The following day after school, Yukinoshita Yukino was waiting for Masao by the school gate once again. They fell into step together for the walk to his home.
But today felt different.
This time, they didn't maintain the cautious distance of the day before. They walked side-by-side, a simple change that screamed a new level of familiarity to everyone watching.
It was a shift that did not go unnoticed.
"Is that Yukinoshita?"
"It is. Who's the guy with her?"
"Her boyfriend? No way."
"You've got to be kidding. A guy like that? How lame."
"What could she possibly see in him? I guess that's just the weird taste of a genius. It's beyond our understanding."
—
"Who is that punk?"
"Don't know. Some nobody with a lot of nerve, walking with Yukinoshita-san like that."
"Should we teach him a lesson later?"
"Yeah. He needs to learn that some people are out of his league."
—
The weight of their collective gaze was palpable.
The boys watched Masao with a simmering mix of envy and resentment, their thoughts drifting toward less-than-scholarly solutions.
The girls, however, felt a prickling sense of schadenfreuge. In the face of Yukinoshita Yukino's impossible perfection—her beauty, her grades, her family name—they always felt lesser. But seeing her with such an… ordinary boy gave them a sudden, vicious sense of superiority.
'So what if she's perfect? She still ends up with someone like that.'
—
Masao caught fragments of the whispers, and a prickle of irritation ran through him. He glanced at Yukinoshita, but her expression was a mask of serene indifference, as if the murmurs and stares were nothing more than background static.
He couldn't help but ask.
"Doesn't it bother you, Yukinoshita? Hearing them talk like that?"
"Bother me?" she replied, her voice cool and even. "Why would I let their pettiness dictate my mood? That seems like a rather inefficient way to live."
Her tone was flat, but Masao detected a subtle undercurrent. It wasn't quite anger; it was something colder, more dismissive—a blend of contempt and pity for those who needed to tear others down to feel tall.
In Yukinoshita Yukino's world, such people were simply weak.
Compared to her icy composure, Masao's own indignation felt warm and messy.
"If it were me, I'd give them a piece of my mind. Or worse."
"Oh? A lesson in manners, Masao-kun?" She arched a perfect eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "Those boys specifically mentioned they wanted to 'teach you a lesson.' So, what's your plan? Will you be the one administering the lesson?"
Masao puffed out his chest, a proud, smug grin spreading across his face.
"Heh. Let them talk. They're just jealous I get to walk home with you. Honestly, I'm flattered. Why would I waste my energy on a bunch of pathetic nobodies?"
Watching his smug display, Yukinoshita let out a soft laugh but said nothing more.
She hadn't seriously expected him to pick a fight; she'd just been curious about his reaction.
The verdict? He was sensible enough not to be recklessly brave, if a little too pleased with the situation.
—
For Masao, the walk home was his first taste of life under a microscope.
And the taste was… complicated.
Sure, there was a certain thrill in walking with the school's undisputed beauty, bathing in the envious stares, and feeling like the protagonist of a movie for a brief moment.
But the constant attention was unnerving. He was a creature of quiet habit, and he deeply missed his anonymous, peaceful journeys home.
Only when they had finally left the school crowd behind did he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"Phew. That kind of spotlight is intense," he mused aloud. "I don't know how you deal with that every day and stay so calm. It's seriously impressive, Yukinoshita-san."
At this, Yukinoshita proudly tossed her hair over her shoulder.
"You'll have to get used to it, Masao-kun. Someone as exceptionally cute and brilliant as I am is destined for the spotlight—we are what you call 'main character' types. And those who stand beside the protagonist must, at a minimum, grow accustomed to having a name and a face."
'Behold: Yukinoshita Yukino's signature brand of supreme self-assurance.'
Masao mentally filed this away as her [Proud Yukino] mode. If she ever discovered these private classifications, she would be furious, arguing that "The self-awareness of the exemplary is not pride, but fact!" before launching into a long, self-congratulatory monologue.
—
Back at the Tanaka house, the tutoring session began much like the last.
Jahy was a force of nature, absorbing knowledge like a dry sponge soaking up rain.
Masao was getting a firsthand lesson in the old adage: "It's not scary if someone is more talented than you; it's scary when someone more talented than you is also working harder."
Jahy didn't just study at home; she devoured textbooks at school, claiming class was too boring otherwise. Listening to the teacher while studying independently? Simple multitasking, she called it.
Her relentless drive lit a fire under Masao.
His own study motivation skyrocketed. If he didn't push himself now, with Jahy's frightening aptitude, she'd surpass him in no time.
'If you're going to grind, then I'll grind harder!'
The study atmosphere grew so fiercely competitive that even Yukinoshita found herself pulled into the vortex, revisiting material she had mastered long ago.
Time always flies when you're deeply focused, and soon, it felt like there wasn't enough of it. The three of them were so absorbed that they only snapped back to reality when Masao's parents returned home.
Kazumi, having been forewarned of Yukinoshita's return, had gone all out at the market.
She was on a mission. Her strategy was simple and time-tested: 'The way to a potential daughter-in-law's heart is through her stomach. To make her stay, you must make her love the home.'
To secure this most ideal candidate, Kazumi was prepared to deploy her ultimate weapon: her cooking.
As for Masao's own opinion on this matter? In his mother's mind, it was irrelevant. A girl this perfect was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. What sane person would object?
With determined energy, his parents descended upon the kitchen.
—
Meanwhile, blissfully unaware that his future was being planned over a simmering pot, Masao stretched his stiff limbs.
"Wow, we really lost track of time," he groaned, rolling his neck. "I never thought I'd see the day that I studied so hard my body locked up."
Yukinoshita was also stiff, but her movements as she stretched were far more contained and graceful.
Masao glanced at her and had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying: "Go on, stretch properly. I promise your uniform buttons can handle it."
The three of them collapsed onto the soft sofa and turned on the TV, granting their overworked brains a well-deserved rest and their bodies a chance to melt into the cushions.
Dinner took longer than usual, thanks to the culinary extravaganza being prepared.
For the two girls, their stomachs were growling from the intense mental exertion, making the lavish feast that arrived seem like a gift from the gods.
Jahy shouted "More rice, please!" so many times Masao lost count.
Even Yukinoshita, with a blush of embarrassment, accepted a second helping.
Why only the two girls, you ask?
Because Masao was presented with his own specially prepared meal: a plate of steamed broccoli and chicken breast.
He looked down at the bland, green florets, then at the glorious feast the others were enjoying, and ate his food with sadness.
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