After having a huge argument with Miyuki, Kei stormed out of the apartment.
"Senpai, why are you here?"
As soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs and looked up, she saw Takashi leaning casually against a black-and-white motorcycle.
The motorcycle had a rugged design with smooth lines, giving off an aesthetic that was both powerful and athletic.
Even someone like Kei, who had never been interested in motorcycles, had to admit it looked cool.
"I waited for you at the shop for quite a while, but you didn't show up. I messaged you and you didn't reply, so I figured I'd come check in on you."
After Takashi spoke, he seemed to notice something. With a faint smile, he said, "Took a quick shower, huh?"
"Ah, uh… no, I mean, it's just... um…"
Kei suddenly looked like a little girl whose secret had just been exposed. A soft blush rose to her pale cheeks.
She was just like a girl who had dressed up carefully to meet her boyfriend, only for him to immediately notice the difference and compliment her.
Girls, being emotional creatures, care deeply about the details.
Takashi's attention to those little things and how he picked up on them made Kei feel noticed, cherished even.
That mix of sweetness and shyness swirled in her chest like the taste of seasonal satsuma mandarins—warm and subtly tangy.
She sneaked a glance at Takashi, only for their eyes to meet—his filled with a teasing smile.
She instantly averted her gaze again. "Senpai, how did you know?"
"Next time, wait until your hair's completely dry before coming down. I'm not in a hurry."
A single shirt couldn't hide the rosy flush of her skin, and with her beautiful, still-damp silver hair, it was obvious she had just taken a shower.
Girls with long hair need time to fully dry it.
Knowing Takashi was waiting for her, Kei didn't want to keep him waiting too long, so she had only dried her hair about 70–80% before moving on to her makeup.
Unlike her rough attitude toward her older brother, she was sweet and obedient around Takashi.
People are strange like that.
They often show their worst tempers to those closest to them, and save their best sides for outsiders.
Takashi swung a leg over the bike and sat down.
"W-We're riding that?"
Kei glanced at the tiny bit of space left on the back seat of the motorcycle and hesitated.
Influenced by romance manga, she believed the passenger seat of a car and the back seat of a motorcycle were sacred spots—reserved for girlfriends only.
If she sat there, wouldn't it be like silently admitting their relationship?
A girl has to be reserved!
"What are you thinking? Don't you have a bicycle at home?"
Takashi gave her a strange look, as if she were the weird one.
"You ride your bike, I'll take the motorcycle."
Kei stood there dumbfounded, her mouth slightly open in disbelief.
Why aren't you following the script?
At this point, isn't the senpai supposed to invite her to sit on the back of the bike, just like in the manga?
Then she'd refuse repeatedly, annoy him, and eventually be forced onto the back seat?
What the heck is with making her ride a bicycle to follow him?
Takashi glanced at her shocked expression, thought for a moment, and suddenly understood.
"You weren't hoping to ride on the back seat, were you?"
If he were riding alone, he'd only be responsible for himself.
But if he let Kei sit on the back, then he'd be responsible for her too.
Sure, the chances were low, but what if something happened?
Besides, their relationship wasn't that close yet—not close enough for her to just hop onto the back like that.
If he were driving a car with four wheels, fine. She could sit beside him.
But Takashi was too young to drive.
"I wasn't!" Kei blurted out without thinking.
"Then it's settled. Let's go," Takashi urged.
For some reason, Kei felt a little disappointed inside.
Deep down, she had been kind of looking forward to a manga-like moment.
Of course, she would never actually sit on the back seat no matter what—expectations were one thing, actions another.
Just as she turned her head, she ran into her older brother, Shirogane Miyuki.
The moment she saw him, her demeanor instantly turned sharp again, her expression going blank.
She didn't explain anything to Miyuki, nor did she acknowledge him. She just went to retrieve the only bike they had at home.
Whenever the siblings argued, they wouldn't speak to each other for at least three days—it was tradition.
Miyuki didn't look at his sister. At that moment, his face was tense as he stared at Takashi.
With eyes so fierce they looked like they could kill, it wouldn't be far-fetched to think he'd committed murder.
While his sister was off getting the bicycle, Shirogane Miyuki finally seized the chance to speak to this blond-haired boy.
He glared at Takashi intensely, trying to intimidate him.
He used to hate his eyes.
Because they were so fierce, a lot of students at Shuchiin were afraid of him, and he had very few friends.
But today, for once, he was grateful for them.
Takashi replied coolly without flinching, "Aoba High. Kitahara Takashi."
He had already noticed Shirogane Miyuki staring at him.
But he didn't get why.
Miyuki blinked in surprise.
He had thought Takashi was just some delinquent from a public school.
But it turned out he was from Aoba?
Shirogane Miyuki knew Aoba Private High.
He had even considered applying there himself at one point.
But Aoba's scholarship spots had gone to students from Hokkaido, and his dad had unilaterally signed him up for Shuchiin instead, so he'd just gone with it.
"You're the guy who ranked third in the last national mock exam?" Miyuki suddenly remembered—the kid from Hokkaido... wasn't that this guy?
"That's right." Takashi paused, then added, "But next time, I'll be first."
A vein popped up on Miyuki's forehead.
"Oh? Confident, aren't you? You really think you can surpass me?"
Grades were the one thing Shirogane Miyuki was truly proud of.
And in that area, he didn't want to lose to anyone.
He had actually thought fairly well of Takashi at first.
If his sister were dating someone like Takashi, he could accept it.
But only if Takashi proved himself a decent person and their relationship was under his watchful eye.
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