"Pervert!" Kisaki Eri rolled her eyes in disdain.
"Gross, Yukiko-nee," Reiko wrinkled her nose.
Yukiko planted hands on hips. "I refuse to believe you two have never done it!"
"I would never!" Eri shot back loudly, eyes darting away—obviously guilty.
Reiko's face was already apple-red, head buried in her chest—no need to ask.
Midori stared in shock, rag nearly slipping from her hand.
It's just dating—do you have to act like this?
Even if it's senpai's clothes, besides sweat, what else could they smell like?
Her gaze drifted to Hayashi Shuichi's old uniform…
She shook her head hard.
No way! We're not even dating—sniffing his clothes would be way too perverted!
…
Closing time came quickly. Kogoro had long snuck upstairs; Reiko, being little, went to bed.
Only Hayashi Shuichi, Eri, Yukiko, and Midori remained.
Midori quietly wiped tables while Hayashi Shuichi rubbed his temples, exhausted from the standoff between Eri and Yukiko.
"I finally came back for one night—Shuichi's supposed to walk me home!" Yukiko insisted, foot tapping impatiently.
Eri refused to budge. "You came back on your own. Shuichi always walks me home."
Hayashi Shuichi almost suggested neither—he'd let them go alone.
But the clock was nearing midnight. Mikan at night wasn't safe; he couldn't risk it.
"How about I borrow Midori's bike and take you both?" he offered. "It'll be quick."
"Me first!" Eri declared.
"Fine," Yukiko smirked slyly. "That way Shuichi and I can talk longer on the way back."
Eri froze, mouth open, speechless.
That damn vixen got smarter while she was away!
…
Hayashi Shuichi left to take Eri. Only Yukiko and Midori stayed under the dim lights, awkward tension thick.
After the uniform spat earlier, they clearly weren't getting along.
Midori removed the uniform, about to fold it, when she spotted Hayashi Shuichi's faded old one nearby.
The question resurfaced—what did senpai's clothes really smell like?
Why had Eri, Yukiko, and even Reiko all sniffed them?
Curiosity killed the cat.
Midori glanced around—Yukiko was at the window, chin on hand, legs crossed, checking her watch.
Seeing no attention on her, Midori guiltily bent down, grabbed the old uniform, and took a big sniff.
…Cooking smoke and faint detergent. Nothing special?
Confused, she turned it inside out and sniffed again like a cautious animal.
This time—faint sweat. Exactly the scent from when he'd princess-carried her uphill.
Memories flooded back: his strong arms, solid chest, reassuring heartbeat…
Yukiko, hearing nothing for a while, turned. "Hey, you okay? Feeling sick?"
She stood to check.
Midori jolted awake, dropping the uniform like a hot potato and standing ramrod straight, face flaming. "I'm fine!"
"Fine?" Yukiko was already at the counter. "Your face is beet-red. Fever?"
"I'm really fine!" Midori backed up, nearly crashing into a shelf.
Yukiko shrugged and returned to her seat.
Midori's cheeks still burned, heart racing.
No wonder they all secretly sniffed—senpai really did have his own scent.
Wait!
She shook her head violently.
I'm not like them!
They all like senpai—I just respect him as my teacher!
She clenched fists, waving away impure thoughts.
But doubt crept in—senpai's such a playboy… am I absolutely, positively, 100% sure I don't like him?
Bike bells rang outside.
Yukiko rushed out.
Midori followed slowly, watching Yukiko hop on the back seat, arms naturally around Hayashi Shuichi's waist, cheek pressed to his back.
It stung her eyes.
Last time she'd crashed downhill, he'd carried her the same way to Sakuragaoka.
She'd been too shy to move—nothing like Yukiko's ease.
"Midori, wait a bit—I'll be right back."
His voice snapped her out of it.
"…Yeah," she nodded.
Hayashi Shuichi noticed something off. "You okay?"
"Her face suddenly went super red earlier," Yukiko chimed in. "Maybe fever?"
"I'm fine, senpai," Midori forced a laugh, cheeks hotter.
"Go inside and wait—I'll take you home soon," he instructed, then pedaled off with Yukiko toward her apartment.
Midori watched them disappear into the night, expression complicated, before turning back inside.
…
"Back in Gunma, Hiromi and I used to bike everywhere," Yukiko reminisced, arms around his waist. "Haven't ridden much since coming to Tokyo."
"Once you're a big star, you'll ride even less," Hayashi Shuichi laughed. "Cars are better—fast and comfy."
"Hey, you promised to teach me to drive!" Yukiko poked his back playfully. "Not backing out, are you?"
"That police chase was life-or-death," he sighed. "You saw what happened to that car."
Their first meeting—he'd driven her home in pouring rain, then chased robbers in a stolen ambulance, ultimately ramming it into the station. His police car was totaled too.
"I want to learn from you—driving's only fun when it's wild!" Yukiko's eyes sparkled. "First thing after my license—a sports car!"
"I'm a law-abiding citizen—I only speed when I have to!" he retorted. "Speed is faith? Don't believe that garbage."
Light chatter carried them to her building quickly.
"Come up?" Yukiko asked shyly, hopeful. "Parents aren't home."
"Better not," he shook his head, tapping his watch. "You said Midori might be sick—I want to check on her."
"She's more important than me?" Yukiko pouted, then kissed his cheek. "I'm leaving for set tomorrow morning…"
"I'll see you off at the station."
"At least you've got some conscience. I finally come back and spend half the night slaving for you!" She huffed, then skipped lightly inside.
Hayashi Shuichi waited until her apartment light came on before heading back.
Night wind cooled his face.
Passing the Block 2 underpass, he spotted a fortune-telling stall again—same spot where the fake medium who scammed Nagashima Ruko used to sit.
Same props: crystal ball under tattered red cloth, old pendant with weird patterns, random trinkets.
Behind it sat a crimson-haired girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, in a purple dress embroidered with silver runes, fiddling with the ball.
So young and already scamming?
He frowned, planning to tip off Officers Kitano and Yoshioka later.
The thought barely formed when the girl looked up—stunning face, crimson eyes locking onto him like she'd read his mind.
Red hair and red eyes—rare.
He glanced a second longer.
"Care for a reading, young man?" Her voice was cool and clear like mountain spring water, stirring something in him. He stopped the bike unconsciously.
Then remembered who she was and felt instant distaste.
"My fate's mine to spin. Think you're Izumi Sakai or something?" he snapped.
"Huh?" The girl blinked, confused. "Who's Izumi Sakai? Does she do magic too?"
"You don't even know Izumi Sakai and dare run a stall?" Hayashi Shuichi sneered, face turning menacing. "Go home, study, stop scamming at your age—no future in it."
He pedaled off without waiting.
"You're the scammer!" She shot up, crimson hair flying. "I'm a real witch!"
"The last one here claimed to talk to spirits—cops arrested her," he called back, waving dismissively. "Behave, little con artist!"
"I'm not a con!" She stomped, crimson eyes blazing. "Jerk—I curse you with nonstop bad luck tonight!"
He was already gone.
She huffed and sat back down.
She checked an antique pocket watch—past midnight.
"Weird… my afternoon reading said tonight I'd meet the one who spins my wheel of fate."
Frowning in confusion, she placed hands on the crystal ball and chanted softly.
The ball glowed brighter. She stared intently.
"Huh? The location changed—it's… a classroom? Do I really have to go to school to find him?"
She grabbed her crimson hair in frustration.
"Damn it—that jerk was right. I'd actually have to enroll!"
"Right—who's this Izumi Sakai? From what that jerk said, she's connected to wheels of fate too?"
Muttering, she chanted again…
(End of chapter)
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