Monday Morning — The Park
Clouds hung low over the city, but the air carried the first real warmth of approaching summer. Mid-May. The Ball Game Tournament loomed just over the horizon.
Sakurai Saki jogged through his usual route, testing the day's ability.
Affection Level Detection.
Simple concept: he could see others' feelings toward him quantified in glowing numbers.
Simple in theory. Less simple in practice.
Affection fluctuated constantly—a girl could adore you one second and despise you the next based on a single misplaced word. The numbers shifted like tides, never quite still.
The regulars in the park registered comfortably above 65.
Familiar territory.
He'd encountered this ability before, months ago. Enough time to develop a working framework:
0-40: Enemy. Mutual disdain upon sight. Avoid at all costs.
40-60: Stranger. Could pass on the street without acknowledgment. Existential indifference.
60-70: Acquaintance. Wouldn't actively greet you at school, but wouldn't flee either.
70-80: Friend. Active greetings. Willing to help with problems. Solid human connection.
80-90: Close Friend/Lover. Shirogane and Chika territory. Both had registered here last time he checked—half a year ago, before he joined the Student Council.
90-100: Sworn Sibling/Beloved. The former is self-explanatory. The latter? Unconditional love. Fanatical devotion. The kind of bond that only family—or the truly unhinged—could sustain.
Only my mother, he'd concluded, registers in that final bracket.
Shuchi'in Academy — Entrance
Saki dismounted his bicycle, scanning for familiar faces.
No Iino Miko today.
A small disappointment. He'd grown accustomed to their morning interactions—her flustered reactions, his gentle teasing.
Am I becoming dependent on that?
Pathetic.
Focus.
He pushed through the gates, then paused.
Behind him, a familiar figure walked at careful distance. Glasses. Quiet presence. Always trailing Miko like a guardian shadow.
Ofo Koachi.
He studied her features briefly. Beautiful, potentially—but the glasses obscured rather than enhanced.
Hidden beauty trope? In this era? How retro.
Out of idle curiosity, he checked her affection level.
Someone I've barely interacted with should still register above 60. I've put too much work into my image for less.
[41♦]
…
…Excuse me?
Forty-one. Barely above enemy territory. The kind of number that suggested she'd watch him fall and laugh.
Why?
What did I—
Doesn't matter.
He dismissed the thought. Roadside weeds didn't warrant mental energy.
Hallways — Classroom
Students greeted him in waves. Familiar faces. Comfortable numbers.
Saki stopped checking individually; the data streamed past like background noise.
[71] [68]** [74]** [65]**
Acceptable.
Classroom Door
"Morning, Sakurai!" Kazamatsuri Gou's hand landed on his shoulder with familiar weight. "Looking well. Good weekend?"
[75] floated above his head.
"Rest was adequate." Saturday night especially.
"We're forming groups for the tournament today. Enough sign-ups for a sport and the teacher registers us." Gou hooked an arm around his shoulder, steering them both inside. "You doing soccer?"
"Volleyball."
"Shirogane mentioned the same." Gou's expression flickered—something complicated. "How to put this… Shirogane's volleyball skills have significant room for improvement. Don't be alarmed when you see him."
He laughed heartily and retreated to his seat.
Saki blinked.
Alarmed?
Window Seat Approach
"Toyosaki. Morning."
[76]
"Morning, Sakurai!"
"Sakurai-kun, good morning~" A girl's voice, proactively offered.
[70♦]
"Morning."
He reached his desk. Settled in. Surveyed the room.
Numbers floated above heads like personal weather reports. Most clustered in the 65-80 range—friends, acquaintances, the warm hum of social acceptance.
Popular enough.
He bent to organize his belongings.
And froze.
[96♦]
…
So heavy.
The number glowed from the shadow beneath his desk—impossible to miss, impossible to ignore.
Shinobu.
Of course.
The bond between vampire and familiar defied normal measurement. Their lives were nearly intertwined; perhaps such intensity was inevitable.
Still.
Ninety-six.
Only my mother was supposed to—
He straightened, pretending he hadn't seen.
Some things are better left unexamined.
Ninety-six.
The number still burned in his memory.
So heavy.
Saki stared out the window at the cloudy sky, trying to process.
I saved her to gain an assistant. Not to become someone's entire reason for existence.
This kind of love—the kind that places the weight of a life on another person—
It's too much.
Too heavy.
Unbearable.
He extracted his textbooks mechanically, movements automatic while his mind churned.
The Distraction
"Sakura-chan~!"
The voice cut through his spiraling thoughts like sunlight through clouds.
Hayasaka Ai approached in full gyaru mode, friends trailing in her wake, her energy bright enough to illuminate the entire classroom.
Saki turned.
[88♦]
Normal. Healthy. The kind of affection level where, if I were hit by a car in front of her, she'd mourn me for life.
Acceptable.
Manageable.
Wonderful.
"Good morning, Ai-chan~"
The nickname returned effortlessly. Last week's uncertainty—the doubt about whether they were actually dating—had dissolved completely. Now there was only warmth.
"Good morning~!"
She launched herself at him in her characteristic hug, and the classroom's resident gossip squad observed with practiced detachment.
Their condition is stable, their expressions seemed to say. We are immune to emotional damage now.
Saki patted her back gently.
"Class is starting. Release."
"Mm~" She pulled back reluctantly. "Lunch together?"
"Fine." Moving from Student Council Room to classroom. Simple adjustment.
While they spoke, movement at the door caught his eye.
Kaguya Shinomiya entered.
Saki's brain stopped functioning.
[80♦]
…
Eighty.
Between lover and friend.
The border territory.
The "if he fell in front of me I would catch him and also maybe hold his hand a little" zone.
WHY.
Hayasaka's Perspective
"What's wrong?"
Hayasaka followed his frozen gaze to Miss Kaguya.
Ah. The exam.
The phone call.
The late-night conversation I had with him while Kaguya-sama eavesdropped.
She probably blames herself.
Thinks her scheme backfired and hurt his score.
Poor thing.
She had no idea what Saki was actually thinking.
Saki's Perspective
I need to lower that number.
Immediately.
Urgently.
Today.
Before she starts writing poetry about my eyes or composing symphonies about my smile.
Before—
"—Sakura-chan?"
"Nothing." He forced calm. "Just thinking about lunch."
LIES.
I am thinking about DANGER.
Eighty is too high.
Eighty is "close friend" territory at MINIMUM.
Eighty is—
Hayasaka smiled, accepting his explanation.
Behind them, Kaguya settled into her seat, utterly unaware that she'd just triggered a full-scale alert in Sakurai Saki's mind.
[80♦] still glowed above her head.
Target acquired, Saki thought grimly. Mission: reduce affection level to safe parameters.
Operation "Please Don't Love Me" commences now.
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