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468 — Dango, Shouko, and Buns
🕑 Added 2025-08-23 15:08:18 +0000 UTCWhile the rest of the class was already discussing what dishes to bring to Nishimiya Shouko’s house for next year’s cherry blossom viewing, Yui Yuigahama noticed something strange.
The girl in the photo was smiling so brightly, radiantly beautiful, like a black hole that drew everyone’s eyes toward her—so much so that everyone overlooked one tiny detail.
A bun!
Today, Shouko-chan was wearing her hair in a bun. And in the photo—she had it in a bun too!
Yuigahama’s eyes lit up.
After her careful deduction, she came to a shocking conclusion.
“Shou-chan… don’t tell me this picture was taken this morning?” she whispered.
Shouko, who had been smiling gently while telling everyone not to be so formal, turned her head in surprise.
Ebina and Miura Yumiko also looked over, equally startled.
“Yui,” Miura frowned, her queenly presence filling the room, “I get that you really want to take pictures, but isn’t this rushing things a bit too much?”
With so many eyes on her, Yuigahama panicked.
She waved her hands wildly in denial, blurting out an explanation:
“No, no, listen! Look carefully—Shouko’s wearing her hair in a bun in the photo, and right now she’s got the same bun.
Ever since school started, this is the only time she’s worn it like that! And that strawberry hairpin with the white rhinestones,
I’ve never seen it before! Plus, the little bowtie circles on both sides are exactly the same size—”
It was just a throwaway complaint from Yumiko, but Yuigahama reacted as if she’d been caught sneaking off with three-color dango, desperately spitting out her reasoning.
But the more she explained, the stranger the others’ looks became.
Her voice gradually trailed off, her chin almost sinking into her chest.
“…S-so that’s why I thought… maybe the picture was just taken today.”
At that, she lifted her head again and forced her usual smile—a flawless mask of innocence, her last line of defense.
It wasn’t forced or resentful, just the perfect expression of a harmless little creature, utterly sincere on the surface.
Scratching the back of her head, she laughed awkwardly.
“But really, that’s impossible, right? The cherry blossoms have already fallen. Even if a few petals were left, they’d never bloom this beautifully again.
Hehe~~ sorry, sorry, I was just rambling nonsense again. But seriously, doesn’t Shou-chan’s hairstyle match perfectly with that cherry blossom tree~?”
She stuck out her tongue playfully, scratching her head like a clumsy airhead.
This was her secret art: Absolute Defense.
Skill principle: As long as I admit I’m a fool, no one can hold it against me.
Simple to say, nearly impossible to pull off.
Only a master who has long trained in the art of reading the mood can achieve it.
Air—like certain things in society—is invisible, yet always there.
When it shifts, everything shifts with it.
To become a master at reading the air, one must perfect the following:
A clear self-image, flawlessly performed, consistently maintaining the aura of a harmless little critter.
Deep knowledge of the group’s “queen,” her attendants, and everyone’s roles.
Never, ever have your own opinion. Apologies don’t need to be faster than light, just quicker than the queen’s anger.
Smile like an idiot. A smile is your best weapon. But not just a smile—body language matters too. Scratching your head, sticking out your tongue, tilting your head, even twisting your toes as if squishing an ant—excellent ways to prove you’re a lovable fool.
Even if the queen’s jester cracks the dullest joke, laugh sincerely. Always add emotional value to the group.
When the conversation dies, don’t let the queen be the first to speak. Smoothly shift the topic, connecting it seamlessly to the last one.
In short, a true master of reading the air can survive anywhere, never fearing isolation from classmates or coworkers.
But beware: A master of the air must never hope for love or friendship. Otherwise, a thousand years of training will vanish overnight.
And so, Yuigahama Yui—smiling innocently like a harmless creature—was in truth an immensely strong person.
Unlike those who felt lost in group life and retreated into solitude.
She carved out her own survival strategy with sheer determination, protecting herself in the perilous ecosystem of high school.
Not only did she create a comfortable learning environment for herself, she also reassured her parents.
Of course, ordinary people could never understand such a thing.
Ebina and Yumiko glanced back and forth between Shouko and the photo, their expressions shifting.
“…Unbelievable. Yui was actually right? I didn’t think her observation skills were that sharp,” Ebina said in disbelief.
“Hehe~~ no way, I’m terrible at observing things. Didn’t the art teacher say I can’t notice details at all?” Yui shook her head frantically.
After all, among girls, “keen observation” was ranked right alongside “good at studying” as one of the top three worst traits.
She’d already decided that in the next exams, she would deliberately drop at least ten ranks.
Then she could just say, “Hehe, I couldn’t control myself after entering high school and played too much,” and her ditzy image would instantly feel more authentic.
Plus, playful girls were always more likable.
It was worth noting: Yuigahama Yui had entered Soubu High with very high scores.
She had ranked fifth in the entrance exam—above her were Hojou Kyousuke, Kisaki Tetta, Yamauchi Sakura, and Nishimiya Shouko.
Even Hikigaya Hachiman, who ranked eleventh in Japanese, was no match—his math scores were far too tragic.
Her parents had been thrilled with her results, but that only brought her trouble.
The girls immediately suspected she was secretly a “serious study type.”
Even though she insisted it was all luck and always went shopping after school like everyone else, the suspicion never went away.
The only way to clear her name was by deliberately tanking her next exam.
And now, faced with Yuigahama’s flustered denial, Yumiko narrowed her eyes.
“Yui… you’re not actually smart, are you?”
“No! No! No! I’m just guessing it, that’s all!” Yui declared without hesitation.
Because in this world, nothing is more dangerous than being smart.
Only fools can survive.
Yet Yumiko’s eyes still glittered with suspicion.
Yuigahama tensed up, every cell in her body on high alert.
But she was confident that she could prove herself a fool.
After all, ever since high school began, she really hadn’t studied.
Why?
Because high school was just too much fun!
On the very first day, Yukinoshita’s cookies nearly killed someone—ah, that part wasn’t fun.
But it was fun that those cookies led to her meeting her savior, the famous Hojou Kyousuke.
Not to mention classmates like the dazzling Yamauchi Sakura, or the incredibly kind Nishimiya Shouko.
And the best part—she didn’t even have to try too hard, yet she still became friends with them.
Every day felt like the perfect beginning. She could space out during class, then happily chat with everyone after.
Even when she was the one to start a topic, Shou-chan and Sakura would always join in, sometimes even Hojou would chime in.
Talking with friends was just too much fun!
Sure, she couldn’t join a club after school because she always went shopping with Yumiko and the others—but that hardly felt like a flaw.
Yumiko might act bossy, but deep down she was really gentle.
Ebina’s hobbies might be… eccentric, but she was fun to be around too.
Shopping was way too much fun!
And when she got home, there was no homework to bother with.
After dinner, she could just curl up with her mom to watch dramas and flip through magazines together.
Watching TV was so much fun!
Every single day felt so fulfilling.
This was the perfect high school life. And best of all—no studying!
That was the most fun of all!
So really, who could possibly say Yuigahama Yui wasn’t a fool?
…Wait.
If she really didn’t study at all, then her grades wouldn’t just drop ten spots next time, would they?
The thought hit her like a nightmare.
But then again, the others were goofing off even more than she was.
At least she didn’t have a club eating up her time.
All in all, Yuigahama Yui was convinced her grades would naturally line up with Yumiko’s—because of course they were best friends.
Just as Yumiko was about to speak, Shouko suddenly interrupted.
She gently removed the strawberry hairpin from her bun and said softly:
“Yui doesn’t have sharp observation skills. She just really cares about her friends. Remember last week, Yumiko—you got your hair permed? Yui was the first one to notice.”
“…Did I? Hm, maybe I vaguely remember.” Yumiko frowned.
“A-ah, it’s not important! Don’t worry about it!” Yui cut in quickly, waving her hands as if swatting away the memory.
After all, no such thing had actually happened—she couldn’t let Yumiko suddenly get smart on her.
Turning her head, she found Shouko’s gentle gaze fixed on her, those clear, luminous eyes full of warmth.
‘Ah~~ my Shou-chan, you’re way too cute, that should be illegal!’
‘You’re the one who always cares about your friends, not me!’
Yui felt her whole body go warm, her heart melting into fluff.
“Yui really does care about people,” Ebina chimed in, her eyes flicking between Yui and Shouko with a faintly mischievous smile. “I didn’t even notice the hairpin.”
“Hehe~~” Yui laughed sheepishly, not bothering to deny it anymore.
“The hairpin—I bought it Saturday while shopping. Today’s the first time I wore it, and I was worried it might look weird. But hearing you say that, Yui, I feel better. After all, you’re the absolute bun-hair expert.”
Shouko handed the hairpin to Yui, motioning for her to try it on.
“Eh? Wait a sec—does that mean this picture was taken today?” Yui froze mid-reach, realization dawning.
“Yes. Look at the timestamp.”
Shouko pointed out the photo’s details.
“—Huh!!”
The girls around them gasped in unison.
The master of reading the room had just been dealt a devastating challenge.
“What’s going on?” someone demanded impatiently.
“You all asked me before if that girl was Kyousuke-kun’s girlfriend, right? This is the proof.”
Shouko tucked the phone back, her gaze soft as she looked at the blooming cherry tree—and the image of herself standing beneath its canopy of petals.
“You thought Kyousuke-kun eating late-night dinner with a girl was a sign of romance. But the truth is, he spent the whole night making this cherry blossom tree. He only slept when dawn finally broke.”
Her voice was gentle, not a trace of jealousy or envy—only quiet happiness, and the faintest ache of sympathy.
Sympathy for the boy who hadn’t slept a wink.
The cherry blossoms flourished in abundance, yet still allowed sunlight to slip through, nourishing the tender grass below.
Kyousuke-kun was the sun, high above.
Sakura was the vast cherry tree, spreading its branches wide.
And she was just the little grass on the ground.
The tree reached desperately for the sun, yearning for more light.
But the grass only needed the smallest bit.
The cherry tree shielded it from wind and rain, yet never stopped it from reaching the sunlight.
Could there be anything happier than this?
“So tell me—how could anyone who Kyousuke-kun willingly spent so much time for possibly be his girlfriend?”
Her conclusion was clear.
She had used the word waste, deliberately—because for the Hojou family, wasting was tradition.
The meaning of life lay in waste, and waste created joy.
Why waste time? Because there’s something you want to do.
Why waste money? Because there’s something you want to buy.
Why waste your life? Because there’s someone you want to spend it with.
To waste is to be happy.
If Yuigahama Yui could have heard her thoughts, she would’ve burst into tears and begged on her knees to join the Church of Wastefulness.
After all, she’d been practicing its teachings for ages—wasting her study time on fun instead. And wasn’t it blissful?
“So you’re saying… this cherry blossom tree was made by Hojou-kun himself?”
“So you’re saying… this cherry blossom tree was made for someone by Hojou-kun?”
Yumiko and Yui spoke at the same time, though their focus was clearly different.
“Yes. Just collecting the petals took him a long time,” Shouko replied to Yumiko, then turned back to Yui.
“And though he didn’t say it himself, I learned through special means that this was Kyousuke-kun’s gift to a girl with a very unique talent.”
She leaned closer, her voice dropping mysteriously:
“Here’s a hint—the girl’s talent is being unbelievably lucky. Even guessing randomly on multiple-choice questions, she gets them all right.”
While the others blinked in confusion, Yui had already arrived at the answer.
Yamauchi Sakura.
Back when the teacher went over their math test, Sakura had shown Yui this uncanny skill.
Yui had begged her to teach it, but even Sakura had struggled to explain it.
In the end, Yui had no choice but to admit it—some people were just born under the blessing of the goddess of luck.
And Yamauchi Sakura was one of them.
