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473 – Take Your Hand Out From Under My Skirt! And Stop Pulling My Ponytail!
🕑 Added 2025-08-25 15:00:19 +0000 UTCShouko had already guessed why Kawasaki Saki had called her up to the rooftop.
After learning to “eat bitter melon,” she understood the kind of aura carried by someone who bore their own pain in silence.
Whether Kawasaki’s habit of using underwear as hair ties came from some strange fetish or from financial hardship, Shouko had no intention of pretending ignorance.
She wasn’t going to stand on high and say something hollow like “Don’t worry, everyone faces hardships, there’s no need to feel ashamed.”
Nor did she think it was her place to step in and try to solve Kawasaki’s problems.
They weren’t close enough for that.
Besides—if it was just an odd habit, fine. That was personal.
But if Kawasaki was so poor she had no choice but to repurpose underwear, then as an outsider Shouko felt even less entitled to comment.
What shook her most was Kawasaki’s determination: even resorting to such an extreme method, she still insisted on maintaining her image as a proper young woman.
Shouko admired that resolve deeply.
If it had been her, she knew she could never do the same, she would have simply picked a hairstyle that didn’t require hair ties at all.
After all, if anyone ever found out, transferring schools might be the only escape.
That, or beg Kyousuke-kun to just blow up the entire world.
And truthfully, Kawasaki had pulled it off remarkably well.
The hair tie she’d made didn’t look out of place at all—in fact, it was stylish, perfectly fitting Kawasaki’s look.
No one suspected a thing.
The best proof was poor Mimiko, who’d innocently asked Kawasaki where she bought it and ended up crying through three full periods after learning the truth.
The only mystery was why Kawasaki insisted on using one hair tie for her ponytail and wearing the other on her wrist like a bracelet.
Was it just because bras came in pairs, so she felt obliged to use both?
Shouko couldn’t figure it out, but her respect for Kawasaki’s resolve only grew.
That was why she had decided from the beginning to play dumb.
She never expected things to turn out like this.
If it had been Eriri, she could just say, “I don’t know!” and even Kyousuke-kun would forgive her instantly.
But when Shouko tried that line with Kawasaki, it was like pushing a switch—Kawasaki suddenly transformed into something terrifying, like a zombie crawling toward her on all fours.
‘Was that line only effective when said to Kyousuke-kun?’
Now, with Kawasaki scrambling toward her like some silver-haired ghoul, Shouko screamed in panic.
She had grown strong—strong enough that if she were thrown back to the days before meeting Kyousuke-kun, she could now easily kick away anyone who tried to bully her.
But this? This was beyond her.
She was still just a girl, unprepared for supernatural horrors.
Backing all the way to the rooftop door, her trembling hands fumbled with the lock.
Just then, a cold hand clamped around her ankle.
“AAAAAAAHHH!”
The shock shot up her spine like lightning, every nerve in her body tingling.
Her knees gave out and she collapsed just as escape was within reach.
Her hands wouldn’t obey her anymore, her fingers limp with fear.
She could only watch in horror as Kawasaki dragged herself closer, still gripping her ankle, crawling up her leg inch by inch.
‘If there’s a tomorrow… I swear I’ll properly learn self-defense from Utaha-senpai.’
That was Shouko’s final thought before Kawasaki’s face loomed closer and closer, her weight pressing against Shouko’s body.
‘No!! I haven’t even kissed Kyousuke-kun yet!!’
The thought ignited a desperate fire in her.
Summoning all her strength, Shouko shoved Kawasaki off her body, sending her flying.
But Kawasaki was no ordinary opponent.
She was an older sister who had sworn to protect her younger siblings, Keika and Taishi, even if it meant abandoning her pride and sacrificing her future.
For her, family was the ultimate strength.
‘I won’t let you leave this rooftop! I won’t let you tell anyone!’
‘I’ll protect Keika and Taishi’s future, no matter what!’ Kawasaki vowed in her heart.
Even as she was thrown back, her body snapped taut like a bowstring.
She twisted midair and clamped onto Shouko’s ankle again.
That chilling sensation surged up Shouko’s skin once more.
But this time, steeled by her resolve to at least give her first kiss to Kyousuke-kun, Shouko gritted her teeth and swung her free leg.
Her indoor slipper slammed into Kawasaki’s cheek.
‘Sorry, Kawasaki-san. I don’t want to step on your face… but compared to Kyousuke-kun, I’d trample you with both feet if I had to!’
Her eyes blazed with determination as she ground her shoe into Kawasaki’s pretty face, smearing it with gray dust.
The little beauty mark that made Kawasaki’s face so striking was now hidden under grime.
If Yamauchi Sakura were here, she would’ve shaken her head and said: “Only you could drive our gentle little Shouko to this point.”
Poor Shouko indeed.
But Kawasaki wasn’t finished.
Even with her face reddened and dirtied, she refused to release her grip.
Instead, she clawed higher, gripping Shouko’s calf, climbing as if up a rope.
“Don’t think you can escape!” she snarled.
And Shouko screamed again, voice cracking.
“Please, stop! I’m sorry! I don’t know what I did wrong, but I’m sorry!”
‘I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t know what mistake I made, but I’ll apologize anyway.’
‘Because I’m so scared. I’m terrified of dying here.’
‘I’m terrified of never getting to kiss Kyousuke-kun…’
‘Kyousuke-kun, Kyousuke-kun, save me! Sakura, unbeatable Sakura, come save me! Even Eriri would do! Somebody, anybody!!’
She remembered her resolve about the bitter melon: to keep her pain to herself.
But why… why wasn’t Kawasaki letting her go?
Shouko tried to kick again, but her kind heart wouldn’t let her stomp Kawasaki’s face a second time. Desperate, she shouted:
“I promised to eat lunch with Kyousuke-kun! If he doesn’t see me, he’ll turn the whole school upside down looking for me!”
Her ultimate bluff.
Kawasaki froze.
‘What!? Nishimiya Shouko already told Hojou Kyousuke my secret—that I make hair ties out of underwear?!’
‘If she doesn’t show up at lunch, he’ll spread it across the entire school!?’
At that realization, Kawasaki’s strength drained out of her.
So that was it. It wasn’t just Shouko who would keep her secret—Hojou Kyousuke held the leash as well.
She was trapped.
Condemned to be his slave.
‘I really am such a fool. Wasn’t it obvious from the start?’
He’s the most dangerous delinquent in all of Tokyo, and yet… after being in the same class as him since the new semester began.
‘I actually convinced myself that deep down, Hojou Kyousuke was a good person.’
‘I even went home and told my little brother, “Taishi, that Hojou Kyousuke you look up to? Turns out he’s actually a good guy.”’
What a fool I was.
If even someone like Nishimiya Shouko a sweet, harmless girl as gentle as a puppy—can hide such a terrifyingly dark side.
Then just imagine how good Hojou Kyousuke must be at acting.
If I hadn’t been blinded by Sobu High’s soaring university acceptance rates and endless scholarship opportunities.
I never would’ve worked myself to the bone to get in.
If the school hadn’t been so demanding, I wouldn’t have had to slave away at part-time jobs to save up for tuition.
If I hadn’t been so desperate to save money, I wouldn’t have resorted to using underwear as hair ties.
And if I hadn’t done that, no one would have had any dirt on me to use as leverage—turning me into a slave, stripping me of my body and my future.
Thinking that, the hand I’d shoved under Shouko’s skirt, gripping her thigh like a lifeline, finally lost its strength.
The strange, crawling sensation faded at last, and Shouko scrambled to her feet.
She didn’t even bother straightening her skirt before yanking the rooftop door open.
She was ready to run… but at the last second, she looked back.
Even after everything Kawasaki had done to her, Shouko couldn’t bring herself to abandon a classmate sitting there in such utter despair.
That’s just the kind of girl she was—weak, soft, and incapable of cruelty, no matter how strong she tried to become.
And what she saw made her heart twist.
Kawasaki sat slumped against the ground, her black-and-white uniform skirt hiked up to her thighs, her long legs splayed weakly apart, pale skin stained with rooftop dust.
Her hands pressed limply against the floor, her long silver ponytail spilling over her shoulder, covering her face.
All Shouko could see were the big, heavy tears dripping down, one after another.
The sight was so pitiful, so heart-wrenching—yet Shouko’s head filled only with question marks.
‘What did I even do?’
‘So this time, instead of people throwing rocks at me, they’re throwing them at her?’
‘Didn’t she almost kill me just now? Her hand was literally under my skirt!’
‘Why does it look like she’s the victim here?!’
Shouko couldn’t understand it, but that didn’t stop her from walking right back into the lion’s den.
‘Well… she’s already been scared into submission by Kyousuke-kun, right?’
‘She probably won’t try to grab my thighs again… right?’
That was the hope Shouko clung to.
Cautiously, she crouched down—and only then realized why Kawasaki wore her uniform shirt the way she did.
She tied the bottom hem into a knot, the classic gyaru style.
But in truth, her shirt was simply too big.
The hem hung down so far it covered her skirt completely.
It looked just like… just like one of those oversized shirts a girlfriend would wear for her boyfriend.
The kind you’d see paired with nothing but underwear—or nothing at all.
‘This is all Eriri’s fault for telling me that kind of stuff!’ Shouko protested silently to herself, quickly trying to rationalize.
‘Maybe buying oversized shirts is the same reason she uses underwear for hair ties?’
But Kawasaki’s despair only deepened.
Tears weren’t washing it away—they were drowning her further in the dark.
‘It’s fine,’ she thought bitterly.
‘Being one person’s slave or two people’s slave makes no difference.’
‘If I’ve already accepted the despair of sacrificing myself, then I’ll just…’
Her mind spiraled.
‘Keika… my sweet little sister. Don’t worry. Your big sister will do everything it takes to keep Hojou Kyousuke satisfied. I’ll never let him set his sights on you.’
Kawasaki had seen her share of “artistic works.” She knew how it went:
Using a younger sister to threaten the older one.
Then flipping it—using the older sister to manipulate the younger.
From “You don’t want anything to happen to your sister, do you?” to “If you don’t want me touching your sister, then be obedient and…”
From “I won’t forgive you if you lay a finger on her!” to “If you promise not to hurt my sister, then I’ll…”
‘No! Absolutely not! If someone has to fall into the dark, let it be me alone!’
People often say “the future is uncertain.”
But Kawasaki could already see hers—pitch black.
If Kasumigaoka Utaha knew what she was thinking, she’d probably spit a mouthful of soda in her face, then stomp her head with her hard, black leather shoes.
“Wow, aren’t you delusional? What, you think you can just waltz in and become Kyousuke’s slave?
Do you even know how long the waiting list is? ‘Despair,’ my ass.
If I were you, I’d check whether some seven gods of fortune died near your old family house and left you a blessing. Pfft. Pathetic!”
Meanwhile, Shouko tiptoed closer and knelt down, pulling out a sky-blue handkerchief embroidered with a cute little sunflower.
She held it out.
That tiny flash of color broke into Kawasaki’s bleak vision, interrupting the image she’d conjured of herself on a leash, Hojou yanking her ponytail while smacking her until she cried.
Panic jolted her upright.
She tried to scoot back, but her hand slipped on her fallen ponytail, yanking her scalp painfully.
And that only made the vision more vivid—her ponytail as reins in Hojou’s hand, her tears dragged out by his cruel tugging, all so he could savor her humiliation.
‘How vile!’
It was only a fantasy, but it felt so real that every inch of her skin burned with shame.
Yes, she looked like a scary gyaru delinquent.
Yes, one glare from her had sent Mimiko Matsubayashi crying in the bathroom for three whole periods. But the truth was—
Kawasaki Saki, am neither a gyaru nor a delinquent. She have no idea why Mimiko cried like that.
She don’t even belong to a single club.
After school, the first thing she do is make dinner for her little sister.
Once that’s taken care of, she head straight to my part-time job.
She just a girl aiming for a top university, studying hard while working myself ragged.
And yes, it sounds vain, but she believe that makes me a role model for her younger siblings.
Clothes are patched up and worn for three more years.
Shirts are always bought two sizes too big—after all, I’ll grow into them.
In short—
Kawasaki Saki is just a hopeless sister-con, and a cowardly fake gyaru.
