The midday sun filtered through the dense canopy of roadside trees, painting the pavement with a shifting tapestry of light and shadow. Sakamoto left the cafeteria's noise behind, walking a solitary path back toward the school building. His steps were light yet precise, an exercise in controlled motion, his toes landing with metronomic accuracy on the white border of the sidewalk as if the rest of the world existed in a separate, untouchable dimension. He moved within a private rhythm, the flow of students and scenery around him reduced to a blurred backdrop.
As he rounded a corner near a dense thicket of shrubs, a figure emerged unexpectedly from the opposite side.
It was a tall girl with smooth, chestnut-brown hair, a striking sunflower-shaped hairpin catching the dappled light. She, too, seemed lost in thought, walking with hurried purpose. A collision seemed inevitable.
"Secret Technique—"
Sakamoto's murmur was a soft, clear note in the air.
"—'Phantom Sidestep'."
In the split second before impact, his body seemed to defy physics, executing a fluid, lateral glide—a movement as effortless as a breeze parting grass—that placed him just outside her trajectory. He even had time to brush a stray strand of hair from his temple with an elegant flick of his hand, the entire evasion achieved without a single point of contact.
However, while Sakamoto avoided the collision, the brown-haired girl, thrown off by her own momentum, lost her balance. A soft gasp escaped her lips as she stumbled forward.
Sakamoto appeared to have anticipated this contingency. His left hand darted into his student satchel—not to retrieve anything, but to deftly pinch the connecting ring between the bag's body and its strap. With a subtle flick of his wrist, the bag swung on its axis like a pendulum, its strap arcing directly into the path of the girl's flailing hand.
Her fingers, grasping instinctively, hooked onto the offered strap.
A perfectly calibrated counterforce transmitted through the material, halting her forward plunge. Using the strap as a pivot, her body was pulled back in a graceful, almost choreographed arc, allowing her to regain her footing in a motion that bordered on dance.
She looked up, following the line of force, her gaze locking with Sakamoto's calm, observant eyes.
For a suspended moment, they held the pose: Sakamoto standing perfectly poised, his left hand lightly supporting the satchel; the girl leaning back slightly, her finger still curled around the strap. The afternoon light cut through the leaves, illuminating them. The composition was striking, evocative—not of a clumsy near-accident, but of a silent, tense connection, like two figures in a Renaissance fresco sharing a pivotal touch.
The girl's initial shock melted into a vivid blush. She quickly withdrew her finger as if scalded, straightening her posture and smoothing her collar and hair with flustered hands. A grateful, slightly abashed smile finally found its way to her lips.
"Th-thank you! I nearly took a spill." Her voice held a tremor of residual adrenaline and genuine appreciation. "Hello! I'm Asahina Natsume, a second-year! You must be the famous Sakamoto-kun from Class A? Seeing is truly believing!"
Her eyes studied him with open, intrigued curiosity.
Sakamoto offered a slight, polite bow. "I am Sakamoto. It was a minor matter, Asahina-senpai. Please, do not trouble yourself."
His gaze rested briefly on her flushed cheeks before he made to continue on his way.
"Wait!"
Asahina called out hastily, the color in her face still high. "Sakamoto-kun, please! There's something I'd like to ask."
Sakamoto paused, turning back to her. "Please, go ahead."
Asahina took a steadying breath, seeming to gather her thoughts. "Sakamoto-kun… do you know 'Miyabi' from the second year? I mean, ah…"
Before she could fumble for the full name, Sakamoto interjected smoothly, "You refer to Student Council Vice President Nagumo Miyabi of the second year, correct?"
Asahina blinked, then smiled wider. "Yes, that's him! You knew right away?" Her surprise was evident, but considering the effortless rescue moments before, it somehow felt fitting.
"I had the opportunity to see you and Vice President Nagumo dining together at the café during my shifts," Sakamoto explained, his tone matter-of-fact. The statement was simple, yet it placed him as an unseen observer within their social sphere, adding a new layer of quiet awareness to the encounter.
Sakamoto's explanation was simple, a statement of fact. "I see. Sakamoto-kun really does notice everything," Asahina Natsume sighed, a complex swirl of emotions stirring within her. This boy was not only preternaturally graceful but possessed an almost unnerving level of perception and recall. That charged, almost mythic moment of eye contact had sent a jolt through her… What a shame. Sigh. This entire "chance encounter" was a scene she had meticulously staged, hoping to use it as a natural segue into conversation.
She hadn't expected his reaction to obliterate her script entirely, nor for him to anticipate her very topic. It left her both flustered and, against her will, deeply intrigued by his effortless command.
He's really something… She quickly reined in the wayward thought. This wasn't a social call.
"Since you know of him, I'll be direct," Asahina said, her smile fading into seriousness. "I need to warn you. Be careful of Nagumo Miyabi. He… is looking for a way to deal with you."
She searched his face, hunting for any flicker of concern or surprise.
Sakamoto's expression remained placid, as if the revelation that the Student Council Vice President was plotting against him was no more troubling than a shift in the weather.
Frustrated by his lack of reaction, Asahina pressed on, her words tumbling out with more urgency. "This isn't exactly betrayal… well, Nagumo and I are very close. We've known each other since we were children…"
"But some of the things he's been doing lately have made me very unhappy! And the methods I've heard he's considering against you… they could be quite severe. Truly!"
Her tone grew heated, a mix of genuine warning and personal grievance. "So, honestly? I hope you can teach him a lesson, Sakamoto-kun! Make him rein it in a little!"
This was the true core of her revelation. Her bond with Nagumo Miyabi was deep, fated—a companionship that had spanned schools and felt closer than romance. But Nagumo's fatal flaw was his voracious appetite for conquest and control. He had recently set his sights on Ichinose Honami from Class B, using his vice-presidential authority to dig into her private life, uncovering secrets that stoked Asahina's jealousy.
Yet, that wasn't the primary wound. His philandering was an old, accepted pain. What rankled more was that Nagumo had identified Sakamoto as his "greatest future rival," and was diverting all the energy and cunning he could have used pursuing Ichinose into schemes to dismantle him. She felt slighted, replaced by a rivalry. She wanted Sakamoto to humble him.
Sakamoto listened quietly to Asahina's emotionally charged confession, her plea tinged with personal pique. After a moment of silent processing, he gave a slight, acknowledging nod.
"I understand. Thank you for the warning, Asahina-senpai. I will take it into consideration."
Hearing this, Asahina knew her message had been received. She didn't know what he would do with it, but her goal was accomplished. A relieved smile returned to her face. "Good. I'll be going, then."
She turned to leave.
"Senpai," Sakamoto's voice stopped her.
"Hmm?" She looked back, puzzled.
Sakamoto slowly raised his right hand, which had been empty. Lying perfectly centered in his palm was a sunflower-shaped hair clip, its metallic petals catching the light—a perfect match for the one still nestled in her hair.
"During our near-collision earlier," he said, his voice soft, "your hair clip came loose. It has been recovered and should be returned to its owner."
Asahina's hand flew to her hair. She felt the clip on her left temple, but the right side was bare. She hadn't felt a thing.
"Oh! It really did… I didn't even notice. Thank you, Sakamoto-kun. Thank you."
Blushing, she hastily took the clip. It was warm from his hand. She clutched the small sunflower tightly, watching as Sakamoto offered one final, slight nod before turning away.
His tall silhouette melted into the dappled light of the tree-lined path, leaving Asahina Natsume standing alone, the warmth of the retrieved hair clip in her palm a quiet, lingering testament to an encounter that had been anything but accidental, and a boy who was anything but ordinary.
Patreon Rene_chan