The two girls in the corner maintained a subtle distance, like mirror images of one another: one a sharp sword of truth, the other a meticulously crafted social façade; one outspoken righteousness, the other artful pretense. In short, they could hardly stand the sight of each other.
"Let's begin," Kiyono said, taking a sip of coffee, his movements decisive. "Next, I'll show you what true darkness is."
"Oh? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were the special training instructor," Eriri said, curling her lips.
Kiyono produced pre-cut paper and a set of brushes. With each item he laid out, the girl's surprise grew.
"You came well prepared."
"Yukino bought these for me."
"Oh…"
Though Yukino had mocked him mercilessly when she heard about it, she still quietly took out a stack of cash and bought him the most suitable supplies.
"You want to learn traditional art?" Eriri glanced over his tools and immediately understood his chosen path.
"Yes. The river of art history is vast, and every star in it is eternal and immortal. I want to devote myself to the cause and etch the brilliance of this era onto the scroll of painting," he said with solemn reverence, as if on a pilgrimage, enunciating every word.
"Plain English," Eriri said coolly.
"I want to become a master painter whose works sell for hundreds of millions."
"You might manage that in a hundred years."
The blonde girl teased him, then lowered her gaze, thought for a moment, and spoke seriously. "Compared to unattainable 'capital-A' art, mobile and PC games are the trend. If you're truly interested, it's more realistic to focus there."
This wasn't tsundere bluster or a joke; it was rare sincerity. Blind encouragement now would only hurt him.
Traditional art is an extraordinarily difficult road. Artists walk an endless path with anxiety and pain; only a select few ever touch that sliver of light. And by age alone, Kiyono was starting late. This isn't the last century, when even laborers or butchers might stumble into painting.
"True. But instead of being a corporate drone, I have a more lucrative plan. We could open a painting school and pump it online: 'Can't find a job? Practice drawing an hour a day, take commissions, and support yourself! Click my link to earn now!' You teach; I'm the hands-off boss. We both get rich!"
Kiyono nodded. If he didn't have a talent that could keep leveling up, he wouldn't choose painting for no reason.
Shameful as it was, compared with noble motives like love, dreams, or self-expression, he was chasing fame and money. Hence his very humble attitude from the start.
"That's called fraud," Eriri said, rolling her eyes.
"Does Kashiwagi Eri-sensei have any secret techniques to impart?" Kiyono looked up, genuinely humble.
Being gazed at with such earnest admiration by that arrogant guy delighted her vanity. She straightened, then mused, "For a beginner, the most important things are… 'emotion' and 'expression.'"
She tried to compress years of experience into words, holding nothing back.
"Painting isn't just stacked technique; it's a cry from the soul and the mind. Only by pouring in burning emotion can you create colors that feel alive and moving… Sorry, is that too abstract?"
Art, huh. With two lives' worth of perspective fused together, Eriri—who had been painting nearly ten years—sighed softly.
In others' eyes she was the art club's ace, her works often selected for city exhibitions—the brightest star. After her "reincarnation and retraining," she frequently won among her peers and even received invitations from art academies. She, too, once yearned for achievements on that path, but in the end she didn't dare attend art school; she knew she lacked the resolve to devote her entire life to painting—and she wasn't a true genius.
Ultimately, she was an ordinary person who only looked a little gifted.
"No, I understand what you mean."
He wasn't just talking about painting, but creation itself.
At that moment, Yukino's cool gaze fell, quietly sweeping over the two of them.
Since earlier, the pair had exuded a peculiar atmosphere she couldn't enter—an exchange between creators.
A gentle breeze stirred ripples in the lake of her heart.
Kiyono lifted his pen and began to sketch. Eriri propped her chin on her hand, pointing and commenting, inexplicably excited.
After about twenty minutes, the young man stopped and slowly handed over the paper.
During this time, Yukino had remained silent, a little self-conscious because Kiyono and Sawamura Eriri kept glancing at her. But when she saw the drawing, those feelings vanished.
It was a smiling portrait—of her.
His first painting was of her. The discovery sent a slight ripple through her emotions.
"Don't get me wrong—it's actually quite good. It's just a bit lacking in negative space."
The blonde girl scrutinized it carefully. She'd already prepared consoling words, her tsundere program temporarily shut down. To her surprise, Kiyono's drawing was, in fact, "not bad."
There was still a huge gap between them, and the flaws were obvious, but for a beginner it was already talented.
Compared with his Akutagawa-winning debut, this level made sense.
In painting, she didn't think Kiyono could surpass her—she, too, was always climbing.
Realizing that, she unconsciously let out a breath of relief she didn't yet recognize.
---
Afterward, Kiyono diligently absorbed everything Eriri-sensei taught. After a hard afternoon's work, it was time for a small reward. They needed to buy a few things, so the three went to a nearby mall.
Yukino wanted tea snacks, while the newly minted artist and the doujin artist preferred a youth-friendly supermarket. They split into two groups.
"How was my special training?"
With Yukino away, Eriri's tense shoulders finally relaxed. She looked at Kiyono, clearly craving affirmation—that woman was like an ice blade under the moon; being around her wasn't easy.
"Sawamura-sensei's talent is unparalleled; I'm merely a clinging vine—truly beyond reach," Kiyono said, mock-bowing with cupped hands.
"Why do I feel our positions have been reversed?" Eriri frowned.
Just then, a nearby commotion drew their attention. They turned to see a film crew enthusiastically interviewing passersby.
"Hello, students! We're filming a street special. Can we ask a few questions?" the female host with cat-ear clips asked brightly.
Small TV stations love quirky variety shows. They're boring—but you still end up watching.
"Of course," an adolescent boy said, feigning profundity.
"First question: what qualities are essential in your ideal partner?"
"Good family conditions so I don't have to work hard my whole life; someone to play games with me and talk anime; and… the Absolute Territory must be precisely at absolute zero! You know, that subtly revealed strip between black over-the-knee socks and a skirt!"
The boy's face turned scarlet, a perfect Heisei shut-in.
Still fantasizing.
Kiyono couldn't help shaking his head—then froze, instinctively glancing at the girl beside him.
Her golden twin-tails were like a manga heroine's. Petite, with features that combined East and West. Today, Eriri wore over-the-knee socks that made her legs look even longer. One glance and you could almost feel that sweet, milky allure…
Sawamura Eriri—ojō-sama template made real—also loved 2D culture. Though tsundere, her tsun bordered on "cute." At heart she was easygoing and soft.
She'd once said any boyfriend must like 2D. In other words: an otaku's dream requirements.
And the traditional "matching families" hurdle didn't apply. From her parents supporting her doujin sales, it was clear they were open-minded—hardly the type to mind a kept man.
Looked at this way, she wasn't just a 2D ideal—she was most young men's dream. Marry in, skip years of struggle.
—Of course, now that he bore the title of the Yukinoshita family's future heir, other "kept-man" routes were no longer conceivable. The Yukinoshita family was the object of his gratitude. It's just that compared with the powerful Chiba house, the Sawamuras were more relaxed.
Kiyono's thoughts wandered. His gaze lingered on her for a few seconds before he snapped back to reality and looked away.
The interview continued.
"Okay, next," the host chirped, skipping the shut-in.
"Hmm… cheerful, passionate, straightforward—someone who'll thoughtfully take care of me. And it'd be even better if he can play baseball like in a shōnen manga!" the second girl said shyly.
Eriri subconsciously looked at the boy beside her.
She also asked herself, What kind of person do I like?
At once, a list of requirements bubbled up.
More important than looks or money was a comfortable world where they could play 2D games together, talk 2D, accept her humiliating doujin art, and be reliable at critical moments—
Then the blonde girl froze.
She belatedly realized something.
Wait!
Mostly an otaku and 2D fan with similar interests—and he liked her drawings, or they wouldn't have collaborated this long. He might be the easiest kind of person for her to get along with, and he did step up at critical moments…
Someone like that… someone like that…
Eh, eh, eh?
Eriri fell silent for a few seconds, struck a thoughtful pose, then, almost against her will, glanced at Kiyono. Her pretty face flushed—red all the way to her ears.
---
With those thoughts swirling, they finished at the supermarket. Eriri left her bag with him and went to the restroom.
She washed her hands, did a quick touch-up in the mirror, and, once composed, headed back.
She was about to greet him when she overheard something unexpected.
"—May I ask how long you two have been dating?"
She narrowed her eyes. Out in the corridor, Yukino and Kiyono stood side by side while the same film crew swarmed them.
On a strange impulse, Eriri made no sound and held her breath, watching from the side.
---
Kiyono looked helplessly at the woman wielding the mic. Yukino had just rejoined him when the crew's eyes lit up, converging like sharks to blood.
He traded a glance with the cool-headed girl—instant understanding: retreat.
"If you're willing to be interviewed, we'll give you a pair of lucky dolls," the reporter said, producing a pair of Mr. Pan panda keychains.
The boy instantly saw an angle. Before he could move, the girl's tone cooled.
"What do you want to ask?"
So—
"May I ask how long you two have been dating?"
"This is a cognitive error on a physical level," Yukino said, frowning as she drew a firm, safe distance. "We just, unfortunately, grew up together."
"So childhood friends, right? Such rare fate! If you don't mind, tell us about each other's preferences!" the reporter asked, thrilled.
"That good-for-nothing is very enthusiastic about figurines and book collecting. This week his tastes lean sweet," Yukino said blandly—very much like someone who wanted Mr. Pan.
"This girl recently got obsessed with Kyoto Uji matcha desserts. Last time she even made me take the train to buy them for her. Isn't that a bit much?" Kiyono shot back, provoked, revealing a little secret.
"What's the most unbearable thing about the other person?" The reporter's eyes gleamed.
"He goes to bed with his hair only half-dry after blow-drying—practically begging for a cold," Yukino sneered.
"Certain people flat-out refuse to wear rain boots on rainy days, so their feet freeze whenever it rains or snows," Kiyono retorted.
"H-how many photos of each other do you have on your phones?" the reporter blurted, practically snorting steam.
"Most people wouldn't keep count…"
Listening in, the hidden girl's lips twitched again and again—Are you two a long-married, lovey-dovey couple or what?!
Only then did Eriri grasp how absurdly overwhelming the childhood-friend archetype could be.
"So this is what childhood friends are…"
A little frustration welled up. This was exactly the kind of relationship she yearned for: tacit understanding, beautiful memories, immediately noticing each other's changes and habits…
But her own "childhood friend" memories were only a few torn scraps—paper forced together to form the label.
She didn't know Aki Tomoya's habits or changes, and he didn't know her daily life. For so many years, they didn't even have a single photo together.
She suddenly realized the time she had truly spent with Aki Tomoya was only a short year. After that, they fell into a years-long cold war.
So why had she unconsciously believed they'd always been "together for a long time"?
Eriri's head slowly lowered, her expression unreadable. One-sided affection has limits; kept blazing without response, it cools in a few months at most. So—could the feelings she'd harbored all these years really be called love?
Even after Kiyono spotted her and the two of them walked home, the girl's mind kept circling those questions.