Chapter 5:

Gravity Well

Little Lemmings Fly Too (If You Throw Them Hard Enough)

Hayami’s troubles began during the transition to the final period.

Makima-sensei had pulled her out to have a one-on-one conversation. Needless to say, the whispers from the class were loud.

“Hayami-san.”

In the hallway, Makima-sensei didn't waste time with pleasantries.

“I wanted to remind you about the upcoming assessment.”

The assessment of her nightmares. The one Hayami had neglected to mention to Akira. The one she had neglected to mention even to herself, hoping it would vanish if she ignored it hard enough.

“I don’t want to dissuade you with what I’m about to say. Your written theory is among the best of the class. In isolation, you are doing perfectly fine.”

Makima’s expression darkened.

“However, less can be said about your oral exams and class participation. As an international school, we care not just about theory but about application. We want our students to grow into confident, functioning members of society.”

“I… I understand.”

“What I’m trying to say, Hayami, is that I can’t keep shielding you from the finance department. They are practically itching to revoke your scholarship. Your orals and presentations need to catch up.”

Makima-sensei didn't need to finish the sentence.

And thus, the scholarship you worked so hard to keep evaporates.

“Please, Hayami. You can contact me after school for extra—”

“I w-will be fine, Makima.”

Makima stared at her for a good moment. Then, she sighed and patted her on the shoulder.

“I hope so, Hayami.”

Hayami’s troubles continued when the end-of-day school bell rang.

One person’s name echoed in the air, over and over. “AKIRA!!!”

Hayami and Akira couldn’t even make it out of the classroom without getting besieged by students wanting to see if Akira was really here.

‘So this was why Akira gave me his number…’ Hayami realized.

“Thank you, all of you!” Akira shouted, waving with that practiced, blinding smile. “You are too kind!”

Hayami gritted her teeth. ‘That lying two-face is convincing the world he’s purer than snow from Mt. Fuji…”

That damnable cheat. He probably gave her his phone number just in case they got separated in the inevitable stampede.

The only way they could leave was if strong hands physically pushed the students apart.

And right on cue…

"Make way."

Yes. That meant Akira’s security team had arrived to course-correct the wrongdoings of youth.

“Please, calm yourselves. Leave the Young Master and his companion alone.”

Stepping into the classroom was a literal wall of black suits… followed by a man who looked like a relic from one of her otome games. He wore a pristine tailcoat, white gloves, and a silver pocket watch.

At the sight of his charge, the butler smiled. A kind one.

“I have come to save you once more,” the Butler announced, his eyes twinkling behind rimless glasses.

“Watari,” Akira acknowledged. “Didn’t even call you. What are you doing here?”

“See now how your efforts of “wanting to experience a normal school life” was but a futile dream?” Watari replied.

“Well, I thought the masses would treat me like just an extremely popular person, not a deity.”

“You have too much stock in people not like us.”

Watari turned his gaze to Hayami. She suddenly felt unworthy.

“Mistress Hayami,” Watari suddenly said. “We have prepared a calming herbal tea in the car for your nerves.”

Mistress?!

Hayami felt the blood drain from her face.

“Let’s move,” the Butler commanded.

The formation was tight. Four bodyguards in sunglasses boxed them in.

As they walked down the hallway, Hayami looked at the men surrounding her.

She knew from the looks on their faces there was no aloofness at all; not one iota in their body that suggested guarding Akira was beneath them. Nay, quite the opposite.

These are the people she would let down if she made a misstep. Any taint on her would be a taint on Akira.

“Chin up, Hayami,” Akira whispered. “I mean, if you don’t want herbal tea, the limo has a fully-stocked bar if you want to cool down.”

“I…”

They neared the gates. The noise hit them like a tidal wave.

The whole town came to see them.

Phones were blaring, camera flashes were blinding strobes, the students were acting less like classmates and more like cultists—devoted, praying, practically prostrating before her.

“I…”

There was a black limousine parked outside the school, idling.

“I…!”

“I will come back tomorrow, people!” Akira shouted to the crowd. “But please respect my and my friend’s space.”

Friend…

Friend!

Then, something inside her snapped.

“I-I can’t do it!” Hayami gasped, stopping dead in her tracks.

Akira paused, turning to look at her.

“I’m w-walking my own way home!” she told him.

Akira blinked. “Hayami… don’t you want to not die in the summer heat? It’s thirty five degrees out here.”

“I a-am not doing t-this whole famous shtick! It is d-disgusting!” She backed away, her hands trembling.

“But, I insist…” Akira reached out. “Watari, assist her—”

“Watari!” she squeaked. “As ‘Akira’s Mistress’... I order your guards not to follow me.”

The butler looked at her for a moment before smiling sincerely.

“...As you wish, ma’am.”

Akira swiveled around. “What?!”

“You said it yourself, Sire. We are to treat Hayami-sama exactly how she wants to be treated. No matter the cost.”

“I…”

Akira was swallowed by the crowd. That should give her an hour to get back.

He bowed to Hayami.

“We shall not pursue.”

“Wait, Watari, you can’t be ser—”

The formation broke. The barrier was gone.

“Bye!”

Hayami found a gap in the crowd and bolted.

“Hayami!”

Akira lunged with his hand out, but it was too late. A wall of schoolgirls surged and slammed his pathway.

“Akira-kun! Look over here!” “Sign my bag!” “Is that your girlfriend?!”

Akira was instantly swallowed by the crowd, disappearing into a mass of thirst.

Hayami shivered. She was left with no other choice. Could you blame her for leaving?

Judging by her past experiences at Shinjuku Station, she’d doubt she’d fare any better in a crowd that size. She’d ruin both her and Akira’s reputation in one fell swoop.

Panting, heaving, Hayami willed her way through the hidden backalley ways she knew so well. She took them deliberately to avoid people on her way to school.

Unfortunately, other kids used them as well.

“Hayami-kun! Wait! Hey, can I get a selfie?!”

She froze and felt her heart drop. Hayami looked back to see a rather excitable first-year grinning ear to ear.

Enemy encounter!

“S-S-S-Selfie?”

“Yeah! If you don’t mind!” The girl practically bounced on her heels. “I mean, if Akira-kun picked you, you must be totally amazing! He’s probably got good taste in girlfriends, right?”

“I… I… I… Buhbuhbuh…”

“Come on, don’t be bashful. He must see something in you!”

“TH-TH-TH-TH-THE STOVE IS ON!”

…

“Huh?”

“MY STOVE, AW, DAMN IT—T-THIS ALWAYS HAPPENS! I LEFT MY CAT ON THE STOVE! I HAVE TO GO!”

“Wait, how—?!”

“IT WAS NICE MEETING YOUUUU…!”

Like a cockroach after the kitchen lights turned on, Hayami ran for the hills.

“W-Wait! Senpai!” the girl cried. “I am sorry if I startled you!”

“It’s okayyy…!” Hayami cried as she ran away.

She ran and ran and found a brick surface to lean on. Her heart was pounding. “A friggin’ cat, Hayami? Seriously?”

She fumbled for her phone. She needed to check the damage.

She opened the Journals app.

Contained within its posts were bullet tracers of a war zone.

People speculating on who "Akira’s Mystery Classmate" was had already spread like wildfire.

The fan cams were analyzing the pixels of her being seen after school, only to mysteriously disappear.

She scrolled and scrolled. This was bad.

BREAKING NEWS: AKIRA SPOTTED WITH POTENTIAL LOVE INTEREST? IS HE LOSING INTEREST IN 'PERCHANCE TO DREAM'? AGENCY DECLINES TO COMMENT.

“No, no, nonononono…!”

Why were people doing this? Was this what Akira felt all the time?

She soon read an article title that made her heart stop.

Rocketblast Recordings Stock Increases by 5%. Meaningful change or temporary bubble?

So this was how it ended. Hayami was now irrevocably tied to the fate of a multi-billion yen business empire. If she failed, stumbled, or looked bad in public at any point… well, all she had to do was look at the stock price of Rocketblast.

The rest of the walk back home was sobering.

The streets got narrower.

The pavement became pretty bad for Osaka standards.

This high-stakes celebrity drama contrasted completely with how Hayami actually lived. Instead of high-stakes board meetings, all she had were microwaveable reheat meals.

Hayami paused outside her apartment complex—a peeling, beige block—emblazoned with "The Royal Heights."

She bent down to pick up a discarded convenience store wrapper someone had thrown near the entrance, tossing it into the bin. She grimaced at a fresh tag of graffiti sprayed over the mailboxes.

She wrestled her key into the lock of apartment 214.

The door hinge screamed open. Yikes. But lubricant cans cost money, and right now, every yen counted in Kindred Temptations 2.

She stepped inside, kicking off her shoes.

Hayami had to get to work.

She sprinted and shoved a pile of clothes into her laundry machine; frantically dusting her shelf of Kindred Temptations merchandise with her sleeve; spraying lemon scent until the apartment smelled less like some rats died in it.

Now what else was she missing?

Nothing?

Crap.

Well, if she had nothing, then she had to call Akira now. And calling people was bad for several reasons.

She should just text him instead. Yeah! Tell him she had little mobile data left, so she could only access the internet.

She had saved his number on her contact list, right?

With a click, she opened her phone.

Yes, there it was. Not that she had to search hard to find it; she only ever had the numbers of her parents and her sister saved after all.

So all that was left to do was to press that green button.

She could do it.

She could!

It was after she subconsciously registered that she had her finger hovering over the icon for thirty seconds that she slumped into her worn-out couch.

“Ugh… Akira needs to beat my head over with a stick.”

Ding-Dong.

Hayami froze. ‘Craaap.’

From his perspective, Hayami technically left Akira out to dry.

She took a deep breath, smoothed her messy hair, and marched to the door. She braced herself.

Inch by noisy inch, she creaked the door open.

“I am so sorry for ghosting on you. I shouldn’t be doing that to anybody, let alone someone as famous as…”

The words died in her throat.

“...You.”

Akira wasn't wearing his school uniform. In its place was a high-collared black trench coat, tailored to hug his waist perfectly.

Underneath was a deep crimson silk shirt. Unbuttoned.

He wore dark leather gloves. His hair was swept back, a single strand falling artfully over his forehead.