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441 She Loves Bullying People the Most
🕑 Added 2025-08-11 15:00:18 +0000 UTCKyousuke gently stroked Yamauchi Sakura’s head, his voice as soft as cherry blossoms blooming in early spring.
Gentle and serene—like flowers that bloom quietly when no one is watching—slipping into your heart without a sound, becoming a part of the scenery you can’t imagine living without.
“…Whether it’s Mitsuha, Yukinoshita, or Megumi, I’m sure they all feel lucky to have you as a friend.”
Kyousuke didn’t know exactly what had happened between Sakura and them, what they had said or done to each other.
But the bond they shared was undeniable.
Sakura had once told him to train with Mitsuha and Utaha.
But Mitsuha always careful to guard that final step and actually seemed to have the complete opposite idea.
That kind-hearted shrine maiden with her simple, traditional values… it almost felt like she wanted him and Sakura to share their first time.
She never said it outright, but during their intimate moments, Mitsuha would casually bring up Sakura not out of jealousy, but with a complicated mix of feelings.
It was as if she had already opened her heart, yet still carried a lingering sense of guilt.
In those moments, when their bodies and souls connected, he could feel her emotions vividly.
Utaha-senpai, on the other hand, had no such contradictions.
While she seemed wary of Sakura in subtle ways, when it came to taking that final step, she was utterly shameless.
Ironically, it was Kyousuke who found himself backing down.
After all, unlike Mitsuha, Utaha had been proposing marriage to him since the very first time they met.
Terrifying.
If his first time had been with Utaha, it would’ve turned into a disaster.
Ruyi Dorm would’ve become a war zone, and that woman would use it like a doomsday weapon to torment the others.
Eriri would probably send assassins from her family estate to carry out a decapitation strike.
Mitsuha had also told him that if it weren’t for Sakura, she wouldn’t have been able to clearly understand her own feelings, or summon the courage to face them.
She never gave details, though.
The moment he tried to ask, she’d just block his mouth with a, “That’s a girls’ secret.” Even when flushed red all over from his kisses, she kept her lips sealed.
“Sakura is such an amaaazing person!” Mitsuha would say.
How amazing?
Well, if that time at the Honya Taisho Awards, it had been him and Sakura alone in the dressing room…
Mitsuha probably wouldn’t have gotten angry.
She might’ve just quietly closed the door. And if either of them pushed a little harder… maybe all three of them would’ve ended up adjusting their clothes together.
As for Yukinoshita, well—that was even more obvious.
Whenever the three of them were together, Kyousuke often got the feeling Sakura was about to break her.
For someone like Yukinoshita, who valued reason and logic above all, Sakura’s chaotic, unpredictable ways were probably the worst kind of person.
And yet, she was powerless against her. Kyousuke couldn’t help but feel sorry for her sometimes.
“…Honestly, I still don’t know why Yukinoshita’s willing to be your friend. If she weren’t her, I’d think you were blackmailing her,” Kyousuke said with a chuckle.
“I’m not Utaha-senpai, I wouldn’t do something like that,” Sakura shot back, making him laugh again.
Because Utaha-senpai? Oh, she loved kicking people when they were down…especially Eriri.
If she ever caught even the tiniest bit of dirt on her, she’d never let her hear the end of it.
Take the time Eriri had just finished a feast and, out of habit, blamed Kyousuke for cooking too well—saying it was his fault she’d gained weight that month.
“How much?”
“A whole kilogram!”
She’d answered without thinking.
Then, the moment Eriri realized what she’d just admitted, she stiffly turned her head—only to meet Utaha’s wine-red eyes, brimming with mischief.
In them were confusion, realization, disdain, pity… and disappointment.
Eriri knew exactly what she meant: you’ve gained weight, but not in the places that count.
That’s real weight gain.
She wanted to snap back and say she’d bought a bigger bra size, but that’d be too easy to debunk—and the mockery would only get worse.
So she swallowed her pride, lowered her head, and clenched her little fists, silently plotting Utaha’s downfall in her next doujin.
And later, when Eriri was curled up on the sofa with an ice-cold Coke and a bag of tomato chips, laughing so hard at an anime she was practically levitating—there they were again.
Those devilish wine-red eyes.
That sinfully curvy witch, wearing a crop top, one hand on her waist, that impossibly slender waist that looked like Eriri could snap it in two.
She’d stand there, looking at her with an expression full of sighs and regret.
Not that Eriri cared about waists, she was confident hers would be slimmer even if she gained another two kilos.
Fairer skin, better lines, firmer tone—she had Utaha beat in every way.
Except… Utaha’s most prominent features weren’t her waist.
They were the curves above and below it: a trembling, full chest, and a peach-shaped rear that seemed to ripple with every sway.
Combined with that extreme waist-to-hip ratio, she was the definition of a femme fatale.
As an illustrator, Eriri couldn’t help but feel like her eyes had turned into a camera, her hands itching to sketch her.
She’d gladly trade her chips and Coke just to have Utaha pose for her.
Wait. Chips. Coke…
Eriri’s gaze dropped to her own snacks, then to the small belly she was inevitably squishing in her curled-up position.
‘Damn it! That evil woman! Why couldn’t she show up after I finished eating?!’
The chips instantly turned to poison in her mouth, the faint urge to burp from the Coke making her feel horribly guilty.
‘Damn it!!!’
Burping was half the fun of drinking Coke! Without it, you lost more than half the joy!
Her golden ponytail and eyebrows, once perky with anime-induced bliss, now drooped.
She wanted to turn away from those devil eyes, but even with her eyes shut, she could feel their sting.
“What?! I only gained one kilo! That’s totally normal fluctuation! The only thing that stays the same forever is a robot!” she shouted, defending the honor of Coke and chips.
Unfortunately, Utaha said nothing and just switched her hand on her waist, tilting her body slightly so that her hips jiggled again.
From this angle, her chest became two towering peaks, stretching her matcha-green crop top so high the hem practically floated. It wasn’t fat—it was pure size.
‘Damn it!!! It’s all just fat! What’s there to brag about?!’
Eriri screamed in her heart—but her gritted teeth told her she didn’t really believe that.
‘Take her to get liposuction! One clean cut! Being too fat is bad for your health!’
That was the humiliating thought running through the blonde princess’s mind.
She lowered her head, her sapphire eyes hidden in the shadows burning with unwillingness, slowly being tainted by darkness.
It wasn’t just her relaxing TV time.
Breakfast, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, even late-night snacks—whenever she was eating, those wine-red eyes were always there, staring at her like some lingering ghost.
Even at school, that woman went out of her way to track her down, wrecking her carefully crafted image as the “aloof literary beauty.”
And it wasn’t only Kasumigaoka Utaha who was enjoying herself—onlookers like Hojou Kyousuke and Yamauchi Sakura were practically cheering.
After all, who wouldn’t love watching a tearful little blonde get bullied?
How long could this ridiculous drama go on? Generally, there were three possible endings:
Eriri completely conquers her shame, gives up on dignity, puts on a blindfold and covers her ears, happily munching on chips and guzzling cola anyway. She might even generously offer Kasumigaoka a drink—her natural ditzy charm letting her go full “I’ve given up.”
Eriri successfully loses weight, gathers everyone together, stands proudly on the scale, and declares victory—chin held high, fat gone, pride restored.
The situation escalates into a new war—not surrender, not hard work, but pure mutual destruction. If Kasumigaoka has dirt on me… I’ll just get dirt on her!
This last sinister tactic, dripping with déjà vu, was obviously supplied by Yamauchi Sakura—the group’s “evil strategist.”
She even roped in Shouko and Yukari to tempt Kasumigaoka into eating more, with Kyousuke personally cooking all her favorite dishes.
Unfortunately, as a disciplined woman who spent one or two hours every day on strength training, Kasumigaoka’s perfect figure remained untouchable.
If anything, her waist stayed slim and alluring while her curves became even more… pronounced.
Still, Eriri wasn’t the type to give up easily.
In other situations, she might slack off alongside Kyousuke.
After all, this house was full of people who believed in “escaping is shameful but useful”: herself, Hojou, Sakura, Yukari, Shouko, Naoka…
But Kyousuke and Sakura were on another level of shamelessness.
Tricks and shortcuts were their specialty!
Eriri sighed in despair.
She used to be such a pure, upright, kind-hearted girl.
If her four-years-ago self had met Yukinoshita, they’d have definitely been kindred spirits.
But now? Now she was the kind of person who ordered her “familiar” Kyousuke to tamper with Kasumigaoka Utaha’s bathroom scale.
‘I’m not pure anymore… It’s all Kyousuke’s fault!’
‘He’s the one who stained my pure white soul!’
Her heart wailed in grief as she crouched with Kyousuke by the door with the rose-shaped nameplate, both of them wearing wicked grins, waiting for the fun to begin.
When the high-pitched scream rang out—loud enough to pierce even the soundproof door, the blonde princess pumped her fist in victory.
She even rewarded her evil minion with a kiss on the cheek to “restore his mana.”
Even a cheek kiss from an unbeatable beauty like her should be enough to get Hojou’s heart racing!
But sadly, while the scream had been satisfying, Eriri—leaning coolly on the second-floor railing—didn’t see the furious breakdown she had hoped for on Kasumigaoka’s face when she emerged.
Instead, the woman in the black silk camisole simply stepped out, scanning the hallway lazily.
When her gaze landed on Kyousuke, she even had the audacity to throw him a sultry look.
“Arrogant” didn’t even begin to describe it—this was complete disregard for Eriri’s existence!
Wearing something that revealing in front of a guy? Absolutely shameless!
Eriri glared at the snowy white skin showing beneath Kasumigaoka’s neckline, the elegant collarbones, smooth shoulder lines, and that deep, dangerous cleavage.
Even she couldn’t deny—this was not the body of a fat woman.
‘Damn it! If only my conscience was as nonexistent as Kyousuke’s…’
‘Are theirs just sitting around inside them, bored?’
‘Why don’t they pack up and leave? The world’s a big place—go explore or something!’
Just then, Eriri’s gaze swept over Kasumigaoka’s entire form—the camisole that showed off her flawless figure, the way she leaned casually against the doorframe yet radiated impossible allure.
The term “born seductress” might as well have been invented for her.
Those lotus-pale arms, the slim white calves peeking from under her nightdress, even the bare, delicate feet… everything was temptation.
Wait… if she can shamelessly tempt Kyousuke like this…
Could it be that Kasumigaoka Utaha’s conscience already ran away… with Kyousuke’s?
The blonde princess’s rage flared even higher.
“Don’t you know that, as a proper lady, I record my body measurements every day? Bust, waist, hips, the tilt of my neck, the distance between my legs…
Only children obsess over their weight. A perfect figure isn’t just about being the right weight or height, you know~~”
Utaha’s crimson lips parted slowly, glistening under the warm hallway light.
She was the ultimate perfectionist—competitive, proud, impossibly self-demanding.
Her natural beauty wasn’t enough; she honed her talents, knowledge, and physique to perfection.
The nightly workouts everyone knew about were only the tip of the iceberg—she constantly adjusted her routines, targeting every part of her body with meticulous discipline.
She knew her own body far better than any scale.
‘Foolish Eriri~ if you think you can pull tricks on me, you’ve got a long way to go.’
Hearing those calm, smug words—watching her stand there with arms crossed, elegance radiating from every pore—Eriri felt like her lungs were going to explode.
She nearly dropped her victory pose.
‘AAAAAHHHHH! Damn it! She’s treating me like a child!’
And now, she realized—the scream earlier had been completely fake, just so Kasumigaoka could mock her now.
‘That venomous witch!’
Eriri wanted nothing more than to leap over the railing, dive underground, and bury herself alive. This was beyond embarrassing!
