Chapter 244: School Swimsuit
Kouya was just about to tear open the envelope to see whether it was some kind of prank when Raphiel raised her hand and stopped him with an almost dramatic air of authority.
"Wait a moment."
"Hm?" Kouya turned his head, brow slightly furrowed.
The silver-haired girl extended one slender finger, her tone calm and playful but carrying the weight of a teacher lecturing a naïve student. "Kouya-kun, what you're holding could be a girl's tender, bashful confession of love. How could you possibly read something so sacred in such a public place, surrounded by all these eyes?"
"..."
Where the hell did she even get that idea? Sweet and bashful? What, did she expect the envelope to smell like roses and embarrassment? Maybe she'd believe it more if it stank like desperation.
Still, Kouya glanced around. She wasn't entirely wrong. Several students nearby were clearly watching, curiosity glittering in their eyes like they were waiting for a live drama. He sighed, feeling all their stares prick at his skin, and tucked the letter carefully into his pocket.
Yeah… this wasn't the best place. He'd find somewhere quiet, away from the crowd.
Behind him trailed a small procession — Raphiel, of course, along with Gabriel, Vigne, Takanashi Rikka, and Satania. Each of them wore their curiosity differently: Raphiel's was disguised as elegance, Vigne's as quiet concern, Gabriel's as bored disinterest, and Satania's as open-mouthed excitement.
Among them, Rikka and Satania had never even seen a love letter in their lives. Rikka was too deep in her chuunibyou delusions, and Satania… well, she was just an idiot. Gabriel, who had fallen from a radiant angel to a lazy, game-addicted slob, hadn't received one either. Vigne was too serious for such things. That left only Raphiel, who had the kind of experience that made Kouya vaguely wary.
Not that he needed advice for this. Reading a letter wasn't rocket science. Some things you just figure out on your own.
...
And indeed, Kouya's instincts didn't fail him.
The idea that some secret admirer had slipped a heartfelt love letter into his shoe locker — yeah, that kind of romantic nonsense didn't happen in real life.
Because when he opened the first envelope in a quiet corner, a few folded bills slipped out and fluttered to the floor.
Satania, spying from afar, gasped so loudly it echoed off the hallway walls. "Oh no! There's money inside! Someone's trying to bribe the lieutenant!"
Oh for— shut the hell up! No one asked for your play-by-play!
Who the hell puts money in a love letter anyway? And just a few thousand yen? Did she think he was cheap enough to sell his loyalty for pocket change? What kind of idiot—
Kouya scowled and headed straight for the men's restroom before anyone else could comment.
The letter itself wasn't long; a quick glance was enough to read it all.
"Kouya-kun, sorry for suddenly writing to you… Thank you for taking care of the kitten. I wanted to thank you in person, but if Vignette-san or Gabriel-san saw, it might trouble you, right? Inside is the small amount of money I earned from my part-time job recently. It's not much, but it's my way of saying thank you. Please give it to the kind person who adopted the cat… I'm really grateful."
…That's it?
Where's the confession of love? The hearts? The 'I've always admired you' lines? This was just a stiff, overly polite thank-you note!
Still, even without a name, he immediately recognized the writer.
It had to be that black-haired straight-laced girl, Machiko. The poor girl must've been so terrified she couldn't even face him anymore.
Kouya sighed, stuffed the money back into the envelope, and reached for the second letter.
This one was short too, but the energy was completely different.
"Hey… I suppose I'll temporarily acknowledge you. But don't think I'll hand over Shiraha-sama to you! Shiraha-sama is mine! Ugh, idiot, why didn't you tell me your address? If you had, I wouldn't have to sneak around like this! Here's my phone number. Save it and send me yours! Also… thanks."
The handwriting was neat and cute, but every word radiated tsundere energy like perfume. No mistaking it — that was from the blonde twin-tail, Alice.
After reading both letters, Kouya's expression didn't even twitch. He just turned and left, already feeling the weight of secondhand embarrassment settle over him.
Right then, he caught sight of Gabriel walking toward him — her fluffy golden hair disheveled, pink top wrinkled, dark circles under her eyes, her whole presence radiating 'half-dead.'
Meanwhile, Satania was crouched behind the shoe lockers, peeking out with a grin so wide it nearly split her face. Her cheeks puffed as she tried to hold back laughter, her eyes sparkling with anticipation of her prank's success.
Gabriel shuffled to her locker, opened it, paused, and sighed. Then, without so much as a comment, she slipped on a ridiculous pair of oversized shoes and trudged toward the classroom like it was just another Monday.
Satania's jaw dropped. She jumped out dramatically. "Wait! Gabriel! Why aren't you screaming?!"
Gabriel glanced back lazily. "Haven't moved much lately. These are fine. So… it really was you, huh?"
"Obviously!" Satania placed a hand over one eye, striking a villain pose. "These are the ultimate magical shoes! Straight from a Hell shopping channel!"
Gabriel blinked. "Oh."
"'Oh'? That's all?!" Satania threw her arms up. "Shouldn't you be crying, begging, writhing in pain right now?"
She puffed her chest out proudly. "Come on! Beg me, and I'll tell you where your real shoes are!"
"They're in your locker, right?" Gabriel said flatly.
"H-how did you know?!" Satania recoiled in shock. "Were you stalking me?!"
Who the hell would stalk you, idiot? You couldn't hide a secret if your life depended on it!
"I get grumpy when I wake up," Gabriel muttered.
"Eh? What do you—"
Before she could finish, Gabriel vanished in a blur and reappeared in front of her, one hand clamping over her mouth, the other punching her square in the stomach.
Thud!
Satania's eyes rolled as she hit the ground like a sack of bricks.
"Sorry. I just feel like hitting someone when I'm mad. Much better now."
Gabriel brushed her hands off, muttered the apology like it was routine, and trudged to class. Dropping her bag on her desk, she rested her cheek on her palm and drifted into her usual nap before the bell even finished ringing.
Soon after, the bell rang for real.
Their teacher, Shizuka, entered — black hair flowing, white coat over her usual formal outfit, gentle smile in place as always. The kind of smile that made you relax right before she hit you with something absurd.
"Alright, class, let's begin. Everyone open your books to page one-twenty. Today we'll be reading a story by Dazai Osamu…"
It didn't take long for her to go completely off-topic, as expected.
"Speaking of aging populations, that reminds me of kangaroos in Australia… Did you know there are forty-five million of them? Nearly twice the human population! Absolute overbreeding!"
The students groaned softly as she went on.
"And speaking of kangaroos, that brings us to hamsters — they might both have 'roo' or 'mouse' in their names, but they're entirely different animals!" She gestured animatedly with a piece of chalk. "Oh, and Totoro! Totoro looks like a big hamster, doesn't it? But it's actually a unique species altogether!"
After rambling for a good ten minutes, she suddenly smacked her forehead. "Oh right! The essays I assigned the other day — you all finished them, yes?"
At least this time she didn't single out Kouya. Two nights ago, he'd already promised her she could 'punish' him with her so-called iron fist. Whatever that meant, he was already regretting it.
Three exhausting periods later, the fourth bell rang.
P.E. time. But since it was June, that meant only one thing: swimming class. The students cheered as they moved toward the pool.
In Japan, from elementary school onward, swimming classes are a tradition. June through August — two lessons per week, no skipping. Schools with pools used those; those without borrowed community swimming centers. Either way, no one escaped.
In the changing room, Kouya finished dressing in seconds — swim trunks, cap, done. The sound of chatter and lockers echoed around him as the boys hurried out. He walked alone to the poolside, inhaling the sharp scent of chlorine.
Something fluttered in his chest — a small, inexplicable sense of anticipation.
And when a group of girls stepped out from the changing room, their navy-blue school swimsuits clinging perfectly to their curves, the reason became obvious.
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