On the other hand, Isagi had a quiet day; the rest of the morning passed like a pleasant blur—or as pleasant as the routine before classes could be.
Marin arrived at school practically skipping, and when she spotted Isagi near the lockers, she ran up to him with the energy of someone who had too much coffee.
"Isagiiii-kun!!" She grabbed his arm as if it were an emergency anchor. "Did you see my messages?! You saw them, right?! I was freaking ouuuut!!"
"I saw them, Kitagawa-san..." He tried to keep a neutral expression while she shook his arm as if trying to wake up a wind-up doll. "I already said I'd deliver the cosplay today. You're not going to have a heart attack over this, are you?"
Marin puffed out her cheeks...
"I'm going to try not to!! But you're not helping!!"
Isagi let out a small nasal "hm," the closest thing to a discreet laugh that he usually showed. They talked until the bell rang, about sewing, about the cosplay fabric, about the test that Marin had almost forgotten. She asked quick questions, he answered calmly. She exaggerated her reactions, he observed in silence. It was a strangely comfortable dynamic.
Alya, who was passing through the hallway, stopped when she saw the two of them talking so closely. The air around her seemed to cool.
"...Good morning, Isagi."
Her smile was polite, delicate... and laced with a subtle poison, almost imperceptible to anyone who didn't know her. He, of course, knew her.
"Good morning, Alya." He took a step back without realizing it, just enough so that Marin was no longer holding his arm. "Everything okay?"
She stared at him for two seconds too long.
"Everything. I'm great." Her gaze shifted to Marin, then back to him. "I see you're... popular as always."
Marin blinked, completely oblivious to the hostile tone.
"Alisa-chan, good morniiing!! Ah! Did you know that Isagi-kun is going to deliver the Shizuku-tan cosplay to me today? You can't imagine—"
Alya opened an even sweeter smile than before. The dangerous kind. The "I'll poison you with tea, but smiling" kind.
"Ah, how nice for you."
Isagi let out an almost invisible sigh. He could already predict how the day would go: Marin excited, Alya irritated, and him trying to survive both....
And that's what happened during the morning classes, so much so that he tried to study for real for the first time, which for a former Brazilian is pretty hard...
Lunch came quickly. Isagi ate with Kuze and Oreki, as always. Kuze talked about video games, Oreki about a book he found "too good" because it had five pages, something perfect for a lazy guy like him, and Isagi listened to both while trying to ignore the notifications piling up on his phone, which to his resignation served as entertainment for his two friends.
The afternoon was less chaotic, at least until practice. The soccer team coach was more excited than usual, and that was never a good sign. Passes, runs, circuits, finishes.... After a quick shower in the locker room, he automatically headed to the dojo.
When he finished, the clock showed a little over five-thirty. He returned home exhausted, physically and mentally, and as soon as he took off his shoes, he went up to his room and collapsed onto the mattress. The bed was cold, soft, and inviting. He threw his arm over his eyes and let out a long sigh.
"Just... five minutes."
The phone vibrated on the bed.
Of course. Marin.
"Isagiiii-kun, I'm going to die if you don't bring this cosplay today!! It's not a joooooke!!"
Isagi squeezed his eyes shut.
"I'm sleepy..." he murmured to himself.
The screen lit up again.
"It's Shizuku-tan we're talking about! Can I come pick it up now? (^_^)"
He opened the chat, scrolled to the end, and typed slowly:
"I'll bring it to you later today, I have a commitment tonight. You can't come pick it up, but as soon as I get back, I'll bring it to you.... I promise!"
The reply came in half a second.
"...Seriously? You're going to train until late? You really are hardworking.... I'll wait then!"
Isagi locked the screen, sighed deeply, planted his feet on the floor, and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Okay. Get up. Almost there."
He forced himself to stand. He grabbed the change of clothes set aside for the evening: something simple, nice, neat without overdoing it, perfect for a festival. He took another quick shower, this time longer to wake up. The hot water washed the fatigue from his muscles. He dried his hair calmly, arranging the bangs until they were just right.
When he left the bathroom, he looked like a different person. He was wearing a light navy blue fabric jacket over an impeccable white shirt, no tie, elegant but comfortable. The pants were black, tailored, and the shoes were simple but very well cared for. His damp hair, freshly styled, fell perfectly over his forehead.
He looked... adult.
In the living room, his parents were chatting on the sofa, laughing softly at some inside joke. When they heard footsteps on the stairs, both looked up.
Iyo smiled immediately.
"Yoichi... you... look elegant."
Issei blinked slowly, furrowing his brow in genuine surprise.
"Wow. Who died?"
"Dad..." Isagi sighed.
Iyo stood up and approached, gently adjusting the collar of her son's shirt.
"You look handsome, dear. Are you going somewhere special?"
Isagi simply replied calmly,
"I... I'm going out on a date with Kaguya, she invited me to the festival in the neighboring town...."
The silence lasted three seconds.
Three long seconds.
Iyo made a soft "oh...," almost emotional.
Issei widened his eyes.
"The Shinomiya heiress?" He crossed his arms, analyzing his son with exaggerated intensity. "That elegant girl with sharp eyes? She came here once.... Well... do you need money?"
Isagi blinked.
"Money?"
"Yeah. Money. You know: bills, notes, paper that buys things." Issei waved his hand. "Want me to give you some? Festivals always have expensive food... and games that steal your money."
Iyo laughed softly behind her hand.
"Your father is asking if you want extra allowance, dear."
"Ah." Isagi scratched the back of his neck; he had forgotten to talk to his parents about this, he planned to do it as soon as he got home, well, better late than never. "Actually... no. I'm fine."
Issei raised an eyebrow strangely.
"What do you mean you're fine? Yoichi, you spend zero yen a week. Something's wrong. Either you've become a monk or—"
"Dad."
"—or you've started selling organs."
"D–Dad!"
Iyo slapped her husband's arm.
"Issei!"
He grumbled something like "it was just a hypothesis," but went quiet.
Isagi let out a sigh and, instead of leaving through the door as he intended, went back to the sofa and sat between the two of them, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Actually... I started working."
The two adults froze like two cats seeing a cucumber.
"...Working?"
Iyo repeated slowly, as if the word had come in another language.
Issei leaned in close, squinting his eyes.
"What kind of work? Don't tell me—"
"It's online."
Silence.
Another silence.
A third silence, even denser.
Until Iyo blinked.
"Dear... that didn't sound better than it could have."
Isagi, already prepared for that, simply unlocked his phone.
"I have three channels. I started a while ago. Nothing illegal, Mom. Nothing shady, Dad."
He opened the app and showed the screen turned toward them.
"This one is FutebolGoat. I do edits of plays, short analyses, compilations. They do well."
Issei brought his face so close to the screen that he almost bumped his son's nose.
"Hm... hum... look at that... that's Itoshi Sae... and— HUH?! How many views does this video have?!"
"Seven million."
"SE... seven...? Seven million?"
Isagi scrolled the screen.
"This one is FatosDeconhecidos. I do videos about historical facts, mythology, weird curiosities, real cases... that kind of thing."
Iyo brought her hand to her mouth.
"This one has... fewer subscribers than the other... but it's still an impressive number!"
"Uh-huh."
Isagi opened the third channel.
"And Legends. It's just edits of movies and series. But this one is smaller."
The "smaller" one had 100 thousand subscribers.
Issei widened his eyes even more.
"Smaller?!"
Isagi took a deep breath.
"I didn't tell you before because... well, I thought it would just be a hobby. But... I'm already getting paid."
"Getting how much?" Issei asked suspiciously, as if prepared to hear "thirty yen."
Isagi opened the banking app accessible to minors and put the screen in front of them.
The number was there.
¥1,173,400
Issei stopped breathing.
Iyo stopped blinking.
The whole house seemed to stop.
"...Yoichi." Issei's voice came out low, hoarse, almost shocked. "Is this... is this per month?"
"Yes."
"Per month?!" Iyo, delicate as always, placed her hands on her cheeks as if watching a dramatic theater play. "My son... my God... Yoichi... but... this is more than your father earns..."
"Much more." Issei completed without any shame. "My son. What pride. Teach me how to do this!"
"Dad..."
Issei grabbed his shoulders.
"I can become a YouTuber!"
"No, you can't."
"Yes, I can—"
"Dad, please..."
Iyo approached, touching his arm gently.
"But, dear... this is... this is a lot of money. Are you okay with this? You're not overloading yourself?"
"No. It's chill. I only do it when I can. And... I wanted to show something else."
He took out his wallet, opened it slowly, pulled out two perfectly folded bundles.
¥200,000
He extended them to his parents.
"I wanted to give this to you. To help. Or to use however you want."
The silence that followed was different. Not shocked. But emotional.
Iyo tried to refuse immediately.
"Yoichi... no. You don't have to... it's your money, dear. You worked for it."
"I know. And that's why I want to give it. You've always done everything for me. I just want to give back."
Issei, who was usually made of stone, swallowed hard. Very hard.
"...Son."
He took the bills with more care than he would a newborn.
"This... this is a lot."
"I can send more every month. If you want. It doesn't hurt me."
Iyo discreetly wiped the corner of her eyes.
"...You've grown so much..."
"Mom..."
She hugged him. Not for a few seconds, but for long, long seconds. Warm, sincere, silent.
Issei didn't hug only because he was holding the money with the delicacy of someone handling nitroglycerin.
But his gaze said everything.
Pride.
Satisfaction.
And a hint of incredulity that would probably last weeks.
When Iyo pulled away, she smiled in a sweet and radiant way.
"Go to your date, dear."
Issei nodded firmly, discreetly wiping his nose as if he didn't want to admit he was moved.
"Yeah. And... Yoichi?"
"Yes?"
"If the Shinomiya family asks: you work in digital media, got it? You have to make a great impression..."
"Okay, Dad."
"And..." Issei took a deep breath, prouder than ever. "I'm very happy for you."
Isagi gave a small smile. Small, but genuine.
"Thanks."
He stood up, adjusted his clothes, took a deep breath as if entering another world... and walked to the door.
Isagi left through the door calmly.
He pulled his phone from his pocket.
A notification from Kaguya.
"My driver will be in front of your house in about twenty minutes."
The message had arrived ten minutes ago.
He took a deep breath, adjusted his collar, and brushed his bangs away from his face. Only then did he notice how quiet the street was... until the sound of the expensive engine filled the air.
A black limousine turned the corner and stopped with millimeter precision in front of the gate. The driver got out immediately, with impeccable posture, giving a slight bow before opening the rear door.
"Good evening, Isagi-sama."
Isagi responded with his usual serenity.
"Good evening. Thank you."
He got in.
And, for a moment, he completely forgot how to breathe.
Kaguya was sitting across from him, on the opposite seat, her posture perfect, her hands clasped in her lap. The interior, illuminated by a soft light, highlighted every detail of her. Her hair was tied in an elegant low bun, adorned with a minimalist dark red bow, delicate and impeccable—something expensive enough to pay two months' rent for many people, but discreet enough to suit her. But what stood out most was the outfit she had chosen for the occasion: she was wearing a black satin dress, with a simple but absurdly refined cut, with subtle burgundy details at the waist. The skirt was elegant, slightly A-line, covering down to mid-thigh. Over her shoulders, a short-sleeved crimson bolero that provided a soft contrast to the black of the dress. Her legs were covered by fine, discreet stockings, and her shoes were a pair of small heels, black with a light shine.
She wanted to kill Hayasaka for dressing her in such a vulgar way—or rather, so bold for her standards—but upon seeing the surprised expression on Isagi's face, she decided to forgive her.
Yes... those clothes, that hairstyle, that discreet shine that seemed to enhance everything about her without overdoing it, all of that was Hayasaka's work.
Only someone with the clinical eye, zero patience, and surgical precision of her personal assistant would choose such a sophisticated ensemble for a festival; style Kaguya's hair impeccably; and still leave her with that perfect balance between elegance, charm, and subtlety.
Kaguya would never have the courage to dress up so much on her own—she was too shy, too reserved, too anxious for that. And deep down, Hayasaka knew.
Isagi smiled faintly.
"Shinomiya-san... you look beautiful."
Her reaction came in three distinct phases, as predictable as they were irresistible. First, the surprise: her eyes widened just a millimeter. Then, the desperate attempt to maintain composure: her shoulders straightened more, her expression resumed its usual aristocratic dignity. And finally, the absolute internal chaos: that silent, burning embarrassment that took over her like fire hidden under fine porcelain.
"I... a-am?" Her voice came out too soft, almost inaudible. Then she cleared her throat discreetly, lowering her gaze for a second. "Thank you, Isagi-san. I... appreciate the compliment."
The tips of her ears turned red.
Very red.
She regained her composure quickly, but not enough to fool the driver, who closed the door with a professional micro-smile.
Kaguya took a deep breath, regained her posture, and finally lifted her gaze to him.
"Ah... and you..." She hesitated. Which was rare. "You also look... very handsome today."
Isagi tilted his head minimally and smiled as he thanked her.
"Thank you."
Kaguya discreetly tightened her hands in her lap, trying not to look at his mouth.
Isagi kept his calm gaze on her, and that only made everything worse.
The driver took the wheel and, without saying a word beyond "Excuse me," began driving toward the neighboring town, where the festival would take place.
Inside the limousine, the silence became... comfortable.
But charged.
Kaguya averted her gaze to the window for a moment, as if calmly observing the movement of the street, but her hand trembled a little over the fine fabric of her dress.
"I'm... glad you accepted coming with me today..." She said, trying to sound more formal than usual to hide her anxiety.
Isagi responded naturally.
"I wanted to come too. It's nice to spend time with you, Shinomiya-san."
She froze.
Completely froze.
Her heart made such a strong bam that she was sure Isagi heard it.
But she recomposed her posture, elegant as always, even if her face was dangerously close to blushing again.
"I see. Then... I'm pleased."
The limousine glided smoothly along the illuminated road, and the date—the one that had cost Kaguya an entire sleepless night—was finally beginning.
__________________
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