Living in the Heart of Tokyo

Shouko's water bottle was an adorable pink one, wrapped in a handmade fabric cover that looked like something an elementary schooler would carry—complete with a tiny patchwork bird sewn onto it.

Kyousuke and Sakura had matching covers, all made by Naoka, though neither of them ever actually drank the water they brought.

Just like Shouko had said, the water was a bit cool—but for someone with a stomach as ironclad as his, it wasn't an issue.

If anything, the chill made it even more refreshing.

It had a faint sweetness to it—not from sugar, but something that tasted vaguely like a medicinal herb.

Though he didn't notice anything obviously wrong, Kyousuke still asked with concern, "Shouko, what did you use to brew this?"

Even though Shouko was still just a low-profile newcomer in the agency—someone who wouldn't threaten anyone's position.

Kyousuke's instinct to protect kicked in regardless.

Just like he had told her before, every industry had its dark corners that outsiders rarely saw.

"It's honeysuckle. Why, does it taste weird?" Shouko asked, looking worried.

"Not at all. It's actually pretty good," Kyousuke replied with a smile, keeping his earlier concerns to himself.

"I brewed it this morning. The doctor said decocting it works better than just steeping it. Tomorrow, I'll switch to ophiopogon root."

"One of the senior voice actors taught me, and I even consulted with a professional herbalist—so no need to worry at all~"

Although Kyousuke hid it well, Shouko who knew he never commented on things he didn't care about—quickly saw through it.

Tilting her head slightly, she smiled gently.

"I see. You've really become dependable, Shouko."

Kyousuke reached out and gave her soft cheek a little pinch.

From the beginning, Shouko wasn't the type of girl who would just hide behind him, waiting to be protected.

Even when she was scared, she would close her eyes, summon her courage, and charge forward.

Back then, she didn't have the confidence to face the world head-on.

But by shutting her eyes, it was like she could block out everything that frightened her and let her inner strength surface.

And now, just like he had said before, even Yukinoshita couldn't manage things in the agency as well as Shouko could.

She had grown into someone who could see clearly and walk her own path, able to take care of herself without relying on him—putting those who cared about her at ease.

"Hehe~~ It's thanks to you, Kyousuke-kun. The seniors at the agency treat me really well."

Feeling his hand on her cheek, Shouko's smile grew even more bashful.

"I'm not surprised. President Matsuda told me you're progressing really fast. If you could just get over that shyness, you'd be ready to debut."

Earlier, he'd heard from the agency that Shouko was doing quite well in her training.

But when he talked to her, she made it sound like she was way behind.

The contradiction had made him call again for clarification, and that's when he finally learned the truth.

Matsuda was referring to her technical voice acting skills—things like vocal control and delivery.

What Shouko meant by "falling short" was her inability to perform calmly when actually recording.

These days, voice actors were basically idols.

Singing and dancing were expected of the younger ones, and even a 60-year-old veteran might be dragged on stage to promote something.

That's why the agency's core training also included singing, physical movement, and performance.

Shouko was extremely diligent and making great progress—except for one hurdle: her shyness.

If it were just stage performance, they could still market her as a "bashful girl" type.

That kind of moe angle still sold.

But Shouko's shyness extended even to recording.

She could nail her lines when she was alone, but that wasn't sustainable.

She wasn't an illustrator, after all—it wasn't feasible to have her record voice lines alone at home and send them in.

That would only create unnecessary work and annoy her colleagues.

After explaining all this, President Matsuda had asked Kyousuke if he could help Shouko overcome it somehow.

But he had just laughed and brushed it off.

She was still in the learning phase, and enjoying herself.

Any real problems could be left to future them.

After all, he'd already made up his mind to start his own anime company someday.

Worst-case scenario, he could just build Shouko her own personal recording booth—he did buy that massive building, after all.

Just like he never tried to change Eriri's tsundere nature, he had no intention of forcing Shouko to change her bashfulness either.

Their flaws were part of their charm, there was no reason someone had to be perfect in every way to be lovable.

And the best example of that philosophy was standing right in front of him—Yukinoshita Yukino.

Brilliant, logical, and unwaveringly fair, she was like a holy presence too good for this world.

But at the same time...

"You don't need to extend your arm that straight."

"What, are you trying to stab Yuigahama-san next to you? Or do you have steel rods implanted in your body?" "

"Did the designer forget to add joints? Are you one of the defective models that didn't make it past quality control?"

Her sharp, merciless words flew like bullets from her perfectly formed lips.

Even in moments like this, she moved with elegance—though her eyes burned with disdain.

Nearby, Saika and Yui had already retreated to a safe distance, trembling in fear that they might be her next targets.

Ironically, both of them were actually dancing pretty well.

No prizes for guessing who was being targeted—none other than Kyousuke.

Despite guidance from both Shouko and Yui on either side, his dancing was as hopeless as his singing.

In the face of Yukinoshita's "verbal assassination," Kyousuke just kept smiling with a lazy, helpless expression.

Even Shouko wasn't flustered like she used to be in the Service Club days.

Either because she knew Yukinoshita was genuinely trying to teach Kyousuke, or because she was just used to her now.

"I really am trying." Kyousuke looked Yukinoshita in the eyes, hoping his sincerity would make her give up.

She wasn't exactly popular, but her fairness earned everyone's respect.

If she signed off on his performance, maybe the others would finally stop forcing him to dance.

"Don't worry, Hojou-san. You're not Shiva—your dancing won't destroy the world. At most, it'll just leave a deep emotional scar on your classmates."

"But I'm sure Nishimiya-san won't mind, so you might as well go all out."

Yukinoshita didn't believe Kyousuke was actually incapable of learning the dance.

After watching footage of his matches, she knew just how well he could control his body.

The way he wielded a blade often involved impossible angles and movements, disappearing under an opponent's guard to land precise strikes.

Even his footwork was top-tier.

Though she wasn't an expert, she could recognize techniques from a wide range of martial arts—kendo, aikido, karate, even traces of ancient Okinawan disciplines—all packed into his movements.

Someone like that couldn't not learn a simple dance.

From his early evasiveness, she concluded he simply didn't want to dance.

And she knew this because… well, it was the same excuse she would use.

As this thought passed through her mind, an image popped into Yukinoshita's head:

Kyousuke, dressed in a black haori, reclining in a chair, lazily waving a folding fan, sipping cola while watching Sakura and Nishimiya dance.

That's right—this man had no sense of collective honor.

If they let him off the hook now, what was once just a warning could easily become reality.

Letting one person off was a small matter.

Undermining everyone else's motivation? That was a big deal.

At those words, Shouko's lips puckered into a pout.

Her cheeks puffed out like a little pufferfish, and her big brown eyes shot an angry glare at Yukinoshita.

She looked like she was on the verge of an outburst.

"Kyousuke-kun was serious! Didn't you see how much he was sweating? When he promises something, he always follows through!"

"Then I'll leave him in your capable hands, Vice Captain. Please make sure he learns!"

Out of nowhere, Sakura popped up and dragged the little pufferfish away.

She ignored Kyousuke's desperate look for help and left him alone with the goddess of justice—Yukinoshita.

Now it was just the two of them.

A boy and a girl, standing silently in a corner of the dojo, staring at each other without moving or speaking.

Though both wore the green and white training uniforms, the tension between them felt like a duel between master swordsmen in the dying days of the shogunate.

The atmosphere was so heavy it felt like a legendary battle could break out at any second.

Sensing the mood, the other students quickly cleared the area, creating a wide-open space around them.

That only made the tension worse.

"I know it's hard to believe, but I'm really bad at dancing," Kyousuke said, forced into battle.

He gave a weak, resigned smile, the kind that said, 'You can have the title of strongest—I've had enough of all this fighting. I just want to relax and enjoy life.'

Unfortunately, his opponent was unmoved.

Yukinoshita stood tall with her arms crossed, a divine aura of invincibility surrounding her.

"Let's start from the beginning."

Her voice was cool and composed, filled with unwavering resolve—as if this dance had become the new obstacle she must conquer on her path through life.

"…Right."

Yukinoshita slowly turned her head to the left, gracefully raising her arms in the same direction.

Her pale wrist peeked out from beneath her sleeve.

Then, with practiced fluidity, she traced a perfect circle in the air with her arms and let her supple waist twist smoothly with the motion.

The entire movement was like flowing water—swift yet elegant.

One couldn't help but imagine how stunning she'd look once she changed into a happi coat.

The way those wide sleeves would sweep through the air in harmony with her dance… the center of that spiral of color, surely, would be a radiant smile.

Except… there was no smile.

Just the goddess of justice, Yukinoshita Yukino, staring at him with her usual blank expression.

The one imagining the smile, of course, was Kyousuke.

All of it had been in his head.

"Heh… That was really good. As expected of Yukinoshita-san," he said with a dry laugh, resisting the urge to clap.

"Your turn," she replied, face as stern as ever.

'Even if you're cute, that look will definitely scare small children,' Kyousuke thought.

'Forget talent agencies—you wouldn't even beat Shouko in a job interview for elementary school teacher.'

'When she taught me, she was gentle as could be. Now that's what a real teacher looks like!'

Even as he complained in his head, Kyousuke took a deep breath, raised his hands, turned to the left, and moved his arms with a clean, practiced sweep.

He spun on his heels and came to a sudden stop.

A sharp gust of wind followed his movement.

When his palms halted, they made a crisp snap sound—not the sound of bones breaking, but the crack of air being split.

A strike fast enough to rupture the air.

At some point, Yukinoshita had opened her mouth wide in surprise.

Her eyes were round as saucers, staring at Kyousuke.

She wasn't the only one stunned.

From afar, Zaimokuza—who had wisely hidden himself earlier—was peeking at the scene.

He might have been terrified of the Ice Queen, but he still cared about his "big bro."

The moment Kyousuke raised his hand, Zaimokuza's heart raced with a mix of excitement and dread.

The sudden, fierce downward strike only confirmed it.

That wasn't just a dance move—it was an air-shattering strike.

If that had landed on Yukinoshita's neck or face, she would've gone flying.

She wouldn't even have time to scream.

Whether she lived or died would've depended entirely on whether anyone caught her fall.

'Yep,' Zaimokuza thought, 'he's pissed off!'

Though he was a little concerned for Yukinoshita's safety, Zaimokuza couldn't help but look forward to seeing his bro unleash his full power.

"So? How was it?" Kyousuke looked at Yukinoshita seriously, having put his all into the performance.

"…Hmm."

Seeing his sincere expression, Yukinoshita realized he wasn't messing with her.

She closed her mouth, swallowed hard, and hesitated for a moment before responding.

"Your force… is impressive."

'This guy… did he misunderstand something? This is dancing—not a martial arts duel!'

She was starting to believe his earlier claim.

He really didn't have a knack for dancing.

For him, even one full move was too complicated.

They'd have to break it down further.

'As expected of me,' Kyousuke thought with pride.

'Just like with singing—if I put my mind to it, not even a music test could stop me. These weak system limitations are nothing. I've already overcome them.'

He gave a satisfied nod.

"Alright, next move!"

The joy of pushing his limits gave him a sudden burst of energy.

"Wait. There's still a lot you need to fix." Yukinoshita took a hesitant step into Kyousuke's range.

'So this is the future of Japanese kendo…?' She had never felt this watching videos.

She used to wonder why, once he took the initiative, his opponents would freeze like statues and let him score.

Now she understood.

It was the overwhelming gap in power.

The food chain.

No wonder the kendo club had gone so far as to beg him on their knees.

Her aikido teacher once said she'd already reached her limit based on talent alone—that no matter how hard she worked, she couldn't match someone truly gifted.

Back then, she thought he meant strength and experience.

Now, she understood.

This wasn't a competition.

This wasn't kendo.

He wasn't her opponent—and yet, for an instant, her heart skipped a beat.

This guy… was a monster.

No wonder the kendo club was so desperate to recruit him.

"For the next move, you don't need to use so much force. Try to relax your body as much as possible," Yukinoshita said as she stepped even closer to Kyousuke's striking range.

She had planned to scold him for endangering her safety, but her tone had softened before she even realized it.

She couldn't believe how gently the words came out of her mouth.

Shame welled up inside her.

All this time, she thought she could uphold justice no matter what she faced.

But now… she was trembling in the face of potential death?

'No,' she corrected herself.

'This isn't death. Just the potential for it.'

Her mind wandered to amusement parks—those terrifying places that haunted her dreams.

Her sister had always played tricks without a care in the world, while she had cowered and trembled, left with nothing but trauma and fear.

'Yamauchi Sakura… does she face this kind of fear every day?'

'Then how does she still smile?'

'How hasn't she been consumed by the shadows?'

'How can she still be so cheerful?'

Yukinoshita glanced across the room toward Sakura, who was laughing and chatting as usual.

Their eyes met.

Sakura pointed at Kyousuke, made a fist, and gave her a little "you got this" gesture.

She gave a gentle nod, then turned her gaze to Hojou Kyousuke, who stood a full head taller than her.

After acknowledging her instructions, he also looked at Yamauchi Sakura, who responded with a wry smile and a playful face.

In his eyes, she saw her reflection.

And in that moment, she understood—behind Yamauchi Sakura stood Hojou Kyousuke.

That's why Sakura could always laugh so freely under the sun, never casting a shadow behind her.

They supported each other.

Yukinoshita had found her answer.

But it had nothing to do with her—it was merely another data point in the study of human emotion.

To conquer the fear of death, she would have to look elsewhere.

The only strength she could truly rely on was her own.

"Absolutely, absolutely don't use that much force!" she emphasized once more.

"Got it, got it~"

"Your arms shouldn't be straight—bend them just a little, about fifteen degrees. And don't hold the other hand so close."

"You're not aiming a bow. Also… soften your gaze. Your eyes are too intense."

Yukinoshita took a step closer, her delicate hands adjusting Hojou Kyousuke's arm like a puppeteer fine-tuning a marionette.

To her satisfaction, he lived up to his reputation as a Tokyo University recruit—extremely responsive to data.

Once she guided his arm into the correct position, he stayed perfectly still, as obedient as a panda plushie on a bed.

You'd never guess this was the same guy who'd been so terrifying just a moment ago.

She stepped back, placed her right hand just under her nose in a thoughtful pose, observed for two seconds.

Then stepped forward again to make a few final tweaks before nodding in approval.

As for Kyousuke, he had come into this fully intending to learn seriously.

But somehow the whole situation had shifted into the exact fantasy he'd imagined from the beginning.

Back during the first Red Team meeting, he'd already envisioned this:

Even if it was just dancing, as long as Shouko and Sakura were there with him, and a beautiful girl gently used her soft hands to correct his posture—face to face, clothes brushing, her scent drifting up to his nose…

When their eyes met, she'd blush and shyly take a step back, pouting, "Ugh, you're hopeless!" in that spoiled, teasing tone.

'Ah wait, no—wrong person.'

That was definitely Eriri.

Sakura would probably just say "Kyousuke, you idiot," then grab his hands and start dancing wildly.

Shouko, on the other hand, would patiently correct his posture over and over again.

But now, standing before him, was a girl just as beautiful as Sakura.

In fact, Yukinoshita Yukino was perfect in every way—except perhaps in the chest department.

When her cool hands gripped his arm, the firm pressure of her slender fingers made him unconsciously wish she'd pin him against a wall.

And yes, there was a scent.

He used to imagine Yukinoshita might smell like gunpowder—but no, it was the light, refreshing fragrance of water lilies.

Not the heavy, intoxicating scent of purple lilies, but the clean elegance of white ones.

At 165 cm, Yukinoshita wasn't exactly short, yet when she tilted her face up to him with arms extended, it felt like she'd stepped right into his embrace.

He could clearly see the sway of her bangs, the thick lashes, and that serious expression she always wore.

Most people would lose all stray thoughts when confronted with that stern face.

But Kyousuke was not most people.

His only passive trait was complete defenselessness in the face of beautiful girls—his only "side effect" being an imagination that ran totally out of control.

Staring at her flawless face, any leftover frustration from her earlier scolding vanished.

Honestly, after hearing nothing but sweet voices every day, her harsh tone was kind of a refreshing change of pace.

He could even teach Eriri some new curse words later—it'd help expand her insult vocabulary.

He looked down.

Though he couldn't see much, the flatness of her chest did make things easier for dance instruction.

He found himself thinking, 'Wow, Eriri's grown so much… she's really trying.'

Even if she still couldn't beat Kasumigaoka, she could definitely look down on Yukinoshita.

Well, figuratively.

If they ever actually fought, Eriri would get destroyed and end up crying in his arms within two minutes.

Conclusion? Skipping his nap today had totally been worth it.

"Good. Now lower your arms. Step your right foot diagonally back and to the left, just one foot's distance."

Yukinoshita remained blissfully unaware of the inappropriate thoughts running through the mind of the "serious-looking" guy before her.

After completing the first position and spotting the first glimmer of progress, she demonstrated the next move.

Like curtsying with a dress, she stepped back gracefully with her right foot.

Her motion was as light and elegant as ever.

Kyousuke followed suit—though he didn't stoop low enough to make her squat down and adjust him.

Not that shameless.

"Next, move your arms and legs together. Twist your waist, and rotate your body."

Yukinoshita's voice was firm—commanding, even—like a general standing over a war map, issuing battle orders.

Kyousuke obeyed.

With a strong twist of his sturdy waist, his arms swung into position.

He kept her words in mind: Relax. Don't use too much strength.

And then it happened—an utterly classic moment from a romantic comedy.

Whether he relaxed too much or the "can't dance" curse finally kicked in, who knows? But as he turned around, Kyousuke suddenly lost his balance…

…and fell straight toward Yukinoshita Yukino.

Yukinoshita's lips parted slightly in surprise, but her body reacted faster than her mind.

Every muscle tensed, ready to act as a human cushion.

But what truly widened her eyes wasn't the impact—it was the realization that their faces were now inches apart.

In his dark eyes, she saw her own reflection.

In her pale blue ones, he saw his.

If they collided now, forget about a sweet, accidental kiss—her front teeth would definitely be casualties.

Of course, it wouldn't be Kyousuke needing dentures.

With the sheer amount of food he could devour each meal, even his teeth were forged like steel through fire.

But Kyousuke wasn't just anyone.

In the blink of an eye, he wrapped his arms around Yukinoshita and twisted his waist with precision.

'Thud—'

A dull impact echoed through the gym, catching the attention of nearby students.

But after a quick glance, they all instinctively turned away, startled.

Too intense.

Looks like even the infamous Hojou couldn't take Yukinoshita's strictness anymore—they were brawling now?

But… was that a chokehold?!

No wonder they called him the ruthless heartbreaker.

He really pulled no punches.

Only the baseball club members understood what had just happened—they recognized a textbook-perfect sacrifice catch.

There lay Kyousuke, flat on the floor like a human landing mat.

Yukinoshita's legs were tucked neatly between his, her back cradled in his firm arms, her face buried against his chest.

Not a scratch on her.

Her teeth—and her dignity—were miraculously saved.

If their positions had been reversed, this scene would've gone viral as a forbidden blockbuster moment.

Thankfully, the one on the bottom was Kyousuke.

"Yukinoshita-san, are you okay?" he asked, worried.

That was the best recovery he could offer.

His legs had tangled during the spin, and in the split second he had to decide between pushing her away or pulling her close, he'd chosen the latter.

What if she fell and got hurt?

Yukinoshita snapped back to awareness as soon as she realized she wasn't being crushed.

Her mind quickly assessed the situation.

The soft fabric of their sports uniforms left little to the imagination, and she could feel everything under her.

With a silent "oh no" in her heart, she pressed her palms against his firm chest and gracefully stood up.

"I'm fine. Let's continue the practice," she said calmly, brushing off imaginary dust from her clothes.

Her face betrayed no emotion, as if nothing had happened at all.

After all, Kyousuke had merely followed her instructions to the letter.

The fact that she ended up beneath him was an unfortunate accident.

And the way he used his own body to shield her? Just a natural correction for his mistake.

Conclusion: no thanks were necessary from her, and no apology needed from him.

That was that.

It was no different than a firefighter rescuing a woman in her underwear—there was no moral failing in that.

Or like a samurai who kills his own hunting dog to protect his lord—the lord has no reason to punish him.

Yukinoshita's mind whirred, rapidly constructing logical arguments to justify the entire incident.

Whether those justifications held up to scrutiny… well, for now, the flustered girl didn't have the capacity to question them.

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