The late afternoon sun cast long amber shadows across the courtyard as Kazama Haru pressed his phone to his ear, the faint scent of cherry blossoms carried on a spring breeze mixing with the distant metallic tang of the train station.
"Haru-chan, I've already contacted Nyamuchi~! We'll meet at Montmartre Café. I've sent you the location—can you make it on time?"
Through the phone, Togawa Sakiko's processed voice carried an unmistakable cheerfulness, almost melodic in its teasing warmth.
Despite not being able to see each other, Kazama Haru habitually nodded, adjusting his bag strap over his shoulder. "No problem. I just finished club activities. I'll take the train over now. If Saki-chan arrives first, please wait for me."
…
Given the distance from their respective schools to the upscale café, Togawa Sakiko would logically arrive first—so Kazama Haru preemptively set expectations, his breath forming the smallest cloud in the cooling air.
"Hmph! Making two ladies wait for you—Haru-chan is truly not a gentleman, desuwa~" A pause, then softer: "Be careful... you might not find a girlfriend later."
Even though the essential information of the call had been exchanged—
Even though Kazama Haru was about to hang up and focus on walking, Togawa Sakiko showed no intention of ending their conversation, her playful remark lingering with a hint of girlish vulnerability that felt entirely unlike her usual composed demeanor.
What is this feeling fluttering in my chest? Why am I saying such embarrassing things? Sakiko wondered, her cheeks warming as she sat on the train, fingers unconsciously twirling a strand of her hair.
This made Kazama Haru momentarily freeze mid-step. Where was the 'dark Sakiko' he'd come to expect? The sharp-tongued queen who wielded words like scalpels? The person on the other end of the phone seemed almost... soft. Sweet, even.
At the same time, a managerial thought crossed his mind—if Ave Mujica's compositions thrived on darkness and melancholy, would this newfound optimism affect the band's creative direction?
As their Band Manager, responsible for safeguarding both development and the members' wellbeing, perhaps... he should try putting some pressure on her? A mischievous smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Just as this thought formed—and just as Saki-chan, on her end, was blushing inexplicably while awaiting his response, heart pounding against her ribs like a caged bird—a new call notification suddenly popped up on Kazama Haru's screen.
The caller ID made his entire body tense.
—Takamatsu Tomori.
His stomach dropped. Even though they'd established complete trust, Tomori had never called him proactively. Not once. According to her schedule, she believed he was enthusiastically shaking cocktails at the café right now.
With her delicate personality—completely unwilling, even afraid to bother others—it was absolutely impossible for her to call rashly without reason.
Had something happened?
The thought struck like lightning, and his heart rate spiked.
"Sorry, Saki-chan. I have another call coming in—it's a senpai from my club. I have to take it. See you later."
Without waiting for Togawa Sakiko's response, Kazama Haru pressed the hang-up button, anxiety coiling in his gut.
…
On the train, Sakiko's smile froze on her face like a paused video frame. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, mixing with the rhythmic clatter of wheels on tracks, but she barely registered any of it.
He just... hung up on me.
For some reason, that abrupt dismissal sent an inexplicable pang of loss through her chest. She hadn't even gotten to hear his response to her brave little joke. Her fingers tightened around her phone, knuckles whitening.
Baka, she thought, though whether directed at him or herself, even she couldn't say.
---
On Kazama Haru's side, the moment he answered the incoming call, after a familiar penguin-like "hooo~" sound—Tomori's trademark nervous exhale—her clearly flustered voice came through:
"Um... Haru-kun? Are your club activities over? Can you... c-come back to the Astronomy Club for a moment?"
"Astronomy Club?"
Kazama Haru's brows furrowed in surprise. "Has something happened, Akari? Your tone sounds off. Don't rush—tell me slowly."
"It, it's that..."
A trembling pause. He could practically hear her small hands wringing together.
"Just now... a girl walked in who had a similar aura to... um... Nakamura-san. The one who dropped out before." Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "She said she wants to join the Astronomy Club."
Another shaky breath. "To be honest... I, I can't handle it. So I can only ask for your help, Haru-kun. If it's not convenient, then I—"
"I'm still at the academy, Akari. Don't worry. I'm coming now."
Kazama Haru hung up, pivoted on his heel, and broke into a dead sprint toward the Astronomy Club building, his shoes pounding against the pavement in rapid staccato.
Takamatsu Tomori's words were too unexpected. A girl with an aura similar to Riko Nakamura—the notorious gyaru who'd dropped out—?
For Akari, who could barely make eye contact with strangers, handling someone like that would be impossible. His protective instincts surged, fierce and immediate.
To safeguard Takamatsu Tomori's peaceful club life—to prevent her from being influenced by anyone troublesome—he had to assess this person.
If she turned out to be someone of questionable character? He'd play the villain himself and reject her application outright.
---
[Astronomy Club Room | 4:52 PM]
"I'm here, Akari!"
Five minutes later, Kazama Haru burst through the Astronomy Club door, chest heaving only slightly despite the long sprint—his stamina stat of 7 proving its worth.
The room smelled faintly of old books and telescope polish, dust motes dancing in the golden shafts of evening light streaming through the windows.
At the sound of his voice, Takamatsu Tomori—who had been sitting rigid on a chair, hands clasped white-knuckled in her lap, looking like a small animal cornered by a predator—immediately brightened.
"Haru-kun!"
She practically fled across the room, her small body colliding gently with his as her delicate fingers wrapped around his wrist with desperate urgency. Her grip was tight, almost trembling, and he could feel the rapid flutter of her pulse against his skin.
Finally... finally he's here... The relief flooding through her was so intense her knees nearly buckled.
"That person over there... is the student who wants to join."
Hiding behind Kazama Haru's broader frame, Tomori's voice came out weak, breathy—barely above a whisper. Her finger extended shakily toward the sofa in the corner, her small chest pressing inadvertently against his back as she used him as a shield.
"Let me see..."
Feeling the petite girl clinging to him—her warmth seeping through his uniform, her heartbeat rabbiting against his spine—Kazama Haru followed her trembling finger toward the club's worn leather sofa.
There, sprawled with the casual arrogance of someone who owned every room she entered, sat a girl.
Blue hair cascaded in layered waves past her shoulders—the color of deep ocean water, with lighter streaks that caught the fading sunlight like bioluminescence. Her eyes matched perfectly: sharp, predatory blue beneath thick lashes, framed by a delicate face that balanced dangerous beauty with almost doll-like features. A white beret perched jauntily atop her head, and her Tsukinomori uniform—while technically regulation—had been modified: skirt hemmed scandalously short to reveal pale, toned thighs; blouse unbuttoned just enough to hint at the soft curve of modest cleavage.
She clutched a small bear plushie against her chest—incongruously cute against her intimidating presence—while her other hand worked furiously at a mobile game, the phone turned sideways, screen flashing with combat animations. A cushion had been commandeered from somewhere to pad her seat.
Sensing new eyes on her, the girl's fingers flew across the screen in a final desperate flurry.
Tch—!
The failure jingle chirped from her phone. She sighed dramatically, finally looking up.
Her eyes met Kazama Haru's.
They were fierce. Sharp enough to cut glass. Even Kazama Haru—who wielded swords and bows daily, who had faced down yakuza thugs—felt an involuntary chill snake down his spine.
Behind him, Tomori's grip tightened, her small "hii—" of fear barely audible.
"You're in this club too?"
To his surprise, before he could speak, the blue-haired girl raised one elegant eyebrow and addressed him first. Her voice was low, melodic—touched with something like amusement.
"Um... you know me?" Kazama Haru blinked, momentarily thrown.
Though more than one girl had tried attracting his attention with such forwardness before, his instincts told him this wasn't that. There was no flirtation in her gaze—only cool appraisal. Like a predator sizing up another predator.
The girl reached up, adjusting the long sidelocks framing her face with practiced elegance, then leaned back fully into the sofa cushions. Her posture radiated the confidence of someone accustomed to commanding rooms.
"Of course I know you." A smirk curled her lips. "You're the number one ikemen in our grade—every girl in school knows that face."
Her eyes sharpened.
"Besides that... you're also the ruthless bastard who single-handedly beat Uda Koji—Direct Leader of the Ryujin-kai—so badly he's still hospitalized." She tilted her head, bear plushie squeaking slightly as she shifted. "With fighting ability like that? Honestly, it's a waste you're not involved with the yakuza. If you want... I can introduce you to some connections~"
"Ryujin-kai..."
Behind him, Tomori murmured the word in disbelief, her already wide eyes growing impossibly wider. The worry and lingering fear pooling in them as she stared at Kazama Haru's back told him she'd pieced together exactly how dangerous his previous opponents had been.
He fought... actual yakuza? For someone like me...?
…
Meanwhile, Kazama Haru's eyes narrowed, brazenly scrutinizing the blue-haired girl before him.
During that brawl at the school gates, most onlookers had assumed his attackers were just delinquents from nearby schools. But this girl didn't just know the gang's name—she'd accurately named Uda Koji as the leader, and provided intel Kazama Haru himself hadn't possessed: that Koji was still recovering in the hospital.
Could anyone uninvolved provide such precise information?
Yet despite her bombshell revelations, Kazama Haru found himself less shocked than expected.
Because he recognized her too.
—Ryuju Momo.
The Yakuza Princess.
Daughter of the head family of the wide-area violent organization known as the Dragon Pearl Group.