Through spending day after day with Yukinoshita Yukino in the simulation, Narumi Tōru had, in truth, more or less grasped her personality.
On the surface, she always appeared distant and unapproachable—a proud high-born flower who never hesitated to use sharp, perfectly calibrated sarcasm to skewer others. She constantly drilled into herself the belief that she had to be independent and self-reliant. But at her core, she also possessed a side that was soft and fragile, almost childlike.
When pushed into extreme situations (such as being gravely ill in the simulation), she would finally shed the armor she wore at all times in front of those she trusted, clinging to them like a drowning person who had at last grasped a floating lifeline, refusing to let go.
As underhanded as it might sound, it was precisely because Narumi understood this that he had deliberately staged that "escape with only the two of them" in the simulation. His aim was to use the subtle influence of the suspension bridge effect to make Yukino place her trust in him—and eventually come to rely on him.
The result had been extremely effective.
The Yukinoshita Yukino who sealed herself off from harm behind a shell of solid ice came to regard him as her most trustworthy companion—one could even say she saw him as the sole salvation in her stifling, oppressive life, the only person she could truly rely on.
Narumi was fully aware of this.
He had allowed it to happen, and had even exploited it—ensuring that the simulated Yukinoshita Yukino would forever be unable to reconcile herself with his sacrifice, spending the rest of her life unable to forget him.
To be honest, as a strategy within a game, his actions weren't particularly excessive. But if one were to replicate that behavior in real life, it would require discarding a considerable amount of moral restraint to do so without hesitation.
Narumi didn't consider himself a good person. It wasn't out of moral obligation that he avoided using such tactics in real-world relationships—it was simply because the consequences were uncontrollable, troublesome, and ultimately unnecessary.
Besides, emotional fulfillment obtained through manipulation rarely lasted. Trading sincerity for sincerity was the most reliable exchange—provided you chose your trading partner wisely. That, too, was one of the reasons Narumi felt so comfortable around someone like Yamada, who spoke her mind plainly and had no hidden agendas.
As for Yukinoshita Yukino, she was the type of child who only voiced her true feelings when pressed into a corner—yearning to be acknowledged, yet driven by a strong, self-reliant personality that insisted she shouldn't depend on anyone else.
Manipulating someone like that brought Narumi little sense of accomplishment.
"Frankly speaking, there's no real need for this 'assistant' position to exist at all."
After a brief mental brainstorm, he decided not to repeat the same path his simulated self had taken.
How relationships in reality should be handled—that was for the present him, who wasn't playing any role, to decide.
"Youth is the best kind of draft paper. It's meant to be used to test answers for the future. Learning how to offend others, learning to recognize your own feelings, understanding how cruel the world can be, and finding a place where you can fit into this absurd reality—this is a period in life where the cost of trial and error is relatively low, so you should be bold and try. Relying on someone older and more mature to guide you isn't impossible, but in the end, it only treats the symptoms, not the cause."
As he often did, he launched into an impassioned monologue. This time, however, Yukinoshita Yukino showed neither impatience nor cold mockery—she simply sat there quietly and listened until he finished.
"Just like what our Service Club advocates: teaching someone how to fish is better than giving them fish. Bringing in some so-called assistant won't solve the fundamental problem. When it comes down to it, the issues we can solve ourselves never needed us to seek help from some higher 'authority' in the first place."
Beneath his slightly wavy bangs, the lake-blue eyes that met her gaze were no longer filled with their usual languid detachment.
"I believe in you, President—and I want you to believe in yourself, too."
He was speaking with complete seriousness.
"There's no need for someone to come along and play the role of a hero who saves everyone. We can be our own heroes."
With those words, he casually overturned the perception he himself had built for Yukinoshita Yukino in the simulation.
A hero who comes running the moment you call out for them might be romantic in novels or films—but in reality, placing your hopes in others and expecting them to be your hero had far too low a success rate.
Yukinoshita Yukino clearly hadn't expected such a response. Her hand froze midair, spoon suspended, and even after a long silence, the slightly blank look on her face failed to fade.
"…Those principles are things anyone can understand in theory. But putting them into practice is far from easy."
"True. But just because something is difficult, does that mean you give up? Isn't the Yukinoshita Yukino I know someone who can discard many unnecessary things for the sake of her own sense of justice and ideals?"
"…Those are just hypocritical illusions."
A strained smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but the way her gaze shifted away laid her vulnerability bare.
"Although I don't want to admit it… I'm probably still very far from deserving the word 'strong.'"
It was an unexpected level of honesty.
He had assumed she would, just like in the simulation, avoid the issue outright and stubbornly refuse to admit that she wasn't as strong as she appeared. Instead, she acknowledged it with surprising sincerity.
"…A president who's this troublesome really gives her club members a headache. So how about this—we make a very fair deal."
The curly-haired boy stood up from his seat and slowly walked over to Yukinoshita, who sat at the center of the wooden table. He extended his right hand toward her, who looked at him in confusion.
"Come on—accept this deal. From now on, while you're making your youthful trial-and-error choices, I'll stay by your side. On the path where you carry out your justice, I'll stand watch with you. When you run into trouble or hardship, I'll share it with you—until the day you become your own hero."
Then he tilted his head with a smile and winked at the black-haired girl.
"In exchange, all I ask is that you buy me a big bag of milk candy."
"…Pfft."
Yukinoshita Yukino stared for a moment, then broke into an unguarded, genuinely cute smile.
"What's with all the exaggerated gestures—trying to liven up the mood?"
"You didn't have to say it out loud, Miss Yukino."
"Fine. I accept."
Smiling, she placed her hand into his.
It was true that, in her dreams, the promise of a "hero who would come if she called" had made her see Narumi as someone unique—someone she could depend on for a long time.
But after waking from that dream, he had never given her such assurances in reality, and she had never dared to hope for any response from him.
After all, admiration was the farthest possible distance.
And yet now, the two of them had formed a promise that truly belonged to them alone.
It even felt like the distance between them had shortened a little.
"Until I become my own hero… please stay by my side, Narumi-kun."
So unlike the hazy, indistinct dreams—the warmth that came from the point where their palms touched was vivid, unmistakable, and deeply reassuring.