walk home punctuated by distant shouts from the sports clubs warming up on the field.
Amaori Renako proudly held up a single finger, her pink hair bouncing with the gesture. "Hehe~ Everyone there is really nice! I've already gotten to know them all super well." Her chest puffed out slightly beneath her uniform blazer. "Maybe the number of friends I make will surpass Haru-kun's soon~"
"Really? That's great."
The relief in Kazama Haru's voice was unguarded, genuine—the kind of warmth that made her stomach flip every single time, no matter how many times she'd heard it. Before she could prepare herself, his hand was already reaching over, fingers sinking into the cotton-candy fluff of her hair and rubbing in slow, affectionate circles.
"As expected of our Renako-chan. She's so capable~"
Oh.
The warmth of his palm seeped through to her scalp, radiating downward like someone had poured hot chocolate directly into her chest. Her heartbeat stuttered, then kicked into overdrive—a full-on shoujo manga panel moment, complete with imaginary sparkles and rose petals. She could smell him from here: clean cotton, a hint of the citrus bodywash he used, and something underneath that was just Haru. Warm. Safe. Dangerously close.
Her cheeks ignited.
"H-Haru-kun—!" Renako's voice came out higher than intended, slightly breathless. "We're on campus right now, you know? After school? Can't you be a little more aware of yourself as a popular male?"
She swatted at his wrist—weakly, her fingers brushing against the warm skin there and lingering a half-second longer than necessary before retreating.
"If other girls see us being so intimate, rumors might spread."
Please don't stop.
"If it affects your popularity and you get fewer confession letters in your shoe locker, I absolutely won't sit there patiently listening to you complain or cry about it."
Keep your hand there just a little longer.
The contradiction between her words and her hopes was so stark it should've been criminal. Her heart was doing backflips worthy of an Olympic gymnast, and some treacherous part of her was already cataloging the exact pressure of his fingertips, the way his thumb traced a small circle near her temple—
This was what she'd always wanted from a best friend. This casual intimacy, this easy affection. And Haru-kun—he really did keep their promise close to his heart. He treated their relationship seriously.
Ever since that day he'd stood up for her in the classroom—when he'd shielded her with his own body, thrown a punch without hesitation, faced down her tormentors with fury blazing in his usually gentle eyes—Renako had understood something fundamental about Kazama Haru.
He would protect her. Always.
That absolute trust had taken root in her chest like a persistent vine, growing thicker and stronger with every passing day. But even now, feeling the tangible proof of his care pressing warm against her scalp, her heart still overflowed with sweetness. Honey-thick. Suffocating in the best way. The corners of her mouth twitched upward despite her best efforts to maintain a composed expression.
Kazama Haru just smiled at her obviously insincere complaint, shaking his head with fond exasperation.
Speaking of which...
His thoughts drifted backward, unbidden.
Even though his original intention that day had been to help her—a desperate, reckless method to break her out of her spiral—the reality of what happened on that deserted rooftop had blurred those clean lines considerably.
They had kissed.
Not a brief, accidental brush of lips. Not a quick peck that could be dismissed as a mistake.
Ten minutes.
Her mouth had been soft. Trembling at first, uncertain, then gradually melting against his as the seconds stretched into minutes. Her fingers had clutched the front of his shirt like he was the only thing keeping her anchored to the earth. Small sounds had escaped her throat—whimpers, sighs, his name broken into syllables. When they'd finally separated, her lips were swollen pink and her eyes were glassy, unfocused, pupils blown wide.
The word "best friend" no longer fit.
He'd told her afterward—multiple times, with complete sincerity—that he liked her. Genuinely liked her. Not just as a friend, not just as someone he wanted to protect. If she wanted, he would announce their relationship to everyone. Take responsibility. Face whatever consequences came.
But every time he'd said it, Amaori Renako had forced her expression into careful neutrality, turned her face away, and insisted that a best friend was a best friend. Their bond couldn't be defiled by an impure word like "lover."
When he'd pressed the issue, she'd pulled out her trump card—the argument he couldn't counter:
"If you and I officially become lovers and announce it publicly, your popularity would make me a target again. All those girls who confess to you? They'd hate me."
Her voice had gone small. "Are you hoping I go back to being bullied?"
Checkmate.
Logically, she wasn't wrong. Kazama Haru had sighed, surrendered, and shelved his intentions of actively taking responsibility.
For now.
Returning to the present, he smiled at her flustered protests and offered a response designed to make her blush harder:
"Confession letters? I've never even opened a single one. Fewer would actually be peaceful." His voice dropped half a register, teasing. "Besides, with a cute best friend like you, even if every other girl in school hated me, I'd endure it without complaint."
"Hmph. Smooth talker."
Renako's eyes narrowed, accusation flickering beneath the flustered pink of her cheeks. "I think the first person you actually can't bear to give up—besides me—is Takamatsu-san, right?"
Her arms crossed beneath her chest. "On the day of the incident, you did that shameful thing with me at noon... but then you walked her home in the evening."
The words came out before she could stop them, sharper than intended.
"Logically speaking... I should have been the one who needed comfort most back then..."
Her voice trailed into a mumble, but the coquettish undercurrent grew more pronounced with each syllable. A plea wrapped in a complaint wrapped in jealousy wrapped in—
"Ah, I'm sorry!"
Kazama Haru pressed his palms together in a gesture of sincere apology. "At the time, I was mainly worried she'd get dragged into our mess. So I prioritized making sure she got home safely. Looking back... yeah, that was an oversight on my part."
"I'm not just talking about that one thing."
Renako's voice sharpened. "What I care about is that you spend so much time with her every day. And Takamatsu-san is so cute, all innocent and defenseless. Who knows if you might accidentally lose control around her—" Her eyes flicked to his mouth, then away, heat crawling up her neck. "—just like you did with me on the rooftop—"
WAIT.
STOP.
WHAT ARE YOU SAYING, YOU ABSOLUTE MORON?!
The chibi version of Renako inside her mind materialized with a rolled-up newspaper and smacked her viciously across the back of the skull. She bit down on her tongue so hard she nearly drew blood, cutting off the rest of that sentence before it could escape.
Too late.
A knowing grin was already spreading across Kazama Haru's face.
"Ah~ So that's what you're worried about."
His tone was pure mischief, the kind of playful torment only someone who'd known her for years could deploy effectively. "You keep saying you don't want to be my girlfriend, but you're awfully concerned about exclusive usage rights to my lips. Renako~" He dragged her name out, savoring it. "You're quite the little tsundere, aren't you?"
"S-STUPID!"
Her face went nuclear—crimson spreading from hairline to collar, probably visible from space. "I-It's not like that! I'm just warning you not to let your hormones run wild and do something irreversible to innocent Takamatsu-san!" She jabbed a finger at his chest, the gesture undermined by how badly her hand was shaking. "If you get arrested for harassment, it would be very troublesome for me!"
"...Alright, alright."
Kazama Haru scratched the back of his head, recognizing the real concern buried beneath her flustered deflection. She cared about his "purity"—about being special. Being his first. And honestly, he found it endearing enough that he decided to throw her a bone.
"Don't worry, Renako." His voice softened, sincere now. "Even to this day, my only kissing partner has been you."
A beat of silence.
Then—
"'Our Haru-kun is so pure~ How admirable~ Worthy of praise~'" Renako mimicked in a saccharine falsetto, fluttering her lashes dramatically. Then, without warning, her expression collapsed into something unhinged, eyes going comically wide. "—AS IF I'D EVER SAY THAT! Who cares about such a weird record?! Do you think I'll praise you for being a virgin?!"
The shift was so abrupt, so perfectly timed, that Kazama Haru found himself laughing despite everything.
God, she's entertaining.
A stray thought crossed his mind: he should mention this to Togawa Sakiko next time they worked together. Ave Mujica was always looking for ways to diversify their performances, right? Maybe his ridiculous best friend had a future in manzai comedy.