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565 – Shizuka’s Wrong, Megumi Is the Real Truth
🕑 Added 2025-10-03 15:45:25 +0000 UTCKatou Megumi sat on her bed, leaning against the wall in a pink-and-white striped nightdress.
Fresh out of the bath, her damp hair clung softly to her cheeks, her skin flushed with warmth.
Her face glowed with a dewy freshness, as if the slightest touch might make water bead up on her skin.
Her long legs peeked out from under the hem of her nightdress, skin so smooth and pale it gleamed in the lamplight.
Her ten round toes curled and stretched lazily against the blanket, a little private display of cuteness no one was there to see.
Not even Hojou Kyousuke, whose inhuman senses couldn’t reach through a phone call, was lucky enough to witness it.
And yet Megumi wasn’t satisfied. With careful precision, she kept patting skincare lotion onto her cheeks, making sure it absorbed perfectly.
As she worked, she spoke in a soft, airy voice into her phone.
“…If I remember right, Hojou-kun, your family doesn’t just subscribe to national papers—you even get one from Gifu, right?”
“You remember that? Yeah. Honestly, I was surprised myself that I could still get it delivered in Tokyo.” Kyousuke sounded genuinely amazed.
“Ah, it stood out because it was so unusual. Why go out of your way to subscribe to that one?”
Megumi glanced down at her legs, her brows faintly knitting.
These were the same legs Hojou once praised, yet she felt she hadn’t given them enough attention lately.
So she dug into her cosmetics box, pumped out a dollop of white lotion, hitched up her nightdress to bare the soft curve of her thighs, and bent down to rub the cream in slowly, deliberately.
‘Hmm… true, they’re not as slender as Eriri’s, and not as voluptuous as Utaha-senpai’s, but the skin is flawless, isn’t it.’
“Well, there’s no big reason. Back when I stayed at Mitsuha’s house, her family always had that paper around.
Since they’re originally from Gifu, I guess I got used to reading it. After I moved back to Tokyo, I couldn’t resist subscribing again.”
Kyousuke had also just showered, though unlike Megumi, he wasn’t lounging on a bed or fussing over skincare.
He didn’t need to.
No matter how late he stayed up or what happened to his body—even acid burns—his ability Return to the Beginning restored him instantly to peak condition.
Weak kidneys? Never an issue.
If his battle-hardened body ever did give out, he could just cheat again.
With living to a hundred as his baseline, his peak years stretched out another eighty-four.
By the time his current enemies were stuck drooling in retirement homes, unable to string a sentence together, he’d still be swinging a bat and throwing 160 km/h pitches.
The “outlive your rivals” strategy was practically built for him.
Tonight, he sat alone on the sloped roof, sipping a beer.
At the business dinner earlier, he hadn’t touched alcohol, but now that he was free, he indulged in a quiet drink.
The slope wasn’t steep, perfect for stargazing.
Until Megumi’s call came through, he hadn’t been drinking alone.
The real champion of alcohol in the Hojou household was Yukino Yukari.
She used to drink to forget her pain; now she drank to remember it.
The habit never changed—only the reason.
Like a classical beauty stepped out of an ink painting, she carried the aura of a delicate willow swaying in the wind.
But the same woman could crack open a beer with casual ease and down it like a seasoned veteran.
The contrast was staggering.
Most couldn’t understand that shift.
But Kyousuke, who had seen Yukari at her lowest, understood perfectly.
Now, whenever she raised a can, he’d quietly offer her a small dish to pair with it.
He glanced at the milk chocolate in his hand—Yukari had given it to him.
He bit into a piece, chased it with beer, and grimaced.
The sweet cocoa completely smothered the malt aroma.
Even for him, a certified sweet tooth, the combination was unbearable.
Who invented this? It was torture.
He shoved the rest of the chocolate into his mouth at once and sighed in relief.
Come to think of it… Hiratsuka-sensei does this too, doesn’t she?
He remembered clearly—when Miki first introduced him to Hiratsuka, she hadn’t picked up that weird habit yet.
She was already a heavyweight drinker, sure, but her snacks were things like ramen.
Not ideal for pairing with alcohol, but still better than chocolate.
Somewhere along the line, though, she’d gotten hooked.
‘Hmm… probably, maybe, almost definitely… Yukari’s fault.’
Poor Shizuka.
Nowadays, Yukari only used the beer-and-chocolate combo in private, as a kind of secret little ritual.
The rest of the time, she happily cooked and enjoyed real meals.
But Hiratsuka—bless her clumsy soul—had latched onto the chocolate trick like it was treasure.
And her drinking buddies were hardly normal.
Yukari, once sustained by nothing but beer and chocolate.
Haruno, who could get “drunk” on a single drop and start stripping like a malfunctioning agent from a liquor factory.
With those two, poor Hiratsuka must have looked less like a fellow drinker and more like a perfect little spicy rabbit head—a delicious snack, not a student of proper drinking manners.
Oh, sensei… Only in the deepest intoxication can you forget the pain of relentless marriage pressure.
Kyousuke’s mind drifted to their last conversation in the counseling room.
“Yukari… she worries about you too.”
“You might really be as she says—like a god. Strong enough that no challenge, no pain, no burden can bring you down.
But you’re not alone. The people around you aren’t as strong as you. And it’s because you’re strong that your presence affects them, whether you realize it or not.”
That so-called “idiot woman” who short-circuited like a robot whenever marriage came up… her words had cut sharper than a blade.
Even now, they echoed in his mind, unsettling him.
‘Infectious, huh… If drinking water ties you to the nature, then how much stronger are the ties between people?’
‘Human connections spread faster and deeper than any virus in the world.’
He’d known that truth for a long time.
Mitsuha’s grandmother had once told him the same, in a voice like an old folktale, as they stood on God Mountain—speaking of the world, and of people, and of the ties between them.
But the old woman had been too kind.
Her cloudy eyes didn’t carry the same piercing weight as Hiratsuka Shizuka’s.
“Keeping everything inside, afraid of hurting the people around you, wanting to shoulder everything alone—that in itself is hurting them,”
she had told him.
“That thing you always wear… it’s a musubi cord, isn’t it? A knot, threads woven together. Each one is twisted, tangled, but always bound tightly with the others.
That’s what human relationships are. Whether you want it or not, you affect the people around you. Just like those threads, each a different color, but woven into the same pattern.
If you keep everything to yourself, what about them? What do they do when they face their own troubles?
You think they’ll come to you because you’re strong? No—they won’t. Because you’re the one weaving the pattern, and they’ll follow your lead.
They’ll copy you. They’ll hide their struggles, push themselves, and try to solve things alone.
So this idea of ‘not hurting the people around you’ never really existed. As long as people are connected, they’ll hurt each other.
And the more important someone is to you, the more you try not to hurt them, the more you will. Whether you hide things or distance yourself, whether you’re strong or weak—it’s the same.”
Even now, remembering those words made Kyousuke’s cheeks burn.
A man blessed with two lives and a cheat-like ability, and he still had to be lectured on such a simple truth by a half-drunk teacher whom Haruno treated like a drinking snack.
What a disgrace for a so-called “isekai protagonist.”
So back then, he’d done the only thing he could—he’d hit Hiratsuka-sensei’s “off switch.” Marriage.
‘Sorry, Sensei, I’m a terrible person.’
And that was why, yesterday, he hadn’t hidden everything away like with the Kosaka Akane incident.
Instead of taking it all on himself, he’d laid it out openly and asked Eriri, Utaha-senpai, and Yukino for help.
He really had… been taught a lesson.
As a drinker, Hiratsuka Shizuka was hopeless.
As a teacher, she was the best in the world.
As a woman… terrifying.
With that uncanny ability to see straight through people, she could probably tell if you got flustered just from glancing at a gravure magazine.
If you caught feelings, you’d get caught instantly.
And considering she was the daughter of a yakuza family and trained in aikido and mixed martial arts in college…
One wrong move and you might end up at the bottom of Tokyo Bay.
…Actually, maybe that’s why she’s still single? Too good at reading people? The wise don’t fall in love?
Or wait—maybe it’s the other way around. Because she’s still single, she’s that sharp about relationships…
Ugh. Headache. Cause and effect is a pain.
Maybe it was the alcohol, but Hojou’s thoughts kept bouncing around.
One moment he was reflecting seriously on her cutting words, the next he was worrying about poor Shizuka’s love life.
“...Hojou-kun?”
The voice on the phone pulled him back to earth.
“Ah—sorry, I spaced out for a second. What were you saying, Megumi?”
He hurriedly apologized. Tch, all Hiratsuka-sensei’s fault.
Just thinking about her was enough to… make him sigh and laugh at the same time.
“……”
On the other end, Megumi was silent for a beat.
Just as he was about to apologize again, her voice came through.
“Ah—sorry. I was too curious about why you zoned out, so I zoned out too.”
“Pfft—"
Her light, teasing tone made Kyousuke laugh out loud.
Even through the phone, he could imagine her face right now.
Probably that expression of “I’m calmly mad at you.”
No—if no one else was around, maybe even a little pout?
His unrestrained laughter rang out across the rooftop, carrying into the starry night.
The starlight itself seemed to tremble with it.
Down in the courtyard, Momotarou and little Kayo stopped playing, heads tilted up, searching for their aniki—but the roof and eaves hid him well.
Even when she was upset, she was so open and natural about it. Any guilt he’d been feeling was swept away.
Yeah. He wasn’t some virus infecting people around him.
Katou didn’t hide her feelings at all.
She told him plainly when she wasn’t happy, and why.
That’s it. That’s the answer Hiratsuka had been drilling into him.
Being with a girl like Katou… it was honestly so easy. So comfortable.
She’d get annoyed, but she’d tell you she was annoyed.
She’d get upset, but she’d tell you why.
It was like she was saying: “Go ahead and make excuses. I’m listening.”
In high spirits again, Kyousuke chuckled a few more times before explaining.
“I was drinking a beer, eating some chocolate, and it made me think of someone… interesting.”
He told her a little about Hiratsuka Shizuka—though he skipped over the embarrassing drunken disasters.
She deserved at least that much respect.
Besides, with Megumi’s sharpness, the moment they met she’d see through Hiratsuka’s act anyway.
After a pause, he even shared the things Hiratsuka had told him in the counseling room, and the doubts and fears they’d stirred inside him.
“My mom’s kind of an airhead—you probably noticed that last time, didn’t you?”
On the other end, Megumi’s laughter rang out, bright and clear, before she quickly covered her mouth.
“Mm, I wouldn’t call Mikiko-auntie an airhead, She’s just really easy to get along with. Honestly, I hope I can be that kind of mom someday.”
“She’s clumsy, yeah, but she’s also really responsible. Not as reliable as you, Megumi, but… I try my best not to make her worry.”
Kyousuke’s voice softened.
Those years in Suimon City, just him and his mom against the world, had been what carried him through every hardship.
Later, Sakura had joined that little family, and he’d tried to be as strong as possible—just like Megumi, who had learned to be “invisible,” blending into the background to avoid troubling anyone.
He’d worked hard to become the kind of person who, when people thought of him, they’d say:
“Ah, Hojou Kyousuke. That guy—you could drop him alone in the Arctic, and he’d not only survive, he’d probably build a polar bear kingdom within a few years.”
And he’d done pretty well.
But he didn’t want anyone close to him to go through the same thing.
He knew exactly how painful it was to have a dozen kids pile on top of you, fists flying.
Sure, bloodying your nose to chase them off felt great—but he didn’t want anyone else he cared about to ever have to fight that fight.
