Kaito's Perspective
The morning air at Sakuragaoka High felt charged, but for Kaito, the current was a private one. As he approached the school gates, he saw her. Hikari stood by the wall of blooming hydrangeas, her posture as unyielding as ever, but her eyes found his immediately.
A week ago, he would have given a barely perceptible nod and walked past. Two days ago, after the ramen shop and the family dinners, a simple nod felt like a lie. He stopped before her.
"Good morning, Tanaka," he said, his voice low but clear.
A flicker of surprise, then something softer warmed her sharp gaze. "Morning, Sato."
It was nothing. A standard, polite greeting. Yet, performed by the school's two most famously solitary figures in full view of the morning crowd, it was everything.
The ripple was immediate and palpable. Students who had been shuffling in slowed to a crawl. A hushed murmur spread like a wave. Did the Solitary King just initiate a greeting? Did the Ice Queen just respond without looking annoyed? Kaito registered the shock in his peripheral vision—the widened eyes, the hastily concealed whispers. For the first time, the social noise of the school felt like static, unimportant. His focus was on the quiet understanding in Hikari's eyes. He gave a slight, almost invisible incline of his head and they fell into step, not quite side-by-side, but undeniably together, walking into the school.
Hikari's Perspective
Hikari had braced for awkwardness, for the weird pressure of their changed dynamic. Instead, Kaito's simple "Good morning" had felt like a key turning in a lock, opening a space that was just theirs amidst the chaos. The stares and whispers were annoying, but they bounced off the new, solid reality she carried: He is my friend. This is real.
The illusion of normalcy lasted until second period. A polite, smiling second-year student from the Student Council appeared at their classroom door with a summons. "Tanaka-senpai? Vice President Shizuka would like to see you in the Council Room during lunch, if you're available."
Shizuka. Hoshino Shizuka. The name was a brand at Sakuragaoka. The "Princess," known for her flawless grades, elegant demeanor, and a leadership so natural it seemed effortless. She was Kaito's perennial academic rival, the only one who ever came close to challenging him for the top spot. Hikari had never interacted with her. A cold knot formed in her stomach. She nodded curtly to the messenger. "I'll be there."
The Council Room was spacious and sunlit, with a long, polished table. Hoshino Shizuka sat at the vice president's seat, not working, but waiting. She was as beautiful as rumored, with a serene smile that didn't quite reach her calculating, observant eyes.
"Tanaka-san, thank you for coming," Shizuka said, her voice like honey poured over ice. "Please, sit. I wanted to speak with you about Sato-senpai."
Hikari sat, keeping her expression neutral. "What about him?"
Shizuka's smile became gently pitying. "I saw you two this morning. It's… sweet. Truly. But I feel I should offer some perspective, as someone who has worked closely with Sato-senpai on council matters for over a year." She leaned forward slightly. "Kaito Sato is an extraordinary person. His kindness, his intelligence, his willingness to help… it's not personal. It's his nature. He helps everyone."
She let the words hang, watching Hikari carefully. "He helped Nakamura-kun with his calculus for a month. He consistently reviews the council's budget reports simply because I asked. He helped the first-year flower committee carry heavy pots last spring. He is, essentially, good. To everyone."
Hikari's fingers tightened on her skirt under the table. "Your point?"
"My point," Shizuka said, her tone turning gently chiding, "is that you shouldn't mistake his general goodness for particular interest. I've seen many students, especially girls, become… confused by his attentions. They think his help is friendship, or something more. It always leads to disappointment. He is a natural pillar of support, but he stands alone." She offered a conciliatory smile. "I'm telling you this for your own good. Don't embarrass yourself by acting overly familiar or presuming a friendship that doesn't exist beyond his basic decency. The rumors are already starting, and they'll only hurt you."
Anger, hot and bright, flashed through Hikari's veins. This polished princess was trying to neatly explain away everything—the study sessions, the defense in class, the ramen with their siblings, the quiet morning greeting—as mere charitable habit.
"You're wrong," Hikari said, her voice colder than she intended.
"Am I?" Shizuka's smile didn't falter. "Can you name one thing he's done for you that he wouldn't do for anyone else who asked? One way he treats you differently?"
The question was a trap, designed to weaponize Kaito's essential goodness. Hikari's mind raced. Buying her a drink? He might buy one for a thirsty acquaintance. Defending her? He valued fairness; he might defend anyone unfairly accused. Working diligently on a project? That was his character.
But the feeling… the silence that wasn't empty… the way he let his sister tease him about me… the way he said 'friend' to his family…
Those were intangible. Unprovable. And in the face of Shizuka's flawless, logical deconstruction, they suddenly felt fragile, silly—the fantasies of a lonely girl, just as Shizuka implied.
A sliver of the old doubt, the voice that told her she was a burden and an outsider, wormed its way in. What if Shizuka was right? What if she was just another project for the ever-helpful Solitary King?
The confusion must have shown on her face for a fraction of a second. Shizuka saw it, and her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "You see? It's better to understand now. For your own sake, and for his. He doesn't need unnecessary complications."
Hikari stood up, her chair scraping the floor. The confusion was still there, a turbulent storm, but beneath it was a bedrock of stubborn certainty that had been forged over weeks of shared quiet. She might not have a logical, listable rebuttal, but she had the truth of her own experience.
"You can give your perspective," Hikari said, her voice finding its edge again. "But you don't get to define my relationships, or his. You don't know what exists between us."
"And you're sure you do?" Shizuka asked, her smile finally fading into something sharper, more competitive. The serene princess was gone, revealing the rival beneath. "Don't be naive, Tanaka-san. Sentimentality is a weakness he would never indulge."
Hikari didn't answer. She turned and walked out, the vice president's words echoing in her head, a toxic seed of doubt now planted beside her hard-won trust. She needed to see him. She needed to look into Kaito's calm eyes and have the world right itself again.
The lunch bell had already rung. Ignoring her hunger, she made straight for the roof—his place. The wind greeted her as she pushed the door open, but the space was empty. The usual quiet bench was vacant. A cold spike of anxiety shot through her. Had Shizuka called for him, too?
Descending the stairs, she spotted a group of students lingering in the hall. "Excuse me," she asked, her voice tight. "Have you seen Sato-senpai?"
One of them nodded. "Yeah, right after lunch started. Hoshino-senpai herself came and got him. Said it was urgent council business. They went that way."
Urgent council business. The cold spike turned to ice. Hikari didn't think. She ran. Her shoes slapped against the polished floor as she sprinted toward the Student Council wing, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She had to get there. She had to hear what was being said, to stand beside him against Shizuka's polished insinuations.
She skidded to a halt in front of the heavy Council Room door, breathless. With a trembling hand, she pushed it open.
The room was not empty. But Kaito was not there.
Hoshino Shizuka was still sitting at the vice president's seat. But the poised, serene mask was utterly gone. She wasn't looking at Hikari. Her head was bowed, her perfectly manicured hands clenched into white-knuckled fists on the polished table. Her shoulders trembled with the effort of containing something violent and raw.
And on her cheeks, gleaming in the sterile sunlight, were two tracks of freshly shed tears, which she was desperately, angrily trying to control. The room was silent except for the ragged, barely suppressed sound of her breathing. The air wasn't charged with competitive triumph anymore. It was thick with the fallout of a personal, devastating defeat.
Hikari stood frozen in the doorway, her own confusion and anxiety momentarily eclipsed by shock. The "Princess" wasn't joyful. She was shattered. And Kaito… Kaito had simply left.
He had come, listened, and then… gone to eat his lunch.
(End of chapter 16)