Ichiro-sensei Notices Changes, Kotone Changes More

I used to think I had to push away my past to become better. I spent years resenting the world for forcing that choice on me, when the truth was simpler: my past deserved as much love as my present. My past was no burden; To run alongside everyone and everything that made me, everything that forged me into this. Surely, there were dearly important answers to prevail. Even in the torrenting universe crashing down, in my bravado, I would clutch them.

“Repelling the past and embracing it are two remarkably different paths,” Ichiro-sensei avowed. We were in our weekly remediation. “You’re doing well to endorse Shinohara Chocolat. Your family stumbled. That happens. What matters is how you pick yourself back up.”

“Meaning? I’m supposed to pick up the baton they dropped?”

“If you want to keep the metaphor, sure.” Sensei looked at me, steady on the way I held myself. “Your family has stumbled in this sprint. Take their baton. Bring honor by going way past the finish line. Refuse to let the worst moments be what define you.”

“How did you know that was what I needed to hear?”

“I hear your voice most of the year, boy. I know the sound of a man ready to conquer his shadow.”

“I don’t use the same inflection,” I said. “It was Wakami-san, wasn’t it?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“Tell me my side job,” I challenged, radiating an authority that made the “marked student” label feel like a lie.

“One that keeps you up too late. Estate repairs,” she replied, deliberately wrong, “I know. I’m not going to pry. Your secret stays yours. Besides, late work isn’t banned at this Academy due to specialized time-zone markets. Still, if you continue working late while enrolled, I insist you finish by 2:00am, so day-to-day matters receive your full attention.”

“Wakami-san made you sign silence contracts.”

“In any case,” she said, sidestepping the bait, “I suspected something amiss. Believe it or not, I’m your homeroom teacher. Forgive my lack of parenting experience, but you’re my kids. From my omniscient point of view, you’re encountering what’s in store rather than being cowardly. You should always be proud of that. Now see that you remove that necklace before it becomes part of your identity. I want my bonus.”

I touched the metal against my chest. I had let myself forget that my past-self deserved all the love I could give. And my present self? He deserved even more. Walk alongside me. Let’s win together.

I wasn’t going to stop at removing the necklace. I was going to tear it off in the way I wanted, on my terms, with my victory. I was absolutely determined to this end.

“Ay!” Kotone bumped into me outside.

“Kotone-san.”

“I’m ready, Senpai.”

I met her eyes. “You look it.”

Kotone nodded. There was a light shake in her hand as she adjusted the cuff of her uniform, like the fear couldn’t quite keep up with her resolve. “Totally. For real.”

“Wakami-san told you to start collecting proof,” I said. “Quietly. Cleanly.”

Kotone didn’t deny it.

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” I went on. “I can back you up. But if I’m publicly attached to this while I’m still marked, it muddies your future.”

“So you’re scared I’ll look bad standing next to you?”

“I’m saying the media will try to make you look small,” I replied. “And they’ll use me to do it.”

“But if we did go public… they’d run it, right? Like, big headline?”

“They’d devour it,” I admitted. “Chocolatier Defends Fashionista, Even at the Cost of His Family Store.”

Kotone’s audacity flickered into delicacy. “If they ran it… I’d be free. From my agency. From her.”

“And that’s why this route is tempting.” I kept my tone gentle. “It’s also why Wakami-san suggested it. She knows you’ll walk through fire if it means you get to choose your life.”

Kotone frowned. “So what, she’s testing us again?”

“She’s testing whether you’ll confuse drama for victory.” I held her gaze. “You don’t need my name on the paperwork to win.”

“What?”

“Keep building your case. Win it yourself. If I step in too loudly, they’ll rewrite you into a rescued idol.”

“So we don’t do it together.”

“We do it,” I corrected. “But we do it in a way that keeps your strength intact.”

“Why do you always do that?” Her voice rose, bright with anger that had fear underneath it. “You always pick the ‘smart’ option and then act like being alone is… the price you have to pay.” She stepped closer. “Think about other people’s feelings. Think about mine. I don’t care if I get dragged–”

I cut in softly. “You do care. That’s why you’re shaking.”

She froze.

“Make the choice with a clear mind. And I’ll be there. Every step. I have my selfish reasons. I just won’t let them shrink you into someone you’re not. A weak little starlet who got rescued instead of rising? Don’t make me laugh. I’ll prevent them from stripping your strength like that.”

“Senpai… you’ve actually changed.”

“As I said,” I replied, “I’ve repaid my debt. But thank you, Kotone. It’s incredible, isn’t it? Wakami-san’s willingness to see us tumble. My conversation with Sensei confirmed it yet again. A dramatic rejection of the Shinohara name? Not my best move either. A true victory lies in reaching back toward my family, not leaving them behind.”

“So like, my optimal path is similar. I’ll keep you close, privately, until the world’s ready to know.”

“Yes, it’s clever to keep our MidnightChef secrecy card.”

“No, you said you had your selfish reasons to keep me close.”

“It must have been a slip; I’ve been getting too good at this conversion stuff.”

“Well, I have reasons too, Rintarō. And I agree, Wakami-chii does adore setting up traps. I’ve had fun navigating them with the lawyer she recommended us.”

“Are you a genius?”

“I set up the cameras weeks ago,” she declared finally, chin high again. “That much is necessary, right?”

A smile tugged at my mouth. “It’s necessary enough to irrefutably win. Third-party ones fail to stand, and direct recordings remain valid in court. Take the leap.”

“Senpai, when this is over… when I win…”

“You will win.”

“...Will you still cook for me?”

“You’re teasing.”

“Obviously.”

“Stop playing. Show me the real you, Kotone.”

Her eyes sparked, gleaming and overloaded with everything she’d kept locked behind fake smiles and bratty lines. Power, fury, joy, hunger, overflowing with self-supremacy and relief. “Tease? Baby, I’m the prize. I’m about to dethrone a dynasty, destroy the agency that built me like a doll, and when I do? You think I’m not gonna celebrate? You think I’m shy about after-hours service? Mmmh. You’re mine, Senpai. My favorite comfort food. I’m so hungry it hurts.”

“That’s exactly right. We have existed to ruin each other gently. And thoroughly.”

“Then take care of me,” she breathed. “Like Hara-chii, catch me properly.”

“That, I can do.”

This was Kotone’s mother’s biggest miscalculation: she thought I was here to fight Kotone’s battles. The truth was, Kotone didn’t grow because of me. I didn’t grow because of Kotone. Growth was never like that.

When we met, through every meal, through every moment spent together and apart, we planted something in each other.

We planted seeds.

These seeds were everything.

These seeds demanded we grew, shunning what the world wanted, becoming who we were, stripped of permission, full of self-made truths. They didn’t rise toward the spotlight. They didn’t bloom for applause. They flourished strongly and with honesty. And when they cracked the shell of who we used to be, we became genuine.

So no, I didn’t fight her battles. Kotone chose her war, and I charged with her, as her hero, as her equal. And together under these golden tree leaves, we would make the world ours.