Amidst their playful banter, the two of them unknowingly arrived near Building C, where the Game Club was located. The late afternoon sun cast long amber shadows across the walkway, and somewhere nearby, the smell of fresh-cut grass mingled with the distant sweetness of the cafeteria's melon bread.
"Um… Haru-kun, you joined the Archery Club, right? I heard their rules are very strict, and there were even scandals of seniors bullying juniors."
Renako's fingers fidgeted with the strap of her bag, her eyes darting sideways to gauge his reaction.
"Today is your first day joining the club. Isn't it a problem that you're taking a detour to walk me instead of rushing there to be accounted for?"
Her tone carried genuine worry. While Kazama Haru's willingness to escort her all the way to her club entrance truly made her happy—to the point where she'd definitely roll around on her bed tonight, hugging her pillow and kicking her feet like the protagonist of a shoujo manga—compared to these "small matters," she hoped that Kazama Haru could develop smoothly in the Archery Club and not be troubled by those problematic senior members.
He's doing all this for me, and what if it causes him trouble? I'd never forgive myself...
After all, there were many boys in the Archery Club. Besides those who might actually appreciate a pretty face, Kazama Haru's looks might not necessarily be a positive factor—and it wasn't impossible for him to be deliberately targeted out of jealousy.
"It's fine."
Kazama Haru's tone was relaxed, his hands resting casually in his pockets as they walked. "The practice ground there is quite far. After receiving the text message confirming my application, the Club President even thoughtfully told me that it's perfectly fine to be a few minutes late for the daily assembly time."
He tilted his head slightly, sunlight catching the sharp line of his jaw. "From this, he seems to be a very kind senior."
"Ah, I see, that's good then." Amaori Renako breathed a sigh of relief, her shoulders visibly dropping. Looking at the tightly shut Game Club room door and hearing the excited shouts already emanating from inside—someone yelling "PERFECT K.O.!" followed by theatrical groaning—a relieved smile flashed across her face.
The hallway smelled faintly of old carpet and energy drinks, the particular musk of intense gaming sessions seeping through the door's edges.
"Haru-kun, although given our current relationship, saying this might seem overly sentimental. But, truly, thank you."
Putting away her joking expression, Amaori Renako squared her stance and bowed deeply, solemnly, to Kazama Haru.
Even if it was redundant, she just felt that she should do such a thing.
For this moment, she had spent many weekends practicing in front of the mirror at home, perfecting the exact angle, the precise timing. Her younger sister Haruna had burst into her room without knocking no fewer than seven times, each intrusion accompanied by merciless teasing that left Renako's face burning.
"Onee-chan's practicing confessing to her boyfriend~ How cuuute~"
She had also prepared countless sentimental, even nauseatingly embarrassing, words of gratitude. Paragraphs. Whole speeches.
But at this moment, her chest and throat felt as if they were blocked by something thick and warm, and she couldn't say anything.
Only her deeply bent waist and slightly trembling shoulders silently conveyed the girl's sincere feelings.
And Kazama Haru—
His breath hitched.
The angle of her bow pulled the fabric of her uniform taut across her back, and gravity did absolutely devastating things to her chest. Her F-cup breasts hung heavy, straining against the confines of her blouse, the top buttons working overtime as the soft flesh compressed together, creating a deep valley of cleavage that seemed to go on forever. The white fabric stretched thin enough that he could make out the shadow of her bra beneath—something pale pink, maybe, with what looked like a delicate lace trim.
Seriously? Right now? She's being sincere and I'm—
He felt heat crawl up his neck.
Even in her silence, Kazama Haru registered all of her nervousness, her sincerity, her feelings—he really did—but his seventeen-year-old brain was also fighting a losing battle against the visual input his eyes refused to stop processing. The way they swayed slightly as she held the bow. The soft jiggle when she breathed.
After a brief, torturous silence, he decided to use a relatively lighthearted, even somewhat crude, joke to ease the sticky atmosphere that made even him flustered. Also to distract himself before something embarrassing happened.
"Sorry, even though I know you're doing something very serious, my gaze was still drawn to your F-cup breasts that dropped at the same time."
His voice came out rougher than intended. He cleared his throat.
"Promise me, Renako, for your safety—never bow in front of any man again. That kind of visual impact..." He paused, running a hand through his hair, genuinely struggling to keep his composure. "If it were someone with less self-control, they really would lose control on the spot."
And I barely count as someone with self-control right now.
"WHA—! Haru-kun, you pervert!"
Amaori Renako's small face instantly turned crimson, her hands flying up to cover her chest as she straightened so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. She could feel the heat radiating from her own cheeks, spreading down her neck.
"Mou~! I was doing something very important! Give me back my touched feelings from just now!"
He was looking at my chest the whole time?! The whole time I was being sincere and emotional and—and he was—!
Her heart hammered against her ribs. Part of her wanted to die of embarrassment. Another part—a smaller, more honest part—felt a flutter of something else entirely.
He noticed. He really noticed.
With a soft snort, Renako seemed to remember something and spoke in a deliberately "casual" tone, though her blush hadn't faded one bit:
"Oh, by the way, Haru-kun, after joining the Game Club and sparring with so many masters, my skills have improved by leaps and bounds again, especially in fighting games."
She bared her small white teeth, revealing a mischievous smile that crinkled her nose. "It's been a while since I've crushed you in a game, and I'm itching for it. Your shift is once every two days, right? How about coming to my house to play again sometime?"
The word "play" hung between them, weighted with recent memories of controllers forgotten on the floor, of lips meeting in her bedroom's dim afternoon light.
"Uh, maybe... not really." Kazama Haru scratched the back of his head, showing a guilty smile. "It's not like at the beginning of the school year anymore; with club activities every day, it'll probably be almost dark by the time they finish."
"And my band is about to officially start activities, just like I said before. It might really be hard to find time to spend with you."
He paused, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, then added with obvious lack of confidence: "If I have time, I'll definitely contact you first, okay?"
To facilitate his flexible identity switching between the two bands later and prevent exposure due to loose lips, Kazama Haru did not intend to tell anyone about quitting his part-time job. At the same time, he meticulously planned his schedule. The so-called "shift days"—odd-numbered days of the week—would be spent planning Ave Mujica matters with Togawa Sakiko, while even-numbered days would be fully dedicated to practice for MyGO's performances.
Since he decided to play both sides, such a tight and meticulous arrangement had to be made.
"Ah, I see..."
Hearing a result that was not far from her expectations, Renako lowered her head, her bangs falling to shadow her eyes. Her fingers tightened around her bag strap.
I knew it. I knew he'd be busy. So why does it still hurt?
But then she remembered that he had already done enough for her—more than enough—and understanding that she couldn't make him worry about her anymore, Renako quickly forced out a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. The kind of brave face that fooled no one.
"Ah haha, I'm sorry, you already told me the band would be very busy before, and I still said such selfish things."
Renako suppressed the bitterness in her heart and put on her usual energetic demeanor, patting Kazama Haru's shoulder with perhaps too much force.
"You must work hard with the band, okay? I'm still waiting to see your performance with Takamatsu-san. It shouldn't be a problem to get a front-row ticket for the live performance for your best friend, right?"
Best friend. Right. That's what we are. That's all we can be, for now.
"Hmm, of course, no problem." Kazama Haru promised with a smile that softened the edges of his features. "In fact, if Renako isn't in the audience then, I might really be too nervous to hold my guitar."
They waved goodbye, and Kazama Haru turned to rush toward the Archery Club in the back mountains of the academy.
---
The path to the archery dojo wound through a grove of old maple trees, their leaves just beginning to hint at autumn's approaching fire. The air grew cooler as Kazama Haru climbed the gentle slope, carrying the earthy scent of moss and aged wood.
"You must be Kazama Haru, Kazama-kun, right?"
As soon as he stepped into the dojo—the floorboards creaking beneath his school shoes, the sharp smell of cypress and faint tinge of sweat hitting his nostrils—a burly male greeted him with a warm smile.
The man stood nearly 190 centimeters tall, broad-shouldered with the kind of athletic build that strained his archery hakama in all the right places. His hair was cropped short and practical, dark as ink, and his jaw could have been carved from stone. Despite his intimidating stature, his eyes crinkled with genuine warmth, and laugh lines framed his mouth.
"Yes." Kazama Haru nodded respectfully. "You must be Club President Aoyama, right?"
"That's right." Club President Aoyama extended his right hand proactively. "I am the Club President of the Archery Club, a third-year student, Aoyama Yusaku."
Seems straightforward enough. Good handshake—firm but not trying to prove anything.
Kazama Haru quickly extended his hand to shake back. "Thank you for specially coming out to greet me, Senpai. Please guide me in the future."
Although this Club President seemed harmless, Kazama Haru knew how profound the influence of the senior-junior culture was in Japanese society. Additionally, there had been scandals in the Archery Club where juniors were subjected to verbal abuse, corporal punishment, and even forced errands for disrespecting seniors.
Out of caution and to avoid unnecessary trouble, regardless of the other party's attitude, Kazama Haru still chose to observe the etiquette of a kouhai.
"The feeling is mutual, Kazama-kun. No need to be so reserved."
Club President Aoyama sincerely placed a hand on Kazama Haru's shoulder and led him to the indoor area where members gathered for roll call. The tatami mats whispered beneath their feet, and somewhere deeper in the dojo, the thwip of an arrow finding its target echoed.
Among the group of nine, Kazama Haru immediately spotted Shinomiya Kaguya.
She stood apart from the others with perfect posture, her long black hair falling like a silk curtain past her waist. Her features were delicate—aristocratic, even—with sharp cheekbones and eyes the color of frozen twilight. Her expression remained utterly neutral, betraying nothing, but there was something predatory in the way she held herself. Like a cat watching a mouse wander into its territory.
He wasn't sure if it was a trick of the light or something else, but when he lined up next to Shinomiya Kaguya, who was also a first-year junior, as instructed by the Club President, her lips seemed to curl into an extremely faint smile.
However, the meaning of that smile was not very friendly.