As Saitama qualifiers gave no one a break.
Qualification for the Round of 16 came with a clear schedule: the first match would be on the weekend—Saturday, early in the morning.
Because of the meteoric rise of Ichinan High School, it was enough time for the buzz to grow, for the rumors to spread even further… and for the stadium to fill up like never before.
Ichinan's opponent in the Round of 16 would be Kashiko High School, a private school known for balancing academics and sports, with a technical, organized, and well-trained team. They weren't a national powerhouse, but they were far from weak. For many, it would be the first "real test" for Ichinan's number 11.
On Saturday, the stadium felt like a different place.
From early on, lines formed outside. Makeshift stalls sold drinks, snacks, and school scarves. Banners hung from the fences, flags waving in the wind, students' shouts echoing through the parking lot. The morning sun lit up the stands, already almost completely occupied.
It wasn't a gigantic stadium, but it was packed as far as the eye could see.
The kind of atmosphere that made the air vibrate.
Iyo walked carefully down the steps, holding a small bucket of popcorn, while Issei came right behind her, balancing two drinks. Both wore simple clothes, but there was something different about their posture—a mix of anticipation and pride that was hard to hide.
"Good thing we got here early…" Iyo commented, looking around. "It's way more crowded than I imagined…"
"It almost feels like a pro match," Issei replied, watching the movement. "Who would've thought…"
They were looking for the seats reserved for Ichinan's supporters when something caught Iyo's attention. A few rows ahead, sitting restlessly, was a blonde girl with bright eyes, wearing a cap and holding her phone with both hands, as if she were ready to record anything at any moment.
Iyo recognized her right away.
"Marin-chan!"
The girl turned around almost with a jump.
"Iyo-san?!"
Her face immediately lit up, and she stood up, nearly knocking over her own bag in the process.
"What a coincidence!" Marin said, smiling wide, enthusiasm overflowing. "You came to watch Isagi play too, right? I mean—of course you did! Sorry, that was way too obvious!"
Iyo laughed, used to that contagious energy.
"We did…" Then she pulled Issei a little forward. "Marin-chan, this is Issei, Yoichi's father…"
Marin froze for half a second.
Her brain short-circuited.
Isagi-kun's dad?
She straightened up immediately, her smile turning a bit stiff, her cheeks flushing.
"N-nice to meet you!" she said, bowing a little too quickly. "I'm Kitagawa Marin! Isagi's friend… and Iyo-san's friend too!"
Was this what eroge protagonists felt like when meeting the love interest's parents? That weird tightness in the chest, a mix of nervousness and absurd anticipation?
Issei watched the scene for a moment, then smiled calmly.
"Nice to meet you, Kitagawa-san." He returned a slight bow. "I've heard quite a bit about you…"
"S-seriously?!" Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. What did he hear? She really wanted to know!
"Yes…" he continued, with an amused glint in his eyes. "So you're my future daughter-in-law?"
"I-ISSEI!" Iyo immediately scolded him.
Marin turned completely red.
"F-future—?!" She brought her hands to her face, trying to hide the smile that insisted on appearing. "I-I… I mean… th-that… a-ah…"
Issei chuckled quietly.
"Just kidding, just kidding."
Iyo sighed and shook her head.
"Don't mind him, Marin-chan. He says things like that without thinking just to mess with people—he tends to be really playful sometimes…"
"N-no! I mean— I-I don't mind!" Marin replied way too fast, which only made everything worse.
After that moment of introductions and Marin's embarrassment—since she was usually pretty shameless, but ended up feeling that way because she was meeting her crush's parents—they ended up sitting in the seats right next to her, purely by coincidence of fate.
As if none of that had happened, Marin soon went back to being excited, talking about the stadium's atmosphere, how hard it had been to get seats, and how many people had come just to see Isagi play.
"Have you seen social media?" she said, thrilled. "He's blowing up like crazy! Everyone calls him the 'New Genius,' they keep comparing him to Itoshi Sae all the time! There are videos with millions of views already!"
Iyo exchanged a quick glance with Issei.
Both were smiling.
"Looks like our son got famous…" Issei said, calm, but with undeniable pride.
"Yeah…" Iyo agreed, looking at the field being cleaned by the staff organizing the Inter High. "He's always worked hard."
Marin followed their gaze to the field, excited just thinking about seeing Isagi. Over the past week, she hadn't been able to meet him, since he'd been far too busy with the Inter High matches, but that only seemed to make her love grow even more—until she felt like she couldn't live without him.
Seriously. Very seriously.
She'd barely slept properly, thinking only about the moment she'd see him again, and she arrived at the stadium two hours early just for that chance.
Marin rested her elbows on her knees, holding her powered-off phone, and let her mind drift back… inevitably.
It had all started that day.
She still remembered perfectly the feeling of being lost, walking street after street, looking for a specific cosplay shop, the map on her phone confusing, the battery dying… and those weird guys showing up out of nowhere, with wrong smiles and questions that didn't sound innocent.
And then, him appearing like a manga hero.
She remembered how her heart had raced in that moment.
After that, coffee with him.
Her talking too much, as always. About cosplay, characters, fabrics, wigs, obscure references that most people pretended to listen to or simply laughed at. And him… genuinely listening; without irony, and without that polite smile that hid boredom.
Not only did Isagi not laugh at her—he even said, with complete naturalness, that he thought it was incredible. That it was beautiful for someone to like something so much. That you could feel how much she dedicated herself.
That hit her right in the chest.
From then on, everything was so… easy.
Long conversations that started with cosplay and ended in anything else. Messages exchanged late into the night, memes, photos, silly comments about the day. The cosplay event they went to together—her too nervous to admit it, him by her side as if he belonged to that world as much as she did.
And he really did seem to belong.
Isagi never tried to change her. Never diminished her enthusiasm. Never made her feel like she had to be "less" to fit in.
On the contrary.
He made her feel like she could be exactly who she was.
And, of course… there was the obvious side too.
She wasn't blind.
Isagi was handsome. Ridiculously handsome. That serious face when he was focused, the attentive eyes, the subtle smile that appeared from time to time. And his body… Marin felt her face heat up just remembering. Strong, defined, clearly shaped by discipline and effort. Incredibly sexy, even when he didn't seem to have the slightest idea of it.
That week, Marin had replayed all of it on loop, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, hugging her pillow as if it were him. That was why she'd slept badly. That was why she'd arrived at the stadium two hours early. That was why she was there now, with her heart tight and happy at the same time.
She wanted to see him.
Not the "genius," not the "new Itoshi Sae."
Just Isagi—her Isagi-kun….
Marin was still lost in her thoughts when she noticed slight movement from the corner of her eye. Two familiar figures were climbing the stadium steps, weaving through people with some difficulty because of how crowded it was.
She recognized them instantly.
"Ah! Alisa-san! Masha-san!" she called, waving enthusiastically, like she was reuniting with beloved manga characters she'd paused halfway through.
Alisa Mikhailovna Kujou turned her head. Her silver hair perfectly aligned, her posture elegant even amid the chaos of the bleachers, her expression composed… until she realized who was calling her, until she saw that annoying blonde girl was in the same row of seats she and her sister had managed to buy. Her brow furrowed slightly.
"Kitagawa-san…" she replied, in a tone too polite to be genuinely warm.
Marin, of course, didn't seem to notice the coldness.
"You came early too, right? I got here like, TWO HOURS before!" she laughed, pointing toward the field. "You can't miss anything when it's an Isagi-kun match!"
Beside Alya, Maria Mikhailovna Kujou smiled gently.
"Sorry about her…" she said, tilting her head slightly. "My sister gets kind of… tense in crowded places…"
"Oh, it's fine!" Marin replied immediately, flashing a wide smile. "Alisa-san isn't called the Ice Princess for nothing…."
It was at that moment that Iyo, curious, leaned forward slightly.
"Excuse me… do you know Yoichi?" she asked naturally, not imagining the small emotional earthquake that sentence would cause.
Alya's world stopped.
She blinked once.
Then again.
Those were…?
Her polite smile slipped by a millimeter. Her shoulders tensed. Her face, previously perfectly controlled, began to heat up far too quickly.
They were Isagi's parents?!
"…!"
Maria noticed immediately and stepped in before the silence became too awkward.
"Yes, we do…" she answered kindly. "We're his schoolmates—are you Isagi-kun's parents?"
"Yes, I'm Iyo Isagi, and this next to me is my husband, Issei Isagi…" Iyo replied, smiling lightly while gesturing to the man at her side.
Maria then made a small, elegant bow.
"My name is Maria Mikhailovna Kujou. It's a pleasure…"
Alya swallowed hard.
"A-Alisa… Alisa Mikhailovna Kujou…" she said, straightening hurriedly and bowing a little too correctly. "It's a pleasure to meet you…"
But, by reflex, at the exact instant the tension slipped out of control…
"Я не готова к этому… (I'm not ready for this…)" she murmured, almost inaudibly.
Issei blinked.
"Hm?" He tilted his head slightly. "Was that… Russian?"
Alya felt her soul leave her body—people usually didn't recognize her native language unless they'd heard it at least once in their life. Could it be…?
Issei's smile turned thoughtful.
"How curious…" he commented, scratching his chin. "Yoichi studied Russian when he was little. He'd stay up late practicing… He was pretty fluent, if I remember right…"
Absolute silence.
The confirmation struck like lightning.
Alya froze completely.
Then…
Then all those times…
All those words spoken softly, thinking he wouldn't understand…
All those confessions whispered in Russian, full of shame and sincerity…
He knew.
He had always known.
Her face turned red to a dangerously intense degree.
"…Чёрт возьми, Исаґи… (Damn you, Isagi…)" she growled in Russian, clenching her fists.
Maria raised a hand to her mouth, clearly holding back laughter.
"Ara~" she murmured, amused. "So that's how you feel, Alya?"
"SHUT UP!" Alya snapped immediately, grabbing her sister by the arm before she could say anything else.
"A-ah, sorry…" Alya regained her composure in a hurry, turning to Issei. "Sometimes I end up speaking in my native language without noticing…"
"I see, I see…" Issei replied with a calm smile, suspecting nothing beyond the ordinary. "That happens…"
Iyo simply watched it all with gentle curiosity, finding the situation strangely cute.
After saying goodbye to the two of them, Alya pulled Maria down to sit, and by pure coincidence—or perhaps irony of fate—she ended up sitting exactly next to Marin.
Marin, unaware of the other girl's inner storm, smiled as if she had made new friends in a game.
"Hehe, what a coincidence that we all sit together!" she said, excited. "It's like an anime scene, right?"
Alya looked away, crossing her arms.
"…Tsc."
Maria, already seated on the other side, leaned slightly forward, watching the field with a nostalgic glint in her eyes.
"Saa-kun is going to do well…" she murmured softly, almost to herself.
Marin blinked.
"Hm?"
"Nothing…" Maria replied quickly, smiling faintly.
Meanwhile, Alya was trying to maintain her composure and keep her emotions under control. She kept her gaze fixed on the field, but she couldn't see anything at all. Her mind was stuck somewhere else. On someone else: Isagi Yoichi.
Just the fact that his name appeared in her thoughts already made her stomach twist with frustration.
She felt… ridiculous.
Completely ridiculous.
All that time, she had clung to the comforting idea that Russian was a shield. A safe barrier for her real feelings. A place where she could be honest without real consequences. She could complain about him, praise him, curse him for making her lose control, confess feelings she would never have the courage to say in Japanese—all while stubbornly believing, with childish stubbornness, that he wouldn't understand a single word. Even after she found out he was a childhood friend of her older sister—when the possibility that he knew Russian first appeared in her mind—she still insisted it wasn't the case….
And now, when she met his parents—something that made her deeply nervous and embarrassed—she finally found out that he had always understood what she said… every sigh, every embarrassed complaint, every confession whispered between her teeth, loaded with feelings she pretended not to have….
The memory made her face burn again.
"Idiot…" she thought, gritting her teeth.
She was the idiot.
Part of her was deeply frustrated with herself. For not noticing sooner. For not questioning it. For being so careless about something so important. Another part of her was genuinely irritated with Isagi. Because he knew everything. And yet he never said anything. Never showed surprise. Never confronted her about her feelings….
He let her keep talking.
As if he was… having fun.
Alya felt her jaw tighten.
"He was making a fool of me…" she thought, irritated.
The idea bothered her more than it should have.
And yet…
Even with all that irritation, her heart wouldn't cooperate.
Beat after beat, it sped up without permission. She discreetly brought a hand to her chest, feeling the uneven rhythm.
Why…?
If he knew her feelings… if he had always known… then why had nothing changed between them?
Or maybe it had changed, and she just didn't notice.
Alya swallowed.
The possibility made her mind spin.
If he really understood Russian… then he knew she liked him. He knew how long it had been growing. He knew about the jealousy, the admiration, the way she felt small and exposed whenever he was near.
That meant that… maybe he wouldn't reject her.
The thought was dangerous.
Her heart beat faster.
Maybe, if she was truly honest. If she stopped hiding behind another language. If she said everything clearly, in Japanese, looking him in the eyes… maybe the two of them could finally take that step.
And that made her remember his absence during the last week with a belated hit. She'd pretended she didn't care. Told herself it was just coincidence, just games, just commitments.
But the truth was different.
The days had grown longer. The conversations shorter. The nights quieter.
She missed him.
And in that emptiness, Alya realized something she'd been avoiding admitting for a long time.
She loved him.
It wasn't something recent. It hadn't started that week. That absence only tore away the veil she kept insisting on. The feeling had been there for a long time—since the quiet conversations, since the moments when he seemed to truly see her, since the instant she began to care too much about what he thought.
She just hadn't been honest with herself.
She only needed to be honest now and stop hiding—she quickly decided she would confront him about it later, that idiot…
.
.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, in an area separate from the rest of the stadium, protected by discreet railings, cushioned seats, and a privileged view of the field, were the seats reserved for special guests.
The VIP seats.
Kaguya Shinomiya sat there, with her usual impeccable posture—back straight, legs crossed with absolute elegance. At first glance, she looked as composed as any perfect heiress of the Shinomiya conglomerate should in public.
At second glance… anyone even minimally attentive would notice.
She was clearly excited.
Her ruby eyes tracked every movement on the field with unusual intensity. Her fingers, resting on her lap, interlaced and separated from time to time, betraying an anxiety she would never admit out loud.
She tried to keep a neutral expression. She truly tried. But it was difficult when the one playing was her boyfriend.
At her side, Ai Hayasaka watched everything with her arms crossed, alternating her gaze between the field and Kaguya's reaction.
"Impressive, huh?" she commented, in a tone far too casual for someone who was clearly teasing. "Isagi-kun is basically turning into a star of Japanese soccer…"
Kaguya didn't reply immediately. She had to keep the promise to her "Isagi-kun" and not let anyone know she was dating him for now—including not telling Hayasaka about it…..
"This… is simply the result of his effort…" she said at last, in a controlled tone. "There's nothing surprising about that…."
Hayasaka raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Uh-huh. Sure."
She then leaned a bit closer to Kaguya, lowering her voice as if sharing a forbidden secret.
"But it's good, you know, Kaguya-sama?"
Kaguya blinked.
"Good?"
"Mhm…" Hayasaka nodded, looking back to the field. "The more famous he gets, the fewer reasons your father and mother will have to complain…"
Kaguya's brain froze for half a second.
" …!"
The phrase clicked far too fast.
Good reputation. Public recognition. Proven talent. Promising future. Everything the Shinomiya family valued above almost anything else. Isagi Yoichi was slowly filling every requirement that would normally be used to drive away any unwanted suitor.
Kaguya's face began to heat up.
"H-Hayasaka!" she whispered, turning sharply toward her friend. "D-Don't say that kind of thing in public!"
"In public where?" Hayasaka shot back immediately, looking around. "There are only people important enough here not to pay attention to your red face, Kaguya-sama…"
"T-that's not the issue!"
Kaguya looked away, bringing one hand to her chest, trying to calm her own heart.
But it was useless.
Just the idea of being able to stay by his side without obstacles, without power games, without the constant shadow of family disapproval… made her chest tighten in a strangely sweet way.
"Besides, Kaguya-sama…" Hayasaka continued, with a clearly satisfied smile, "you can tell you're proud…"
"I-I'm not!" Kaguya replied too quickly.
Hayasaka sighed.
"Kaguya-sama, you are literally glowing."
Silence.
Kaguya lightly bit her lower lip, irritated with herself for not being able to deny it convincingly.
She was proud.
Proud of his effort. His dedication. The way he faced every challenge head-on, never losing who he was. Proud to know that the boy who now made an entire stadium tremble… was the same one who smiled calmly when they were alone.
The same one who held her hand carefully, like it was something precious.
"Do your best…" she murmured to herself, almost imperceptibly. "Yoichi…"
.
.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, in a far less eye-catching part of the stadium, far from the VIP seats and distant from the loudest core of the organized fan groups, there was an ordinary row in the middle of the stands—exactly the kind of place where you could watch the game without drawing too much attention.
There, three figures shared popcorn, soda, and a quiet conversation that felt almost out of place amid the overall euphoria.
Houtarou Oreki was leaned back on the bench, posture extremely relaxed, a bucket of popcorn resting on his lap. His gaze followed the field with moderate attention, like someone watching something interesting, yet still refusing to spend too much energy.
Beside him, Masachika Kuze nibbled at the edge of his cup, looking around with genuine curiosity. Unlike Oreki, he seemed slightly impressed by the atmosphere.
"I'm still trying to process this…" Kuze commented, watching the crowd. "I never thought I'd see a school stadium this packed."
"It's the effect of effort," Yuki replied, sitting next to him with her legs crossed and a smile too elegant for the situation. She held the bucket of popcorn as if it were something refined—impeccable posture, gentle voice. "When someone truly dedicates themselves, people inevitably gather to watch."
Oreki grabbed another handful of popcorn, chewing calmly.
"Hmm…" he murmured. "Way too much work to do that on purpose."
Kuze gave him a sidelong look.
"Speaking of that…" he said with a half-smile. "It's unexpected you beat your laziness just to watch a soccer match, Oreki."
Oreki sighed slowly, as if that question cost energy.
"It wasn't exactly my choice…" he replied. "My sister was home today."
Kuze's eyes widened slightly.
"Oh."
Yuki tilted her head, curious.
"That explains a lot."
Since Oreki lived with Masachika and Isagi-kun, she knew quite a bit about him and was well aware of the immense laziness he had….
"When she's home…" Oreki continued, neutral tone, "I can't rest. She keeps asking questions, giving 'gentle' orders, creating nonexistent chores… watching a crowded match seemed like the less exhausting option."
"That is… impressively sad…" Kuze commented, feeling sorry for his friend…..
"Energy-efficient," Oreki corrected.
Yuki let out a soft giggle, bringing a hand to her mouth.
"Still…" she said in that calm, refined tone that sounded like a princess commenting on something trivial, "I can't stop thinking about how ironic it is. Two boys known for avoiding effort being best friends with Isagi-kun, who's basically the opposite of that."
Oreki looked toward the field, thoughtful.
"Maybe that's exactly why."
"Huh?" Kuze blinked.
"People who move too much end up attracting those who don't want to move," Oreki explained, without much emphasis. "Isagi puts in the effort for all of us. Saves us existential work."
Kuze stayed silent for a moment.
"…Was that profound or just lazy?"
"Both."
Oreki's answer came as naturally as a yawn. And for a moment, the mood was exactly how he liked it: comfortable, no need for more emotional effort than the minimum.
…Except the universe seemed to have a different opinion.
A silent presence approached from behind their row. There was no hurry, no hesitation. Only that steady rhythm of someone already used to accompanying important people.
Ayano Kimishima—upright posture, neutral expression, gaze too calm for a crowded bleacher—stopped beside Yuki as if that were her official place in the world.
She carried a paper bag with the logo of a nearby café. Inside, probably hot drinks and extra napkins, because Yuki-sama could not, under any circumstances, get her fingers dirty with something as vulgar as buttery popcorn.
Ayano handed the bag to Yuki with ritual-like precision.
"Yuki-sama. Your milk tea with low sweetness. And an extra handkerchief."
"Thank you, Ayano."
"You're welcome."
Ayano then turned slightly toward the field, as if confirming something obvious.
Then, in the same tone someone might comment on the weather forecast:
"…Has Isagi-sama not entered the field yet?"
Yuki choked on her soda.
Cgh—!
She brought her fist to her mouth, coughing once with dignity, but failing to hide the blush that rose at the same speed as the humiliation.
"A-Ayano?!" she whispered, desperate. "What is this Isagi-sama thing?! I already told you not to call him that!"
Ayano blinked once.
"Understood." The following pause was calculated to the millimeter. "Then… Yuki-sama's first love seems to not have entered the field yet."
Yuki went rigid.
Oreki didn't even look. He just grabbed more popcorn, chewing with the patience of someone who had already accepted the world was like this.
Masachika didn't look particularly surprised either—which, coming from him, was almost a compliment.
"Stop saying things like that in public!" Yuki spoke in a low tone, but with real panic, looking around as if a microphone might sprout from the bench at any moment.
"I am merely verbalizing reality," Ayano replied with total serenity. "Besides, this isn't a VIP seat where people can hear each other's conversations…"
"The problem isn't the seat!" Yuki hissed.
Oreki, still staring at the field, commented like he was narrating a documentary:
"She seems more concerned about her reputation than the fact itself."
"Exactly," Ayano agreed.
"Don't agree with him!" Yuki protested, exasperated.
Masachika let out a quiet chuckle, poking the popcorn with his soda straw.
"Speaking of that… you went on a date with him last week, right?"
Yuki froze for half a second.
Oreki slowly turned his face, like someone who had just heard the word catastrophe. Ayano stayed still, but her eyes shifted slightly—so subtly only a very attentive person would notice.
Yuki cleared her throat.
"Yes. And it was a great date."
"Wow," Masachika commented, like it was a historical revelation. "I didn't ask because… well, I thought I'd end up dying."
"You're always two steps away from dying, Onii-sama," Yuki replied with sweet venom.
Ayano, flawless as always, added:
"Masachika-sama has a tendency to avoid social risks."
Oreki chewed another popcorn.
"And emotional risks."
Masachika pointed at Oreki with the straw like it was betrayal.
"Whose side are you on, anyway?"
Yuki, who until then was trying to keep her polite princess act, gradually started losing the battle against her true nature. Her eyes shone in a dangerous way; her refined composure began to crumble as if someone had unlocked a door inside her.
"Since you brought it up…" Yuki said, in a tone too light for someone about to commit verbal murder. "Isagi-kun was VERY fun."
Masachika raised an eyebrow.
"That doesn't sound bad."
"It's not bad!" Yuki said quickly. "He was perfect. Took me to manga shops, the movies, clothing stores… paid for everything, was polite, kind, helpful…"
She inhaled.
And then, like she was presenting an extremely important light novel theory:
"But he's tense."
Oreki looked at her.
"You're calling him tense?"
"YES!" Yuki confirmed with absolute conviction. "He had all the chances in the world!"
Masachika coughed.
"Chances for what, exactly?"
Yuki leaned forward, eyes shining with that indecent enthusiasm she normally hid behind etiquette and noble surnames.
"To kiss me," she said casually. "Or take me to a motel. Or at least suggest something. Anything. Not that I'd refuse."
Silence.
The kind of silence that swallowed even the sound of the stadium for a moment.
Masachika stared at his sister like he was meeting her for the first time.
Oreki blinked once. Twice.
Ayano remained completely neutral, but the fact she didn't interrupt suggested that deep down, she already considered this behavior part of Yuki-sama's standard protocol.
Yuki crossed her arms, indignant at her own tragedy.
"He's such a gentleman," she admitted, with a heavy sigh. "But… it's profoundly sad."
"…" Masachika processed. "You're complaining that he's too respectful."
"Yes."
"…"
"Yes!" Yuki repeated, as if she needed to reinforce the logic.
Oreki sighed, the kind of sigh that seemed to carry the weight of a tired humanity.
"You're all messed up."
Masachika, catching his breath, commented with deliberate laziness:
"Well… considering that, Isagi is on his way to becoming a romantic comedy protagonist."
Yuki turned her head so fast her bangs almost sliced the air.
"Don't say that."
Masachika smiled—the smile of someone about to be beaten by words.
"He's handsome, talented, kind, has protagonist aura… and has multiple girls orbiting him. That's not a coincidence."
Yuki slammed her closed fist onto the bench—completely un-noble.
"You don't know anything!" she snapped. "Besides, I'm the only one who—!"
She stopped in time.
Masachika narrowed his eyes.
"…The only one who what?"
"Who…" Yuki cleared her throat, trying to recover her dignity. "Who understands him properly."
Oreki turned his face back to the field, as if he wanted to avoid being dragged into it.
"Isagi isn't tense—actually, he's so good at observing things when I—"
The three of them looked at him at the same time.
Oreki chewed another popcorn.
"He easily notices what others feel for him," he continued, without exaggerated emotion. "But chooses to ignore it. Because if he acknowledges it, he'll have to respond. And when he responds, someone might end up getting hurt, so he's far from the typical romantic comedy protagonist. I believe harem protagonist is more appropriate…."
Yuki went quiet.
Masachika stopped messing with his straw.
Even Ayano took half a second before speaking, as if weighing the sentence's impact.
The stadium noise filled the space again, but that small group seemed trapped in a bubble.
Oreki blinked, confused by the sudden silence.
"…What?" he asked, genuinely.
Masachika exhaled.
"I forget sometimes that you're really good at noticing things."
"Energy efficiency," Oreki murmured.
"No, seriously," Masachika insisted, pointing at him. "You should put in effort and become a detective when you finish school."
Oreki immediately made a disgusted face, like they'd suggested heavy labor.
"What a pain in the ass."
Ayano commented with total objectivity:
"Detectives have a high task load and require a lot of walking."
"Exactly," Oreki agreed.
Masachika laughed softly.
"So what are you going to do?"
Oreki shrugged.
"Now that I'm friends with a future soccer star…" he yawned. "…I'll live off him."
Yuki stared at Oreki.
"…You're really shameless."
"No…" Oreki corrected calmly. "I'm efficient."
Masachika burst out laughing.
Ayano nodded once.
"Solid strategy."
Yuki squeezed her cup in her hands, torn between indignation and the urge to laugh… and ended up laughing anyway, quietly, unable to hold it back.
But she quickly stopped laughing, because her "love" was entering the field at that moment!
______________________________
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