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559 – A Humiliating Disgrace
🕑 Added 2025-10-01 16:28:32 +0000 UTC“Raise your sword against the stronger! A mystery writer who defies the hierarchy!”
The bold headline flashed across the giant screen, followed by a name—Kono Kenzo (Chairman of the Japan Mystery Writers Association).
“This is the recommendation Chairman Kono wrote for my new book. There are also a few other senior writers who’ll help with promotion.”
Kyousuke said this with an easy smile, answering another one of Yanohara’s questions.
“Am I worried about drawing the Association’s ire? Not at all. Chairman Kono was actually glad I pointed out some of the issues inside the Association. He’s already working to make the award selection process more transparent and open…”
He went on at length, seemingly peeling back the curtain on the inner workings of the Association.
But in truth, what he was really showing off was his close relationship with them.
He might as well have said outright:
“Don’t worry, everyone—this book is perfectly safe. It’ll generate buzz, attention, and sell like crazy.”
Yanohara Toshi from Rensou Island Bookstore nodded along eagerly, his expression finally relaxing.
After bowing to thank Hojou-sensei for his generosity in clearing things up, he sat back down.
Once he’d broken the ice, the other shop owners followed with questions—though all of them were about future promotions.
Each of them thumped their chests with loud promises: if Hojou-sensei wanted to hold a signing event, they’d give their full support.
Kyousuke accepted them all with that same unshakable smile.
He promised that this year’s campaign would be even bigger than last year’s.
As for whether it really would be… who knew? Last year, he hadn’t won any awards.
This year, once he grabbed one and threw in a few kind words, wouldn’t that alone count as “greater effort”?
The atmosphere turned bright and cheerful, and Akamatsu Yuki finally let out the breath he’d been holding.
“As expected of Hojou-sensei—absolutely flawless,” he murmured in admiration.
Kisaki Tetta didn’t say anything.
Well, of course. He had absolute faith in his big brother.
If Kyousuke couldn’t handle it, he would’ve given the signal yesterday and Tetta would’ve gone to “visit” these bookstore owners at their homes.
The order sheets continued to circulate.
That plain-spoken owner who had been gritting his teeth over ordering 2,000 copies earlier now happily wrote down 4,000.
“Ah, Yanohara really is sharp,” the man thought. “If he hadn’t spotted the issue, Hojou-sensei never would’ve revealed those inside details. I nearly missed out on a fortune.”
Editor Akamatsu personally collected each order form, grinning so wide he could barely contain himself—his white molars on full display.
The bookstore owners teased him good-naturedly.
When the presentation wrapped up, the next step was naturally a banquet.
It was nearly five o’clock by then, and the visiting shop owners had been waiting.
Kyousuke would’ve loved to sneak away, but he needed these owners to go all-out on promotion later.
So he joined them at a Entei.
Chiyoda might not be as flashy as Minato Ward, but as the country’s political and cultural heart, it had no shortage of high-class restaurants.
Given the unexpectedly huge order numbers, the publisher splurged heavily.
“Akamatsu, this eel is excellent,” Kyousuke said softly, picking up a piece of crisp tempura eel with his chopsticks.
“That’s their signature dish. Normally, you’d wait at least three hours to get it.”
Quick-witted as always, Akamatsu immediately called a server over and ordered twenty more portions to-go.
“Eh, just the raw ingredients is fine. I’ll cook it myself at home,” Kyousuke added with a grin.
…
Meanwhile, while Kyousuke was skipping class to head to the publisher, the dismissal bell rang at school.
The teacher finished his lecture, announced the end of class without lingering, and strode out.
The classroom, restless for the past five minutes, erupted into chatter.
Some students with tight club schedules rushed out immediately, but most stayed behind to talk—some about homework, some about where to eat dinner, some about how to kill time after their activities.
None of it had anything to do with Yukinoshita Yukino.
She had no intention of joining in, and nobody was foolish enough to try striking up a conversation with her.
She simply packed away her books and stationery with neat efficiency.
She had to hurry and fetch the key to the clubroom.
If she was late, that idiot Sakura would complain nonstop. And Kyousuke… he might use it as an excuse to leave early.
Would Shouko be coming today? She had said the agency work was keeping her busy lately…
As she absentmindedly thought about these things while packing up, a faint smile found its way onto her face.
“Yukinoshita-san, you’re really looking forward to club today, aren’t you?”
The sudden voice made Yukino’s hands freeze mid-motion.
She closed the flap of her schoolbag and looked up.
The speaker was the girl in front of her—Tsuruno Kiyoko.
Her family ran one of Japan’s top ten bento-box companies. She was probably the brightest girl in class besides Yukino herself.
And why did Yukino think so highly of her? Because of a conversation they’d once had about bento boxes.
Though Kiyoko had misunderstood her as some childish loner who meowed like a cat to herself, her high praise for cat-themed bento had greatly pleased Yukino.
After all, everyone knew a person’s aesthetic sense was tied to their intelligence. And anyone who liked cats couldn’t possibly be stupid.
This was the conclusion Yukinoshita reached from a single example.
Yes, the sample size was tiny and the reasoning seemed hasty, but truth often didn’t need mountains of proof.
Take Newton’s apple, for instance—would the discovery of gravity have changed if it had been an iron anvil instead of an apple?
With that logic in mind, and determined not to let her past self be branded a fool, Yukino decided to ask why Tsuruno Kiyoko had said such a thing.
‘Me? Looking forward to club activities?’
“Why do you ask that, Tsuruno-san?” Yukino asked at last, lightly brushing a lock of windblown hair from her ear as she spoke.
The familiar breeze was back again. She had to hurry to the clubroom.
Feeling its gentle touch across her face, she thought silently.
Around this time, the wind always swept in from the west, pleasant in both temperature and strength.
In early April it carried falling cherry blossoms, and now it brought the vitality of fresh green buds.
It made her acutely aware of the passage of time—and she loved nothing more than reading a book in that wind.
‘Ahh… Yukinoshita-san is so beautiful… so cool…!’
Caught in those pale, icy-blue eyes and hearing that cool, detached voice, Tsuruno Kiyoko nearly screamed inside her own mind.
Even though Yukino’s words might have sounded blunt, Kiyoko didn’t mind in the slightest.
She knew it was nothing more than a simple question, devoid of emotion.
Besides, in the entire class, she was the only one who could even talk to Yukinoshita Yukino like this.
“Because I can feel it,” Kiyoko said with a smile.
“Feel it?”
Yukino frowned slightly and glanced at a girl to her right, testing whether she could sense anything from her.
But she immediately realized she was doing something foolish.
There was no need to “sense” anything—the girl was staying behind only to complain to her friends about how boring club was.
She was even swearing she’d quit next semester.
So Yukino shifted her gaze to a group of boys in the back.
This time she did sense it—they must have been soccer club members, urging a slower boy to hurry up.
They looked like hyperactive huskies straining at the leash. Their excitement didn’t need “sensing”; anyone with eyes could see they were eager for club.
‘Wait…’
A sudden chill ran down Yukino’s spine.
‘Am I… the same as those boys?’
‘No! Absolutely not!’ She shook the thought away at once.
Sure, she was satisfied with the members and activities of her club so far, but there was no way she was like that.
“Of course! Just now, when you were putting away your books, your movements were so light. Just like last time when you touched the bento box and imitated a cat’s meow…”
“Tsuruno-san. I did not imitate a cat.” Yukino snapped, firm and decisive.
She hadn’t been meowing like some childish idiot—she’d been conversing with the little cat engraving on the bento box.
Yes, she’d used the language of cats, but that wasn’t the same thing as play-acting a meow.
What, did learning a foreign language mean humans had to be accused of “imitating foreigners”?
‘So cute…’ Tsuruno squealed inwardly.
Yukinoshita denying her love of cats with flimsy excuses was adorable.
She was a thousand times cuter than girls who faked loving cats just to act moe.
“I know, I know. You must have been talking to the carved cat on the lunchbox!” Tsuruno nodded rapidly.
“You could say that. But in truth, I still can’t converse fluently with cats,” Yukino admitted, then launched straight into lecture mode.
“In 1944, Mildred Moelk conducted a detailed study on feline vocabulary. She identified sixteen meaningful sounds, both consonants and vowels.
People often categorize them simply as happy, angry, or excited meows, but it’s more complex than that.
“I’ve discovered that cats from different regions actually speak differently. For example, cats from Okinawa say mya~ to express happiness, but Tokyo cats hear it as an insult and get furious.
Meanwhile, cats from Hakata tend to have very soft, sing-song voices—nyaa nyaa—so much so that other cats often can’t tell whether they’re scolding or flirting…”
Seeing Tsuruno nodding seriously, Yukino allowed herself a rare, satisfied smile and shared more of her research on feline language.
She even mentioned how, during yesterday’s rain, she’d bribed a stray cat into the clubroom with her lunch so she could practice meowing with it all afternoon.
“I see! Amazing! This is the first I’ve heard of iti!” Tsuruno exclaimed, nodding furiously.
The truth? She didn’t care about cats at all.
What she did care about was how impossibly cute Yukinoshita was—serious-faced when lecturing, then soft and gentle when “meowing.”
That sharp, sudden shift between personas nearly made Tsuruno scream aloud from the sheer gap moe.
But Yukino was Yukino.
Even while happily talking about cats, she quickly noticed Tsuruno’s feigned interest.
This girl didn’t care about feline linguistics—she was just interested in her.
So Yukino clamped her mouth shut, and under Tsuruno’s disappointed gaze said coldly:
“In any case, my movements were completely normal. I am not impatient to go to club activities.”
“But Yukinoshita-san, you were smiling,” Tsuruno countered softly, pointing to the corner of her own lips. “When you packed your bag just now, you were definitely thinking about club, weren’t you?”
‘If only she could smile like that at me while inviting me out shopping,’ Tsuruno thought, her heart itching. ‘I’d even be willing to become a cat for that…’
Unconsciously, Yukino touched her mouth, then froze.
She knew instantly—Tsuruno was right.
She had been smiling, because she was thinking of the club.
“I didn’t expect your ‘technique for reading hearts’ to be so advanced, Tsuruno-san,” Yukino muttered, her expression complicated.
To think she, who studied the art of reading people, had been seen through—it was nothing less than a humiliating disgrace.
‘Huh?’
“Technique for reading hearts”? Tsuruno blinked.
That’s not even a real thing! Yukino might as well wear a billboard that said I can’t wait for club today!
But seeing an expression on Yukino’s face she’d never seen before filled Tsuruno with a strange pride.
Almost against her will, she nodded, puffed herself up, and said, “Just a little research, that’s all.”
Yukino-san studies this too? Then we have another topic in common! Her heart soared.
“See you tomorrow.”
Clicking her bag shut, Yukino stood and left with abrupt finality, as if severing the conversation in one stroke.
“Eh? Ah—yes, see you tomorrow,” Tsuruno stammered, stunned.
‘Why so sudden? We were having such a good talk!’
‘I was even about to ask if I could tag along to her club…’
Watching Yukino’s graceful back disappear through the doorway, her long black hair swaying behind her, Tsuruno felt a pang of hatred for her own species.
‘Why wasn’t I born a cat?’ If she had been, she could’ve meowed to stop Yukino from leaving.
That snow-like beauty would have turned back, scooped her into her arms, and stroked her gently.
‘Ugh… what a cruel waste.’
Meanwhile, Yukino’s face had turned serious as she walked down the hall.
Now it was clear—she was looking forward to club activities.
She was desperate to study those three rare specimens in her club: Sakura, Shouko, and Hojou Kyousuke.
She had to absorb their experience and level up her “technique for reading hearts”!
After picking up the key and heading to the special building, Yukino spotted Sakura ahead of her on the stairs.
Just as she was about to call out, the girl suddenly dashed up the steps two at a time.
‘Of course… I can already guess what’s coming,’ Yukino sighed inwardly.
“You’re so slow, Yukino! I’ve been waiting forever~~!”
At the clubroom door, Yamauchi Sakura stood with hands on her hips, loudly complaining.
Above her head, the Service Club’s signboard gleamed brightly.
