Toyonozaki Academy, a private school on the west side of Tokyo, was the kind of elite institution parents dreamed of for their children. Its name alone carried weight—every decision it made was scrutinized and imitated by other schools across the city.
Two years ago, Toyonozaki had become the center of a campus-wide sensation, and the reason was standing right in front of Xiao Baiye: two dazzling girls whose beauty had rewritten school history.
Kasumigaoka Utaha. Sawamura Spencer Eriri.
He silently mouthed their names, memories pulling him back a year.
For most boys, high school wasn't just about endless exams and club activities—it was about chasing that once-in-a-lifetime encounter, a chance to splash vivid color across an otherwise gray and monotonous school life.
Novels take their inspiration from reality, people often say. And just like something out of a cliché rom-com, Utaha and Eriri had claimed the top spots on Tokyo Campus Weekly's "School Flower Rankings" and had held their crown ever since.
Unlike the novels, however, there were no spoiled rich heirs trying to buy their love, no melodramatic schemes of power or money. They were just normal students living normal lives—albeit impossibly beautiful ones.
Baiye remembered them vividly. If he could've rented their likeness during last year's cultural festival, he would've printed their chibi faces on every cookie in his stall. He would've made a killing.
That was why his gaze lingered on them a little longer than necessary before shifting back to Tomoya. His plain-looking otaku friend somehow had the main-character treatment straight out of a light novel. The only question was whether he had the backbone to live up to it.
After Tomoya's hurried introductions, Baiye turned back toward the two girls. His eyes met Utaha's brilliant crimson and Eriri's sparkling sapphire-blue—gems so flawless they almost felt unreal.
He cleared his throat politely."Nice to meet you. I'm Xiao Baiye, a transfer student from China. I'm a third-year, and—assuming nothing goes wrong—I'll be handling the programming for Shining Girl."
His self-introduction was deliberately simple. No dramatics. No light-novel-worthy theatrics. He was a man of minimum standards: free afternoon tea and the occasional chance to admire the school's top beauties were already more than enough. The future could sort itself out later.
The calm, almost detached look in his eyes seemed to cool Utaha's initial irritation at a stranger joining their circle. She gave him a slightly more generous glance than before.
Utaha knew her own appeal; she wasn't naive. His fleeting surprise didn't bother her—it was normal. As long as he wasn't here to disrupt her goals, she could offer him a courteous smile.
"Hello, Xiao-kun. I'm Kasumigaoka Utaha, the scenario writer for Shining Girl. …Although honestly, Tomoya, I hate that title. Change it."
"Nice to meet you, Kasumigaoka-san," Baiye replied evenly.
Before the moment could settle, the blonde beside her shifted, unwilling to be outshone. She stood with practiced grace, placing a delicate hand lightly against her chest—confidence laced with just enough humility.
"I'm Sawamura… well, just call me Sawamura. Leave the middle part out, it's too long." Her blue eyes shone with pride. "I'm the artist. I'll be handling characters, backgrounds… basically, all the visuals."
"Understood. Sawamura-san."
Her casual slip—dropping the respectful "senpai"—didn't faze Baiye. If anything, his instincts told him she was hiding something beneath her polished exterior, but it wasn't worth digging into. Not now.
The classroom was large, rows of wooden benches stretching in three tiers. Utaha and Eriri sat at opposite ends of the front row. Baiye chose a seat in the middle of the second row, deliberately putting some distance between himself and the school's reigning beauties. The last thing he wanted was to make them uncomfortable.
As he sat down, a faint fragrance drifted toward him—light, subtle, almost unnoticeable. It reminded him of the locust tree blossoms back in his family's garden in China. Ordinary for most of the year, but when it bloomed, its scent demanded attention.
"Light… airy… slightly bitter," he muttered under his breath. "Does this school even grow locust trees?"
He turned his head toward the scent—only to nearly jump out of his seat.
"Wah—! When did you—?!"
A girl was sitting right next to him. When had she gotten there? How had he not noticed?
Her eyes, soft and understated, were like locust blossoms themselves—quietly beautiful, but so easy to overlook.
He straightened instantly, slipping into the polite manners drilled into him at home. Extending his hand, he leaned forward slightly.
"Sorry to startle you. I'm Xiao Baiye. And you are…?"
The girl raised her hand delicately to her lips. Though she'd clearly been startled, her expression barely shifted, her eyes only rippling with the faintest disturbance.
"My apologies. I didn't realize you hadn't noticed me here…"
A second passed. His outstretched hand hung awkwardly in the air.
Too forward… that was clumsy, Baiye winced inwardly.
Two seconds.
Why didn't I notice her earlier? Her presence is so faint it's like she doesn't exist.
Three seconds. His father's voice echoed in his head: If a handshake goes unanswered in three seconds, withdraw it gracefully.
Just as he began to pull back, a soft, porcelain-like hand brushed his fingertips. She gave the faintest shake before slipping away again.
When did she—? I didn't even feel her move…
"Hello, Xiao-senpai. I'm Kato Megumi."
Her voice was soft, almost flat, her expression plain to the point of being forgettable. It was the kind of presence that could vanish into the background if you so much as blinked.
Baiye blinked, the warmth still lingering faintly on his fingertips. For the first time, he truly saw her.
He drew his hand back to his chest, bowing slightly in apology.
"I'm sorry, Kato-san. I honestly didn't notice you were here. That was rude of me."
"…It's fine." She rested her chin lightly on one hand, her gaze drifting toward the chalkboard where Shining Girl was scrawled in big, uneven characters. Her voice was flat, unreadable.
"Everyone says my presence is too faint. I guess they were right."