Harvest

The office door clicked shut softly behind Chabashira Sae, the final echoes of her heels against the floorboards still lingering in the air.

Ayanokoji Kiyona gazed toward the now-empty doorway, her doll-like, exquisite face remaining devoid of expression. Only her thin lips parted slightly, releasing words with her signature cold, detached texture, as if she were merely stating an uninteresting fact:

"Inexplicable."

Her gaze swept past the trees outside the window, the curve of her profile appearing all the more indifferent in the slanting sunlight, as if the long wait just now had been nothing more than an inconsequential interlude.

"After all that time," Kiyona said, her tone flat and her voice low, yet it echoed clearly enough in the quiet doorway of the faculty room, "the result was just to listen to her spout a few empty words?"

Hoshino Kanade turned his head, his eyes landing on the corners of her slightly pursed lips—a curve that held a faint, elusive vividness in his eyes that belonged to her alone. His lips moved slightly, and he picked up where she left off in a low, natural voice:

"Indeed, it was quite a waste of time." He paused, his gaze shifting to the window at the end of the corridor, which was bathed in the sunset. "Though, I suppose it wasn't entirely without gain."

Kiyona's eyelashes fluttered for an imperceptible moment.

She did not turn to look at him, her eyes remaining fixed on the shadows of the trees outside the corridor window, as if she had no interest in his words at all.

Yet, the fingers that had been hanging naturally at her side curled silently, her fingertips pressing gently against her palms.

The golden halo of the sunset brushed against her white-jade earlobes, staining the tips a thin, translucent crimson before it faded away—so quickly it might have been an illusion.

Hoshino Kanade knew all too well the arrogance etched into the very bones of Chabashira Sae; he had discerned that demeanor from the very first day she stepped into the classroom.

This bit of neglect and haughtiness from Chabashira Sae was not enough to stir even a ripple of what one might call "anger" in the depths of his heart.

Strictly speaking, Chabashira Sae's long delay and worthless lecture had actually become an unexpected opportunity.

Had they not been deliberately detained in that time of solitude, perhaps the thin ice between them would not have been broken so quickly.

Hoshino Kanade recalled the past, when walking with Kiyona, they had mostly maintained a vague, intangible distance. Occasionally, the brief touch of their fingertips had been like a feather brushing across the surface of water—gone in an instant, the absolute limit of what she permitted.

But at this moment, having walked only a short distance from the office, moving through the quiet corridor of the school building, the hallway lights stretched their shadows long and short.

Without warning, Kiyona's hand reached out.

It was not a test, nor was there any hesitation. As cold and aloof as she was, her movements possessed a natural fluidity—her arm slipped with extreme ease into the space between Hoshino Kanade's arm and his body, and she gently linked her arm with his.

The moment her fingertips were about to touch his sleeve, a faint, almost imperceptible flush, cool as morning dew, quietly spread across her earlobes, only to be forcibly suppressed by her the next second.

She felt the fabric beneath her fingertips seem to carry a scorching temperature, which made her subconsciously want to curl her fingers, yet the moment the movement was complete, she forcibly transformed this tiny tremor into an even deeper closeness.

She turned her face slightly, her gaze falling on the elongated, intertwined shadows ahead, as if doing so could help her ignore the abnormally clear sound of her own heartbeat in her ears.

The moment Kiyona's arm gently linked with his, Hoshino Kanade, almost subconsciously and with extreme naturalness, relaxed his arm muscles, forming a more comfortable angle to support her so that Kiyona could link with him more perfectly.

He clearly felt the cool, soft weight resting in the crook of his arm, the fabric of their school uniforms gently wrapping around the point of contact.

This intimate closeness carried a cold, matter-of-fact quality, yet because of the extremely brief, almost uncatchable tremor of her fingertips, and her focused gaze on the distant shadows as she deliberately avoided eye contact, it betrayed a hint of forced composure and shyness.

Neither of them spoke, simply maintaining this newly narrowed distance, continuing along the path under the cherry trees with a tacit understanding.

Kiyona could feel the warmth on her cheeks that had yet to fully fade, like a thin veil draped over her skin.

She struggled to maintain her usual indifferent expression, attempting to banish the images constantly flashing back in her mind—his suddenly magnified features in the dim light of the pantry and the warm pressure on her lips.

Hoshino Kanade could clearly feel the weight and softness on his arm that could not be ignored. Kiyona's cool body temperature seeped through the thin school uniform fabric into his skin; that temperature was not biting, but rather carried a strange sense of comfort, steadily pressing against his heart.

The five o'clock sunset spilled gently onto their shoulders, the air brewing with the scent of grass and trees that had been steamed by the sun all day. A slightly warm breeze, carrying the moist fragrance of grass and soil, brushed past their hair and Hoshino Kanade's slightly burning earlobes—a temperature that came partly from the sunset, and perhaps in larger part, from the quiet yet present closeness in the crook of his arm.

Just as this near-addictive tranquility enveloped him, and his thoughts were almost drowning in the cold yet real sensation of her arm, a clear and unquestionable voice, like an ice pick piercing a warm bubble, abruptly shattered the silence of the corridor:

"Wait." Horikita Suzune appeared at the corner of the hallway, her posture straight, her sharp gaze locking onto the figures that had just drawn close, and fixing on their as-yet-unseparated arms.

She called out to them in that unique tone of hers used for declaring important matters, her line of sight pausing for half a second on the arm Kiyona had linked with Hoshino Kanade.

Hoshino Kanade looked at the returning Horikita Suzune, his eyebrows arching slightly with a hint of elusive surprise as he asked, "Why are you still here?"

This sudden question seemed to hit a pause button; Horikita Suzune's thoughts were instantly pulled back to her meeting with Chabashira Sae just moments ago.

She did not answer Hoshino Kanade's question immediately, her gaze seeming to pierce through the scene before her, falling back onto some invisible focal point.

Chabashira Sae-sensei acted that way, likely intending for me to use the strength of these two to elevate Class D to Class A, right?

This thought surfaced clearly in her mind.

Although Horikita Suzune did not believe she belonged in Class D either—this sense of non-acceptance caused her to subconsciously press her lips into a thin line.

But Horikita Suzune never allowed herself to wallow in feelings of injustice. If she were truly assigned to Class D, she would use her own strength to elevate Class D to Class A.

On this point, she was absolutely certain in her heart.

Her gaze refocused on Hoshino Kanade, and seemed to sweep past him to see the other person (Ayanokoji Kiyona).

Through Chabashira Sae-sensei, Horikita Suzune also realized that the two of them were truly special.

This special quality was perhaps the very key Chabashira-sensei had hinted at.

If she wanted to reach Class A, the two of them were undoubtedly a tremendous asset.

This conclusion took shape in her calm analysis, carrying the weight of realistic consideration.

After a brief silence, Horikita Suzune's eyes refocused, as sharp as before, clearly having pulled herself out of her previous train of thought.

The office door clicked shut softly behind Chabashira Sae, the final echoes of her heels against the floorboards still lingering in the air.

Kiyona gazed toward the now-empty doorway, her doll-like, exquisite face remaining devoid of expression. Only her thin lips parted slightly, releasing words with her signature cold, detached texture, as if she were merely stating an uninteresting fact:

"Inexplicable."

Her gaze swept over the trees outside the window, the curve of her profile appearing increasingly indifferent in the slanting sunlight, as if the long wait just now had been nothing more than an inconsequential interlude.

"After all that time," Kiyona said, her tone flat and her voice low, yet it echoed clearly enough at the entrance of the quiet faculty office, "in the end, was it just to listen to her spout nonsense?"

Hoshino Kanade turned his head, his gaze falling on the corners of her slightly pursed lips—a curve that held a faint, elusive vividness in his eyes that belonged only to her. His lips moved slightly, and he replied in a low, natural voice:

"Indeed, a fair amount of time wasted." He paused, his gaze shifting to the window at the end of the corridor bathed in the sunset. "Though, it wasn't entirely without gain."

Kiyona's eyelashes fluttered, almost imperceptibly.

She did not turn to look at him, her gaze remaining fixed on the shadows of the trees outside the corridor window, as if she had no interest in his words at all.

Yet, the fingers that had been hanging naturally at her side curled silently, her fingertips pressing gently against her palms.

The golden halo of the sunset brushed over her white-jade earlobes, staining the tips a thin, translucent crimson before fading away—so quickly it might have been an illusion.

Hoshino Kanade knew all too well the arrogance etched into the very bones of Chabashira Sae; from the first day she stepped into the classroom, he had seen through that facade.

This bit of neglect and haughtiness from Chabashira Sae was not enough to stir even a ripple of what one might call "anger" in his heart.

Strictly speaking, Chabashira Sae's long delay and worthless lecture had turned into an unexpected opportunity.

Had they not been deliberately detained in that solitude, perhaps the thin ice between them would not have been broken so quickly.

Hoshino Kanade recalled the past; walking with Kiyona usually meant maintaining a vague distance. The occasional brief touch of fingertips was like a feather skimming the surface of water—fleeting, the absolute limit of what she permitted.

But at this moment, not far from the office, walking through the quiet corridor of the school building, the lights stretched their shadows long and short.

Without warning, Kiyona's hand reached over.

It wasn't a probe, nor was there any hesitation. As cold and aloof as she was, her movement carried a natural fluidity—her arm slipped through the space between Hoshino Kanade's arm and his body with extreme ease, gently linking with him.

The moment her fingertips were about to touch his sleeve, a faint, almost imperceptible flush, cool as morning dew, quietly spread across her earlobes, only to be forcibly suppressed by her the next second.

She felt the fabric beneath her fingertips carrying a scorching temperature, which made her instinctively want to curl her fingers, yet the moment the movement was complete, she forcibly transformed this tiny tremor into a deeper closeness.

She turned her face slightly, her gaze falling on the elongated, intertwined shadows ahead, as if that could help her ignore the abnormally clear sound of her own heartbeat in her ears.

The moment Kiyona's arm gently linked with his, Hoshino Kanade, almost subconsciously and with extreme naturalness, relaxed his arm muscles, allowing them to form a more comfortable angle to support her, ensuring Kiyona could hold on more snugly.

He clearly felt the cool, soft weight resting in the crook of his arm, the fabric of their school uniforms gently wrapping around the point of contact.

This intimate closeness carried a cold, matter-of-fact air, yet it betrayed a hint of forced composure and shyness due to the fleeting, barely perceptible curling of her fingertips and her focused gaze, which was deliberately avoiding eye contact to rest on the shadows in the distance.

Neither of them spoke, simply maintaining this newly narrowed distance, moving in tacit agreement along the path beneath the cherry trees.

Kiyona could feel the warmth on her cheeks had not yet fully faded, like a thin veil covering her skin.

She struggled to maintain her usual indifferent expression, trying to banish the images constantly flashing back in her mind—his suddenly enlarged features in the dim light of the tea room and the warm pressure on her lips.

Hoshino Kanade could clearly feel the weight and softness on his arm that could not be ignored. Kiyona's cool body temperature seeped through the thin school uniform fabric into his skin; the temperature was not biting, but rather carried a strange sense of comfort, steadily pressing against his heart.

The five o'clock sunset spilled gently onto their shoulders. The air was brewing with the scent of plants that had been steamed by the sun all day. A slightly warm breeze, carrying the moist fragrance of grass and soil, brushed past their hair and Hoshino Kanade's slightly burning earlobes—a temperature that came partly from the sunset, and a larger part, perhaps, from the quiet yet present closeness in the crook of his arm.

Just as this near-greedy tranquility enveloped him, and his thoughts were almost drowning in the cold yet real sensation in his arm—a crisp and unquestionable voice, like an ice pick piercing a warm bubble, suddenly shattered the silence of the corridor:

"Wait." Horikita Suzune appeared at the corner of the corridor, her posture straight, her sharp gaze locking onto the figures that had just drawn close, and fixing on their still-linked arms.

She called out to them with that characteristic tone used for declaring important matters, her gaze pausing for half a second on the arm Kiyona had linked with Hoshino Kanade.

Hoshino Kanade looked at the returning Horikita Suzune, his eyebrows raised slightly with a hint of imperceptible surprise as he asked, "Why are you still here?"

This sudden question seemed to hit a pause button; Horikita Suzune's thoughts were instantly pulled back to her meeting with Chabashira Sae just now.

She did not answer Hoshino Kanade's question immediately, her gaze seemingly piercing through the scene before her, landing on some invisible focal point.

Chabashira Sae-sensei doing that—was her intention perhaps to have her use the power of these two to elevate Class D to Class A?

This thought emerged clearly in her mind.

Although Horikita Suzune did not believe she belonged in Class D—this sense of non-recognition made her subconsciously purse her lips.

But Horikita Suzune never allowed herself to wallow in feelings of injustice. If she were truly assigned to Class D, she would use her own strength to elevate Class D to Class A.

On this point, she was absolutely certain in her heart.

Her gaze refocused on Hoshino Kanade, and seemed to sweep past him to see the other person (Ayanokoji Kiyona).

Through Chabashira Sae-sensei, Horikita Suzune also realized that the two of them were indeed special.

This specialness was perhaps the key hinted at by Chabashira-sensei.

If she wanted to reach Class A, the two of them were undoubtedly a great help.

This conclusion took shape in her calm analysis, carrying the weight of realistic considerations.

After a brief silence, Horikita Suzune's eyes refocused, sharp as before, clearly having pulled herself out of her previous thoughts.