Chapter 1 - Ichigo

見ぬが花 ・ Minu ga hana 
Not seeing is a flower.

My name is Kyōtarō Komura. Fifteen. A first-year in high school.
I was born and raised in Ōyamaka, Niigata Prefecture—a town of mild summers and frigid winters.
Foliage, flowers, and snowfall.
Green, red, and white.

I found myself on the way to school. It had been nearly two months since the entrance ceremony in April.
A boy, first year like me, waved eagerly at me in passing.
I addressed him appropriately.

“Morning, Okita. You suck.”

For his part, Okita flipped me the bird as I made my way toward the large double doors of Tanbashi Prefectural High School.
I lovingly returned the gesture, of course—affable guy that I am.
Then I reached out and pulled open the right-side door by its steel handle.

My destination.
My battleground.

I must be careful here, more than anywhere else.

The truth is —
I have a secret.

・秘密

I have always loved and cherished all things cute.
Passionately. Completely. Entirely.

・完了

And I can’t let a single soul know that.

I don't question my own masculinity, but I am aware enough to know, others might.
Best to keep that to myself, inside, where it can't be poked and prodded at.

It all started in my fourth year of primary school. Shodō.
The traditional expression of language.

“Wow. Such clean characters for such a little guy! Very good!”

A passing praise—the kind freely given to any student. To any child.
But to me, it was everything.

The feeling of the brush in my hands.
The lines of the characters.
The smell of the ink.

I was moved.

How beautiful.

But it didn’t end there, not with the elegance of ink alone.
The soft fur of a family pet.
The fallen feathers of a red-crowned crane, scattered among the mulch of seasonal cherry blossoms.
I was taken by it all.

“No.”

I said it firmly.

“I’m not done with my current run! I said next week! This build is sick. Once I’m finished, I promise I’ll let you borrow Elden Circle. Quit asking!”

Clamor in the halls
Split by the bell’s sharp warning
I sit with a sigh

・俳句

Good morning. Settle down, settle down… Now. Let’s open our books to…

The older I grew, the more my definition of beauty expanded.

・きれい

Not just the characters themselves, but how they were arranged.
The satisfying internal spark of realization when you found a poetic phrasing or layered meaning.
Literature and poetry became my obsessions.

Alongside more... earthly pursuits.

The soft, easy charm of plush toys.
The emotional resonance of color theory.
And by middle school, even more so in high school…

Fairer beauty.

Large eyes. High voices. Unveiled warmth.
The fabric of a skirt, or the fluttering of a ribbon in the spring wind.

・萌え

I’m a guy, after all.
Girls are a thing of great beauty—none would deny this.
They are...Unapologetically. Unquestioningly. Undeniably…

Cute.

・可愛い

But...
That word is dangerous now.
I nearly unraveled my carefully cultivated secret just last week.

Let me tell you a cautionary tale.

・休憩

I’ll see ya tomorrow.

The final bell rang in the twilight of a setting sun, casting the classroom in gold.

The last bell in the last light of day…

“There’s an idiom in there somewhere.”

I murmured to myself as I stood from my seat, collecting my bag.
My day wasn’t over, I still had club activities.

Calligraphy, of course.

I made my way down the corridor and slid open the clubroom door.

And stopped.

There was a face I hadn’t seen before.
A new member.

But I recognized her instantly.
A second-year upperclassman.

This was the start of my failure. Had I realized the slight deviation of my pulse, the way my gaze lingered just a little too long on her—
Maybe I could have avoided a catastrophe.
Smitten. —ドキドキ
Instantly. Without realizing it.
What could go wrong?

The eyes in the room all turned toward me.
Hers, most of all. A perfect meeting point between red and brown. Intense. Focused.

Nau Sakanoue.

She was a gem of the school. A star pupil from a traditional samurai family.
She represented their dojo at the national level — even now, in her second year.
It’d be strange not to know who she was.
But this was the first time I'd seen her in earnest.

The black hair. The intensity of her presence.
A figure shaped by discipline and grace.
Somewhere between a healthy high school girl and a star athlete.

And that… that…—

My eyes squinted.

—peculiar hairpin?

White. Ivory. Bearing a single character. Heaven.

・天

Girls sure are stylish these days.

But why was she here?

“Kyōtarō, you made it.”

Daichi Aoyama, president of the club.
A good guy, usually.
Now? He was gesturing toward a seated disturbance in my emotional center.

“This is Nau Sakanoue. You might’ve heard of her.”

Naturally.

He continued, with the kind of calm only a man without fear knows.

“You’ve got talent, especially for a first-year. Sakanoue-san wishes to further her pursuit of the arts. I’d be grateful if you could help her out.”

Talent?  Why Daichi-san, I am flattered...What a nice guy.

Oh wait.

I’m going to tutor a nationally ranked upperclassman in my own medium?
Daichi-san...

No.

Daichi-sama.

Are you… God?

“…Eh. Sure.”

Perfect indifferent deflection. One hundred points.

Nau had a bit of a reputation, especially among the younger girls, for being…
unapproachable.

Cool.
Dignified.
Rather tall.

To me, she was something else entirely.
A traditional beauty steeped in culture.
A living masterwork.
The perfect subject for inspiration. Or… reverence.

Wait… am I being creepy?

・怖

No. I was practiced. Composed.
Dealing with a girl, even an older one, was no issue for me.

I made my way over to where she sat and inclined my head, polite and perfectly measured.

“I’m Kyōtarō Komura. Nice to meet you, Sakanoue-senpai.”

She bowed her head in kind.

My eyes barely held back the glow.

The posture. The angle.
The delicate curve of her blouse along her neck.

“I am Nau Sakanoue,” she replied. “I’ll be in your care.”

A single sentence.
An exchange of greetings between students.
My brain didn’t scramble at all. I handled it perfectly.

She’s as tall as I am.
No—slightly taller.
Her fingers are long.
The dark tint of her hair is beautiful.
She’s so composed.
Furthering her study in the arts despite her prestige—how humble.
Is this what it means to prefer older women?

…

Perfectly.

“So, Sakanoue-senpai. You’re finding time for another club? That’s pretty admirable. What brings you here anyway? Are you interested in traditional writing?”

She frowned.
Before I could panic over what I might’ve done to deserve such a reaction, she spoke again — hands folded, eyes soft with determination.

“Not particularly… I—” she faltered. Beautifully. “...Um… Shodō. I wish to improve my expression.”

Suddenly soft. Unsure. A bit apprehensive.

Oh.

“Oh.”

She blinked. “…Oh?”

・おお？

I’m beginning to suspect that the art of being an easygoing, approachable person falls apart at the sight of a pretty upperclassman.
Especially ones who are much more… animated than I anticipated.

“…Yeah! I was a bit surprised at how committed you are! Haha… Umm… So! Let’s start with your name!”

The awkwardness was expertly evaded.
I moved toward the back of the clubroom.

Tanbashi had its roots. Once known as Ōyamaka Prefectural, before its embrace of modernity.
A cultural arts high school—so of course, we used real hanshi for our work.

The room smelled of ink and cedar, a calming old-world blend, if I ignored the faint overture of chalk dust.

I pulled a sheet from the stacked ream on the corner desk, made my way back, and placed it gently before her.
She already had two brushes and her ink prepared.

On her left hand side.
I'm either expertly observational, or incredibly weird.

I brandished extroverted enthusiasm like armor.

“Don’t be shy now! Let’s see it.”

Her head nodded with fierce determination, like a switch had been flipped.
She reached for the brush. The bristles soaked in ink for just a moment—she waited for the excess to fall.

Even before she began, I could tell by her posture and grip that she was already practiced.
I guess families from warrior lineages took these things seriously.

Her hand began to move. I twitched with anticipation.
A left-facing bracket was the first stroke.

Huh.

Small characters followed. Furigana?
I already know your name…

Oh look at that. She wears a clear coat on her nails.

Very sneaky, Sakanoue-san…

Then came the final mark—a single character.

今

In the moment, huh?

It was rough work. Pressed too hard, oversaturated—the ink bled into the structural lines.
A beginner’s touch.
An obvious conclusion was drawn.

Which only made it more adorable.

This was it.
The rare phonetic discourse.
The unusual reading.
The illustrious sparkle.
A kira kira name.

I could barely contain my excitement—seeing it written by the person it belonged to.

“Now… Nau is cute.”

She lifted her head.
Red-tinged eyes locked onto mine.

Ah.

I guess I couldn’t contain my excitement after all.

My face flushed, then caught fire.
Followed by my head and my brain.

Did I really… just say that?
Out loud?

It’s fine. I can recover from this.
Easily.

“No! I mean—I just thought… the way your name’s written. it’s… as captivating as you are.”

...

Huh.

…I don’t think that came out the way I intended.

Her eyes didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
But I could’ve sworn I felt them narrow.

The intensity was incredible.
Overwhelming.

She’s going to kill me.

・死

“I see,” she said, turning back to her paper.

…

Maybe I’ll be fine.

“You think so?”

Before I could process the gravity of that, she finished writing her name and turned sharply towards me. 
Too fast. Too focused.

“What makes you say that?”

Her voice was calm. Even.

It might’ve been endearing if she’d said it with the same fluster as before—all soft hands and unsure brushwork.

But this wasn’t that.
This was a warrior questioning her opponent’s intent.

Red.

There was no escaping those eyes.

・赤

“I, uh… Umm…”

She leaned slightly forward, cupping the right side of her mouth with her hand.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“I work very hard on my appearance. But... I tend to scare people. Hearing that sort of makes me happy.”

I understood.
A wedding in Osaka would be best. The weather this time of year would be—

Huh?

The blows rained down without room for mercy.

She continued. “You’re going to answer me, right, Komura-kun?”

Don’t worry, Sakanoue-senpai. Of course I’m going to.
It wouldn’t do well to hurt a girl’s confidence when she’s being so forward.

“Calligraphy’s Buddhist roots came about as a way to express the mind and its spiritual state.”

I miscalculated.
I am, in fact, an idiot.

She paused—then suddenly erupted into a laugh.

“Pff~ What are you talking about? Haha. You’re a pretty funny guy, Komura-kun.”

In the soft hum of a fluorescent-lit clubroom, I found myself utterly enamored by the unguarded laugh of an older girl.
She was maybe two or three centimeters taller than me.
And unquestionably at least a hundred times cooler.

My brain turned to wax, then began to melt.

“Hah. Yeah, I sure am! right?”

I think I’m in love.

・愛