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485 — Are You Doing Right by Yukari?
🕑 Added 2025-08-30 15:00:15 +0000 UTC“Sensei, do you know the secret to success in life?”
Hojou Kyousuke held Hiratsuka Shizuka’s hand, asking with all the sincerity he could muster.
“Why are you suddenly asking me that? Planning to crush me with your money and social status? I’ll warn you now, that trick won’t work on me!”
Hiratsuka frowned, clearly on guard.
Any ordinary teacher would feel insecure in front of a brilliant student like Kyousuke.
But she wasn’t just any teacher.
She was an adult who had gone through countless things—someone who believed she still had plenty she could teach this boy.
“As a teacher, part of my duty is to help my students succeed. I know there are areas where I can’t guide you, but success isn’t just about shallow things like money or status.
Beyond material satisfaction, my biggest responsibility is to make sure you walk the right path.”
“Huh? You actually get it?”
Kyousuke looked at her in surprise, convinced she was a woman who wasted her effort on the most ridiculous things.
As a teacher she was flawless—but as a woman… she was utterly hopeless.
“Hm?” The “hopeless woman” raised an eyebrow.
“Do you know the real secret to success, sensei?”
“What, being a genius like you?” she shot back immediately.
“...Well, you’re not wrong. But what I really meant was—there’s only one solid piece of advice an ordinary person can give: never listen to advice from someone who hasn’t succeeded themselves.”
Her eyes grew sharp and dangerous.
“This applies to romance too. If you can successfully win a girl while following advice from a bunch of lonely single guys, it only proves you would’ve succeeded even without those losers.”
Kyousuke carried on, ignoring her darkening expression.
“So, sensei, take my advice—don’t waste your weekends drowning in beer and skewers. Go to mixers, try your luck. And don’t waste your precious sleeping hours on trashy games. Sleep properly, keep your skin healthy.”
His tone was sincere.
Normally, he wouldn’t bother giving such solid advice unless the relationship was close enough.
“You… little… bastard—!”
Shizuka shot up from her chair, yanked the insolent brat into her arms, and hammered her fists against his temple.
“So what if I’ve never dated before? That doesn’t mean I can’t give you guidance on love! These days, don’t young people learn about romance from dramas and anime?
And I’ve seen plenty! You know about Tiga and Camilla’s love? Or Godai Yusuke and Ichijou Kaoru’s?!”
Her voice grew louder, more furious.
She’d thought today would be her chance to impress Kyousuke, but instead she’d been mocked from the start—for the toilet joke earlier, and now for having zero experience in romance.
It was enough to drive a stunning, thirty-something super-beauty teacher insane.
Fueled by frustration, her grip tightened as she fully expected the brat to start begging for mercy.
But of course, that was just her fantasy.
While she often came off as violent, when dealing with people she actually cared about her strength always softened.
Her devastating martial arts instantly melted into harmless “thug punches.”
Kyousuke didn’t even need to fight back.
All he had to do was endure Shizuka-sensei’s “lesson of love” and it felt almost heavenly.
His only real challenge was holding back his grin and making sure he didn’t accidentally stick his tongue out.
He reminded himself to be careful with his image—Shizuka was friends with both Yukari and Miki.
He couldn’t risk doing anything that might damage their friendship.
Still… this situation was different.
After all, he was the victim here.
Gradually, Shizuka realized something was wrong.
The satisfaction of revenge faded, replaced with creeping doubt.
‘Wait… this brat… was he… taking advantage of me?!’
Her hands froze. She looked down.
‘Boom—'
Like a volcano erupting, her pale cheeks flushed crimson in an instant.
“You little brat! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
She shoved Kyousuke away, her voice cracking in panic.
“Me? I’m… getting beaten up!” Kyousuke replied with complete confidence, rubbing his face as though he’d actually taken a serious beating.
“???”
Shizuka understood every word, and it did line up with reality—but why did it make her want to murder him?!
Watching him rub his face, an image popped unbidden into her mind—of herself deliberately smacking his cheeks earlier.
She’d once thought it absurd when Kyousuke claimed Doma had kicked his face.
But now, she’d met someone even more shameless.
“You’re not afraid I’ll tell Yukari?”
“And are you doing right by Yukari?”
They both blurted out at the same time.
“You—what are you even saying?!”
Shizuka stared in disbelief.
She already knew this guy was devious, but this level of shamelessness was beyond imagination.
“Am I wrong? This was supposed to be counseling. Yet before we even entered the room, you started ranting about marrying a toilet.
Then inside, the mature and respectable Hiratsuka-sensei first shook my mind with words, and then—using her strong arms pulled me into her chest and assaulted me.”
Kyousuke’s voice was heavy with mock shame.
At this point, he had no choice but to paint himself as the victim.
Otherwise, Yukari and Miki might really believe he’d taken advantage of Shizuka.
“???”
Shizuka’s already large eyes widened even further, her mouth falling open in shock.
“You… you… you—!”
A kind-hearted teacher in her thirties who had never even married—how could she possibly have dealt with someone this brazen?
Her face burned so hot she could barely form words.
“What? You don’t want Yukinoshita Haruno to hear about this, right? If she found out…” Kyousuke said righteously.
If Haruno found out…
Shizuka’s imagination spiraled.
That woman, with her love of mischief, would definitely greet her with something like:
“Well, well, if it isn’t the desperate thirty-something teacher who gropes her own students in the counseling room. Good morning~.”
‘No. No, no, no, no!!’
The thought screamed through her mind.
If Haruno ever dropped that line in front of a blind date—her chances at marriage would be doomed forever, even if the date was God himself!
Terror and despair filled her wide eyes.
Gazing at the pitiful expression on Kyousuke’s face, she was overwhelmed with a dreadful premonition—her chance to marry might be lost forever…
“N-no… don’t…”
This vile, scheming man… he actually dared to set her up!
The bleak vision of her future made her fists tighten, her gaze wavering with violent conflict.
‘Don’t underestimate me!’
The black-haired woman took a deep breath, her eyes locking on the sly brat grinning before her.
Her right hand clenched into a fist at her waist, and with a silent roar in her heart, she gathered every ounce of strength.
This punch wasn’t just a strike—it carried her determination to protect her future!
Even though Hiratsuka Shizuka knew this crude and straightforward punch might not land against someone as slippery as Hojou Kyousuke, she had to throw it.
This wasn’t merely a fist—it was resolve.
It was her absolute conviction: I will get married!
There was a fifty-fifty chance.
If he blocked, she’d throw herself forward into his chest, using her body weight to slam him back.
If he dodged, she’d sweep his legs out from under him and pin him down, raining her iron fists onto his shameless head filled with nothing but filth.
In just a split second, Shizuka ran through three possible counters in her head.
All those years of martial arts weren’t for nothing.
Her eyes burned bright.
As her fist swung forward, her long black hair whipped through the air, her white coat billowing.
For a moment, she seemed to radiate the aura of a Super Saiyan.
And then—her punch landed.
Eh?!
It actually… hit?!
Her small white fist slammed straight into Kyousuke’s stomach.
For a moment, Shizuka’s mind went blank.
Still, her body moved on instinct, following her plan—she dove against his chest to push him back.
Yet… the follow-up power wasn’t there.
Instead of blasting him away, it looked more like she was throwing herself into his arms.
Her fist loosened, her hand pressing against the place she’d just struck.
It was hard—ridges like an ice tray. Abs. Her punch had sunk right into his muscles.
Shizuka blinked up at him, dazed.
She remembered last night.
That Doma and the others had wailed about him:
“He’s a demon! My face got kicked to pieces, and I couldn’t even touch his pant leg!”
And not just them—she’d heard plenty of similar stories.
Everyone said the same thing:
Tokyo’s most dangerous delinquent hit like a monster… but was supposedly terrified of being hit himself.
If he could carry a weapon, he’d never fight barehanded.
Even when he punched people, he framed it like they were smacking their faces into his fist.
That thought flashed through her mind, and strangely, though she felt like she was being toyed with again, pride welled up inside her.
What a joke.
Dozens of thugs couldn’t do it—but she’d landed a solid punch on Hojou Kyousuke.
She had done it!
The woman leaning weakly against his chest thought triumphantly:
‘I actually punched him.’
“Sensei,” Kyousuke suddenly said, his voice calm. “It’s a good thing you haven’t found a boyfriend yet.”
Her thoughts screeched to a halt.
That keyword snapped her right back to reality.
She immediately pushed off, retreating a step from his embrace.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?!” she demanded, fists ready to swing again.
“I’m worried about you.” Kyousuke’s tone was disarmingly earnest.
“…Huh?”
Seeing the sincerity in his eyes, her irritation eased—just a little.
“I’m worried you’ll end up in prison for domestic violence… or murder.”
“You damn brat!”
Of course. What else did she expect?
Why had she even let herself hope?
Letting out a heavy sigh, Shizuka straightened her coat and waved dismissively, her enthusiasm drained. “Forget it. Just go.”
“I’m not joking,” Kyousuke continued, smiling faintly. “I just think… maybe you’ve been putting your effort into the wrong direction.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
“I remember Haruno-san said once, during a blind date—you knocked out a purse-snatcher with one punch. Scared your date half to death, and he ran off.”
“Damn Haruno… How the hell does she even know about that?” Shizuka muttered, glaring as if she could curse her so-called friend into dust.
“Oh, you told her yourself. When you were drunk. Apparently you cried a lot, too.” Kyousuke added without a shred of hesitation, happily throwing Haruno under the bus.
“Like hell I did! I’d never cry over something that stupid!” Shizuka snapped back instantly.
She would never embarrass herself like that—not even drunk.
“Ah, well, you didn’t cry because of that,” Kyousuke admitted. “It was the other thing you told her. Something about going to a shrine to pray, and the head priest refused to let you in because they ‘didn’t serve unmarried women over thirty’ or something like that…”
As he recalled it, a smile tugged at his lips.
Actually, there had been photos to go along with the story—adorably humiliating drunken photos, saved on Haruno’s phone.
He had a few himself, though not secretly taken—Shizuka herself had pulled him in for selfies while tipsy.
Her droopy eyes, tongue sticking out, making goofy faces… utterly childish.
Any one of those shots could make the famously stoic teacher burst into tears on the spot.
Even the girl in his class who once cried three periods straight would probably come to her for lessons.
“NO, STOP! Don’t say another word!” Shizuka shrieked, clapping her hands over her ears.
“Don’t feel embarrassed sensei,” Kyousuke said, his grin still there despite his attempt at seriousness. “I’m not bringing this up to laugh at you.”
Looking at her pouting like an embarrassed kid, he couldn’t help it—who could resist smiling at such a cute “old lady”?
“Like you said earlier, relationships are like knotted ropes. But what do you think happens if a strand of ramen noodles gets mixed in with the threads?”
“…Ramen?”
Shizuka lowered her hands, frowning thoughtfully.
