Then Shinohara Asuka smiled and spoke.
Her voice completely changed. The soft, sweet tone she used every single morning vanished into the cold spring air. She reached into her dark school bag. She pulled out a thin white cigarette and a cheap plastic lighter.
She flicked the metal wheel. A small orange flame flared to life. She lit the end of the cigarette and took a long, deep drag.
"We could have stayed being close friends if you just kept your mouth shut, Zenjiro-kun," she said.
Zenjiro froze. His entire body locked up tight. The girl standing in front of him suddenly became a complete stranger. She was entirely different. She looked exactly the same as she did that afternoon two years ago when he caught her hiding behind this exact building.
Asuka exhaled. A thick cloud of gray smoke drifted directly into Zenjiro's face. He inhaled the bitter, sharp scent of burning tobacco.
"We could have continued this relationship until the very end of the school year," Asuka continued. Her tone was flat and completely bored. "During graduation, we would say our final goodbyes in a dramatic way. We would remember the whole three years we spent together. Then we would separate and we would never, ever meet again. That would be the very good ending."
She lifted her left hand and pressed her fingers against her forehead. She let out a long, heavy sigh.
"But you ruined it," she said.
Zenjiro stared at her through the fading gray smoke. His throat felt incredibly dry. "I don't understand, Asuka."
She looked at him again. Her bright eyes held absolutely zero warmth. They were filled with cold pity.
"You're a fool, Zenjiro-kun," she said sharply. "Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror? You are fat. You are overweight. You are ugly. You have incredible guts confessing your love to me. You should have known better."
She crossed her arms over her chest.
"I am trying to be kind and considerate to you, you know?" she said. "You are completely unsocial. You have zero friends. You probably just misunderstood my basic kindness to you."
The words hit Zenjiro like heavy stones. A violent mix of emotions exploded directly in his chest. He felt deep hurt. He felt crushing sadness. He felt sudden surprise and pure shock. Complete confusion twisted his mind into heavy knots.
Ugly.
It was the very first time he had ever heard that specific word directed at his face. He knew he was heavy. He knew he was overweight. He saw his own thick stomach every single day. But he never once thought his physical appearance was completely ugly. The insult cut straight down to his bones.
Asuka brought the cigarette to her lips and smoked again. The tip burned bright red in the dim shadows of the old gymnasium.
"I don't often light a cigarette," Asuka said quietly. "I only do this when a stressful event happens. Just like now."
She lowered her hand and stared directly into his wide eyes.
"Don't you still get it, Zenjiro-kun?" she asked. Her voice was pure ice. "It is a big NO. You are not my type. I was actually planning to endure this last year so that when we graduate, I won't be able to talk to you anymore."
Zenjiro clenched his hands into tight, shaking fists at his sides. "Are those times we were together... were those all fakes?"
Asuka did not look away. "You could say half was fake. I had to do it, you know."
"Why do you need to do it?" Zenjiro demanded. His voice cracked loudly. "To play with my emotions?"
Asuka let out a sharp, irritated sigh.
"You idiot," she snapped. "It is not my intention to play with your emotions. I don't have any gain from doing it. You are the one who fell in love with me. I did not ask you to fall in love with me."
The harsh truth hit Zenjiro like a brutal physical uppercut to the jaw. His breath caught in his throat. He thought about it for a split second. She was entirely right. It was not her fault that he fell in love.
She never crossed any lines. She never held his hand. She never promised him anything. He built the entire romantic fantasy strictly inside his own head.
"It is not like I am leading you on," Asuka said firmly. "I actually prefer if you don't like me at all."
"Then why did you become friends with me even though you don't like it?" Zenjiro asked.
Asuka tapped the cigarette with her index finger. Gray ash fell onto the cracked concrete near her black shoes.
"I was just being polite to you at first because we were seatmates," she explained. "But then you saw me smoking one time. I cannot get expelled from this school. My father would literally kill me. I needed to make sure you wouldn't tell anyone. That is exactly why I became closer to you on purpose."
She took a step closer to him.
"I was supposed to endure this one final year," Asuka said. Her voice grew tight with fresh anger. "But you just confessed to me. The moment I turn you down, you might report me for being a smoker out of pure spite. Not only will I get expelled, but my social life would also completely die. Do you understand me?"
Hot tears started to well up in the corners of Zenjiro's eyes. The crushing weight of the rejection mixed with the total humiliation of being used for protection.
Asuka saw the tears. She sighed again.
"Don't cry," she ordered. "You are the one who decided to confess to me. You are supposed to expect a rejection."
Zenjiro raised his hands quickly. He wiped his wet eyes hard before a single tear could even fall down his cheeks. He rubbed his face until the skin turned red. He forced his breathing to slow down.
"I am sorry for bothering you," Zenjiro said. His voice was entirely hollow. "I am sorry for wasting your time. I should go."
He turned around to walk away from the brick wall.
"Wait," Asuka said sharply.
She reached out fast. She grabbed his right wrist. Her fingers dug tight into his skin.
"You can't walk away after this," she said. "You know my secret."
"I won't tell anyone," Zenjiro said without turning back. "I promise."
"I don't trust words," Asuka said. She pulled his arm slightly. "I need assurance."
She leaned much closer to him. She lifted her left foot and placed her black shoe directly onto the toe of Zenjiro's right shoe. She bent her left knee forward. The movement exposed the bare skin between the hem of her pleated skirt and the top of her tall navy socks.
"Touch it," she demanded.
Zenjiro looked down at her bent leg. "Touch what?"
"My thigh," Asuka said.
Zenjiro stepped back just a fraction of an inch, but her foot kept his shoe pinned to the concrete. "Why would I do that?"
"Don't play dumb," Asuka sneered. "We were together for two years. Did you think I didn't notice that you are staring at it whenever I shifted my weight in my chair?"
Zenjiro stared at her leg. He was not really watching her thigh back in the classroom. It was just a complete coincidence. He usually looked down at the ground to hide his nervous face, and her leg just happened to be in his direct line of sight.
"What is the reason why you want me to touch your thigh?" Zenjiro asked.
"It is a payment," Asuka stated.
"Payment for what?"
"For keeping your mouth shut," she said. Her dark eyes locked onto his face. "Normally, I could just offer a kiss on the cheek to any guy as payment. But you are kind of ugly, Zenjiro-kun. I don't want to kiss you on the cheeks. So the thigh is the only option."
The horrible word struck him a second time. It burned deep. He understood the situation now. It was a literal transaction. A direct payment for his continued silence.
"You don't have to," Zenjiro said quietly. "I told you, I promise I won't tell anyone."
"I also told you that I don't trust anyone," Asuka countered. "Not even you."
That specific detail hurt him the most. He thought he had earned at least a small fraction of her trust over the last two years. He thought they were real friends, but she never trusted his words at all.
"What is the difference if I touch that?" he asked.
Asuka kept her knee bent toward him. "This way, it is no longer a verbal promise. You receive a physical payment. You are obliged to perform the job. That is a strict contract. In your verbal promise, it was a one-way transaction. I asked you a favor and you gave a promise, but I did not give you anything in return. You will not be obliged to do the task on your end. You could just break the promise for free."
She blew another thin stream of smoke.
"But if I give you a payment," she continued, "it will be a two-way transaction. It will not be words anymore. I ask you a favor. I paid you. You will be obliged."
The cold logic clicked perfectly inside Zenjiro's brain. It made absolute sense to him. A verbal promise carried zero weight. A two-way transaction bound both parties together in a shared exchange.
"Touch it now," Asuka commanded. She pointed the burning tip of her cigarette toward her bare thigh. "I can't let you go if you won't do it."
Zenjiro slowly lowered his body a little bit. He reached out with his right hand. His fingers brushed against her bare skin.
He touched her thigh. It was incredibly soft. It was perfectly smooth and very warm against his cold, shaking fingertips. He stayed into it. He kept his hand resting lightly against her leg.
Asuka let out a short sigh. "The contract is established. You have to do your obligation at your end."
Her voice suddenly dropped into a dark, dangerous threat.
"If you ever tell anyone about me smoking," she warned him, "I will tell everyone that you touched my bare thigh behind the gymnasium. You will become a molester overnight. So you have to obey the contract. Do we have a deal?"
Zenjiro knelt there, still touching her warm thigh. He was entirely fascinated by the softness of her skin, but his logical brain analyzed the heavy reality of the moment.
He understood what touching the thigh truly meant now. It was a payment, but at the exact same time, it was a heavy tool for blackmail. Mutual destruction secured the secret.
"Deal," Zenjiro said.
Asuka blew the cigarette smoke again. A thick gray cloud covered the immediate environment between them.
Zenjiro felt something completely strange snap inside him. He was deeply hurt and totally crushed. But his right hand suddenly moved on its own.
His hand pushed upward along Asuka's thigh. The movement passed the thick hem of her pleated skirt. His hand did not slip under the skirt to touch her bare skin.
The heavy fabric of the skirt bunched up and moved upward alongside his sliding hand. His hand glided higher and higher until the very tip of his right index finger and his right thumb hit a completely different fabric hidden under the dark pleats.
He hit the edge of that fabric.
Before Zenjiro could move his hand a single milimeter further, Asuka reacted in pure panic.
She threw her burning cigarette violently onto the cracked concrete. She lunged forward and grabbed his right wrist with both of her hands. Her grip was incredibly tight and frantic.
"Stop!" Asuka yelled loudly. Her face was totally pale. "I only allowed you to touch my thigh!"
Zenjiro blinked. The strange, dark impulse vanished instantly. He let go of the thick fabric. He pulled his hand completely away from her leg.
"I'm sorry," Zenjiro said quickly.
Asuka let out a deep, shaking sigh of pure relief. She loosened her tight grip on his wrist. She took a step back to create physical distance between them.
"It's okay," she said. Her breathing was fast and uneven. "You're a guy. I understand what your desires are. But there are places that are off limits."
Zenjiro nodded slowly. He noted the exact words 'off limits' deep into his mind.
"You go first," Asuka said. She looked down at the crushed cigarette on the concrete. "I'll take another cigarette first."
Zenjiro turned around. He walked away from the brick wall. He moved across the dirty concrete toward the main school building. He left his ruined first love standing entirely alone in the afternoon shadows.
He walked for a few meters in total silence.
The cold spring wind hit his wet cheeks. His legs felt like lead. He dragged his heavy shoes across the dirty concrete. The pain in his chest wasn't a sharp stab. It was a slow, sick ache deep in his stomach. He thought about the bright classroom on his very first day. He thought about the warm library and the shared history poster. He actually believed they were sharing something real. He was completely wrong. She didn't just reject his quiet confession. She looked right at him and felt pure disgust. She called him ugly.
Love at first sight was a stupid, cruel joke. He spent two entire years secretly worshipping a girl who only kept him around out of pure fear. The sweet, polite girl from the sunlit window was just a fake mask. The real Asuka smoked cigarettes and looked at him like he was complete garbage. He felt incredibly pathetic.
Then, a sudden, angry voice cut sharply through the cold spring wind.
"Onii-chan!" a girl yelled.