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484 – Stop Talking, Just Get Married
🕑 Added 2025-08-30 15:00:15 +0000 UTCHiratsuka Shizuka eventually lit her cigarette.
She was a cautious, seasoned adult—she had already predicted that talking with that brat, Hojou Kyousuke, would be a huge headache.
Sso she had prepared her “strategic supplies” in advance.
Even though both of them were sitting down, the tall boy still towered over her.
That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing—it meant her legs were really long.
But this small discovery did nothing to ease her heavy mood.
After all, what was the point of comparing leg length with a man?
Ridiculous.
What really made her frustrated—so frustrated she smoked half the cigarette in one breath was his attitude.
No matter what she said, the boy in front of her stayed silent, unmoved.
“Haa—"
Turning her head toward the window, Shizuka exhaled a cloud of smoke.
But it wasn’t the alluring gesture of a sultry woman parting her lips; it was more like a kid pretending to smoke, even making a little “fwoosh~” sound with her mouth.
“Hojou,” she said in a low voice.
“…Yeah.”
Kyousuke already regretted giving in to a moment of weakness and coming to school today.
On a beautiful day like this, he should’ve just stayed home to play with his sister—or better yet, play frisbee with Momotatou.
Kids and dogs were the perfect duo.
If an adult played catch or frisbee with a kid, it turned into a workout session for the adult.
The child would throw the frisbee in every direction possible, and amidst their gleeful laughter, the parent’s fat would melt away with every chase.
On the other hand, playing with a dog meant the adult got to throw the frisbee around however they liked, while the dog sprinted tirelessly, brought it back with sparkling eyes, and waited eagerly for more.
So, if you had both a kid and a dog, you could combine the two headaches into one perfect solution—a joyful afternoon.
Not… this.
Not sitting here listening to a late-thirties, still-single woman—who stayed up all night playing video games despite having work the next day and still trying to give him psychological counseling.
But still was Hiratsuka Shizuka really this sharp, this sensitive?
They’d known each other for nearly three years, and this was the first time Kyousuke had seen this side of her.
Just because of one impulsive act, it felt as though she had seen straight through his heart.
“…It’s fine, Sensei. You don’t have to worry so much.”
His voice was quiet.
Honestly, his mental age was far older than hers.
There was no way he could bring himself to accept her “counseling.”
This wasn’t the kind of comforting where you bury your head in someone’s chest—nothing about this would give him strength.
“You must’ve noticed it too, right? Yukari… she’s worried about you.”
Shizuka spoke gravely, then, in her usual fashion, stubbed out the cigarette after only one drag.
“…”
Kyousuke stayed silent.
If even Hiratsuka Shizuka could notice, how could he not?
Yukino Yukari. That gentle woman. Just before her voice over the phone had carried no trace of worry, not a single shadow—but it was her voice that had woken him up.
Yukari was the type of person who would rather go hungry herself than let Kyousuke skip a meal.
With her, you’d never see the idea of “sharing hardships.”
She’d swallow all the bitterness alone, and give away all the sweetness.
Just once, when Kyousuke hadn’t gotten enough sleep during his nap, she had arranged with the teacher to switch lessons—and then spent the whole class reading dry local records aloud, just so Kyousuke could sleep peacefully.
That was who she was.
There was no way she would ever wake him up just because someone else asked her to.
Not even for Shizuka, her closest friend.
This timid yet endlessly gentle woman—she expressed her concern silently, in ways small and subtle, but powerful enough to stir up waves in one’s heart.
“…Sensei, remember when you asked me why I don’t seek help from others? This is why. If even Yukari-sensei starts worrying… then what about everyone else?”
Kyousuke let out a slow breath.
Across from him, Shizuka’s brows knit tightly together.
“I’ve always wondered why Yukari admires you so much. Yes, admires—though I hate to admit it. Compared to Miki, I can clearly see it in Yukari: her admiration, her attachment to you. It’s… complicated, beyond what I can understand.”
That was what Shizuka could never wrap her head around.
Okudera Miki’s relationship with Kyousuke was simple, easy to follow—and thanks to her own persistence, she had practically dug up every scrap of gossip about the two.
But Yukari was different.
This bastard Kyousuke was like one of those infuriating “fall-from-the-sky” protagonists in manga—swooping in out of nowhere and stealing away her dearest friend.
They were close in age, shared the same profession, and their personalities clicked—it was like fate had delivered Shizuka her one perfect best friend.
And then, just like that, her irreplaceable friend was stolen away, as easily and cleanly as a bubble popping under a shard of glass.
What made it worse was that Kyousuke had transferred to Sobu High in the first place because of her.
She had arranged it, and even gotten another friend mad at her for it.
Damn it.
She should never have made that call.
Before the guilt could swallow her whole, Shizuka hurried to speak:
“Maybe Yukari’s right. Maybe you are like a god—so strong that no obstacle, no hardship, whether real or emotional, can bring you down. But you’re not alone, Hojou. Not everyone around you is as strong as you are.
It’s because of your strength that those around you can’t help but be affected by you.”
‘Affected…’
That word echoed in Kyousuke’s mind.
“Hiding everything inside, afraid of burdening others, trying to shoulder it all alone—that itself is a way of hurting the people around you.”
Her voice was raspy, maybe from nicotine, maybe from the weight of her words.
Right now, Hiratsuka sounded less like a single woman whose biggest wish was to get married—and more like a weary old man.
The kind who would sit with a lukewarm beer and dispense bitter truths.
Seeing the boy’s expression finally shift, Shizuka felt a spark of hope.
She raised her hand and moved her fingers as if plucking at invisible strings.
“That thing you’re always wearing—it’s a braided cord, isn’t it?”
Kyousuke lowered his head, looking at the red-and-blue string peeking from his cuff, and nodded lightly.
“Cords—thin threads woven together. They twist, they tangle, but they always remain tightly bound. That’s what human relationships are like.
Whether you want to or not, you affect those around you. Just like those threads—different colors, different strands, but all bound together by the same weave.
If you keep everything locked inside, never telling anyone… then what about them? When they’re troubled, who do they turn to?”
Kyousuke’s lips moved, but no words came out.
The woman before him—so calm, so piercing and felt almost unfamiliar.
Those black eyes of hers didn’t look like they belonged to a woman in her late thirties, still unmarried, still yearning desperately for marriage.
No… they looked like the eyes of a sage—one who had gone through countless divorces, seen through every truth of the world, and emerged with wisdom carved deep into her soul.
“You think they’ll come to you for help? Because you’re strong? No. That’s not it. It’s because you’re the one who decides the weave.
Whether you like it or not, they’ll be influenced by you. They’ll learn from you—hiding their worries inside, forcing themselves to solve everything on their own.
So, this so-called idea of ‘not hurting the people around you’—it never existed.
The moment there’s a connection between people, there’s the risk of hurting each other.
The more important someone is, the more you want to avoid hurting them, and the more you will end up hurting them.
Whether you hide it or distance yourself, whether you’re strong or weak—it’s the same.”
“…”
Kyousuke had no idea what it felt like for this woman when her fantasy of “marrying the toilet” crumbled, but he did know one thing: right now, he was in a bad mood.
“So is that why you never married, Sensei? Because you saw through all that? The wise don’t fall in love?” he asked dryly.
“Uh—”
The moment those words left his mouth, the woman who had been staring out the window with such a deep, melancholic gaze suddenly doubled over like she’d been shot straight through the heart.
A pitiful groan escaped her lips.
“…You bastard. You really don’t let anything in, do you?”
The great teacher finally snapped.
She raised her fist and swung it straight at the insolent brat across from her.
Kyousuke instantly judged the punch strong enough to split his brow wide open. Yet he didn’t move.
He knew, just as she did, that her fist would only graze past his ear.
The gust lifted strands of his hair, but it was nothing compared to the storm raging inside him.
Not letting anything in? No—on the contrary.
Kyousuke had even resorted to cheap jokes, trying to derail Hiratsuka before she could go any further.
Because her words… they reminded him first of Nishimiya Shouko.
Wasn’t Shouko exactly like Hiratsuka described?
Working herself to the bone, hiding everything, never telling friends or family—and if Sakura hadn’t noticed in time, who knows how badly it could’ve ended?
Hiratsuka noticed the flicker of hesitation on his face. Seizing the opening, she pressed on:
“It’s precisely because you see someone as important that you’re afraid of hurting them.
But once you’ve recognized them as important, you also have to accept the risk of hurting them.
There are things in this world that can never be gained—precisely because both sides are trying too hard to protect each other.”
Her tone softened, no longer so heavy.
“But you don’t need to feel sad about it. In fact, maybe it’s something to be proud of. So—if hurting each other is inevitable then at you have to be honest.
Share everything, the good and the bad. Don’t hesitate to lean on the people around you. And if it still feels too difficult… then let me be your first step.”
The great Hiratsuka-sensei flashed a dashing smile and extended her hand toward him.
‘There are things that can never be gained, precisely because both sides are trying too hard to protect each other…’
The words reverberated in Kyousuke’s mind, over and over, like a chorus of off-key forest spirits screaming at the top of their lungs—until his brain felt shaken to mush.
Shouko’s image filled his thoughts.
Then Yukari’s.
Hiratsuka’s words fit both of them perfectly.
Could it really be… that it was because of him that such mistakes had nearly happened?
Shouko, clinging to him and weeping bitterly on the small bridge in Suimon City.
Yukari, clinging to him and weeping on Sobu High’s rooftop.
Both of them, just as Hiratsuka said, had been influenced by him—had grown stronger, found their way forward.
But at the same time…
What about the others? Sakura? Mitsuha? Utaha…?
As doubt swirled in his heart, a brilliant streak of gold—warm and dazzling, like sunlight—cut through his thoughts.
“Just like how people look up into the night sky, waiting for that inevitable red light whenever a plane passes, I want people to see your name, Hojou Kyousuke, and immediately search for mine beside it!
I will be your number one! I’ll become the person you can lean on again—just like when we first created One Punch Man together!
I’ll be the Eriri you can depend on and trust!
I swear it—I’ll be your number one!
By the name of Eriri, I command you: until I’ve claimed that place in your heart, you’re not allowed to fall behind! You have to stay right at my side!”
The blonde girl’s tears streamed down her cheeks as she raised her proud chin, casting aside all hesitation, and shouted with all her heart.
Yes. Survivor’s bias? Maybe.
But there were still people this honest, this straightforward.
Like sunlight breaking through the night, Kyousuke’s gloom scattered in an instant.
If Eriri were playing frisbee with Kasuko and Momotarou, it would probably turn into Kasuko happily throwing the disc while Eriri and the dog chased each other desperately for it.
That was the power of a clown, of a mood-maker—the power to change the atmosphere in a heartbeat.
No matter how dark things felt, just the thought of her was enough to make him laugh.
Even the saddest scenes, when it came to Eriri, always carried a touch of comedy.
“…That’s not it, sensei.”
Lifting his head, Kyousuke’s face was suddenly clear, the shadows gone.
Before the bewildered Hiratsuka could react, he clasped the hand she still held out in front of him.
“I won’t even bother asking if you have someone you like. But you haven’t held hands with a guy in a long time, have you?”
At those words, Hiratsuka’s dazed expression twisted instantly into something monstrous.
“Is that what we’re discussing right now!?”
Her once-dashing voice now dripped with menace.
So everything has to circle back to romance, huh?
Can’t you just shut up, you damned love-brain? If there’s one thing the world doesn’t need, it’s romance—it’s a complete aberration!
Inside, she cursed furiously while trying to wrench her hand free.
But the shameless boy across from her held on stubbornly tight.
“Idiot! You’re the one who hasn’t held a woman’s hand before! Otherwise why are you squeezing so hard? Besides, I shook hands with a publisher rep just yesterday—she came to pitch textbooks on behalf of the school!” she snapped.
“…”
Kyousuke blinked.
The words on his tongue suddenly felt too cruel to say.
‘I’m such an idiot… actually listening seriously to advice from someone with zero dating experience.’
A quiet sadness rose inside him, and he wondered if maybe his lack of sleep had scrambled his brain after all.
