The buzz of the phone's vibration woke Hojou Kyousuke. Groggily, he reached over and turned off the alarm.
Seriously though, why hadn't Mitsuha at least pulled the blanket over him before she fell asleep?
Sitting up, he instinctively opened his phone to check yesterday's notes.
But the moment the screen unlocked… a photo of a pair of long legs in sheer black stockings popped up.
What the—!?
The stockings were just the right thickness, showing off the flawless leg shape while still allowing a faint glimpse of the pale skin underneath.
The perfect combination of curves and sleek lines, this was high-tier, model-level legwork.
'Where the hell had that miko girl found this picture?'
In Kyousuke's mind, someone with legs this good had to be a top-tier celebrity—main character material.
He reluctantly tore his eyes away from the image, finally noticing the photo had been sent in a chat.
The sender? A user named "Naoto." And the account logged into his phone wasn't his own, it was one named "Sayuka."
So Mitsuha made her own account now?
Kyousuke considered logging out.
After all, it was technically her private space.
But then again, with how tangled their lives were these days, did privacy even exist between them anymore? And anyway—this was his phone.
If someone was sending Mitsuha questionable photos, he needed to make sure she wasn't being scammed.
After scrolling up through the chat, everything started making sense.
———————————————————————
"If you're in this chatroom, you're part of the Rampaging Angels too, right?" —Naoto
"Yup, and you too?" —Mitsuha
"Of course. Hey, have you read the boss's manga, One Punch Man?" —Naoto
"Totally! It's amazing!"
"I'm so jealous. I have to wait till next week to get it. So, compared to that, do you think the illustrations in Love Metronome need improvement?" —Naoto
"Not at all! Sayuka's illustrations perfectly match how I imagine her—especially her legs in those black stockings. Totally envy-worthy."
"Envy-worthy?!" —Naoto
"Yup. I doubt any girl in real life could have legs like that."
"Hmm… Actually, I know someone whose legs look even better than Sayuka's." —Naoto
"No way! I wanna see!"
"This is my friend's photo. Just for your eyes, okay? Don't share it. (image)"
———————————————————————
And then—nothing.
Kyousuke checked the timestamp.
It was already midnight by then.
Judging by how Mitsuha had passed out without even pulling the covers over, she must've fallen asleep while waiting for the picture.
She didn't even log out of the account.
Before that, the two had chatted for hours about Love Metronome.
Mitsuha had basically copied and pasted stuff straight from his notebook, throwing in the occasional compliment about the author.
So Naoto, that "friend" of yours... that's just you, right?
And Mitsuha, seriously… why is a girl like you so into other girls' legs in black stockings?
Thank god she wasn't using his account.
Otherwise Naoto might've thought he was the weirdo.
Naoto hadn't messaged again after sending the pic.
Maybe he'd been crushed by the lack of response?
Kyousuke guessed as much.
He hesitated, then tapped into the chat box.
———————————————————————
"Sorry, I fell asleep last night. Your legs are really beautiful."
———————————————————————
He hit send.
It's not like he wanted to say that—it was just so Mitsuha wouldn't hurt the feelings of a new friend she'd finally managed to make.
———————————————————————
"They're not my legs! They're my friend's!" —Naoto
———————————————————————
Oh. Whoops.
Truth slipped out a bit too fast.
Kyousuke hadn't expected such a quick reply.
Then again, if Naoto was a Rampaging Angel, he'd be up and about this time of morning.
———————————————————————
"Sorry, typo. I meant—your friend's legs. Definitely more beautiful than Sayuka's illustrations."
"Hmm."
"I'm heading to school now. Let's chat again later."
"Sure. Later."
———————————————————————
Kyousuke logged out without poking around the account any further.
He switched back to his own and sent Eriri a message about visiting her later that evening.
———————————————————————
"My mom wants you to come for dinner too." —Eriri
"Got it." —Kyousuke
———————————————————————
His fingers flew across the screen.
The familiar, casual exchange warmed him.
It reminded him of his past life—of those rare adults who'd shown him real kindness.
Only Sakura and Shouko's mothers had ever made him feel like that.
After finishing a quick breakfast, he slung his bag over his shoulder and hopped on his bike to head to school.
Mitsuha hadn't left any memo about the publishing contract yesterday.
The money had already hit the account, but he needed to talk to Kisaki Tetta about the details.
———————————————————————
—Meanwhile, in Kawahikari City—
"Shi-chan, you're going to be late," Kasumigaoka Yayoi called softly from outside her daughter's door.
Odd. Even when Utaha stayed up late reading novels, she'd usually crash at school, not skip it altogether.
Yayoi waited a few seconds, but there was no response.
She slowly opened the door and saw her daughter sprawled on the bed, still in her nightgown, a soft smile on her face.
Her white pajama dress had ridden up to her waist, both legs bare, and a faint line of drool traced the corner of her lips.
It was rare to catch her daughter sleeping in like this.
Yayoi's face softened into a smile filled with affection.
Quietly, she stepped closer and wiped the drool from Utaha's cheek, then gently pinched her sleeping face.
"Shi-chan only ever looks this adorable when she's asleep."
Murmuring to herself, Yayoi pulled the nightgown back down to cover her daughter's legs, then reached for the phone clutched tightly in Utaha's hands.
But even in sleep, her daughter clung to it fiercely.
The moment Yayoi applied the slightest pressure, Utaha's delicate eyebrows furrowed—she was about to wake up.
"You can sleep with your phone, then," she whispered with a chuckle.
Putting the pieces together from the dinner conversation last night, Yayoi guessed her daughter must've stayed up late messaging Hojou Kyousuke.
But the truth? Both Yayoi and Kyousuke were wrong.
The black-haired girl hadn't stayed up late talking, she had stayed up waiting, eyes glued to her screen the entire night, hoping for a reply.
She only fell asleep moments ago, finally satisfied after seeing his message.
Giving up on the phone, Yayoi adjusted her daughter's sleeping position and pulled the blanket over her again.
Then she left the room and called the school to excuse her for the day.
———————————————————————
—Back to Kyousuke—
Kyousuke pedaled steadily down the asphalt road.
After everything that had happened, he'd gotten pretty good on a bike.
He no longer needed his subordinates to slow down for him during their late-night rides.
While waiting at the red light, Kyousuke watched the people crossing the street—students in uniform with backpacks, and office workers in black suits clutching briefcases, all in a rush.
He couldn't help but feel genuinely grateful to Makki Hojou.
If it weren't for him, Kyousuke would still be cramming into packed subway trains every morning.
As April drew to a close, Tokyo's temperature had begun to rise.
The wind against his face while riding his motorcycle felt refreshingly pleasant, partly thanks to his helmet filtering out some of the exhaust fumes.
When he arrived at school, his underclassmen greeted him with unusually bright, cheerful smiles.
Huh? Kyousuke blinked.
Why did it feel like they were being friendlier than usual?
Sure, his subordinates had always been respectful, but today there was a noticeable warmth that hadn't been there before.
"Kisaki," he said casually, "tell me more about the contract from yesterday."
Now that Kisaki Tetta had fully bought into the idea that Miyamizu Mitsuha was a split personality, Kyousuke had no reason to be subtle.
"Yes," Kisaki replied promptly.
"The contract details are as follows: Editor-in-Chief Shimomura pulled some strings to secure an excellent feature spot in the next issue."
"As for the manuscript fees, those were already settled yesterday—15,000 yen per page, after tax. The magazine will handle the necessary taxes when the time comes."
"Since you said half the royalties go to your 'partner,' I kept half in cash and accompanied Miyamizu Mitsuha to deposit the other half in the bank."
Kisaki pulled out a small notebook and read the details line by line, methodically.
When he finished, he snapped it shut and adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses.
"Haha, thanks a lot, Kisaki. You really are dependable!" Kyousuke clapped him on the shoulder with a grin.
It was honestly comforting to have someone this reliable at his side.
"I'm just doing my job."
"Oh, by the way, did you notice the others being way more friendly with me today? Any idea what that's about?"
"Nope!" Kisaki answered a little too quickly and firmly.
As if I'd tell you they all think you were handing out freebies yesterday…
Everyone got to spar with you one-on-one and actually hold their own for once.
Of course they're emotionally invested now.
Kyousuke narrowed his eyes suspiciously but didn't press the issue.
Whatever the reason, it didn't seem like a bad thing.
"Morning classes are about to start," Kisaki said, turning back to his book. "You should focus on learning."
Later that day during kendo club practice, it became immediately clear to everyone: their unbeatable club president was back.
No one could last even a single round against him, let alone score a point.
"Well, I guess that kind of miracle only happens once," groaned Eikichi Onizuka, sprawled on the floor, gasping for air.
"What, you wanted to land two clean hits on the prez every day?" Danma Ryuji huffed beside him, equally defeated.
"All right, everyone! Get back up and keep training!" Makki Hojou clapped loudly, rallying the exhausted club members.
Most of the kendo club's main lineup were now second-years.
Once next year came around, everyone would be too focused on university entrance exams.
This was their last shot at winning the National High School Kendo Championship.
"Yessir!" shouted Kanahara Takao and the others, scrambling to their feet despite their fatigue.
"Man, this really is the full high school experience," Kyousuke said with a nostalgic smile.
He had already showered, changed back into his normal clothes, and stepped out of the locker room.
The sound of blades clashing and voices yelling fired him up in a strange, bittersweet way.
"You've got a date, right? Then hurry up and get outta here. You're in the way," Makki Hojou said, waving him off like an annoying little brother.
"Hahaha, worried about me, are you? How about we do an intensive training camp in July after break?" Kyousuke offered with a grin.
"What are you even talking about? That's already a given. Everyone in the club's staying behind during break and training till they drop!"
"Sounds terrifying."
"Well, weren't you already planning to compete in the National Junior High Kendo Tournament and then swing by your hometown in Hokkaido afterward?"
Makki's tone became lighthearted as he mentioned the junior tournament.
Unlike the high school championship, the junior one allowed a single outstanding fighter to go on a solo run—defeating an entire team alone and claiming victory, like something out of Yatsurugi.
"Oh, right. I forgot all about that," Kyousuke said, scratching his head.
With his recent success as a writer and newfound income, he no longer needed to rely on the tournament as an excuse to travel home.
"Don't slack off now, you punk," Makki grinned.
"Anyway, I'm heading out. You guys don't overdo it—Onizuka already looks like he's gonna foam at the mouth." Kyousuke gave a small wave.
"Kisaki, I'm leaving you in charge. Hang in there."
After Kyousuke left, Kisaki finally let out a long breath of relief.
He'd done way too much yesterday, managing the publicity strategy, manipulating Kyousuke's "alternate personality" to take a beating, organizing the fan club… Every one of those was a landmine waiting to blow up in his face.
Oh, and naturally, the kind-hearted shrine maiden Mitsuha hadn't written down Kisaki's name in her notes.
She might grumble about the studying and sparring, but she knew Kisaki only pushed her so hard because he cared.
As Kyousuke headed to the parking area, he sent a message to Okudera Miki, letting her know he wouldn't be able to make it to The Garden of Words tonight due to work.
It was just past five, and the roads in Tokyo weren't too congested yet.
Technically, for Tokyo, the real "rush hours" happened on the subways, from six all the way to the last train, public transit stayed packed with tired salarymen heading home.
Cruising through the streets, Kyousuke soon arrived at the Old Furukawa Gardens.
This time, under Eriri's strict instructions, he didn't park his bike in the usual lot.
Instead, he rode straight up to the Western-style mansion's main entrance.
He had barely turned off the engine when he saw her—standing at the door in a beautiful blue dress.
Her long golden hair was tied up in neat twin-tails, resting elegantly over her shoulders.
A peek of white sleeves under her dress revealed she was wearing a blouse beneath the jumper, and the row of small gold buttons lining the bodice added a formal touch.
The skirt fell just to her knees, the hem pristine, showing off her long, slender legs—an unmistakable mark of youth and energy.
"How long are you going to keep staring, perv? Hurry up and come inside already!" Eriri called out.
Her little fang peeked out as she grinned triumphantly, clearly pleased with his reaction.
"Good afternoon, Eriri," Kyousuke said as he walked up. "But hey, what happened to your usual green tracksuit? I thought you liked comfy clothes at home?"
"Shut up! I'll wear whatever I want!" she huffed, crossing her arms and turning away with a dramatic scoff.
"Don't get the wrong idea, I didn't dress up just because you were coming, you narcissist!"
"Well, I never said that exactly… but you really do look beautiful" Kyousuke said with a grin as he followed her inside.
"Hmph, like I needed you to tell me that," Eriri huffed again, but the way her lips curled into a proud little smile gave her away.
"Good afternoon, Hojou-kun," came a warm voice from the living room.
Standing there with perfect posture was Sawamura Sayuri, just like Eriri had described before elegant and impeccably dressed, this time in a flowing black evening gown that looked like she was headed to a formal banquet.
The outfit flattered her graceful figure effortlessly.
"Sorry for intruding again, Sayuri-auntie," Kyousuke greeted her with a respectful bow.
With Sayuri-san at home, that could only mean tonight's dinner had been prepared by Spencer-san himself.
"Kyousuke-kun, come on over! I've made some of my best British cuisine for you tonight!" Spencer called out cheerfully from the kitchen doorway.
Leaning out with an apron tied around his waist—an apron, Kyousuke noticed, boldly decorated with colorful anime girls.
Truly a model otaku diplomat.
Relieved, Kyousuke entered the kitchen and spotted the so-called "British cuisine" on the table: fish and chips. Nothing overly experimental. He let out a small sigh of relief.
"Come on, dig in!" Spencer urged eagerly the moment Kyousuke sat down.
"That sauce over there," Eriri added, pointing to a small dish of brown sauce on the table, "was made by my mom. So you can eat it without worrying."
"Thanks." Kyousuke nodded politely.
"Hurry up and eat already. My dad's been grinning like an idiot ever since he heard you were coming over."
"Lily, weren't you the one who started bouncing around the house at lunchtime—"
"Shut it! Eat your damn fries!" Eriri snapped, turning her head away as she stabbed a piece of grilled cod, sprinkled it with a pinch of sesame salt, and stuffed it into her mouth with puffed cheeks.