Toyogasaki Private Academy
Over the past two years, the students of Toyogasaki had grown used to Kasumigaoka Utaha-senpai's independent and aloof personality.
But even by her standards, today's speech felt a little too dismissive.
Thanking the school was one thing—but thanking the family chef for cooking delicious meals? That felt more like a joke.
Could simply eating good food every day really be the secret to ranking first in the national mock exams?
If that were the case, maybe everyone needed to revise their priorities.
While close friends might hang out over the break, exceptions always existed—like Sawamura Spencer Eriri, who had completely disappeared from the social scene during the holidays.
"Hey, Sawamura-san, did you go to the Milan Spring/Summer Fashion Week over the break? I saw tons of photos!"
"This year's designs look surprisingly wearable for everyday life."
As usual, Eriri was surrounded by classmates after class—truly the picture of the perfect rich girl.
The girls around her weren't just standing and chatting; they were sitting casually, munching on snacks while they talked.
The atmosphere was relaxed and cheerful.
"Ah, haha… that, huh..." Eriri's smile faltered just a little.
She forced out a couple of awkward laughs, her clear blue eyes darting around as she searched for an answer.
She had just been daydreaming about school ending.
In the past, Eriri would use long breaks to dive into her otaku hobbies, telling everyone she was visiting family in the countryside.
Her parents even helped cover for her, preparing plausible "intel" she could quickly review before school started—just enough to stay credible in social circles.
Of course, she did keep up with fashion week—art was art, and the designs often inspired her illustrations.
While the clothes might be too trendy to wear in real life, they were perfect for anime and manga characters.
But this break had been different.
Every day was chaos:
"Shouko, I want snacks!"
"Kyousuke, bring me a soda!"
"Momotarou, get off the couch!"
She hadn't had time to prep for gossip, let alone think about school.
Just this morning, if that idiot hadn't come to wake her up, she might've slept through the entire day.
"I did go! Of course I wouldn't miss an event like that. I even picked out a few great shots for sketching—I'll bring them to the art club later to share."
The surprise on Eriri's face vanished in an instant.
When it came to faking it, she could always count on her parents to help.
Well—to help her keep up the act, at least.
She pulled out her phone and scrolled to her dad's messages.
As expected, there was a full package waiting: not just photos, but details on the attendees, and even a mock schedule that included "her" having lunch with a fashion icon.
Perfect.
Relieved, she selected a few images and dropped them into the girls' group chat.
"Wow, is that Miranda? These photos are amazing! I've seen so many online, but none from this angle!"
"Did you not take any selfies, Sawamura-san? I mean, with your connections it should've been easy, right?"
"Nope. She's really tall, you know? Standing next to her would've looked awkward in photos," Eriri replied casually.
One of the photos her dad had sent was clearly edited, but she wasn't about to mention that.
"Ah, sorry, I didn't mean to pry!" the girl who asked quickly brought her hands together in apology.
"It's fine, really. No need to apologize." Eriri's smile remained warm.
"Sawamura-san is always so kind," the others murmured in admiration.
That was Sawamura Spencer Eriri: flawless in appearance, loaded with family wealth, and daughter of a diplomat.
Yet she never flaunted her status and treated everyone with kindness.
As the star of the art club, she always patiently helped anyone who asked, generously sharing her artistic knowledge.
The perfect lady of Toyogasaki.
The school day flew by, and it was time for club activities.
Kasumigaoka Utaha made her way to the drama club room, found a seat by the window, and pulled a novel from her bag.
With her personality, she didn't really need to be part of any club—but it was a requirement for the recommendation-based entrance track.
This path, essentially a fast-track admission system, required stellar grades from freshman year, active club participation, and a spotless record.
Though Toyogasaki was a relatively new school, it had deep connections—it was officially affiliated with Hitotsubashi University.
While not well-known internationally, Hitotsubashi was Japan's only elite national university focused solely on humanities and social sciences, comparable to the London School of Economics.
It was part of the elite "Old Imperial Universities" group, known as "Kyutei-Ikkō-Shin."
Barring any surprises, Utaha would complete her recommendation process by June, just as other students were entering their final study sprints.
The university interview still remained, but once the high school approved her recommendation, rejection was almost unheard of.
So, even as a third-year, she had to show up for club activities on the first day—at least pretend to be involved.
"Excuse me, Kasumigaoka-senpai, will you be writing the script for this semester's culture festival again?"
A girl with twin braids approached hesitantly, apologizing first before getting to the point.
Though Utaha rarely spoke to anyone and had yet to make a single friend in the club over the past two years, when it came to writing scripts, she was unmatched.
Thanks to her, the drama club consistently wowed judges at festivals and competitions.
Every club needed a genius like her—their high school lives became infinitely easier. Benefits flowed in both obvious and subtle ways.
"Hm?" Utaha looked up.
Her wine-red eyes had a natural sharpness that could intimidate without trying.
"Ah—sorry! Did I interrupt you? I'll come back when you're free!" the girl bowed quickly.
She'd never been scolded by Utaha—she was always polite—but she'd heard plenty of horror stories about Utaha's ruthless rejections of clueless boys trying to flirt with her.
Like the one earlier that day, right outside the clubroom, where a guy had come to confess his love.
He even brought five friends to "set the mood."
Utaha had met his enthusiasm with frosty sarcasm:
"Wow. That opening line was so dull, I really hope it didn't take you a whole year to come up with it."
"Maybe if you flailed your arms a bit and smiled more, it would've helped… oh, wait—you thought that'd improve your chances?"
"Those odds have been zero since the universe began."
"Not that I need to explain, but given your comprehension level, I suppose I'll waste one more second."
"That little performance won't make your boring pickup line any more interesting."
"But hey, at least when a doctor has to do a mental health check, it'll save them some time."
"In a way, you're doing society a huge favor. Congrats."
If that had been her, she'd want to crawl into a hole and disappear.
And that poor guy still not over the rejection—had even tried to grab Utaha's hand before being frozen in place by those soulless crimson eyes.
No need to describe it any further—after all, a lady shouldn't use words like that. But one thing was clear:
He was terrified.
Faced with a guy who wouldn't take a hint—even after being told outright that his feelings weren't returned—senpai had shut him down so hard with just words.
He looked like some grotesque alien from the dark side of Mars. She was just that cool!
Honestly, even as an outsider, it was obvious to me that he was totally out of her league.
So where did he get the guts to make such a self-destructive confession?
'Still, thanks to his misstep, I got to witness senpai's devastatingly sharp tongue again.'
She wasn't just beautiful on the outside—her talent was dazzling too.
'I will absolutely not let Kasumigaoka-senpai dislike me!'
'Even if we can't be friends, I'll become the number one person on her "not annoying" list!'
'Since I was one of the few in the club who could actually talk to her, chances were I'd be seeing her a lot this year.'
With that in mind, the ponytailed girl finally introduced herself.
After bowing, she nervously glanced up at the senpai before her. Kasumigaoka didn't respond immediately.
She rested her chin on one hand, her wine-red eyes gazing at her.
No—that wasn't quite right.
Harada could tell that those mesmerizing eyes were looking at her, but not really seeing her.
Senpai was staring through her, lost in something deeper—something hidden in her heart.
So beautiful… Even though she was nothing like Sawamura, her black hair and crimson eyes had a distinct, otherworldly allure.
What was Kasumigaoka Utaha thinking about?
That incident at the clubroom entrance hadn't bothered her at all.
She seemed preoccupied with something far more complex.
She often teased Eriri about being childish, but honestly, she wasn't much better.
She'd been trying hard to get along with others at home, but at her core, she was still the same gloomy, obsessive girl.
That wouldn't do.
As her and Kyousuke's achievements kept growing, it was only a matter of time before they'd start attending public events together as a couple.
She really didn't want to see newspaper headlines like:
"The reason behind literary prodigy Hojou Kyousuke's bleak, depressing work? His beautiful but socially withdrawn wife."
Sure, she was confident she could prove herself through her writing, but thinking about raising children in the future… it was probably time to start changing, little by little.
With that realization, she gave a soft smile.
"Harada-san, I'll be graduating next year, so the drama club will be in your hands soon. That's why, for this year's script, I have a proposal."
'Oh my god—Kasumigaoka-senpai smiled at me!'
Watching that normally cool and elegant face blossom into a smile, Harada Yayoi's mind went completely blank.
They say life is a tearful smile, but if she could see that smile every day, she wouldn't mind being drowned in tears.
"Harada-san?" Her lack of response made Kasumigaoka's beautiful brows twitch slightly on reflex—but she quickly suppressed it.
"Ah! Sorry, sorry, I spaced out. I'm really sorry, senpai!" Harada bowed repeatedly in a panic.
"No need to apologize. Please, have a seat," the older girl said kindly, her smile softening even more.
Dreaming is free, sure—but a dream this beautiful should be reserved for a midday nap.
Listening to that gentle voice, Harada felt like she was floating on air as she sat down.
"I've been thinking… It's probably not great for your growth if I keep writing all the scripts myself like I've done in the past. So this year, let's co-write it."
Harada's usually small eyes widened so much they looked like anime saucers.
"Wait, you mean… we'll discuss it together and write it as a team?"
'No, you're not Kyousuke. And you're definitely not my child.'
"That would still limit your creative independence," Kasumigaoka explained patiently. "I want to encourage you all to think and create on your own."
"What I mean is, we'll each write our own script. I'll prepare one, and the rest of the club—including you—will create the other."
"Mine will be the backup option. I'll also support you whenever needed."
For someone of her caliber, writing a club-level play took maybe an hour.
The fact she was willing to make this kind of "sacrifice" now meant she was truly planning for a brighter future.
"O-oh, I see! Thank you so much, Kasumigaoka-senpai! I'll work super hard!" Harada nodded vigorously.
While those two were kicking off the drama club's activities, elsewhere Ueno Naoka was starting her first day in the textile club.
It wasn't recruitment season yet, but as a special scholarship student, her senpai already had high expectations for her.
———————————————————————
Meanwhile, at Soubu High…
After school, Kyousuke, accompanied by his overly enthusiastic driver, Sakura, and the calm Shouko, headed out to help Yukino Yukari move her belongings.
"Kyousuke-kun, have you seen Mitsuha since coming back to Tokyo? I heard she's attending university here too."
Yukino had assumed only the two girls present were living at Kyousuke's place—but discovering there were three more left her exasperated.
Not for herself, but for Mitsuha—the priestess from Itomori.
"Yeah, I've seen her."
Not just seen her—after Sakura returned her diary, Mitsuha's memories had mostly come back.
But when he asked her about it, she wouldn't tell him anything. Worse, she seemed angrier about his… er… affection toward other girls.
She even challenged him to a kendo match.
The entire time, she kept feinting and leaving openings, forcing him to stop his strikes—only to whack him with the bamboo sword the moment he paused.
If he hadn't hidden the real swords well, he was pretty sure Mitsuha would've escalated to a full-on real duel.
He really didn't get it. Shouldn't regaining her memories have improved their relationship?
"Does Mitsuha know you've got so many girls living with you?" Yukino asked cautiously.
"Yeah, I even invited her to move in. Her university's close by anyway."
"Kyousuke-kun… hmm…" The gentle beauty seemed at a loss for words.
No matter how much she loved him, there was no way she could justify this situation with a clear conscience.
The car carrying her luggage stopped in front of Kyousuke's house.
Yukino turned her head slightly and read the bold black characters on the gatepost aloud:
"Ruyi Dormitory…"
"Hehe, what do you think? I came up with that name!" Sakura said proudly with a grin.
"It's quite nice," Yukino replied with a small nod.
Life is full of disappointment—if this house could block out even some of that sorrow, maybe the name would live up to its promise.
With Yukino left inside to unpack, Kyousuke, Sakura, and Shouko leisurely stepped out again.
It was barely 4 p.m., and the streets were almost empty.
Not joining a club had its perks, and he didn't care much about recommendations or guaranteed admissions.
Still, he should probably make Sakura work a little harder.
One hour later, at the Hojou family dinner table…
Eriri was doing her best to maintain a composed expression.
But the forced smile on her face was turning increasingly sour.
Honestly, the fact that she hadn't flipped the table and stormed out was proof of her years of self-restraint.
"Kasumigaoka Utaha, can you stop shaking your leg? You're going to spill the soup on the table," she said irritably.
"Oh my, Sawamura-san, you don't seem to realize that you're shaking your leg too," Utaha replied with a smirk.
Shaking your leg is considered rude in pretty much every country—there's no way she was doing that.
Annoyed by the baseless accusation, Eriri's frustration only deepened.
The moment her chair touched the floor, her elegantly shaped legs began to bounce even more intensely.
Just like Utaha said, since Eriri's hands were resting on the table, the entire surface was shaking, making the daffodils in the vase tremble slightly.
"So you're trying to make us accept this ridiculous setup?"
The last body-switch incident was one thing.
Weird stuff happens in life sometimes.
But two strange events in such quick succession? That was pushing it.
Losing your sense of taste, and only being able to enjoy food if someone feeds it to you directly—what kind of bargain-bin light novel plot is this?
Could it be any lazier?
At the center of the chaos, Yukino Yukari sat silently, no trace of an adult's assertiveness on her face.
She simply stared at the hand that was tightly holding hers.
Even though she had repeatedly declined, Kyousuke-kun insisted on feeding her.
That alone had already ticked off Sawamura, who finally snapped and slammed her chopsticks down onto the table.
Seriously, feeding someone like that should be done quietly in the kitchen—no need to make it public.
'I don't even eat much. I could've just eaten a bit later.'
'Actually, I should've just admitted my sense of taste had returned.'
'But then Kyousuke-kun wouldn't have had to trouble himself like this.'
"This is a special case. If any of you were in her situation, I wouldn't hesitate to help—feeding or otherwise," Kyousuke said righteously.
He absolutely wasn't doing this because he enjoyed feeding Yukino.
Even if the way her lips touched the chopsticks sent an odd tingle up his spine... Even if her bashful smile was breathtakingly beautiful... Even if—
'Hrk.' No. He's not that kind of guy.
"You're still spouting that nonsense?" Eriri snapped.
She glared at Yukino Yukari, who kept her head down and said nothing.
Eriri clenched her fists but forced herself to hold back.
That girl, Yukino Yukari, looked like she had stepped out of a classical Japanese painting—so delicate and sorrowful that even she couldn't help but feel sympathetic.
Men were always weak to that pitiful type.
This wasn't Yukino's fault.
It was all this scumbag's fault.
That unfaithful bastard.
That cold-hearted, two-timing, pervy sleazeball...
'Ugh, I'm so mad I could scream!' Eriri glanced down at the table, tempted to slam her bowl again.
If they weren't at the dinner table—if she wasn't afraid of giving Utaha more to laugh at—she'd definitely make Kyousuke pay for this.
"From a psychological and physiological perspective, it is possible," Utaha murmured, stroking her smooth, pale chin.
'Huh?!'
Eriri whipped her head around in disbelief.
What was wrong with this witch? Had Yukino Yukari somehow charmed her too?
So being sexy wasn't enough—now even the pitiful types were winning?!
"Now that you mention it, I think I caught a cold too. No wonder I haven't been able to taste anything," Utaha said nonchalantly.
She picked up her bowl, stood up, and walked over to Kyousuke's side.
With a mischievous grin, Sakura slid over to sit next to Eriri.
"Y-you-you!" Eriri's piercing blue eyes darted back and forth between the three of them.
Thankfully, she'd matured—she wasn't on the verge of tears or storming out this time.
Yukino glanced at Kyousuke, now facing Utaha's open mouth awaiting her turn to be fed.
Then at Sakura, who clearly enjoyed the chaos.
Then finally at Eriri, who looked like a bull seconds away from charging.
She sighed quietly.
It had been so long since she'd felt this much... life.
Not even when little Shizuka got drunk did things get this rowdy.
"Eriri," Sakura leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I think it's time you updated Kyousuke's contact name."
"How about 'Shameless Casanova Who's Broken Through the Stratosphere'?"
"No! Ugh, don't even mention cockroaches. I'm not letting that word appear on my phone," Eriri snapped.
Eriri, once dubbed a "timid little rodent" by Kasumigaoka Utaha, truly lived up to the title—she wouldn't even go near horror movies, let alone bugs.
"Then how about 'Brazen, Shameless, Perverted Casanova'?" Sakura offered again, her tone sweetly persuasive.
"Hmm... that's not bad," Eriri muttered, pulling out her phone—only to shout in the next instant:
"Wait, no! Sakura, what makes you think I'd actually do something that childish?"
"Changing someone's contact name over an argument? That's something elementary schoolers would do!"
———————————————————————
And so, another lively day at the Kyousuke residence came to an end.
The day closed with Kyousuke quietly telling a bedtime story over the phone.
April 2nd, Tuesday
Aside from getting a little more familiar with the names of his teachers and classmates, there wasn't much worth writing down today.
After school, Shouko dashed off with her lunchbox—she had lessons at her training school.
Just like yesterday, Kyousuke walked with Sakura toward Toyogasaki Academy.
For a first-year student who didn't join any clubs, attend cram school, or play games, life could start to feel pretty uneventful—too much free time on your hands.
For Sakura, the walk to Toyogasaki was a mini adventure.
Along the way were several parks and shopping streets—thanks to the nearby Gakushuin University, the area was lively but not overwhelmingly noisy like Ikebukuro.
It was practically a paradise for casual strolls.
As they walked, Sakura kept buying snacks, insisting on trying everything she saw.
She said things like, "If I don't eat this, the food will feel disrespected," and "If neither of us eats this, Japan will collapse tomorrow," while blowing through her wallet.
But as usual, after one or two bites, she handed the rest off to Kyousuke.
By the time they reached Toyogasaki's front gate, half an hour had passed.
A few students were coming out—probably those on cleaning duty. Club activities ended early today.
Though Sakura was dressed in their own black Soubu High uniform, she somehow got the idea that she might be able to sneak into Toyogasaki.
"That's the kind of thing delinquents do," Kyousuke muttered, but he still followed along with a helpless sigh.
That's when something caught his attention.
"...Katou Megumi?" he whispered.
He swore to every god and spirit in existence—he said it super softly, the kind of voice that wouldn't wake someone even if he were sleep-talking.
And yet, the girl with the bob cut up ahead stopped in her tracks and slowly turned around.
"Um… excuse me, is there something you need?"