In the blink of an eye, Haru was back at the Wakaba residence.
At the center of the sitting room, a sheet of size-50 drawing paper was spread open.
Haru held an ordinary bristle oil paintbrush in his right hand. Compared to the high-end supplies prepared by the Wakaba family, it seemed especially plain, yet Mori Minami didn't say a word about how he had rushed home just to retrieve such a humble tool. She merely gave him a nod of understanding.
After all, artists often came with their own quirks. Their temperaments and habits usually differed from those of regular people, especially during the act of "creation," when they might behave in ways others couldn't even imagine. Compared to the kind who had to be naked to paint, someone like Haru, who was simply attached to his own tools, seemed perfectly normal.
Sitting beside him, Mori Minami glanced at her expressionless daughter nearby, as though something had just occurred to her. Casually, she asked, "Kazami-kun, if I remember right, your specialty is landscape painting, isn't it?"
"No, I can do a little bit of everything."
Haru answered with a modest smile, his tone humble.
Minami's eyes sparkled slightly at his words. She immediately followed up, "Then how about a portrait? This is a rare opportunity, after all. Could you make one of Mutsumi?"
Wakaba Mutsumi looked startled. She lifted her head and glanced at Minami, eyes filled with confusion.
She had never realized her mother had this side to her. For a moment, she was completely at a loss.
"That might not be possible."
Haru gently shook his head.
"Without enough time and energy, I won't begin a portrait of Mutsumi. Once I start, it has to be something I'm satisfied with. From the first stroke to the final piece... it might take a very long, long time."
"At the very least, I don't have the intention to take that step right now."
Of course, that wasn't the only reason. Haru had already decided long ago that his first portrait would be of Nijika.
Minami nodded with understanding. A true work of art demanded time and effort as its foundation, built with sweat and talent. Sometimes an artist might spend a month or even several months on a single piece.
Since this was just something meant to "prove" his skill to her, it wasn't a piece he could afford to spend too much time on.
"But while a portrait might not be possible, I can still paint for Mutsumi."
As he said this, Haru couldn't help but look toward the little wooden figure not far away.
Then, all of a sudden, he raised his brush and held it steadily above the pristine white canvas. In that moment, an overwhelming presence radiated from him. Between the fingers of his left hand were several paint tubes, which he flung all at once onto the canvas with a sudden motion.
Just watching this, Mori Minami couldn't help but widen her eyes.
"Action painting?"
This technique, flinging paint directly onto the canvas, was the epitome of bold expression. Mastering it often took years of dedicated practice. For someone Haru's age to wield it so freely seemed almost reckless.
Before she could even finish that thought, Haru's brush had already landed on the canvas.
His movements were smooth, as if practiced day after day for ten, twenty, even thirty years. It was like magic, turning chaotic swirls of color into a distinct beauty. He boldly and continuously shaped the image into being.
The level of skill on display seemed beyond anything a mere boy could possess.
Time ticked by, second by second.
Mori Minami couldn't take her eyes off him. That boy, from beginning to end, wore only a faint, peaceful smile.
By the time she snapped out of her thoughts, the black-haired youth had already placed the final stroke.
Before her was a vividly bright and colorful painting.
In the small frame of the canvas bloomed a life force that defied expectation. Lush green foliage framed blue vegetables, radiant golden petals gleamed like miracles scattered through humble tones, filled with light.
The more Minami looked at the painting, the more the central blossoms felt eerily familiar.
"Mutsumi?"
She froze. Had she just seen Mutsumi's figure within the painting?
Recalling Haru's words that this was a painting "for Mutsumi" a realization dawned on her.
Mori Minami wasn't someone well-versed in art. Despite her presence in the entertainment industry and upper society, art had never really been her world. But even a woman like her could feel it that this painting's raw visual impact was staggering.
Unlike the earlier piece titled Summer Flower, this one exuded breathtaking beauty. Even compared to works she'd seen at exhibitions, it was hard to match the sheer power of this painting.
And it had only taken a few hours to complete?
"…I honestly started wondering how many years of oil painting practice you've had."
Minami crossed her arms, her expression oddly conflicted as she muttered.
Haru simply smiled in response, calmly placing his brush down before speaking, "I plan to submit this to FIRST. For now, I think it's the most fitting choice."
The moment he'd gone back to get his brush, inspiration had struck him. Unlike the experimental "practice" pieces he had submitted before, this one carried real emotion and intent. This was a painting with a soul.
"You're using this one directly?"
A piece made for a wager, finished in just a few hours, Minami truly found it hard to believe.
Still, from her position, there wasn't much she could say. She didn't really understand the world of art anyway.
But she did have a friend who was an expert in art appraisal. She'd even consulted that friend about Summer Flower once, only to be told it was the work of a "monster" as if a veteran artist had idly painted it while toying with a child.
Unaware of the chaotic thoughts racing through his future mother-in-law's mind, Haru smiled and beckoned the little wooden figure over with a gentle wave.
"Mutsumi, you name this one."
The expressionless doll-like girl opened her mouth, then obediently stepped toward Haru.
She stared intently at the painting, eyes drawn to the cucumber depicted in the scene, as though committing every detail to memory. Her gaze lingered for a long time.
Eventually, she looked up.
Her golden eyes shimmered with something unusual. The green-haired girl turned to Haru and murmured softly:
"…Cucumber. Cucumber Afternoon."
"Mutsumi?"
Mori Minami stared at her daughter, her expression oddly conflicted. Mutsumi, who had changed so much, had named such a powerful painting with a title so plain, even dull. It stood in stark contrast to the overwhelming impact of the artwork itself.
And yet, Haru simply blinked in surprise, then nodded thoughtfully. "I think it's a great name. Let's go with it."
They were seriously calling it Cucumber Afternoon?
Seeing how pleased the two of them looked, Minami had nothing more to say. She merely cast a long, meaningful look at her "future son-in-law," feeling a surge of emotion that words couldn't express.
If, before this, she had agreed to the bet because she was impressed with the boy and touched by Mutsumi's growth...
Now, it seemed he might truly be capable of it.
"…"
Whatever. If this is what Mutsumi wants, so be it.
In any case, no matter how the bet turned out in fifteen days, the two were going to be engaged. That much was certain.
Minami pushed aside her jumbled thoughts. She crossed her arms and looked ahead with a wry, distant gaze, staring at the girl who had once shown no emotion, who had never worn a smile like this.
…
The conversation at the Wakaba household came to a close for now.
Haru's bet with Mori Minami was set for the FIRST art exhibition, fifteen days from now.
Regardless of who won, the result would be his engagement to the sweet and docile little cucumber. Both Mutsumi and Haru, as if by tacit agreement, chose to keep this explosive news a secret for the time being.
Until fifteen days later, when the new artist "Yuuka" would make their mark...
Despite the apparent weight of the bet, it didn't seem to affect Haru's day-to-day life much. Having stepped back from band duties to serve as the manager, he still handled the band's affairs regularly even if he no longer participated in practice.
Like now, for example, when he was working part-time at STARRY as outside help.
"Bocchi, why are you suddenly spacing out?"
His unexpected question startled the pink-haired girl so much she visibly jolted. Without even having time to think, she blurted out an apology. "S-sorry! Was I spacing out for a long time? I think I had a bit of insomnia last night, so I didn't really get much sleep…"
Insomnia?
That word was all too familiar to Haru. He looked at Gotoh Hitori's pale face... quite pale it seemed as if drained of blood. Haru couldn't help but frown as he asked, "If it's gotten that serious, you shouldn't ignore it. How bad has it been lately?"
"N-no no, it's just… just last night, really."
Caught off guard by his concern, Hitori's expression turned stiff. It was as if her joints had been frozen solid, her head turning awkwardly with the imagined sound of creaking hinges.
Her small hands flailed like hummingbird wings, and her panicked, flustered behavior gave off an oddly comical vibe.
But this wasn't just ordinary "insomnia."
Gotoh Hitori had been so anxious about her current situation that it had turned into full-blown sleeplessness brought on by nervous tension.
And the root cause of that anxiety, the "culprit" was standing right in front of her.
…
Hitori couldn't stop herself from lifting her head and cautiously peeking at the handsome, black-haired boy.
Ever since that time she saw the "dream," she had been caught in a bubble of self-satisfied fantasy. She still hadn't made any real progress with Haru, and by the time she snapped out of it… she realized everything around her had changed dramatically.
Kita-chan… seemed to be dating Haru now.
Just realizing that had left Hitori completely stunned. Reality had shifted at the speed of light, leaving her dream world far behind.
Panicked and unsure of what to do, she wanted to act, to do something... anything.... but didn't know how. Even during school lunch breaks, she never found the chance to talk to Haru. Meanwhile, he seemed to be changing more and more each day.
If this kept up…
The future wife she was supposed to become would be completely forgotten by her future husband!
Haru didn't pay any mind to the chaos swirling in her heart. His sharp eyes focused instead on her trembling eyelashes. With his keen sense for detail, he could tell something was off right away.
Bocchi's current state was far worse than usual. It clearly wasn't just simple insomnia.
"Don't move."
The words that left Haru's mouth seemed to carry a quiet power, sinking directly into Hitori's ears. Instantly, the already-nervous girl sat up straight like a soldier at attention.
She stood frozen in place like a robot, not moving a muscle, as Haru gently placed his hand against her forehead. With that motion, a familiar floral scent began to spread from his fingertips, light and soothing. The fragrance made Bocchi relax, her eyes narrowing in comfort.
"…No fever."
Feeling her cool, delicate skin against his palm, Haru let out a quiet breath of relief.
Most people, when they weren't feeling well, would stay home and rest.
Some, if they were just a bit sly, might even fake being worse off so he would go take care of them out of guilt. But Bocchi… she was the kind of girl who wouldn't let herself trouble others, even when she was sick and burning with fever. She'd rather hide it entirely.
Hitori felt the warmth on her forehead and quietly lifted her gaze to meet Haru's, who had leaned in close. Instantly, she felt the heat in her cheeks rising at a pace visible to the naked eye. In mere seconds, that pink flush had spread across her entire head like wildfire.
Noticing the sudden spike in temperature, Haru blinked in surprise, then looked at the blushing girl with a strange expression.
Wait, what are you, a Devil fruit user or something?
"I-I-I… I'm really fine!"
But with that timid look in her eyes, her words carried absolutely no conviction.
Haru stared at the blushing pink-haired little snake with a complicated expression. By now, he had a pretty good idea why Bocchi had turned into such a mess, it almost certainly had something to do with him. Most likely, it was because she liked him in secret but was too afraid to say anything. The moment she got even a little closer, she would blush so hard that her brain just shut down.
Of course, he had very deep feelings for this "useless wife" as well. But relationships weren't something he could push forward alone.
More than anything, Haru wanted Bocchi to grow. At the very least, he wanted her to take that first step herself.
"Bocchi, for now, why don't you sit down and rest?"
"Eh? No no no, there's really no need… I just felt a little sleepy earlier, but I'm much better now! No need to rest at all..."
"…"
At that, Haru let out a cold chuckle and slowly raised his right hand.
≺≺ Nodachi Serpent Strike: Karate Chop! ≻≻
"Ow…"
Hitori instinctively ducked her head as the hand chop landed squarely on her forehead.
It looked heavy, but the blow actually had no real force. Even so, her sheepish, docile nature meant she didn't dare protest. She obediently sat down, not daring to talk back.
"Actually, I just want to slack off a bit, so from now on, you're my accomplice."
"Right now, there aren't many customers anyway. Even if we're caught, the manager probably won't say anything."
Haru offered the explanation in an offhand, relaxed tone, as if trying to put her at ease.
If they were going to slack off, then they needed the right "props." Thinking of this, Haru grabbed two bottles of Good Kid Juice from behind the counter, tossed one to Bocchi, then sat down beside her without hesitation.
"H-Haru-san, is it really okay to just… take these like that?"
Hitori stared in shock, eyes wide. She was already terrified of slacking off during work hours, but Haru had gone so far as to take drinks too?
Haru simply raised an eyebrow and smiled, explaining casually, "Look, the manager hasn't said anything, right? If she's not saying anything, that means it's fine."
No complaints? No complaints means it's fair game!
And not just any drink, he picked the one Seika likes best!
Somehow convinced by that logic, Hitori nodded blankly. She held the bottle carefully with both hands, and every so often, stole glances at the black-haired boy sitting next to her.
Right now, for the two of them, this was the perfect chance to be alone together.
And yet, Bocchi's mind was a total blank. She had no idea how to even start a conversation.
"Mm…"
With Haru sitting right beside her, the gentle, pleasant floral scent that always clung to him drifted over again. Why did a boy smell so nice?
It suddenly brought her back to that time she'd fainted and ended up asleep in Haru's arms.
That deep sense of comfort and security had been impossible to put into words. Whether it was her first time on stage or moments of near-panic, just leaning on him for a bit had been enough to calm her heart.
That scent felt like it had magic pulling her in, making it impossible to resist…
"…"
Gotoh-san suddenly recalled certain scenes from her dream, the ones that made her heart pound and face flush and her thoughts began to drift in a pink-tinted haze toward a distant, faraway world.