The alarm shrieked mercilessly, shattering the morning peace. Arata jolted, his hand fumbling frantically across the nightstand to silence his phone. The digits on the screen were still a blur. He forced his eyelids open, rubbing them resentfully to chase away the lingering haze of sleep.

  Once his vision snapped into focus, Arata’s heart nearly skipped a beat. His eyes widened at the clock’s hands. He blinked repeatedly, praying his sight was failing him, but the bitter reality remained unchanged.

  "Dammit... thirty minutes left!" he croaked in a panic.

  Without a second thought, he lunged from the bed and bolted toward the bathroom. Inside, the roar of the shower collided with the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock hanging just outside. Time felt arrogant; it marched forward with the same cold, uncompromising pace. It held no mercy for Arata.

  He quickly snatched his uniform, which hung stiffly behind the door. His fingers moved with frantic agility—bordering on reckless—as he buttoned the shirt, the fabric still cool against his damp skin. Occasionally, his eyes darted toward the clock, as if pleading with the inanimate object. Arata searched for a flicker of hope—a miracle where the clock might stall for just one beat, granting him the breathing room he so desperately needed.

  But the clock remained unmoved. Its monotonous ticking sounded like a taunt echoing in his ears.

  "Just a little more... come on, slow down!" he grumbled, his breath hitching.

  Just before he grabbed the door handle to leave, his gaze collided with a color too vibrant to ignore. An orange bag lay there, as if it had intentionally placed itself in his flight path. "Ugh... later."

  Ten minutes of that miraculous multitasking ended. From the moment his eyes had widened in shock to the "click" of the door locking behind him, Arata was already hurtling down the stairs. Even the old iron staircase couldn't escape the fray; it let out a sharp metallic groan as Arata’s footsteps trampled the steps without mercy.

  Usually, Arata would be swearing up and down for being late. But this morning was different. The shadow of Sora’s smile lingering in his mind—the fact that things between them had mended—acted as a powerful fuel. To him, this morning sprint wasn't a burden; it was a small celebration of the end of their drama.

  ***

  Vapor escaped his mouth in uneven puffs. His breath came in ragged gasps as he reached the deserted bus stop.

  "Crap, did I miss it?" he asked the empty air, swallowing hard.

  It was almost funny—he possessed an invisible power, yet the pendant and the three guardians hanging around his neck were utterly useless in a situation as simple as chasing time. Arata truly loathed his wall clock at that moment. He reached into his pocket, fumbling for his phone to check the remaining time that seemed to have already evaporated.

  Hssssss! The hiss of air brakes sounded as a large bus pulled up right in front of him. Arata turned his head, squinting as road dust swept up in a gust against the bus's frame. It seemed luck hadn't entirely abandoned him yet.

  ***

  —Something that looks very good might just end up quite the opposite—

  His stride faltered for a second, but something sternly nudged him to keep moving. He stepped forward, his feet hitting the bus steps. His vision was still as blurry as it had been when he looked at the clock that morning—unbelievable. The cramped space offered no chance to soothe his aching calves; those bunched muscles now had to continue the hard work of supporting his weight for the foreseeable future.

  In stark contrast to the silence of his room, the atmosphere inside the bus was a complete 180-degree shift. Off-key notes, butchered tempos, distorted screechy vocals, and the blare of horns merged into an orchestral symphony that should never have graced an online music service. Apparently, this "concert" was for a very specific audience.

  He hooked one hand onto a strap hanging from the ceiling, while the other remained on standby—tucked into his pants pocket, ready in case of an "attack." So far, nothing was too terrible. The view might have been unpleasant and the background music was a literal assault on his eardrums, but the atmosphere was neatly tuned to entertain him that morning. His heart didn't protest a bit.

  Then, caught off guard, the bus’s massive wheels braked abruptly, creating a jolt of inertia that sent his body hurtling forward.

  Arata nearly tumbled toward the steps. A metal handrail managed to catch his weight, preventing a deeper fall—but he didn't brace himself with his shoulder, arm, elbow, or fingers. He braced himself with his forehead.

  Precisely at that moment, the bus doors hissed open and a girl appeared. Her golden hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail; she stepped in gracefully, like a prima donna entering the stage, awaiting a roar of applause.

  Time slowed down, as if conspiring to support the imaginations of the elementary school kids on the bus. The girl’s face had a magnetic pull, forcing every pair of eyes to turn toward her.

  Meanwhile, not far away, a boy in the same uniform—though with a vastly different fate—was groaning while rubbing his forehead. That specific body part had just been used as an emergency weapon to support his weight when his hand, stuck in his pocket, failed to save his balance.

  Arata remained on the floor of the bus, trying to gather the shattered remains of his dignity. Somehow, outside the protection of the "light shields" from his usually loyal guardians, this attack had slipped through. The bump on his forehead felt like it was growing by the second.

  —Time snapped back to its normal rhythm—

  "I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—" The girl’s sentence cut short. Panic flooded her face, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson out of embarrassment for nearly stepping on someone sprawled beneath her.

  However, the intensity of that blush shifted when she looked down and saw exactly who was trying to stand up. Her eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat.

  "Arata?!"

  Yumi shrieked, her voice piercing through the rumble of the bus engine. her expression was a chaotic mess—a blend of extreme embarrassment, shock, and confusion at seeing her classmate in such a state on the floor.

  "Why... why are you here in this condition?" Yumi stammered, her hands trembling as she instinctively wanted to help but felt crippled by the awkwardness.

  There was no verbal response. Arata simply rubbed the knot on his head, nodding slightly as he tried to regain his footing with the girl’s help.

  A sudden brake from a car in front of them served as the perfect encore for the children on the bus.

  A second fall was nearly inevitable, but the "audience" was temporarily disappointed. The lead actor refused to let the slapstick routine repeat; he built the tension to a peak, then cut through the expectation with a sudden reflex.

  The lead actress’s hand managed to brace against the lead actor’s chest. At the same time, the coordination between the boy's brain and hands had finally found a grip. Yet, that grip seemed to prefer continuing the show; it let Arata’s fragile hold collapse. As the climax, the lead actor fell back, unable to withstand the weight of the actress who tumbled into his arms, greeted by a chorus of cheers from the little spectators.

  They scrambled to fix themselves. The awkwardness was witnessed by "spectators" who were still enthusiastically waiting for the next blooper.

  "Are you late too?" Yumi asked, her voice still trembling slightly.

  "Huff... what a heavy morning," Arata exhaled deeply, letting the question hang without a definitive answer.

  The red bump on Arata’s forehead caught Yumi’s eye. She immediately fished something out of her bag. Before making her move, her eyes darted around, looking for the right moment. Seeing the young audience distracted by their own business again, Yumi launched her move during the "commercial break."

  With practiced ease, Yumi’s hand applied something with a soothing aroma to Arata’s forehead. Within seconds, they were back in their original positions.

  Unbeknownst to them, two pairs of eyes had watched the entire scene, from the opening act to the bloopers. They sat in the front row, right next to the "stage."

  "Hi, Big Sis! Do you guys go to the same school?" one of the little girls asked in a cute, high-pitched voice.

  "Ah, hey... hello! Yes, we go to the same school," Yumi replied with a genuine, warm smile.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "Wow, you’re so pretty, Big Sis!" the other girl praised, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Yumi.

  "Oh, you’re too kind... but thank you," Yumi replied. Her cheeks instantly flushed, flattered by the children's innocence.

  But the next question flew like a blunt arrow that hit the bullseye of a black target. The attack wasn't aimed at Yumi, but at Arata. "Are you two dating?"

  The saliva in Arata’s throat seemed to refuse to go down. His breath hitched; not a single word could escape. His heart hammered blood into the nerves of his ears; the flow seemed to clog there and pool in his cheeks, resulting in a flush he could no longer hide.

  "No, we aren't dating," Yumi cut in quickly, as if giving Arata mouth-to-mouth resuscitation while his chest was still skewered by the question.

  However, deep in her heart, Yumi wished the little angel had aimed that arrow at her—letting the accusation become a reality she wouldn't have to deny.

  Arata used the gap Yumi provided to the fullest. He managed to "pull out the arrow" and immediately initiated a counter-attack.

  "Hey, you guys are still little. It’s not good to talk about dating. Study hard!"

  Arata threw out the protest as his weapon of choice—a tactic that only worked because his opponents were minors. This choice would have been useless against something like Cov. He tried hard to keep his defenses from being breached by the kids who used their innocence and cuteness to corner him.

  No reaction. The weapon was ineffective. The two little girls seemed immune to Arata’s lecture; instead, they teased him again with lethal levels of cuteness.

  At the same time, Yumi began to lose control. She took a deep breath and held it in her chest until her face turned red, trying desperately to swallow the laughter bubbling in her throat.

  Not to be outdone, Arata’s brain prepared a second strike. This time, he leaned down, bringing his face inches away from the two little girls. The children’s eyes widened; they froze, waiting to see what the "lead actor" would do next.

  "Listen, she is pretty," Arata whispered. His voice pierced their eardrums like cute intimidation. He stared with intense seriousness, hoping the children would succumb to the method. But the glint in their eyes worked too well—melting the authority of his attack until Arata could no longer hold back a smile.

  "But you don't know how terrifying she is when she’s angry. She’s exactly like a hungry lioness! Very scary. And one more thing... this is our secret, okay? Don't tell her," he said as the closing "threat."

  Hearing the "secret," the two girls immediately giggled. They doubled over, covering their tiny mouths with their hands, occasionally darting playful, secret-filled glances at Yumi.

  Not accepting this sudden shift in fate, Yumi’s eyes flickered between Arata and the children. Her face flushed; she realized an alliance had been formed right in front of her.

  "What did you say to them?" Yumi pulled Arata’s shoulder to face her.

  "That’s our secret, right?" Arata answered, looking at the two children for moral support. The kids nodded in unison, still covering their mouths to stifle their laughter.

  "Ooh... so you’re keeping secrets from me, huh?" Yumi challenged. She reached into her bag for something that made the kids' eyes light up. Yumi crouched beside their seats and started "gossiping" in a serious tone. "I’ll give you this, but you have to do something for me," she whispered, laying out non-negotiable terms and conditions.

  The three of them became engrossed in an intense low-voiced conversation. The two children listened intently, occasionally glancing at Arata, then whispering back to each other with furrowed brows.

  Panic began to haunt Arata. He felt the loyalty of his tiny allies crumbling for the sake of two candy bars. Sure enough, the kids looked at Arata with mischievous grins. Arata immediately put a finger to his lips—a sacred instruction to keep the secret. But Yumi’s vigilance wasn't to be underestimated; her gaze pierced right through him. Sensing the crucial moment, Arata made a desperate move; he looked out the window, pretending Cov was flying after the bus.

  "Come on, tell me..." Yumi whined piteously.

  The child sitting closest finally gave in. Her tiny lips moved quickly near Yumi’s ear.

  "And? What else?" Yumi pressed, still in secret negotiation mode.

  Suddenly, the children’s laughter exploded, filling the bus. It was a sharp contrast to Arata, who watched the betrayal with anxiety; a bead of cold sweat began to crawl down his forehead.

  "Really?" Yumi feigned shock. The two children nodded firmly. "Well, he is the one who makes me angry the most ," Yumi replied, throwing a playful, cynical glance at Arata.

  The child by the window whispered something far more serious. This time, Yumi was genuinely stunned; her eyebrows shot up, looking at Arata with disbelief. But she quickly took control.

  "We aren't dating. We’re just good friends," she said, trying to stay calm. "Alright, since you were honest, I’ll grant him a pardon. I won't give him a 'lesson' today," Yumi whispered.

  "But Big Sis really is pretty!" they added sincerely.

  Yumi laughed softly, a blush creeping up her cheeks. She handed over the two lollipops as tribute. "These are for you. And don't tell him what we talked about, okay? It's a secret between us girls." She put a finger to her own lips—a sacred instruction that was met with a disciplined nod from the two little girls.

  Arata looked like a man with a broken heart. He mourned his failed alliance, shattered by the intervention of unavoidable terms and conditions. His mouth moved silently, trying to protest, but the sound was stuck in his throat. The giggling of the two children was like a judge’s gavel closing the morning's discussion.

  Arata watched the moment in silence until Yumi stood tall again and threw him a playful, cynical look. Curious, Arata turned back to the children. "What did you say?" he asked in a hushed voice. But they only answered with more giggles.

  Argh... women, they can’t keep a secret, Arata grumbled internally, though his lips couldn't help but join in a warm smile toward them.

  The two children no longer cared about Arata; their attention was fully consumed by the lollipops, enjoying them with loud slurping sounds. Finally, the bus braked gently and stopped at a stop that was very familiar to Arata.

  "We’re heading out! You guys stay safe," Yumi waved her hand with the graceful motion she usually reserved for the public.

  Arata stepped down after Yumi, feeling the solid asphalt beneath his shoes—a stark contrast to the bus floor that had shaken his balance. As the bus roared and crawled away, Arata and Yumi stood there. From behind the glass window, two pairs of tiny hands pressed against the clear surface, waving with unyielding spirit.

  Arata waved back with the remnants of the smile still on his face. However, as the silhouette of the bus shrank in the distance, he felt the vibration of an impending "threat" looming on the way to class.

  ***

  They walked through the corridors, submerged in the stream of students filling the school. Though their shoulders occasionally brushed, there was an invisible distance between them. They stared straight ahead, as if the floor tiles were far more interesting than each other’s faces that morning.

  "My clothes are still at your house," Yumi said softly, breaking the stiff silence.

  "Yeah, I know. Near the door," Arata replied shortly, his hand tightening on his backpack strap.

  "After school, I’ll come get them."

  Arata cleared his throat, trying to fix his suddenly raspy voice. "I might not go straight home. I have to go to the shop first to deal with your scooter and my bike."

  "Alright, just let me know when you're home," Yumi finished.

  The conversation hung there as they reached a hallway intersection. Without a word of goodbye, their paths diverged. Arata stopped for a second, turning his body just to watch Yumi’s back as she disappeared into the crowd.

  Just as Arata was about to turn toward his own class, a shrill shout split the corridor's noise.

  "Arata! You owe me an explanation about the lioness!"

  Yumi’s voice echoed, making several students turn in curiosity. Arata froze in place, his eyes wide as he watched Yumi already running away without looking back, leaving Arata standing there with a face that was heating up again.

  He took a long, deep breath—a release of the weight that had been building in his chest. I thought she’d be mad... he thought. A thin smile—this time a truly genuine one—etched onto his face. Despite the occasional memory of the brawl with Cov, the lingering laughter of the kids and Yumi’s playful shout had truly made his day.

  ***

  Amidst the noise of students packing up, Arata chose to stay glued to his desk. His arms were folded on the table, supporting his head as it projected the reel of the morning's events. Though his eyes were squeezed shut—as if watching a movie in a dark theater—the smile on his lips was impossible to hide. To him, the darkness behind his eyelids was far more interesting than the classroom view.

  Suddenly, the "lights" in his private theater were forcibly switched on. A shake to his shoulder tore through the daydream, forcing Arata’s head up against a pull he couldn't resist.

  He blinked, trying to gather his consciousness which had been left behind in the school corridor. His cheeks were a deep red—not just from embarrassment, but from the blood flow restricted by his folded arms. Arata rubbed his face, trying to restore circulation while hiding the remnants of the smile.

  Kato was standing there, his brow furrowed.

  Kato: "Arata, your bike and Yumi’s are safe at Uncle Kenzo’s shop."

  Arata: "Thank god. Thanks a lot, Kato. Sorry I’ve been leaning on you so much lately."

  Kato: "Not at all. Don’t think about it."

  Arata: "Still, your help meant a lot with everything that happened yesterday."

  Kato: "I get it. So, your plan today is straight to the shop?"

  Arata: "Right. I want to check the damage immediately. The sooner it’s handled, the better."

  Kato: "Just use my bike for now if yours needs an engine teardown."

  Arata: "Thanks for the offer, but I think mine just needs a minor fix. It should be back in action soon."

  Kato: "What about Yumi’s scooter? That’s the bigger worry, right?"

  Arata: "That’s what I’m thinking about. It looks like it needs more attention."

  Kato: "Was it really that bad that you guys had to push it?"

  Arata: "The smoke was pretty thick. Most likely a severe overheat."

  Kato: "Rough if it has to stay overnight at the shop. Poor girl, that scooter’s her only way to school and work."

  Arata: "That’s why I have to prioritize the repair. I’ll try to get it done as fast as possible."

  Kato: "Alright. Let me know if you need extra hands or specific parts."

  Arata: "For sure, I’ll let you know."

  Kato: "I’m heading to the cafeteria now, Hana’s waiting. You don’t want to come? She seems pretty curious to interrogate you about yesterday... and this morning!"

  Arata raised an eyebrow, his expression turning into a giant question mark. "This morning?"

  Kato: "Yeah, exactly. The gossip about you two walking into school together has already spread to every corner of the class. You know how fast rumors fly here."

  Arata’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. "What?" he exclaimed in a hushed tone. "Are you kidding... how could it be that fast?"

  Kato: "Who knows. You’d better come up with a logical answer for Hana before she drags you to the middle of the cafeteria."

  "Insane..." Arata muttered dejectedly. He leaned back against his chair, feeling his head suddenly become much heavier than a broken scooter engine.

  Kato just gave a small laugh, patting his friend’s shoulder once more in a gesture of unhelpful sympathy, then strolled away, leaving Arata frozen at his desk.

  Arata massaged the bridge of his nose, which had started to throb. He stared at Kato’s empty seat with a hollow gaze.

  Unbelievable, he grumbled to himself. What is actually going through their minds? Why is it that every time two people walk together, they’re automatically labeled as a couple?

  His thoughts immediately went to Hana. Arata could imagine her sitting in the cafeteria, holding her "magic wand" of a phone, casting gossip spells into anyone’s ear.

  That witch... Arata gritted his teeth slightly. She’s definitely the ringleader. Only she has data transmission speeds that fast for something as useless as this.

  He leaned his head against the cold classroom wall, trying to cool down his face. For now, he felt more threatened by the narrative Hana was building in the cafeteria than by Cov.