Mash-Up: Anything for Money

Hakuto brushed back his sweat-dampened bangs. Having long hair was stylish, sure, but in the summer, it was pure torture.

"At the start of the game, Yaichi looked at me with this self-righteous expression and said, 'Senpai is very talented, so she shouldn't waste her time on meaningless things.'"

As he spoke, Hakuto even imitated Yaichi's exact expression at that moment—

Thirty percent confidence, thirty percent self-importance, twenty percent mockery, and twenty percent indifference.

"And he… had the audacity to say that?!"

The moment those words reached Ginko's ears, she snapped the folding fan in her hands in half. 

The fan, emblazoned with the words Certain Victory, had now completed its final mission.

"Trash! Scum! Why hasn't he dropped dead yet?!"

For Ginko, playing shogi with Hakuto was one of the most important things in her life. And she had been doing it for ten years.

Now, some arrogant fool had the nerve to call it meaningless? How could she not be furious?

Hakuto nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it was pretty infuriating."

He didn't know how others would see it, but in his mind, he had come here with nothing but sincerity—to support Yaichi in his upcoming Ryuuou match.

And yet, Yaichi had gone out of his way to provoke him. So naturally, Hakuto had spent the entire game targeting his psychological defenses.

"Yeah, it was infuriating. But… have you thought about what would've happened if he had accepted the bet?"

"Huh? Ginko, are you seriously thinking that someone whose mental defenses were about to collapse could've beaten me?"

At those words, Ginko instinctively pressed a hand to her forehead. She had been so caught up in worrying that she hadn't even considered that possibility.

Even at his best, Yaichi couldn't guarantee a win against Hakuto, let alone in the shaken state he was in.

"I hadn't thought about that… but you handled it well."

In truth, Ginko had only brought Hakuto here to keep an eye on both sides and to let him meet Kiyotaki Kousuke.

"Oh? Then do I get a reward?"

At the mention of a reward, Hakuto's eyes lit up with one thought—money, money, money.

"A reward?"

But to his surprise, Ginko didn't reach for her wallet. Instead, her gaze shifted to his slightly sweaty forehead.

"Kneel down."

Hakuto: ??! Σ( °Д °;)

Wait… Did he hear that right? Kneel down? What for?

D-Don't tell him it's… a foot kiss?!

Sure, Hakuto often jokingly called Ginko Your Majesty, but he wasn't actually into that kind of thing!

No way! No way was he kissing someone's foot! (┯_┯)

"Huh?"

"Why are you just standing there? Didn't you say you wanted a reward?"

"Can… Can I get a different one?"

"No. Hurry up."

Seeing no way out, Hakuto reluctantly knelt down, silently swearing to himself that he would never call her Your Majesty again.

He was about to fake a stomach ache and make a run for it when, to his shock, Ginko suddenly moved behind him.

Before he could even register what was happening, he felt something soft, like silk, brush against his neck.

Then, a cooling sensation wrapped snugly around him.

By the time he snapped back to reality, Ginko was already sitting on his shoulders—her face red.

So… this was her reward?

She was holding the umbrella for him?

The method was just… a little unconventional.

"If you dare to look up, I'll kill you."

Ginko's voice carried an intimidating force, but her tone—and her flushed cheeks—completely betrayed her.

"Okay, okay, I won't look."

"It's just… you said you were hot, so I'm shading you this way. If you dare to misunderstand, you're dead!"

"Okay, okay, I won't think about it."

Hakuto was just endlessly relieved that this wasn't some weird SM thing.

But now that he thought about it… Ginko was really light. Sitting on his shoulders, she felt no heavier than a little cat.

Also… were all girls' thighs this cool? 

It was like having shaved ice pressed against his skin—refreshing and oddly intoxicating.

As Hakuto lost himself in thought, Ginko suddenly smacked him on the head.

"Why'd you hit me again?!"

"You were definitely thinking something indecent just now!"

Busted.

Hakuto coughed awkwardly and, without another word, placed his hands under Ginko's legs and slowly stood up.

Well, since things have come to this, we might as well eat first! With that, Hakuto asked:

"Ginko, what do you want for lunch?"

"You decide."

"Alright! Then let's walk 300 steps forward, and we'll enter the first restaurant we see."

"Ginko, want to guess what kind of restaurant it will be?"

"Childish…"

"Most likely an izakaya."

"An izakaya? I think it'll be a fried chicken shop. But well, we'll only know when we get there! Let's go!"

"Wait, don't run so fast."

"Hey, hey! Gin, don't pull my hair!"

What Hakuto didn't know was that every move he and Ginko made was being recorded by a handheld camera.

The owner of the camera was leaning against a wall. If not for their flawless appearance, they might have been mistaken for a peeping tom.

…

Inside an Izakaya

"I can't believe it actually turned out to be an izakaya. Ginko, you're amazing."

"Izakayas are the most common type of restaurant in Japan. Statistically, this was the most probable choice."

Hearing Hakuto's compliment, Ginko couldn't help but feel proud. However, since her folding fan was broken, she had nothing to hide her face with.

"Is that so? I've learned something new."

Hakuto maintained a modest expression on the surface, but inside, he was grinning.

From the moment he asked Ginko what she wanted to eat, the plan was already in motion.

300 steps? Hakuto was the one leading the way. Whether they had really walked 300 steps or not was entirely up to him!

This was a trick he had just thought of on a whim—though admittedly, it was a bit exhausting.

While waiting for the food, Hakuto took out his phone and habitually checked the latest news.

Although he read the news daily, very few articles actually caught his attention. But today was different—within seconds, a sports article grabbed his gaze.

The news was about a high school baseball pitcher, highly praised by the media, and accompanied by a video of one of his games.

It was this video that caught Hakuto's attention.

"Huh? No way..."

Hearing his sudden tone of disbelief, Ginko instinctively asked:

"What's wrong?"

Hakuto showed the video on his phone to Ginko.

"Look at this, this pitcher."

Ginko watched the video on Hakuto's phone. The so-called prodigy of the baseball world had just thrown an incredibly beautiful knuckleball, drawing cheers from the audience.

"A really beautiful knuckleball. Hakuto, I didn't know you were interested in baseball."

Although baseball was extremely popular in Japan, this was the first time Ginko had ever seen Hakuto show interest in it.

"No, no, no. Don't look at the knuckleball—look at his grip."

Hakuto put down his phone and extended his thumb, index, and middle fingers.

Then, he curled all three fingers into a semi-circular grip, which looked somewhat like the letter "C."

"This is how he held the ball when he threw that knuckleball."

"And what's wrong with that grip?"

Ginko didn't understand baseball but thought the gesture looked like one of the most common grips she had seen before.

"That's a grip for throwing a fastball."

"Even though I don't know much about baseball, I do know that to throw a knuckleball, you have to press the ball with the tips of your index and middle fingers."

Ginko still didn't fully understand—after all, baseball wasn't her thing.

"I don't know how to explain it to you, Ginko. But as far as I understand, it should be impossible to throw a knuckleball with that grip."

Ginko nodded. "Cheating, right?"

"A game this big—how could he cheat without getting caught?"

"Maybe he just has his own unique method. And I'm just an outsider anyway."

What Hakuto didn't know was that the camera was still recording his every move.

And in the hands of the camera's owner was a sports weekly magazine.

The article printed on it was exactly the same as what Hakuto had just read on his phone.

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