The Thoughtful Gyaru holds secrets.

***
Furukawa Itsuki

"With this, haven't you basically lost the bet?"

The voice asked. Its tone contained a hint of mockery as if making fun of the loser.

"Shosei has grown closer to us. At this point, you've lost halfway through the bet. It didn't even take him four months. Besides —"

"Heh."

A chuckle escaped my mouth. They seemed to be surprised by it as the voice went quiet. A cold smile played on my lips as I asked them a question in return.

"Do you even believe what you're saying? You know it as well. I wouldn't make a bet if this was all it took to change my mind. My prediction remains the same."

I breathed out a sigh, hoping to chase away the emotion that overflowed me. It was a mix of self-deprecation and hope. The last one was as faint as the quiet sound of the approaching storm.

***
Maegahara Shosei

The cultural festival came to an end. October approached its last days, and the carefree ruckus was now over. In its place, the anxiety over the midterms arrived. Everyone holed up studying (aside from Itsuki, I assume), forcing themselves to forget the recent event and face textbooks.

It was hard to switch off my mind from the still lingering excitement of the festival, so it proved difficult to focus. The books piled up on my desk threatened to bore me to death. Unlike Yamada-san, I didn't enjoy studying, and the pre-midterm preparations were a form of torture for me. My mind, attempting to escape reality, began reflecting on what happened after the festival.

***

We ran down the stairs, pursuing Nakano-san. I was with Ishikawa-san, Kato-san, Maeda-san, and Suzuki-san. The entire group was there, hurrying to be at Nakano-san's side. By the time we arrived, he was standing alone, phone in his hand, tears running down his cheeks.

"Nakano-san!" I screamed, making him twitch in surprise. Then, he brought his arm to his face, making a wiping gesture, and took a breath to calm himself.

"What's up, Shosei?" Nakano-san asked as he turned around, a soft smile on his face.

I stopped, slightly shocked. The contrast between the tears and Nakano-san's peaceful expression surprised me.

"...No, nothing, I guess," I said, smiling back at him. Nakano-san looked over the rest of the group.

"Yamada, Mitsu, Fumiko, Yukino, and Shosei, too — thank you, guys. For everything," he said, expressing his gratitude.

We didn't reply — words weren't needed. Our only answer was our warm smiles and gazes.

Soon, we headed back to the school. We were walking through the main building's entrance when my mind noticed a strange detail about the prior conversation. Nakano-san addressed everyone by their names. Not the nicknames he usually used nor their surnames. Just their names, no honorifics attached. 

Wait — everyone?

"Oh, so you address Maegahara-san by his name now?" Ishikawa-san suddenly asked, breaking the silence. I perked my ears up, curious about the sudden change in address.

"Sure, why not? I mean — it feels weird to call him by his last name."

"Hmmm, maybe I also should do that — what do you think, Shosei?" Ishikawa-san asked as he turned to me.

"Huh? I mean... I don't mind, Ishikawa-san," I said, giving my agreement. Damn, he just went ahead and called me by name immediately. Smooth as always, Ishikawa-san... Meanwhile, he seemed to have a problem with something I said as he looked at me, slightly displeased.

"Come on, you should call me Yamada, or it isn't fair," he said, expressing his complaint.

"A-all right, Yamada... san." I wanted to drop the honorifics but hesitated and decided against it at the last second. It's a bit much for me to call someone purely by name all of a sudden. I've barely talked with him a few months prior, you know? In response to my awkward reply, Ishi — no, Yamada-san wryly smiled but didn't say anything. That smile probably meant something like 'this will do.'

"Okaaaay! Let's all call Shosei-kun by his given name now!" declared Maeda-san — no, I should probably call her Fumiko-san.

***

The next day after the festival, I hung out with Nakano-san's group. It was fun, and I felt I'd grown closer to them — although I still couldn't make myself drop the honorifics...

I was happy about making progress, but the exams meant I couldn't go out with them until November. Luckily, despite my dislike of it, I was pretty good at studying, so I didn't have to worry too much. I didn't need to work my ass off, but the same wasn't the case for Akira-san and Yamada-san.

The first was just a poor student with equally poor discipline, while the second was the opposite — the manifestation of diligence himself. Regardless, they were busy, and I couldn't do anything about that.

"Ahhh — to hell with this!" I shouted, closing the textbook shut. "That's enough studying for today..."

Escaping from reality only took you so far, and I erupted in frustration. I decided to stop for today and instead started looking for a distraction. My gaze fell on the familiar poster of Blooming Youth which made me recall something.

"Oh yeah, there is an episode of an anime I wanted to watch airing soon. I haven't watched anything in a while, so it kinda blanked out of my memory."

Since I'd been busy recently, I recorded every episode to watch later. When the festival ended, I watched all the stuff I recorded. Huh? You're asking me, how would I do that if I was busy studying? Let's just say I wasn't the most diligent student out there...

What followed after was a fun evening of watching some anime. I got carried away and ended up watching more through an online streaming service, which also reminded me that my subscription was almost over. 

It was an enjoyable time, but something about it felt slightly off. Somehow it felt a little lonely. Well, it couldn't be helped as everyone was studying for exams. I really wanted to hang out with the rest of the group, huh?

I mentally said that, trying to shut off any other interpretation of this emptiness.

***

The next day was an average school day — no battling against the mood and no dramatic scenes. Akira-san kept complaining about the exams, and Yamada-san wryly smiled while watching over his antics. As the bell signaling the end of the last period rang, I began packing my bag. Suddenly, I felt a strong impact, a clap on my shoulder. And by that, I meant less of a clap and more of a full-fledged blow.

"Yo, Shosei." It was Akira-san, widely grinning as he kept hitting my back in a friendly manner. The impact of his greeting (the physical one) made me reel over and drop my items on the ground. All of my notebooks and textbooks were now scattered on the floor.

"Geez, Akira-san. You don't have to use that much force — actually scratch that — you should stop hitting me as a greeting entirely," I complained, exasperated at his stubborn insistence on physical contact.

"Come on, dude, I'll help you, so don't be angry," he said as he crouched down and started helping me.

After finishing packing, I went outside with the rest of the group. Or, more accurately, with a part of the group as not everyone was there. Fumiko-san and Yamada-san had afterschool clubs, so they didn't go with us. Ever since the festival, I'd been walking back with them every day. We would go to the station together and then split. Mitsu-san and I would head in the same direction but not for long, only a single station, while Akira-san and Yukino-san went different ways from us from the get-go. At the moment, we were walking through the familiar path to the station and keeping up small talk.

"We should go to a karaoke again," said Mitsu-san, smiling faintly. "This time, we'll get to hear Yukino sing, so it's worth it."

Picking up the topic, Yukino-san didn't miss an opportunity to make a dig at my and Akira-san's singing. 

"Too bad these two are so bad our average singing level plummets to 'catastrophic,'" Yukino-san said, looking over us with an exasperated sigh. I slumped dejected, remembering my abysmal performance the last time we went. Seeing my reaction, Yukino-san added, seemingly reluctant.

"W-well, I can teach you the next time we go, Shosei..."

"Really?" I perked up and directed my hopeful gaze at her.

"I-it can't be helped since you're pretty bad at it...," she added, turning away from me with a slight motion of her head.

"Why are you only offering to help Shosei...? I've never got offered help like that...," Akira-san complained quietly.

"It's because you're completely hopeless," Mitsu-san retorted and then added, smiling teasingly. "Hmm, maybe you guys should go alone, just the two of you, you know, so you can help him practice, Yukino-chan."

"Wh-what?" Yukino-san asked, slightly panicked. Seeing her flustered, I used all of my wit to decode the intent behind her words. Then, I confidently answered.

"I can't trouble Yukino-san like that — I'll just try to practice on my own," I said with a self-assured expression. After all, going out of your way to personally teach someone was bothersome. I was glad I could so successfully read someone's reaction...

"..." 

I could feel a cold stare drill my back. A loud silence accompanied it. 

I didn't know a silence could be loud of all things... Maybe that wasn't the correct answer... After thinking it through, I devised a new solution! What I said made Yukino-san look bad, like she couldn't be bothered to teach me... The moment I figured that out, I knew what to say.

"I-I mean, I don't feel like practicing that seriously, so she doesn't have to bother, okay?" I said hurriedly, a forced smile on my face.

"......"

Somehow the cold stare only intensified... Luckily for me, a saving grace arrived. In the form of sadistic enjoyment, of course.

"Hahahahahahahahahaha...," Mitsu-san started laughing as she watched our antics. Stop just entertaining yourself and give me a hand, please...

Next, I heard an exasperated sigh from Yukino-san. It seemed my life was saved, so I wasn't about to complain. Heh. I knew my second explanation would work — she simply didn't want to look bad in front of others — full points, me! Good job.

We kept walking, talking about nothing in particular until I suddenly stopped.

"Huh? Now that I think about it, did I put my English notebook...," I mumbled as I took the bag off my back and started checking its contents.

"...It's not here."

"Hmm? What's wrong, Shosei?" Mitsu-san asked, noticing that I slowed down. The rest also turned around, watching me curiously.

"Ah, sorry, guys, I forgot something at school — go ahead without me," I said and turned around. It must have fallen out when Akira-san greeted me (more like pummeled me). That's why I'd told him to stop his usual antics...

I rushed back to school. I entered the building and headed to the second-year students' floor. There, an empty class greeted me. There was an eerie feel to the usually boisterous room. It was probably nothing more than the silence affecting my mind, just like being surrounded by darkness made your imagination race — but even knowing that, I still couldn't shake off the mysterious effect it had on me.

"Here it is."

The notebook I was searching for lay on the floor near my desk. I picked it up and put it in my bag, sighing in relief. As I got up, in the corner of my eye, I saw the school's sports field. There, the football club was in the middle of a match. Even from far away, I could see Yamada-san doing his best. He stood out among all the players — dribbling past one defender after another, he closed in on the gates and shot. The goalie couldn't stop the ball, and it hit the net.

They weren't even the same level — he was just flexing on them... That reminded me of Fumiko-san. She was also in a club, the painting club, to be specific. I was surprised when I first heard that. Painting just didn't fit my image of Fumiko-san.

Driven by a sudden bout of curiosity, I decided to visit the painting club. Our school had a map detailing where all the clubs were. It was created to make it easier for newcomers to join no matter the time of the year. Using the map in question, I found the club I needed and began making my way to its room.

"It should be... here... right?"

I looked around, searching for the clubroom. According to the map, it was the room in front of me, so I opened its door. It wasn't locked, so I was confident I had it right, but to my surprise, there wasn't anyone inside. It was empty, not a single person present. I scanned the room with my gaze when suddenly something caught my attention — one of the canvases wasn't empty, and colors adorned its clear white. I approached it to examine it closer.

Its color palette stood out immediately — it was a mix of dark colors with a vivid red splatter amidst the masses of black and blue. The painting was abstract, depicting a dark landscape adorned by a red moon. The outlines were hazy and uncertain, giving the whole picture a dreamy feel. In the quiet darkness, the unnaturally scarlet dot stood out, making me feel uncomfortable.

"This is good...," I mumbled. The slightly tilted angle gave the image a sense of volume, and the dark trees grew as if pointing toward the moon, focusing the viewer's attention on the scarlet circle. In addition, the intense red, more saturated and bright than any other colors present, contrasted against the landscape, making it clear that the moon was the focal point of the painting.

Suddenly, a voice interrupted my thoughts. It came from right beside me, making me slightly jump in surprise.

"Hi there, Shosei. What are you doing?"

I felt a clap on my back, followed by a question. I turned around and saw Maeda Fumiko, a gyaru and an enigma I couldn't quite figure out.

"Oh, Fumiko-san — I was just staring at this painting...," I said as my gaze drifted back to the artwork.

"You like it?" she asked, smiling widely.

"Yeah, it's pretty good. The colors contrast pretty well, and the trees pointing to the moon, enhancing the central focus of the image, are a nice touch. This angle also increases the feeling of anxiety that the unnaturally red moon produces while giving the painting more volume...," I rattled away, still impressed by the painting in front of me.

"Whoa. You know a lot about composition, huh? Well then, you're in luck today because the artist is no other than your truly — Maeda Fumiko-chan!" she exclaimed energetically.

That didn't really surprise me. Still, what did catch my attention was that there was no one else in the club.

"Is that so? You're pretty good then... I wish I could draw this well. By the way, where is everyone else?" I asked.

"Weeeeell... You see — the activities are actually suspended until the end of midterms. We're not that serious of a club, and the grades are more important so...," Fumiko-san explained.

"Huh? Then why are you here?"

"Mhm, my grades are pretty good, you know? I don't care about the rankings much, so — as long as they are on a decent enough level — there's no problem."

I see. Fumiko-san certainly had pretty good grades — they were better than mine. I was around the top twenty among the year in most subjects. She, in comparison, was nearly in the top ten in all of them, so she didn't need to worry. Well, I also had enough time on my hands to catch up to all the anime right before the exams, so I was in a similar situation.

"Still..." I mumbled and took one more look at her painting. It was a dark and uncomfortable artwork, completely unfitting the image of Maeda Fumiko, the cheerful gyaru. The glimpses of her true self she showed me during the festival could also be seen in her piece.

The cultural festival mess was orchestrated by someone. The crowd's mood took root too fast for it not to be artificially created. It was done so that Akira-san and Yukino-san would be forced to confront their traumas. It certainly wasn't a string of coincidences — it was a planned sequence of actions. And someone caught my suspicions as the possible culprit from the very beginning.

When the mood started falling, Fumiko-san played up her cheerfulness, provoking the already displeased crowds. In addition, when I decided to help, she told me about Yukino-san's past. I didn't know if she interfered behind the scenes in Akira-san's situation, but I did remember something. He mentioned that someone pushed him into submitting his original script, marking the beginning of this whole mess. I was confident that someone was, in fact, Fumiko-san.

And so, I asked.

"Fumiko-san, were you the one who orchestrated the whole situation during the cultural festival?"

In response, she tilted her head, seemingly confused by the question. Then, after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, she replied.

"Huh? Weren't you the one who did it?"

And then her words shocked me. Because that meant someone else was behind the whole mess.

"What...?" I said, confused.

It was less of a question and more of a quiet exclamation.

***
Furukawa Itsuki

"So? Why are you here?"

The person who stood behind me was smiling. I was confident in that without even looking behind me to check since they almost always wore a smile.

"Oh, you know — no reason in particular. I just wanted to talk," they replied in a casual tone.

Their tone annoyed me with its fakeness, but I tried to ignore the rising emotion and continued with a question.

"And? What do you want to talk about, Ishikawa Yamada?"

I looked behind me. A seemingly perfect superhuman stood there, that creepy fake smile on his face.