Yanami's pretty face flushed, and she took a slightly trembling, deep breath. Pressing her hands to his shoulders, she said coldly, "You are not allowed to be alone with Lemon at night ever again!"
While the two bickered, the atmosphere between Yakishio Lemon and Ayano also slowly warmed up. After all, they were childhood sweethearts with good feelings for each other, and they'd never had any real falling-out in elementary school—at most, they'd simply had less time together after entering high school.
Now seemed like a… good opportunity?
In a small accessory shop in the mall, Lemon picked up a strawberry hairpin, secretly mustered her courage, and said with a casual smile:
"Speaking of which, Mitsuki, I recently read a light novel that was specifically about tanka."
"Eh? There's actually a novel like that? What's it called?"
Ayano Mitsuki was indeed interested. He pushed up his glasses, curiosity bright—already far more engaged than when they'd first started shopping.
Lemon said the title, then turned her head and continued:
"I really like a tanka in it. I remember it was something like, 'Difficult to fulfill desires in this world, only in dreams do we meet; then do I know how unbearable loneliness is'?"
"Hm? That's Ono no Komachi's waka, isn't it? That Heian-period poetess loved using dreams to express love, but… I feel like this line isn't quite right, and I haven't checked the original text…"
The childhood friend replied with a smile, his tone unconsciously rising. It was a niche hobby; it wasn't easy to find someone to discuss it with.
"You can do it, Lemon!" Yanami clenched her fists outside the shop.
Kiyono also nodded. Starting with a hobby was indeed the right approach.
But then, a soft female voice echoed in their ears—gentle and quiet, with a watery tenderness that conjured the image of a literary girl reading in the glow of sunset.
"Eh? Mitsuki? What a coincidence."
A gentle girl stepped into view. Her amethyst-like eyes and soft smile made one feel bathed in a spring breeze.
Yanami and Kiyono took sharp breaths, faces turning solemn.
It wasn't a coincidence.
Empress Asahi—she had come.
Kiyono wondered if it was his imagination, but he felt as if the girl had subtly glanced in his direction.
"Chihaya? What are you doing here?" Ayano Mitsuki showed a smile of surprise and delight, momentarily stunning Lemon beside him.
"Just came to the mall to buy some daily necessities…"
The literary girl pursed her lips and lightly lifted the plastic bag in her hand.
"Is this… Miss Lemon, whom Mitsuki often mentions?"
Asahi Chihaya walked up to them, her demeanor impeccable.
Mitsuki nodded and introduced them, and Kiyono sighed inwardly—I'm playing extreme survival here, and you two are playing youthful romance. The disparity!
"I've always wanted to meet Miss Lemon. You are indeed, as Mitsuki described, a radiant beauty."
Asahi's voice came through the earpiece.
"No, no, it's not like that—ahaha…" Yakishio Lemon scratched her head, clearly pleased. Don't just believe the enemy's words!
Kiyono silently complained.
"Chihaya, I was just discussing a short poem with Lemon, but something felt off. You often read poetry collections; can you help?"
Ayano asked curiously.
"Well… it's not exactly wrong, just imprecise. The original tanka is: 'Even if reality does not go as I wish, I long to meet you in dreams. A fleeting meeting there is better than eternal separation in this world.' Doesn't that feel more poetic?"
(In this life, even if my wishes cannot be fulfilled, at least in dreams, grant me the chance to meet you.)
Asahi tapped her chin with her index finger and gently recited, the rhythm and cadence of a tanka in her voice.
"Indeed, that's it. While 'loneliness' can directly express solitude, poetry is better when it's more subtle," Ayano praised.
"Ah, but I didn't mean to negate Miss Lemon's point… Tanka are used differently across mediums; a simplified quotation in a light novel is perfectly fine. Please don't mind it…"
Realizing something, Asahi quickly bowed her head in sincere apology.
"It's fine, Chihaya. Lemon isn't petty or sensitive," Ayano said with a smile.
"Ha—hahahaha…"
Lemon could only give a dry laugh and scratch her cheek.
What could she say?
She watched the two unconsciously draw closer, chatting and laughing, and gradually fell silent.
There was an atmosphere she couldn't break into—even as the childhood friend.
Mitsuki… he shows a completely different expression with this girl. His smile is gentler and more genuine; his gaze stays on Asahi Chihaya's face—a demeanor he never has with me.
Even though she had read novels and memorized a few tanka to share his hobby, it couldn't compare to a single sentence from that girl…
What was I even trying to achieve?
"Moreover, compared to that slightly melancholic poem, I prefer another from the collection: 'This feeling hidden deep in my heart—I wish to speak but find no one to listen. If I could find a kindred spirit to whisper with, why would I sigh alone all day?'"
Asahi's words were deliberate, carrying the classical grace of a Heian woman. As she recited the line, she glanced softly at Ayano Mitsuki. His face flushed; he pushed up his glasses—he understood.
This was the "fated encounter" archetype. While the childhood friend still shyly avoided her crush's gaze, the "fated encounter" had already made a grand entrance—heavy cavalry on the romantic battlefield. Once they charge, there's no stopping them.
Too strong… and too tragic.
Kiyono sighed, sympathy swelling for Yakishio Lemon. He'd witnessed her effort—her initiative—and yet it lost to a few casual words exchanged in their daily rhythm.
Putting himself in her shoes, he felt a twinge of discomfort.
Against this demon-king-level literary girl, Lemon's chances were near zero.
He covered his face; he couldn't watch.
Yanami must have felt the same way facing 8K… He glanced at the girl beside him—strangely, she showed little emotional fluctuation, none of her earlier anti–fated-encounter solidarity.
Odd.
"Miss Yanami, remember to comfort Lemon later," Kiyono sighed. That was all he could do.
"Mhm!" Yanami nodded vigorously.
Meanwhile, standing in the middle of it all, Yakishio Lemon watched the two chat and laugh, and slowly lowered her gaze.
Ah, so that's how it is.
They were right before her, speaking to her, and yet a great distance yawned between them. She could only stand there, watching.
A sudden pang in her chest.
Let's go home, she thought.
After the failed operation that weekend, Yakishio Lemon's life seemed to return to its old rhythm: school, running; school, running. She still joked with her childhood friend during breaks, and her mood stayed even when she saw him with Asahi. It was just that…
"Lemon? Lemon—Little Lemon?"
In the classroom, a lively voice called several times before she came back to herself. She belatedly looked at the friend waving at her and blinked.
"What's wrong, Yanami?"
"Are you really okay, Lemon?"
Yanami leaned close, worry written on her pretty face. For two days now, Lemon had been spacing out, lacking her usual vibrant energy.
…Yanami probably understood her feelings; that was why she couldn't relax.
"Of course I'm fine! I'm a passionate sports girl—how could I be defeated by a small setback!"
To reassure her friend, Yakishio Lemon flexed her right arm like a strongman and flashed a bright smile.
But the emotions swelling inside still made her afraid to stay. She tossed out a quick excuse about club activities and left the classroom.
Watching her friend's retreating figure, Yanami let out a soft sigh.
"Lemon, the competition starts in a few days. Is your condition a bit off lately?"
On the track, the women's coach looked at the stopwatch, frowning at the time.
A 100-meter sprint lasts only a dozen seconds, but it's precise: start, posture, acceleration—every detail affects the result, and those tenths of a second determine victory.
The former Lemon had been impeccable. Now, small mistakes crept in, and her times kept slipping.
"Sorry. I'll increase my training volume!"
Yakishio Lemon bit her lip. Has my mood gotten this bad? Not only is my friend worried, even my performance…
"I actually don't think what you need right now is that…"
The coach scratched her head, but the girl had already started on another lap.
Morning dew dripped from green leaves onto the asphalt. In the bright sunlight, students in uniforms strolled along the riverbank while office workers hurried by with briefcases. The air was fresh with a hint of coolness.
Amid the vending machine's hum, Yakishio Lemon ran along a wooded path. Crystal sweat gathered on her chin and finally fell into the pavement cracks.
Jog. Speed up. Sprint.
Da, da-da-da, da-da. Her footfalls were unusually chaotic.
"Haa… I'll stop here for today…"
Breathing hard, she climbed the steps to a small shrine, then lay on the floor, staring blankly at the sky.
Alone, she no longer hid her state. Normally, she would relax her muscles and adjust before lying down; now she just wanted to empty her mind.
If running had once been for fitness, joy, and improvement, now it was simply to escape.
And it had been this way for days.
She knew why.
The scene from that day kept flashing in her mind.
And the feelings she'd had then.
"I… lost."
She stretched a hand toward the sky and sighed.
Perhaps there was still a chance on the battlefield called love, but she knew: in her last confrontation with Asahi Chihaya, she had already lost—utterly and completely.
The frustration of defeat, the shame of not daring to confront, the sting of reaching out and being hurt—emotions tangled together until she couldn't name any of them.
Only the pain was certain.
So she no longer cared whether her childhood friend was dating Asahi. Whether they got together or married, she didn't want to think about it. She just wanted to stay in her own lane—because she didn't want to feel that way again.
Even with that passive decision, she still struggled deep down.
Yakishio Lemon had grown up in privilege—like a princess doted on since childhood.
Her family was harmonious and happy, her elders elites in many fields: hospital directors, lawyers, professors… and they adored her. She could have almost anything she wanted. Her life had been nearly worry-free.
Her personality was good; in elementary school, she was a leader among the kids. In junior high, as she matured, she often received confessions. She also had outstanding athletic talent.
Ah… when did I start loving running?
The thought flickered. Maybe it began with the thrill of easily winning PE races in elementary school—or the passion stirred by sports anime on TV. By the time she noticed, she had already fallen in love with it.
As long as she worked hard, she succeeded. With a goal, she could achieve it. Even if temporarily defeated, she would win it back later.
That process utterly fascinated her.
Her life had always flowed smoothly.
Unknowingly, she'd started believing she was like those admired star athletes and sports-anime protagonists: passionate, brave, strong—able to face anything positively.
But she was wrong.
She wasn't that strong. Maybe her "bravery" came from favorable conditions and strong talent. If she could see future victory, charging ahead took no courage.
Now, fighting in a different arena—facing only hurt and setbacks—she was terrified.
Too scared to take the next step.