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469 — C-Rank Hero, Nishimiya Shouko
🕑 Added 2025-08-23 15:08:57 +0000 UTC“So the rumor online is actually true? Hojou-kun fought a yakuza gang just to get a cherry blossom tree?”
“Why are you using the word fought?”
“Doesn’t it sound way cooler that way?”
“…Well, maybe. But honestly, I think just mentioning Hojou-kun’s name makes anything sound cool.”
“You’ve got a point.”
While the chatter buzzed around her, Shouko pulled more snacks from her desk drawer, cheerfully handing them out to her classmates.
“Speaking of which, if something like that really happened, shouldn’t Kawasaki-san know more about it?”
One girl turned to Kawasaki Saki, and the others nodded in agreement.
Why did yakuza talk make everyone look at Kawasaki Saki?
Because the moment you saw her, words like violent, delinquent, gyaru, and rebel flashed into your head.
Normal girls tucked their uniform shirts neatly into their skirts, prim and proper. But Kawasaki?
She knotted hers at the waist like a gyaru.
No belly button showing, but compared to everyone else, it was plenty rebellious.
Her collar was wide open, showing off an impressive amount of cleavage without a trace of shame.
And, naturally, she refused to wear the school’s red ribbon tie—something even Miura Yumiko, the “queen” of the class, wore without complaint.
Her long silver hair was tied into a high ponytail with a pink scrunchie, giving her a fierce aura.
Even without speaking, she looked like the type of “big-sis” gyaru who could casually slap anyone around.
One time, a classmate asked her where she bought that scrunchie.
In return, they got the infamous death glare.
Rumor had it the poor girl was so terrified she cried in the bathroom for three whole periods, and the next day chopped her hair short, swearing never to use a scrunchie again.
It had been just a normal girl-talk moment—asking about an accessory usually meant friendliness, even admiration.
But Kawasaki’s response rocketed her image from “looks tough to approach” to “stare too long and you’ll get punched.”
Soon the whole class had made their assumptions:
She vanished after school to go brawling.
She gazed out the window during class, secretly plotting her next fight.
She was always tired in lessons because she stayed up all night fighting.
She never ate snacks at school—because snacks taste better after punching someone.
…Yeah. That was her “legend.”
The only thing softening her image was the teardrop-shaped mole beneath her right eye.
Without that, some girls might’ve literally stood up and saluted her out of fear whenever she entered the bathroom.
Even so, hardly anyone dared talk to her.
She just sat there, staring out the window.
Only the ever-kind Shouko and the incorrigible Sakura would strike up conversation with her.
“Hah? Why would I know anything about that?” Kawasaki blinked, genuinely confused.
She’d only heard about Hojou’s so-called “girlfriend” rumor this morning on the way to school—let alone fighting the yakuza.
Last night, her adorable little sister, Kei, hadn’t been feeling well.
With both parents working late shifts, she had to take care of her all evening.
Just when she’d finally gotten Kei to sleep, it was time to start prepping lunch for her younger brother.
Running on nothing but sheer determination—I’m going to class no matter what, I need to study—she somehow dragged herself to school.
She’d nearly passed out at lunch, only to overhear this explosive gossip.
And now they were acting like she was in on it?
She wasn’t gossiping! Definitely not!
She only listened because these people were way too loud to let her nap.
Absolutely true!
The girl who had first mentioned Kawasaki nearly jumped out of her seat after that blunt reply.
She threw her arm up as if shielding her face, looking seconds away from crying out, Please don’t hit me!
Kawasaki clicked her tongue, turned her head, and showed only the right half of her face wearing a sulky, put-upon look.
‘Seriously? You’re the one who dragged me into this.’
‘I just asked a normal question back, and now I’m the bad guy? Ugh, so annoying.’
‘High schoolers are such a pain.’
‘My little sister in kindergarten and my brother in middle school are way cuter.’
And there it was!
The legendary 35-degree look of icy contempt!
Her blue eyes, already striking, now carried an aura of absolute disdain.
Beautiful, fragile—and terrifying.
Everyone knew: say another word now, and you’d get dragged to the bathroom for a beatdown.
The girls instantly backed down, changing the subject in a rush, sweat dripping down their foreheads.
‘Hojou-kun, hurry back! Without you here, Kawasaki Saki’s true form is showing!’
‘You’re the only one who can keep her in check!’
Of course, Shouko who knew Saki best wasn’t fooled.
To her left, terrified classmates.
To her right, an unfairly maligned Kawasaki, sulking like a scolded cat.
Both sides thought they were the victims.
Shouko had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
If Sakura were here, she’d be cackling already—probably clinging to Saki’s shoulder wailing, “Mercy, boss lady, I’ll never cross you again!” …which would just make the girls’ misunderstanding worse and Saki even more flustered.
And in the end, Saki would get so mad she’d start laughing too.
That was just Sakura’s magic.
As for the infamous “scrunchie story”… Shouko actually knew the truth.
Kawasaki wasn’t stingy, nor was she looking down on that poor girl.
The real reason she didn’t answer was simple: it was a secret she couldn’t say aloud.
Shouko had discovered it by accident.
Changing for gym class one day, her eyes had wandered—naturally, as a fellow member of the Great Bust Club. And what she saw was shocking.
Kawasaki’s scrunchie… matched her underwear.
Same pink color.
Same lace trim.
Same fabric.
But scrunchies don’t come in underwear sets. Not anywhere.
Through close observation and careful deduction—skills inherited from the great detective Yamauchi Sakura—Shouko reached the only possible truth.
There was only one explanation.
Kawasaki Saki’s scrunchie… was handmade out of underwear.
The stitching was so perfect it looked machine-done, but it was undeniably handcrafted.
At first, Shouko couldn’t believe it.
Who in the world makes a scrunchie out of underwear?
If anyone else found out, Kawasaki would instantly be branded a total creep.
And it’s not like scrunchies cost much—why bother saving money that way?
The answer revealed itself soon after.
In the locker room, while changing, Kawasaki had turned just in time to catch Shouko staring.
Her face had gone completely pale.
And at that moment… Shouko saw it with her own eyes: the so-called “icy contempt” that terrified the class.
Except—it wasn’t contempt at all.
It was just a girl whose secret had been discovered, caught in raw embarrassment and fear.
No one would look good if people found out they’d made a hair tie out of underwear.
“Come with me.”
With those words, Shouko was yanked onto the rooftop by Kawasaki Saki.
“Ahhh! Shouko’s gonna get beaten up! What do we do, what do we do, think of something, Sakura!”
The girl who’d once cried three whole classes in the bathroom rushed in a panic to report the incident to Yamauchi Sakura.
“Calm down! Things haven’t hit the worst-case scenario yet!”
Sakura grabbed the tiny girl by the shoulders and spoke in a deep, commanding voice:
“Get a grip, Mimiko! For now, head to the nurse’s office and secure a bed for Shouko!”
Looking at dependable Sakura, the petite Matsubayashi Mimiko felt her panic ease.
A sense of mission welled up inside her—as if she were about to rescue a comrade from the Demon King himself.
She clenched her fists and said bravely:
“Okay! Leave it to me! If it’s just getting a bed ready in the nurse’s office, I can—”
But then she blinked, confused.
“Wait… why are we reserving a bed in the nurse’s office?”
“Because didn’t you just say Shouko’s about to get beaten up? If she’s gonna be injured, we’d better have a bed ready for her treatment.”
Sakura gave her a look that clearly said, Are you really this dumb, Mimiko?
“Oh, right… yeah, with Kawasaki’s temper, whoever ticks her off might not even be able to stand up afterward. Saving a bed in advance makes perfect sense.”
Mimiko nodded seriously.
“What the hell, Mimiko! Snap out of it!” Yui Yuigahama shouted in frustration. “Why are you assuming Shouko’s already injured?! We should be saving her, not preparing her hospital bed! Stop joking around, Sakura!”
“Ohhh, right! We should rescue her first!” Mimiko suddenly realized.
That was Sakura’s scary charisma—she could so easily drag people straight into her nonsense.
“But aren’t you guys always saying Saki spends all her time fighting when she’s not eating or sleeping? If she’s that much of a battle freak, all of us going up there together would just make it more fun for her to beat us up.”
Sakura said it matter-of-factly.
Then she placed her left hand on Mimiko’s shoulder and her right hand on Yui’s shoulder, speaking solemnly:
“Do you know how many beds there are in the nurse’s office?”
She didn’t wait for an answer.
“Two. Just two measly beds. And if I get beaten so badly I can’t walk, there’s no way I’m giving up my bed.
So if you two are really determined to save Shouko, decide now—which one of you gets the other bed.
I don’t want you to be fighting over it after you’re already in pain. Pain doubles when you’re stressed!”
Her amber eyes gleamed with conviction, and her voice rose like a hero standing on the castle walls, sword raised against a demon army. It was strangely inspiring.
Yui instinctively started thinking it through.
If there were only two beds, then between herself, Mimiko, and Shouko, the most injured one should get priority.
She glanced at tiny Mimiko, remembering her infamous “cried for three classes straight” story… yeah, that girl definitely wouldn’t last long.
“Obviously the bed should go to M—”
“To Shouko, of course! We’re going to rescue her—how could we make her give up a bed to us?”
Mimiko cut her off immediately, her logic sound.
Yui froze.
She’s right… if Shouko still has to give up her bed to us afterward, what’s even the point of rescuing her?
Might as well not save her at all—
Save her? Wait a sec—
“What the hell?!”
Yui slapped Sakura’s hand off her shoulder and glared at her.
“Why are we once again assuming someone’s already injured? And this time it’s everyone?! Knock it off already, Sakura!”
She stared at Sakura’s face, but there wasn’t even a hint of mischief there. Even those bright amber eyes were deadly serious.
And yet… for some reason, looking at that solemn expression, Yui couldn’t help but think of a very specific kind of dog.
A husky.
Sure, huskies were total weirdos, but not in the same way as, say, goofy cats.
With their sharp, focused eyes and overly serious expressions, you could never tell if they were causing chaos on purpose or if they were just… stupid.
That was the exact vibe Sakura was giving off right now.
Mimiko was getting dizzy just listening to all this, though she chalked it up to the fear triggered by seeing Shouko being dragged away earlier.
“Yui, how could you think that of me?” Sakura tilted her head, mouth curving into a tragic smile. “Shouko’s in danger—I’m more worried than anyone.”
“You’re grinning! You’re totally grinning! Forget the bed, you’re never getting it!” Yui snapped.
“Hahaha, don’t worry,” Sakura said breezily, throwing an arm around both girls. “Don’t let Shouko’s appearance fool you—she’s tough. Even if she’s only ranked C, she could easily take down someone ranked B.”
“C-rank? B-rank? What’s that supposed to mean?” Mimiko asked.
“Some kind of fighting power level?” Yui guessed.
After all, while people always suspected Kawasaki was a brawler, Hojou was the real delinquent boss.
Maybe these were levels from their organization.
Sakura suddenly froze mid-step, staring at them in disbelief.
“What are you two even talking about? Obviously I meant cup sizes. She’s C-cup—so, C-rank!”
As the two girls stared blankly, Sakura added thoughtfully:
“Maybe we should give Shouko’s Research Institute a new codename. Since she’s C-cup… let’s call it ‘CC.’ Cute, right?”
Excluding petite Mimiko, who proudly subscribed to the “flat is justice” philosophy, Yui couldn’t help but glance down at herself, wondering what her codename would be.
“…So, are we heading to the rooftop now?”
“Of course not. We’re going to hang out with Hojou.” Sakura said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“D-don’t say that right after talking about cup sizes! It sounds so wrong!” Yui sputtered, face red.
