"Hmph! I'm not here to help, okay? I'm just looking for my personal errand boy, you narcissist!"
"Ah! I told you to stop mimicking the way I talk! I'm seriously going to kill you!"
At first, the blonde, blue-eyed girl had been secretly smiling when she saw a certain someone had rushed back just to help out.
But the moment he opened his mouth, she lunged at him with her teeth bared like a wildcat.
She grabbed Kyousuke's sleeve, rolled it up, and bit down hard with her little fang.
From the way they were bickering, it was clear this wasn't their first round of verbal sparring.
"You jerk! Relax your muscles! My teeth are gonna fall out!"
"Nope. It's not like I asked you to bite me."
"Aaaargh! You're driving me crazy!" the girl shouted as she jumped onto the guy's back from behind, shaking him violently.
Maybe she was trying to knock him over and use her body as a cushion.
Just another normal morning in the Spencer household… right before the summer Comiket.
Sawamura Sayuri, who was double-checking everyone's belongings, smiled as she watched her daughter and Kyousuke tumble around in their usual chaos.
Her eyes narrowed into little crescents from the warmth of it all.
"All right, Lily, Kyousuke-kun—time to head out," she said gently.
"Got it, Sayuri-san," Kyousuke replied with a smile, still carrying a whole person clinging to him.
Even after they got in the car, Eriri sat sulking in the corner of the back seat, arms crossed and little fang showing as she glared at someone with visible irritation.
Hmph.
'What's with that smug face?'
'Is he mocking me?'
'Doesn't he realize being a tsundere is a rare and precious trait?! Blonde twintails and tsundere? That's the ultimate dream girlfriend combo, okay!?'
Kyousuke didn't say a word.
After all, what made a beautiful girl truly beautiful was that even when she was mad, she was still breathtaking.
Honestly, if he hadn't already stuffed himself with breakfast, he might've taken another serving of this deliciously pouty scenery.
"Lily, should we leave this water cup at home?" asked Mr. Spencer hesitantly from the driver's seat.
In the cupholder between the front seats, a glass of water was wobbling from the car's subtle tremors.
Even in a luxury car, the startup vibration nearly caused a splash.
"Nope!" Eriri answered immediately.
She'd already decided that starting today, she was going to drink every single drop of water using this cup!
"But sweetheart, I can't drive properly like this," her dad said with a pained expression.
"Seriously, Dad? Can't you just drive better?"
"I've got it!" Kyousuke chimed in. "Use inertia to make the water spin along the edge in a circular motion!"
"Shut up!"
Though her words were bratty as ever, the girl still unbuckled her seatbelt, leaned forward, and carefully picked up the glass.
She first tested the temperature with her lips, then, satisfied, gulped it down like a thirsty warrior.
Instead of putting it back afterward, Eriri just sat there hugging the cup close.
Her fingers idly traced the indented characters at the bottom—an engraving of the word "Eiri" that shimmered like her golden hair.
Her porcelain-like face broke into a smile.
But when she noticed Kyousuke and her parents glancing her way, she quickly straightened up and wiped the smile off her face.
Still, she couldn't help sneaking another look at the cup… and this time, her lips curled up again.
Mr. and Mrs. Spencer exchanged knowing glances through the rearview mirror.
Their daughter was beaming in that bashful, giddy way only teenage girls in love could manage and Kyousuke was watching her with a look they both knew too well.
With a chuckle, Mr. Spencer started the car, heading toward Tokyo Big Sight in Koto Ward—the iconic venue for Japan's largest doujin convention.
This wasn't some small-time event for beginners.
The booth allocations here were strictly based on group popularity and past performance.
The booths by the main entrance?
Reserved for the elite circles whose doujins regularly pulled in over ten million yen in sales.
Everyone else got sorted further back.
Newcomer circles had to settle for tiny stalls in the vast grid-like hall, each space looking like a cubicle in an office.
But even securing one of those was already a mark of credibility.
After all, the number of applicants always far exceeded available spots, and you needed to buy an application booklet and pay a fee in advance.
Aside from their personal belongings like water bottles, the four members of egoistic-lily hadn't brought anything else today.
All the doujinshi and posters had been delivered to the venue the day before, and the booth had already been set up.
Compared to last time, today's sales event would be much smoother.
Thanks to the previous convention, Kashiwagi Eiri had gained real recognition.
Anyone who came to those smaller cons was usually a hardcore otaku and at Summer Comiket, those were the types who dashed in right at opening.
Eriri had also been sharing partial drafts and teasers on egoistic-lily's website, helping to build hype.
Plenty of fans had left comments saying they had to get their hands on this new Love Metronome doujin.
"So, Kyousuke-kun," Sayuri said cheerfully, "why don't you just wander around with Lily today? Robin and I can handle the booth."
"But… is it really okay for Eriri to draw stuff like that?" Kyousuke asked with concern.
Sayuri had just told him that this doujin was rated 18+, so it'd be best if he didn't help with the sales.
And this time, Eriri wasn't holding back.
Unlike the previous one, where she only dipped her toes in, this was full-on, no-censorship mode.
As someone who had read Love Metronome more than once, Kyousuke had to admit—it was a damn good book.
Eriri's rendition of Sayuka? Even the original illustrator would have to bow in respect.
In fact, Kyousuke was sure that if Kasumi Utako, the author, had managed to get Eriri on board from the start, the book might've exploded in popularity even without his help.
He wasn't the most well-read otaku, but he knew enough to understand how important a great illustrator was for a light novel's success.
Eriri's doujin not only captured Sayuka's personality perfectly—it was hot. So hot that just flipping through it made you want to buy it.
"What's the big deal? The rules say minors can't sell 18+ content, not that we can't draw it," Eriri said nonchalantly, flashing her little fang.
Today, she wasn't in full cosplay mode.
Just a plain white T-shirt—yep, the one she gave to Kyousuke before.
Her twin-tails bounced with every step, occasionally brushing against her snug jeans.
It was eye-catching, to say the least.
When they passed the large stairway in front of the venue earlier, every otaku below had stopped dead in their tracks.
It was the look you gave when fantasy suddenly became reality.
"Perfect!" said Mr. Spencer, grinning confidently while adjusting the booth.
While he and Sayuri were clearly aware that bringing Kyousuke along might cause some awkwardness, neither of them seemed to care that a high-ranking diplomat like him was helping out at a doujin booth.
Maybe they just didn't care, period.
After all, Kyousuke had learned a few things about Mr. Spencer's past from their everyday conversations…
He only became a diplomat because of his family's expectations.
Compared to working as a bureaucrat in the UK, being posted in Japan—a place with fewer restrictions—was a much better fit for his rebellious nature.
Honestly, he'd probably be happy to be dismissed.
Mr. Spencer had his hands in investment ventures anyway, and without the burden of a formal job, he could fully enjoy his otaku lifestyle.
That's why some lucky otakus have seen a blond man shamelessly holding up R18 doujinshi and enthusiastically shouting sales pitches.
One has to wonder if any of them will one day bump into him when visiting the embassy for a visa.
If they do, let's hope they're not carrying a doujin at the time, let alone asking for his autograph.
Kyousuke could understand the excitement of spotting an R18 doujin-selling diplomat, but the image was just... way too improper to imagine.
"If we get caught, I'll just play dumb and say I was tricked, right?"
Even though the record said their last sale was a success, Kyousuke still looked a bit uneasy—after all, they had printed two thousand copies this time.
"Huh? Don't underestimate me! Kashiwagi Eiri's blog already has over twenty thousand followers! Selling out this batch won't be a problem!"
Seeing Kyousuke hesitating about whether to help sell the books or not, Eiri felt a mix of amusement and appreciation.
'Leave the booth work to Dad. Your job is to walk around the con with me.'
'Geez, this idiot—does he think I put in all this effort into my outfit for no reason? I even mustered up the courage to come without a disguise!'
"Enough chatter! Let's shop before the crowd gets in!" She grabbed the boy beside her, who was wearing a matching T-shirt, and casually wrapped her arm around his as she pulled him toward the exhibit hall entrance.
Just as she was about to flip through the event guide crammed between booths, Eiri realized she still had her custom water bottle in her other hand.
After a brief pause, she stuffed it into Kyousuke's arms.
"Honestly, didn't I already tell you to leave that back at the booth?" Kyousuke muttered helplessly, taking the bottle and zipping it into his jacket pocket.
He'd reminded her when they got off the train, reminded her again when they left the booth—and both times, her only response was...
"You nag too much!"
'…At least for today, I'm not letting him out of my sight!'
With one hand holding the event booklet and the other still linked to Kyousuke's arm, Eiri flipped through the pages.
The two of them, in matching clothes, looked just like a couple out of an anime doing their weekly grocery run—browsing flyers and discussing what to buy.
Eiri seemed to realize it too.
Her cheeks flushed pink, and instead of letting go, she held Kyousuke's arm even tighter.
With the venue about to flood with otakus, sticking close like this was the best way to stay protected.
"Hey, look—it's the Alice Circle! The artist who made that bunny-girl doujin you liked at the New Creators' Fair is here too!"
Suddenly, Eiri pointed excitedly to a booth up ahead.
"Yeah yeah… the one I liked."
After a brief moment of confusion, Kyousuke realized which book she meant.
He'd carefully stored everything Miyamizu Mitsuha had brought back from events in a special box—waiting for the day they'd meet again.
That included the new cup he'd made for her.
Of course, he'd flipped through that particular bunny-girl doujin.
The one with the innocent cover that spiraled into something a bit too wild toward the end.
He still didn't quite get why someone as calm and composed as Mitsuha would be into something like that.
"Come on, hurry! They've got limited edition posters this time!" Before Kyousuke could even decide whether to support Mitsuha's favorite circle again, Eiri had already grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.
Japanese fans often call Comic Market a "holy war"—and for good reason.
The most prized items from circles are extremely limited, sometimes only a handful printed.
That's why people line up overnight or hire proxies to buy for them.
This was Eiri's first time charging into an empty exhibition hall like this, free to shop without being crushed.
It felt like something had awakened inside her.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling.
"Slow down—"
"Nope! Hurry up already!" Eiri tugged him along.
After the last convention, she had a good grasp of this guy's tsundere tendencies.
He liked cute, moe-style manga but was too embarrassed to admit it.
Geez, tsunderes really are the hardest to deal with.
With that in mind, she dragged him from booth to booth, each famous for their otome manga or games.
The large tote bag Sayuri had given Kyousuke before they left was quickly filling up.
"Faster, faster!" Eiri's hold on him had evolved from arm-in-arm to full-on hand-holding, dragging him through the hall with a glowing smile.
Her high ponytail bounced behind her like a happy bird in flight.
'This con is amazing.'
Paying exact change and handing the goods to Kyousuke, Eiri felt her heart bloom with joy.
Was it because she was now a creator herself?
Because she wasn't in disguise? Or…
Was it because of him?
She turned to look at Kyousuke, who was frowning, trying his best to stuff more items into an already overstuffed bag.
For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to pounce on him and kiss him senseless.
"…You know, none of this stuff looks like something someone your age should be reading, Eriri."
Though he'd packed everything up nicely, Kyousuke glanced at the doujin with thick censorship bars over certain parts and sighed.
The age-rating system was fine in theory, but kind of sloppy in execution.
Even Eriri's doujin—despite its pretty intense content—wasn't in the R18 section.
'Hmph. You dummy. If you want a kiss from Eriri, you've still got a long way to go!'
Crossing her arms, Eiri gave a little huff, turned away dramatically, and flicked her golden twin tails.
Once they dropped off their first haul at the booth and grabbed a fresh empty bag, the doors to the hall finally opened and that was the moment Kyousuke remembered…
That was the day Kyousuke truly understood the meaning of a holy war.
Watching the wave of crazed otakus storm through the entrance and rush toward their target booths with military-like precision, he couldn't help but feel a rare sense of admiration.
Sure, some shady creators might see them as nothing more than walking wallets, but their sheer intensity in that moment reminded him of his own loyal subordinates.
"…It's overwhelming."
"Idiot, there's no time to be impressed! Our battle's not over yet!"
This time, Eiri didn't lead him by the hand she pushed him forward from behind, bodies pressed close in the crowd.
He had always known this day would come… but he hadn't expected it so soon.
Watching his daughter disappear into the sea of people, Mr. Spencer felt like crying.
His mind was filled with memories of little Eiri pulling on his hand and yelling, "Come on, Daddy!" as they dove into the con crowd together.
Now… those days were gone.
Although still heartbroken, under his wife's watchful eye, he had no choice but to pull himself together and focus on selling out his daughter's works!
As he began his second round of purchases, a woman in a black suit and round-brimmed hat, stationed behind a major booth near the entrance, kept her gaze fixed on him and Eriri.
That woman was Akane Akasaka the mastermind behind the wildly popular circle rouge en rouge.
A woman like a spider weaving her web, but unlike a passive predator, she didn't wait for prey to walk into her trap.
Whenever a promising new face appeared in the doujin scene, she would descend from her perch to observe and evaluate: Are they worth drawing into her web?
Naturally, Kashiwagi Eiri—this breakout star who'd shot to fame since April—had caught her eye.
And when Akane dug a little deeper, she was stunned to find out that the person helping Eiri sell books at the New Wave Doujin Exhibition last time was none other than Kyousuke, the author of One Punch Man, already tipped to win Manga of the Year.
Akane had no trouble connecting the dots between the pen name "EGOIST," credited as the author of One Punch Man, and the circle "egoistic-lily."
Just the kind of cheeky little naming trick young creators loved.
With EGOIST providing the story and layouts, and Eiri handling the artwork, the two middle schoolers had effortlessly created a mega-hit IP.
'Fascinating,' Akane thought.
'These are exactly the kinds of talents I should be nurturing.'
But… no need to rush. Let them ripen just a little more first.
Beneath the brim of her black hat, her crimson eyes glinted with a predatory gleam as she continued to watch the oblivious pair.
Even though it was Japan's biggest doujin convention, admission was free.
And once you got past the morning rush, around noon the crowd thinned out quite a bit.
That's when the more casual otaku or the simply curious visitors started to arrive.
With her ever-present white headband and silky black hair cascading down her back like a shampoo commercial, she wore a silver UV jacket from MUJI and slim black jeans that made it look like two-thirds of her body were legs.
Kasumigaoka Utaha, in this getup, immediately became a walking black hole for attention the moment she stepped into the hall.
Everyone—whether queuing or coming and going—couldn't help but look. Twice.
"So hot…" she muttered, letting out a breath.
Her crimson lips pouted as she reached to unzip her jacket—then stopped, noticing the stares.
Silently, she let her hand fall back.
'Ugh. Gross. This is exactly why I didn't wear a skirt or shorts.'
Fanning herself with the event guide, she took a few deep breaths and scanned the area numbers posted on the nearby column, heading toward her target.
Now that she knew about Kashiwagi Eiri, who was clearly close to Hojou-kun, there was no way someone like her wouldn't pay attention.
Though she didn't know Hojou-kun personally—heck, they hadn't even officially met—if she had any standing, she would've already challenged Eiri head-on.
Still, she'd been monitoring the egoistic-lily site from time to time and knew about Eiri's plan to draw a doujin based on her novel.
'So this is a challenge, huh?' Utaha had thought to herself.
She knew it wasn't, logically speaking—after all, the girl probably didn't even know who she was—but emotionally?
It felt like a gauntlet had been thrown.
'You lost to me in appearance, so now you're trying to win with talent?'
It was a nice fantasy.
But completely unrealistic.
In terms of both looks and ability, she was the one who was truly meant for Hojou-kun.
Utaha had never shied away from acknowledging her beauty and talent.
After all, she had inherited the best genes from her parents.
Throughout history—in nature and in society—it was always the exceptional individuals who had more choices.
But in the end, they would always find their equally exceptional match.
Someone like Kashiwagi Eiri—a mere elementary schooler—might not even be biologically ready to raise a child.
With a small smirk, Utaha was about to pass by the cosplay area when her steps suddenly stopped.
'Wait… what's that?'
There, sitting awkwardly on a foldable stool, was a girl with striking blonde hair, tilting her head up to talk to a boy beside her.
The boy then walked over to a vending machine.
'Kashiwagi Eiri? Why isn't she in disguise? Isn't she a closeted otaku?'
But more importantly—she just ordered Hojou-kun around?! Unforgivable.
Jealousy and envy surged through Utaha's chest.
Steeling herself with the logic that knowing your enemy increases your odds of winning, she moved closer stealthily, her eyes drawn to the cup Eiri was holding up.
Well as stealthily as someone that gorgeous could be.
With her stunning face, long legs, and perfect figure, she stood out like a beacon.
If she didn't look so unlike the stereotypical otaku, people might've already swarmed her for selfies.
Thankfully, the golden-haired idiot seemed fully entranced by the glass in her hands and didn't notice the growing commotion around her.
"It's so pretty~" Even though she looked absolutely exhausted from the earlier rush, Eriri still held up the cup Kyousuke had given her with both hands, her face glowing with satisfaction.
Standing just behind her now, Utaha caught a clear glimpse of the character engraved on the bottom of the cup—「英」.
'That… was that handmade by Hojou-kun?'
The realization hit her like a lightning bolt.
Her body staggered back uncontrollably.
Raising a delicate hand to cover her mouth, she barely suppressed a bitter sob.
Seeing the bliss in Eiri's ocean-blue eyes, and that goofy, unfiltered smile—Utaha, who had beaten her in looks, talent, and maturity—suddenly realized she'd lost.
In this strange, unfair little battlefield… she had lost.
'The bottom of that cup should've said 「霞」, for Kasumigaoka! In black ink.'
'Gold is tacky—it's as bad as that girl's blonde hair.'
Utaha's wine-red eyes were filled with disbelief.
'That girl, with her defeat-flag golden hair, actually received something filled with Hojou-kun's heart?'
'Unbelievable. Unacceptable.'
This had to be some illusion.
There was no way Hojou-kun would fall for someone like that.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Kyousuke returning with drinks in hand.
Knowing full well she shouldn't be seen here, she quietly retreated behind one of the nearby pillars.
"Eek, that's cold!" Eriri squeaked as something chilly pressed against her face.
Startled, she nearly dropped her prized cup.
"Idiot! Don't scare me like that!" she yelled, snatching the ice-cold cola from his hand.
Clamping the glass cup between her knees, she popped the tab and poured the drink inside.
"I gave you that cup so you'd drink more warm milk—not ice-cold soda," Kyousuke said with a tired sigh, also holding a can of cola.
"Ugh, you're so annoying. This weather demands ice-cold cola!" Eriri declared, raising the now-full glass like a trophy once again.
Even so... it's still so pretty!
Whether it's filled with milk or cola, it feels like the taste gets an instant upgrade—like, three levels higher!
The girl raised the cup to her lips and took a big gulp, thoroughly enjoying it.
Behind a nearby pillar, Kasumigaoka Utaha let out a small sigh of relief after overhearing the conversation.
Thank goodness—it's not a token of affection or anything like that.
Hojou-kun probably just thought that malnourished little grade-schooler needed more nutrients and was concerned about her health.
With that thought, the girl circled around from the other direction toward the egoistic-lily circle's booth.
She needed to see for herself just what kind of confidence did this Kashiwagi Eri have to dare create a doujinshi based on her work?
The line between doujinshi and the original work has always been blurred.
There have even been legal cases in Japan where original authors sued artists for selling R-18 fan works.
But in the end, the authors lost.
Whether it was due to a commercial perspective… or because the judges got a little too immersed in those doujins—we'll leave that open to interpretation.
But one thing's for sure: the popularity of a work can often be measured by the number of doujinshi it inspires.
Maybe because the second volume of her novel had just come out, Utaha had seen plenty of booths selling doujins based on her story while walking through the hall.
With the intention of comparing them to Kashiwagi Eri's later, she casually bought a few and flipped through them.
Suppressing the overwhelming urge to buy up every single doujinshi that insulted her work and chuck them all into the trash, she took a deep breath and reminded herself to stay elegant.
From what she knew—and from what she'd seen in Hojou-kun's fan circle—he was someone who deeply valued etiquette.
If she wanted to win this silent battle of affections, she had to pay attention to every detail.
Trash-tier work.
Some had art so distorted you wouldn't recognize Sayuka if her name wasn't printed on the cover.
Others depicted her completely out of character, saying and doing things totally unlike the Sayuka she wrote.
Still, if Kashiwagi Eri's doujin turned out to be just another one of those… then at least she wouldn't pose any real threat.
Perhaps those previously talentless yet passionate attempts had given Utaha a false sense of security, she actually began to look forward to seeing what Kashiwagi Eri had drawn.
Due to the inclusion of a color cover, the doujin simply titled "Sayuka" was priced a hundred yen higher than usual.
Utaha handed over 600 yen to the woman who was unmistakably Kashiwagi Eri's mother, took the book, and quietly walked away.
All right then, show me what you've got, Kashiwagi Eri.
She started with the color cover.
Even without being an art expert, Utaha could see that Eri's skill was top-tier.
It was nearly indistinguishable from the work of her own official illustrator.
Then she opened the book—
Oh?
It wasn't the usual fanservice-laden story or some lazy retcon?
Most of the doujins she'd skimmed through were either about Sayuka suddenly falling in love with a totally random protagonist or giving up on her personal goals to be with Naoto.
All of it felt like a complete betrayal of her novel's intent.
But Eri's doujin... was different.
It wasn't just fanfiction—it was a reimagining that deeply understood her original story.
Sayuka still chased her dreams.
But in this version, the previously bland Naoto actually grew.
He worked hard, became someone worthy of standing beside her, and together they led a life that was both sweet and grounded.
Somehow, Utaha couldn't shake the feeling that Naoto's face in this version... resembled Hojou-kun's.
And then, like Kyousuke before her, Utaha found herself thinking:
'If Kashiwagi Eri became my illustrator… wouldn't my sales get a boost, too?' Once that thought appeared, it refused to go away.
She even felt an itch to pull out her phone right now and call Miss Machida to discuss it.
But her pride stopped her.
Even if her sales skyrocketed, wouldn't that just be proof of Kashiwagi Eri's talent?
She had to admit it—this little blonde grade-schooler's doujin had blown her away.
Eri's version of Sayuka was even more beautiful than Utaha had imagined.
The stubborn gloom behind her eyes, the seductive vulnerability in bed—every detail matched exactly what Utaha had envisioned for the character.
And the plot?
Though short, it pointed straight toward where Utaha wanted her novel to go.
Yes—when she rewrote the second volume, she had planted the seed of an idea.
She wanted Love Metronome to express her gratitude toward Hojou-kun… and the vague feelings of admiration, even love, that had begun to bloom.
Until recently, Utaha saw herself as a competitive woman, unconquerable by anyone—just like Sayuka.
Even if she liked someone, like Naoto, she would never let them hold her back.
If he became an obstacle on her path to strength, she'd cast him aside without hesitation to chase her goals.
But then she met him.
In her darkest moment, she crossed paths with a man who seemed flawless—Kyousuke.
Whether it was his looks or academic achievements, everything about him was untouchable.
And even in the world of creative writing, he had risen like a star.
Wasn't this man a gift from the heavens just for her?
Setting aside her thoughts on Eri for now, Utaha began to wonder: with the first print of Volume 2 hitting 100,000 copies and sure to be reprinted soon—had she finally reached the level where she could meet Hojou-kun properly, face to face?
Just like Eriri had said from the beginning—Kashiwagi Eri's talent was terrifying.
By noon the next day, 2,000 copies of her doujin had sold out completely.
Another huge success, perfectly in line with Sayuri-san's "lucky kimono" superstition.
Egoistic-lily was no longer just a promising up-and-comer.
It had grown into a small but well-known circle.
Their official site and Eri's blog were flooded with fans begging her to release her next work ASAP.
After the summer Comiket, the new semester arrived quickly.
September 1st.
Kyousuke stepped through the gates of Higashi Middle School for the first time in a while.
For him, it was the beginning of the school term, but most of the third-year students in both middle and high school divisions had already returned early for special prep courses.
One of the perks of attending a private school focused on academic advancement.
If this were a relaxed public school, students aiming for college would've had to seek out cram schools on their own.
Even Maki Hojou and her fellow Kendo Club members, who still had half a year before reaching their senior year, had announced last semester that club activities would be reduced.
Maki was prepping for the University of Tokyo, while the others were trying to shave a few more seconds off their times in hopes of snagging better recommendations for college.
Tokyo's August heat had clung stubbornly to its 30°C highs, but by September, it dropped to a comfortable 24°C.
That is—when it wasn't raining.
Thanks to the urban heat island effect, Tokyo often saw sudden, localized downpours exceeding 100mm in an hour.
They'd come out of nowhere and vanish just as fast.
If you were out shopping when it hit, you could always duck into a café and wait it out—but right now...
A group of students hurried toward the school building, shielding their heads with backpacks against the sudden downpour.
Amidst them, Kyousuke strolled leisurely through the rain, holding a black oil-paper umbrella over his head.
The umbrella had been a gift from Sakura, handmade or at least partially handmade—during her trip to Kyoto.
"Well… I only painted the design myself," Sakura had admitted sheepishly.
But Kyousuke had heard the full story from Aunt Yamauchi.
Apparently, Sakura had tried to craft the entire umbrella from scratch.
She gave up only after the umbrella master begged her to stop.
Aunt Yamauchi even showed Kyousuke a photo of Sakura's hands, covered in tiny cuts from handling bamboo.
In the end, Sakura picked out her favorite umbrella frame and painted the surface with a design of her own.
It was a bangasa—a traditional Japanese oil-paper umbrella, sturdy and heavy, with none of the usual frills.
Originally popularized by a shop in Osaka that stamped its umbrellas with the image of Daikokuten, these umbrellas became known as "Daikoku Bangasa"—a hallmark of strength and quality.
Sakura named hers "Sakura-fall."
The entire umbrella was a deep, matte black.
Whether the bamboo was naturally that color or specially treated, Kyousuke wasn't sure.
From the 80 cm shaft to its 54 spokes, everything was jet black.
Only scattered pink petals adorned the canopy, like a gentle cherry blossom shower frozen in time.
Whenever you walked beneath it, it felt as though you were moving through a rain of falling sakura.
Now, Kyousuke dressed in his pitch-black school uniform looked like a lone samurai from an old film, calmly approaching the school through the mist of autumn rain.
The falling blossoms, the rain, the black silhouette, it was pure wabi-sabi, the aesthetic of serene imperfection.
At the base of the umbrella's handle was a single carved stamp: "Ryou."
"But the umbrella bag? That I definitely made myself!" Sakura had proudly declared, showing off her tiny hands, still marked with faint pinpricks from countless stitches—even after an entire summer break.
Kyousuke had been both touched and exasperated when she presented him with the bag: a red cloth pouch featuring a drawing of a Daruma doll, complete with shoulder straps.
"It even has a waterproof lining! So you can carry it around no matter where you go, and you won't lose it!" Sakura puffed up her cheeks and placed her hands on her hips, proud of her creative solution.
To be fair, umbrella theft was pretty rampant in Japan—not out of malice, but because everyone used the same cheap transparent ones from convenience stores.
Most people just grabbed whatever was nearby when they left.
But Sakura clearly couldn't bear the thought of her carefully chosen gift getting taken by mistake.
Hence, the "genius" backpack-style umbrella pouch.
"Who walks around with an umbrella on their back every day? What am I, dual-wielding now?" Kyousuke had muttered, already known for running around with a bamboo sword on his back.
"I don't care! If you get soaked, you'll catch a cold! And then you'll die or something!" Sakura had declared dramatically.
Then, with both hands, she had solemnly placed the umbrella into his.
"You have to take good care of her!"
"Yes, yes," Kyousuke had replied with a helpless smile as he slung the umbrella over his shoulder on the spot.
"If it weren't for Sakura-sama's overwhelming cuteness, you wouldn't even have such a cool umbrella!" she had teased, though the truth was likely that her family had connections with the workshop.
And so, on that crisp autumn morning:
Sakura received a beautiful glass cup to drink hot water.
Kyousuke received a black oil-paper umbrella to walk through the rain.