As a straight dude, Satoru's holiday outfit was simple: a hoodie.
A hooded hoodie.
Hood up, caring for no one, he slinked through the streets like a nimble assassin.
He was set to meet Miyajima Sakura at noon sharp. A gentleman would arrive early.
Satoru wasn't a gentleman, so he rolled out of bed at ten, brushing his teeth leisurely.
It was chilly today.
He threw a black jacket over his hoodie.
Luckily, his taste matched the body he'd transmigrated into—at least for clothes, he felt some kinship. Then again, what else could a high school guy wear?
Unlike girls, who had endless options despite the cold: knee-high skirts, pleated skirts, mini-skirts, paired with white stockings, black stockings, thigh-highs, or frilly socks.
Satoru shivered. Spring weather was unpredictable everywhere—up and down like a girl's cold tolerance, impossible to pin down.
Take their outfits: complaining about the chill while wearing a puffy jacket and scarf, yet rocking a mini-skirt and black stockings below.
Weird!
Satoru wove through the crowd, eyes darting to various black stockings, dazzled…
Pure critique! All critique!
He'd heard stockings were warm, which made sense… but he'd never test that theory.
The only way he'd use black stockings was if life hit rock bottom—pulling one over his head for an American-style "shock" to the locals.
Stockings, fine. But bare legs?
Satoru rubbed his chin.
His gaze caught a pair of long, shapely legs—firm yet soft, perfectly balanced, bare of any stockings. The skin was so flawless it practically begged to be poked for that satisfying squish…
Not cold? he wondered.
His eyes drifted up to see who this bold soul was.
The legs matched their owner—a stunning girl in a pleated skirt just above the knee and a tight blouse… or rather, a blouse strained by her curvaceous figure. The buttons at her chest bore pressure no button should endure.
Just standing there, she drew lecherous stares. Those guys probably thought, I've lived my whole life, but never as well as that button.
—Satoru excluded himself, of course. All critique!
When he saw her short, ear-hanging hair and baseball cap, he looked away.
Nanao Akane.
Nothing to see here.
Was she… on a date with Katamori Shono?
Satoru's gaze softened, auntie-like. Perfect, just perfect…
"Yo, Nanao!"
A gruff voice boomed from the side.
Satoru froze, turning.
It was… Higashi?!
Wait.
Satoru's mind raced. Akane's date wasn't Shono—it was Higashi?!
Akane's expression held reluctance but no surprise.
This wasn't a chance meeting—they'd planned this!
Satoru's pupils shrank to pinpricks, danger sensed.
Something was off.
He'd intimidated Higashi and warned Akane to steer clear of that beast.
…They'd been in contact behind his back!
Satoru cursed under his breath. "Damn it…"
The NTR scum's heart refuses to die!
"Coach… Higashi," Akane mumbled, avoiding his gaze.
Higashi grinned, his yellow teeth glinting in the sun. Victory oozed from him. Akane felt a wave of nausea, but…
"Let's go!" Higashi barked, commanding.
Too funny! Higashi gloated inwardly. That puny Anji—or Kobayashi, whatever—thinks he can stop me? Naive! Too naive! A few tricks, and I've got Nanao out here!
What could "Anji" do now?
Heh… maybe I'll record what we're about to "do" and post it online. If he's lucky, he'll scroll past it. With her face blurred, he might even use it as a substitute. That scrawny, gloomy kid probably never touched a decent girl—let him hide under his blanket and deal with it!
Higashi's grin widened.
"…Alright," Akane said, lips tight.
Higashi strode ahead, her small frame trailing, dwarfed by his broad shoulders and towering height, lost in his shadow.
But then—
Akane felt a cool grip on her wrist.
"Huh?"
She turned, barely glimpsing who it was.
The figure pulled her behind him.
Akane blinked, then saw him glance back, smiling.
"…Nanao, you owe me a damn good explanation later."
His tone was calm but carried an undeniable weight… and his eyes.
She couldn't describe them.
They chilled her to the core, sparking instinctive fear…
Gaze of the Strong activated.
Even so, Akane felt an overwhelming sense of safety.
This was… "Anji Seiji," the hero who'd saved her in the sports shed.
Her lips quivered, but she stayed silent.
Satoru didn't press her, turning his piercing gaze to Higashi.
Higashi hadn't expected Satoru to show up now.
"…Anji! What the hell are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same," Satoru said, tilting his chin. "Coach Higashi, in broad daylight, strolling with your student on a holiday? A date?"
"N-No way…" Higashi stammered. As a teacher, being caught "dating" a student could cost him his job—or worse, land him in court. "Nanao and I are just shopping for club supplies. Mind your own business!"
Satoru glanced back at Akane, his eyes scolding. You let him drag you out alone?
It's not like that! Her gaze pleaded, misty with unshed tears.
Satoru felt her slender wrist tremble.
…
…