Sayaka Kujo's return (1)

Sayaka Kujo rested her cheek against the car window, watching the city slide by.

Billboards, apartments, and then some playground where kids were playing joyfully.

The air inside was cool, but her thoughts felt heavy.

Beside her, Bertha folded her hands over her bag.

“Sayaka-ojou, how are you feeling? Tired?”

“I’m fine,” Sayaka answered automatically.

“You’ve been quiet since you arrived at the airport.”

Bertha said. “I thought you’d be more excited.”

“Your sister kept her word, Sayaka-ojou. Though I apologize that we have no information on the other boy at the moment,” she added.

“But did they need to go as far as to admit some random kid to stand beside her in front of the whole media?” Sayaka murmured.

Bertha remained quiet.

“His name was..Sato Arata, if I recall correctly.”

Sayaka nodded back. As they were interrupted, the car came to an abrupt stop.

“The usual route seems to be quite busy, Madam. Should we take an alternate route to the mansion?” requested the driver, dressed in a formal suit with black glasses.

“It’s fine. I need some time to myself before I meet Mom and Fuyumi-chan,” replied Sayaka.

Her gaze fell upon the busy streets once again.

The usual busy streets, followed by people queued up to buy from vendors.

Then she saw some students walking by in groups.

Her fingers tightened slightly against the leather seat.

The group of students in a pristine uniform laughed at one of thier friend’s for buying from a street vendor.

Back in middle school, she had walked these same streets as a student of Shizumi Girls’ High.

Blazer pressed, ribbon perfectly tied, the school crest gleaming like a warning. The campus had been beautiful on the surface: pristine halls, polished floors, manicured gardens.

The students were even more polished.

Daughters of actors, actresses, musicians, producers. These were girls born under stage lights and camera flashes.

Lunchtime wasn’t about food. It was about information. Who was dating whom, whose parent had a scandal brewing, which agency was rising, which was about to fall.

In a girls-only school where everyone’s name was worth something, rumors weren’t whispers.

They were weapons.

Sayaka could still hear the laughter in the corridors, the casual cruelty behind perfectly practiced smiles.

“Did you hear? Her mother’s show ratings dropped again.”

“I heard her father’s company is bleeding money.”

Gossip spread faster than any announcement, and no one dared stay behind when the tide turned against a target.

One afternoon, between classes, a girl had pulled her aside in a quiet stairwell. Her eyes were red, mascara smudged.

“Itsuki-san, why are you crying?” Sayaka asked her concernedly.

Her family’s company ran a small but stubborn talent agency.

One that had been openly challenging a Kujo-branch.

“Sayaka-san… you’re my friend, right?” her voice had choked out, clutching at Sayaka’s sleeve.

“Please… c-can’t you ask your parents to stop? They’re going to crush us. My dad, my mom…they’re trying so hard to just support our existing idols…”

Tears spilled over, dropping onto the polished step between them.

Sayaka had frozen.

She remembered the desperation in her voice. The way she’d bowed her head as if Sayaka were some kind of judge instead of just another middle schooler.

The next day, her seat was empty.

By lunch, everyone already knew the whole story.

Her family’s company had gone under, and she had been quietly expelled.

The official story was “family circumstances.”

Unofficially, the whispers were vicious.

“Her parents should’ve known better than to challenge a Kujo-backed Idol studio.”

“I heard that she even begged Kujo-san to spare her family’s company.”

“Really? I didn’t think she was that pathetic.”

“Who’d fall for such petty tricks?”

Sayaka had walked past the vacant desk in silence, nails digging into her palm.

She never saw Itsuki-san again.

Sayaka’s jaw tightened as the car rolled deeper into the familiar streets.

“It’s the Shizumi High territory, huh? I don’t want our car to be spotted in this area,” Sayaka hissed.

Her eyes scanned the surroundings.

A couple of Shizumi students walked along the pavement.

They collectively stopped as many people crowded over to a street vendor.

She blinked as her eyes shifted to the commotion across the street.

“Wait a second… Bertha? Isn't that the boy who got into Kyousei beside Fuyumi-chan?”

Bertha nodded in response, instantly recognizing Arata.

“What the heck is he doing here?” Sayaka crashed out.

Sayaka’s hands instinctively reached to open the car’s door.

Bertha held her back physically from opening the window.

“Let go, Bertha! Does he have any idea what his face is worth now? He’s standing next to a Kujo in every news cycle, and here he is doing a street performance. He’s going to drag Fuyumi-chan into the dirt with him!”

Both of them stopped as they saw the little girl beside Arata grinning with joy as he walked away.

‘Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Sayaka.’

‘No one’s going to risk getting their reputation torn just to see someone smile.’

Bertha’s grip on Sayaka’s arms loosened.

Sayaka cleared her throat.

“He may be getting his little sister a treat, but that kind of commotion in this area won't help him.” She stated matter of factly.

“He’s walking away. Quick, stop the car in front of him,” commanded Sayaka.

Back to the present.

“Eh, who drives like this?..” Arata-kun murmured out of frustration.

Then his eyes shrank back as he saw the sleek car.

‘Can it be the fact that someone from the school found out that I live in an elderly facility as a part-time janitor?’

His mind raced with countless possibilities.

The back window slid down with the flare that you only see in dramas.

Sayaka Kujo leaned slightly forward, framed by leather seats and tinted glass.

Her gaze swept over Arata-kun once with the kind of assessing sharpness that made other people straighten their backs.

“You must be Arata-kun,” she said.

“Yeah…” Arata ran out of words as he was questioned abruptly.

‘Those eyes, they remind me of Kujo-san’s except there’s no softness in them whatsoever.’

Sato Arata stopped, offering a polite, practiced half-bow.

Sayaka’s lips curled into a thoughtful smile.

“ You’re bad at acting all formal,” she scoffed, seeing him nervous and sweating.

Her eyes flicked briefly to the line of customers Arata had managed to gather and back to the slight, uncertain tremble in his hands.

“You really don’t waste opportunities, do you?” Sayaka murmured.

“Getting your little sister a treat is sweet, but making a scene in this area isn’t smart.”

There was no softness in her tone. Just cool, clinical judgment.

‘That wasn’t even my sister. Although I think it’s best not bring that up now.’ thought Arata.

“You’re tied to Fuyumi-chan’s image now,” she continued.

“Every photo, every headline. If you get dragged into some gossip spiral because you decided to entertain a crowd in Shizumi territory…”

Her eyes narrowed just slightly, a controlled irritation seeping through.

“…you’re not the only one who’ll get burned.”

For a second, Arata just stood there.

Then blinked in surprise.

‘That’s all?’ he thought to himself. ‘I was worrying that she might have known about...’

“I appreciate the concern,” Arata said evenly. “I’ll be more careful where I cause a commotion next time.”

Sayaka’s lips curved into a soft smile. Though her eyes were sharp as ever.

“So you will still be causing commotions, huh?’ she asked him.

‘Damn it. I don’t know what to answer. She’s probably trying to test if I am doing this on purpose.’ Arata’s mental cogs kicked in full power.

With a subtle smile. He replied.

“I’ll be careful if Kujo-san’s reputation is involved then.”

Sayaka’s shoulders loosened in response.

Then she leaned back, giving the driver a small nod.

The window slid up.

The car took off and merged back into traffic.

Sayaka watched the city pass by through the tinted window.

For a few minutes, the silence settled thick between her and Bertha. Only the low hum of the engine and the soft thud of the tires over uneven asphalt filled the space.

“Sayaka-ojou,” Bertha’s voice came gently, carefully, as if she were approaching a spooked cat, “may I ask something?”

Sayaka didn’t look away from the glass.

“You just did,” she replied, the edge of her tone dulled by fatigue.

A moment of silence as Bertha recalled just how much trouble Sayaka used to give her when she was a kid.

Bertha gave a faint, amused exhale.

“Then… may I ask one more?” she asked.

Sayaka’s reflection in the window met her own gaze—eyes sharp, lips pressed in a thoughtful line.

“…Go ahead,” she said.

“Why did you go so far?” Bertha asked.

“Questioning him like that. You were… harsher than usual.”

The familiar weight of expectation pressed against Sayaka’s spine.

She let out a slow breath, fogging a faint patch on the glass. The city lights beyond blurred and reformed as the car turned a corner.

“Because I needed to know,” Sayaka answered at last, voice steady. “What kind of person is he?”

Bertha tilted her head. “You could’ve learned that in more subtle ways.”

“I’ve learned one thing in the ‘business meeting’ my dad dragged me along with.” Sayaka countered dryly.

Bertha leaned back, wondering if this was crucial information from her foreign trip right now.

“Even the most deceitful guy can act as an angel once he knows you’re testing him.”

Sayaka’s fingers tightened slightly against the leather armrest.

Her thoughts wandered elsewhere, but she continued.

“I wanted to see,” she continued, choosing each word with care, “whether he’s just a normal guy who got swept up in this mess… or someone deliberately admitted to taint Fuyumi-chan’s name.”

Bertha leaned back, assured.

She knew too well how protective Sayaka-ojou can be towards her younger sister.

She recalled the time when Fuyumi-ojou had stood up in front of Sayaka-ojou to not get her from being admitted into Kyousei using her connections.

‘I still remember how proud Sayaka-ojou felt at that time. She was bragging about her independent sister to every maid in the house.’

Bertha smiled softly.

“You’re thinking of something embarrassing about me, aren’t you?” Sayaka perked up.

‘She looks like a grumpy cat.’

Bertha chuckled. Her formal demeanor was completely gone as she giggled beside Sayaka-ojou.

“Stop laughing at me, Bertha!” cried Sayaka, though a soft smile remained on her face.