Kanade prided himself on having strong willpower. He had endured grueling exams, ruthless senpais in the student council, and even the soul-crushing reality of unfinished anime seasons. But in the face of her scorching gaze, his resolve wavered.
He held out for as long as he could, but eventually, he cracked.
"Senpai, could you please stop staring at me?" Kanade sighed, rubbing his temples. "People around us are getting the wrong idea."
He didn't even have to turn around to confirm it. The weight of prying eyes bore down on him like an overpowered protagonist's special move. Through the reflection of the glass, he caught glimpses of passersby sneaking glances—some curious, some amused, and others downright envious.
But the worst offenders?
The little kids.
A pair of mother-child duos had already passed by, their innocent yet lethal observations ringing in his ears:
"Mommy, look! They're totally a couple!"
"So lovey-dovey~!"
Kanade nearly choked on air. He wanted to dig a hole—not just a regular hole, but a full-scale pyramid—and bury himself in it.
What is with kids these days?! When did Japan become this precocious?! Japan is doomed!
But the source of his suffering, Kasumigaoka Utaha, remained utterly unbothered. In fact, she smiled.
"It's fine," she said smoothly, resting her chin on her palm. "It's not like it's the first or second time. Just think of it as a test from society, Kohai-kun."
Kanade flinched at that honorific.
That sweetly drawn-out "Kohai-kun" sent a chill down his spine.
To anyone else, it might have sounded affectionate, maybe even teasing. But to him, it was nothing short of a verbal landmine.
Utaha continued, as if she hadn't just shattered his peace of mind. "Besides, is it really such a bad thing to be mistaken as a couple?"
Before Kanade could argue, she leaned in ever so slightly, closing the distance between them.
A faint yet intoxicating scent—a blend of orchids and musk—immediately drifted over.
Kanade instinctively leaned back. Danger.
"You know I don't mean it like that," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in exasperation.
This woman was impossible.
He knew—he knew—she didn't actually have feelings for him. And yet, she always did things that would absolutely be misunderstood by outsiders. As if seeing him flustered was some kind of entertainment for her.
And the worst part?
She was enjoying this.
That lazy, half-lidded gaze. The faint smirk playing at her lips.
Yep. She was having fun.
This was exactly why he avoided getting too involved with her.
Sure, he didn't hate her. He even admired her talent—after all, she was a brilliant writer, and in some ways, he respected her selfish nature. She focused only on what benefited her, but at the same time, she wasn't malicious.
Well. Most of the time.
There was one glaring exception—Eriri.
For some reason, those two had never gotten along.
Back when he was still dumb enough to pursue Utaha, things were already complicated. But after failing spectacularly and shifting his attention to Eriri, everything went downhill.
Utaha constantly interfered.
At first, Kanade thought she was just being petty—unwilling to see Eriri happy. But later, he realized something even more infuriating.
It wasn't about Eriri at all.
Utaha just didn't want to lose her convenient Kohai.
If Kanade successfully pursued Eriri, then who would help with her novel research?
Who would bring her food when she got too absorbed in writing?
Who would listen to her unreasonable demands at all hours of the day?
…
He was a free laborer.
The realization hit him like a truck-kun isekai special.
Though they'd reconciled since then, the memory still lingered like a cursed anime filler arc.
Kanade sighed, deciding to steer the conversation away before she got any more ideas.
"Why are you even here, Senpai?" he asked. "Shouldn't third-years be drowning in coursework by now?"
It was half curiosity, half a desperate attempt to change the subject.
Utaha twirled a strand of hair around her finger, feigning innocence. "How does Kohai-kun know I'm not studying? I am in a bookstore, after all."
"Right," Kanade deadpanned, before pointing at the book in front of her.
'The Loyal Dog Training Manual.'
Utaha followed his gaze, then smiled.
"Well," she said smoothly, "it's important for a light novelist to do proper research."
Kanade stared at her.
This woman.
The sheer audacity.
"…If this counts as studying, then I don't think there's a single person in Japan who doesn't 'study.'"
Utaha chuckled. "What can I say? I'm a high school student, and the youngest beautiful girl light novelist. My workload is… excessive."
Kanade narrowed his eyes.
"Who the hell calls themselves a 'beautiful girl'?"
Utaha ignored his retort entirely, her expression shifting into something suspiciously calculating.
"I know the importance of studying," she continued, conveniently glossing over her choice of reading material. "But I also need to maintain my reputation as a top-tier novelist. Unfortunately…"
Her eyes flickered toward him.
"Since a certain~ someone~ is unwilling to help me with research, I have no choice but to draw inspiration from other works."
Kanade's expression darkened.
Oh no.
He knew exactly where this was going.
"I'm busy," he said quickly, throwing out excuses like shuriken. "School field trip. Student council. I don't have time to—"
"Ah."
Utaha's wine-red eyes lit up.
"So you're saying…"
Her voice took on an unholy level of sweetness.
"That if you do have free time, you'll help me with research?"
Kanade's soul left his body.
He had a sinking feeling that he had just walked into a trap. But at this point, what could he do? Saying no outright would be too harsh, and he wasn't heartless enough to always reject her.
"Well... if I really have time, then it's naturally no problem."
The words left his mouth before he could think them through, and immediately, he regretted it.
"Great! Then let's not waste any time. How about tomorrow?" Utaha leaned forward, her tone brimming with expectation. "It's the weekend, and there's plenty of time."
"Tomorrow won't work," Kanade replied instantly, shaking his head. "I already have plans."
He had promised Eriri he'd tutor her over the weekend. And knowing her, she'd probably throw a fit if he bailed on her now.
"Oh? Then the day after tomorrow, perhaps?"
"That won't work either. I'm busy then too."
Utaha's expression immediately shifted. Her elegant brows twitched, and her smile became noticeably strained.
Uh-oh.
Kanade could practically feel the waves of irritation radiating from her. She wasn't outright pouting—that wasn't her style—but he could tell she was two seconds away from unleashing some passive-aggressive sarcasm.
Crap, this looks bad.
Before she could accuse him of brushing her off, he quickly raised his hands in defense.
"No, no, it's not what you think! I swear I'm not just giving you excuses. I really don't have time this weekend!" he explained hurriedly. "Eriri's grades have been slipping, and she's in crisis mode. I promised to help her study."
As he spoke, Utaha's expression shifted slightly. Her irritation faded—at least on the surface—but something even more dangerous took its place.
A calculating look.
"Oh, is that so?" she murmured, tapping her fingers on the table rhythmically. "Tutoring, huh... That sounds quite interesting."
Why does this feel ominous?
"In that case... how about I join too?" she suddenly suggested, her voice silky smooth. "After all, my grades could use some polishing as well."
Kanade's soul nearly left his body.
Absolutely not.
Bringing Kasumigaoka Utaha—Eriri's sworn enemy—to Eriri's house?
That's a suicide mission.
"Let's stop right there," he said quickly, shaking his head like his life depended on it. "I can't just bring you along without Eriri's permission. That wouldn't be polite at all."
In reality, he knew full well that even if he did ask Eriri, she'd sooner eat her entire collection of limited-edition figurines than allow Utaha into her house.
Utaha clicked her tongue in disappointment. "Tch."
Though she didn't press the issue further, Kanade could tell she was far from pleased.
Great. Now she's sulking.
She crossed her arms, looking away dramatically. "Fine, fine. I suppose I'll just have to pray that my dear Kohai doesn't get devoured by a certain golden retriever."
Kanade twitched. "Stop saying weird things."
Utaha, however, wasn't done yet. Her mood had already taken a turn for the worse, and it didn't help that Kanade had once again prioritized Eriri over her.
That mere adulterous cat had already taken action ahead of her?! And she even managed to secure a study session inside her own home?!
Utaha gritted her teeth. That smug little blonde…!
Kanade, oblivious to the war raging in Utaha's mind, sighed and tried to steer the conversation in a safer direction.
"How about next weekend?" she suddenly proposed, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Kanade blinked. "Huh?"
"Our research session," she clarified, narrowing her eyes slightly. "You wouldn't happen to be 'busy' again next weekend, would you, Kohai-kun?"
Kanade hesitated for a moment, thinking. "I… don't think I have anything planned yet."
"Good," she said, her lips curving into a triumphant smile. "Then it's settled."
"Yeah, yeah…"
Kanade sighed, finally resigning himself to his fate.
"Since that's decided, I'll be heading off now—"
"Oh? And where is my dear Kohai planning to go?" Utaha interrupted, tilting her head playfully.
Kanade instantly felt another wave of danger.
Oh no.
He had already fallen for one trap today—he wasn't about to step into another. The look in her eyes told him that if he let his guard down, she'd probably find a way to drag him off somewhere before he even realized what was happening.
"Uh… home?"
"How convenient!" Utaha clapped her hands together, a delighted expression on her face. "I happen to have some free time too. Let's walk together."
Kanade narrowed his eyes. "That wasn't an invitation."
Utaha's smile only widened. "Oh, my dear Kohai-kun… Don't even think about running away."
************************
Kohai here means Junior. That is, Utaha is one class ahead of Kanade making her his senior/senpai. Proper Japanese dictates that these distinctions must be properly addressed in conversation, thus the Senpai/Kouhai.