The moment volleyball practice ended, Sakurai Saki parted ways with his teammates and fell into step with Nakano Itsuki, heading out of the gymnasium.
"My lord, a pair of pincers has appeared at the feet of Meat Bun Girl!"
Shinobu's voice echoed in his mind. He had woken her earlier; the vampire's nocturnal habits were a constant nuisance.
Pincers? And 'Meat Bun Girl'… is that Itsuki? He glanced at his companion. "And stop reading my thoughts so casually."
"Click-clack~ They look delicious! Oh, I'm talking about the anomaly, not the girl."
"Lobster? Crab?" Sakurai Saki's mind immediately went to seafood. "Also, I have zero interest in a girl who's 159cm tall and pushing 120 jin."
"It seems quite timid, click-clack~ Won't come out. We'll need a little bait to lure it."
An arthropod that feeds on one's dignity. Or, in this case, her waistline.
He turned to Itsuki. "Hey. When did your weight start dropping the most? Or rather, when did you first notice it?"
Itsuki pondered for a moment. "After that time you stayed over."
"That was a while ago."
"Yeah. I started running every morning after that. At first, I thought it was from doing 2 kilometers every day…"
Sakurai Saki cut her off. "Two kilometers?" He stared at her, incredulous. Is that your warm-up? A morning jog that takes less than ten minutes?
He bit back the immediate retort. Meat Bun Girl, think about it. The calories in a single meat bun probably outweigh what you burn in that run. He decided it was futile; with her math skills, she probably couldn't calculate it anyway.
"It feels like a lot to me," Nakano Itsuki said seriously, as if recalling the very real struggle of being out of breath.
"Right, right. Running 2 kilometers every morning and losing 50 jin is perfectly normal," Sakurai Saki said, tilting his head with feigned sincerity.
Itsuki huffed, her eyes darting towards a nearby vending machine. She was thirsty.
So was he.
With unspoken agreement, they both veered towards the source of hydration.
"That's not normal!" she finally retorted.
"See? You know it yourself," he said, exasperated. People lie to themselves all the time. It's like those gym-goers who ask, "Should I have my cheat meal before or after my workout?" Obviously, you have it before! How else are you supposed to trick your stomach into… He shook his head. It was a stupid thought.
"What do you want?" Itsuki asked, standing before the machine.
"I'll get my own." Sakurai Saki wasn't about to mooch. Or rather, he wanted to earn his mooching. He had his pride!
"Can't it be a reward for listening to my problems?" she offered.
He paused. "Fine. This one." He pointed.
This was acceptable. A reward was earned. It wasn't charity.
"Black coffee?" Itsuki grinned, a teasing glint in her eye. "Oh~ Sakurai-kun, trying to act all mature? Drinking bitter coffee won't make you an adult any faster, you know."
"It's called a preference," he shot back, accepting the can. "You wouldn't understand, would you, Meat Bun Girl?"
Meat Bun Girl. The nickname had a certain ring to it. It sounded like a magical girl's code name. The Breakfast Bunch: Siomai Girl, Gyoza Girl, Ramen Girl… The thought was making him hungry.
"You're just hungry, you liar," Shinobu's voice chirped in his head.
"Miss Shinobu, please stop casually monitoring my thoughts. Thank you."
"The last time you called my body small and barren…"
"I only like big ones."
"Liar!"
The mental sparring lasted only a second. To prove he wasn't putting on airs, Sakurai Saki took a long, defiant gulp of the bitter coffee. To Itsuki, it only confirmed her suspicion.
"Meat Bun Girl?" she finally echoed, realization dawning.
"An endearment," he replied smoothly. He wondered what Miku liked for breakfast. He could ask her tomorrow. The five sisters as a magical girl squad… the potential was there.
"Well, I can't say I'm happy about that particular endearment." Itsuki twisted the cap off her bottle of green tea with a decisive crack. She had decent strength. Then again, girls who pretended they couldn't open bottles were usually just flirting. The same girls could deliver a forehead flick with enough force to shatter a boy's skull. Probably.
"You can give me one too," Sakurai Saki said casually. "I won't mind."
Itsuki blinked. "That's… strange, coming from you." In her mind, Sakurai Saki was a stern figure—merciless when scolding or explaining a problem.
He took another sip of coffee, his gaze forward. "You're the one I'm most at ease with, out of all five sisters. You're willing to learn, and you work hard."
It was a complete lie.
But it was a nice-sounding one.
The real reason Sakurai Saki never deliberately distanced himself from her was simple: Itsuki's favorability toward him was the lowest among the five sisters. Consequently, his guard around her was also at its lowest. With her, he didn't have to worry about maintaining the teacher-student facade, because Itsuki—Sakurai Saki firmly believed—would never, ever fall in love with him.
"But I still failed two subjects on last month's exam," Itsuki said, breaking the comfortable silence.
"It was just one exam."
"My father said your teaching ability is impressive. He didn't expect so many of us to pass." Her expression turned slightly helpless as she relayed this. Her father's tone had been as cold as ever, but even Itsuki could detect the satisfaction beneath it.
What she didn't know was that Nakano Maruo's good mood stemmed from an entirely different source: he was convinced that with such a demanding teaching schedule, there was zero chance Sakurai Saki would develop any improper feelings for his daughters. Finding a same-age tutor of this caliber? Of course he was pleased. The man was practically celebrating.
"There are no shortcuts to learning. Take it one step at a time, and you'll eventually master it." Sakurai Saki finished his canned wisdom, then glanced at her. "President Shirogane told me that."
Itsuki nodded sagely. "See? When a top student says it, it actually sounds convincing. Unlike when it comes out of your mouth."
"That second sentence was a lie."
Itsuki's expression froze, then twisted into something complicated. The next second, she lunged, attempting to grab his collar. He sidestepped effortlessly—but she overcorrected, stumbled, and suddenly crashed directly into his chest.
Sakurai Saki was about to push her away when—
"Oh~ Saki-kun. Why are you hugging her?"
Fujiwara Chika stood a short distance away, a faint smile playing on her lips. Her expression carried a certain… danger.
"It's not good behavior," Chika continued, tilting her head as her pink hair swayed to one side, "to go looking for stray cats outside~"
Sakurai Saki detected no genuine yandere vibes—just the usual Chika theatrics—so he simply pushed Itsuki away. Quickly. Not out of guilt, but because he was this close to spilling his coffee.
He looked at Chika, noted her slightly odd expression, and without overthinking, walked directly to her side and wrapped an arm around her in a hug.
"Sorry. I broke our promise."
Directness: the universal counter to pink-haired schemers. And airheads.
Chika froze for a solid few seconds, then looked as if steam might actually rise from her head.
"Saki-kun… people are watching…" she whispered, burying her face into his chest.
"I won't fall for her. You don't need to worry."
"I know that, but this is right next to the gymnasium! There are so many people—we'll be seen!" She squirmed anxiously, trying to push him away.
There weren't, actually. Sakurai Saki had positioned them with precision; no one had an angle to observe anything.
After more than ten seconds—once Fujiwara Chika had finally given up struggling—Sakurai Saki released her.
"Let's go to the arcade. We promised, didn't we?"
Chika held his hand, eyes downcast, refusing to meet his gaze.
"Mm~"
Today's victory: Sakurai Saki. (Has he successfully dodged a tragic love triangle?)
One minute later.
By the vending machine, Itsuki—who had been left crouching on the ground since Sakurai Saki unceremoniously pushed her away—finally recovered her senses.
She had accidentally hugged him.
"Eh? Where'd Sakurai-kun go?"
Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out and read the message aloud:
"I have some ideas about your problem. I'll explain in detail tomorrow. Don't worry."