Only then did Uesugi Hara pull his hand back. He lightly tapped the bedsheet beside her ear with his fingertips. "Wouldn't it have been easier if you'd just said so from the start?" He straightened, moved off her, and stood up, the hem of his uniform brushing against her and stirring a faint breeze.
Without looking back, he walked straight to the desk, pulled out a chair, and sat down. His fingertips tapped lightly on the desktop. "But I get to decide what counts as 'sincerity.'" He turned on the computer, its light reflecting on his face. "Starting today, keep an eye on Ayanokouji and Horikita. Report their behavior to me regularly."
Kushida froze, then abruptly looked up at him. "That's it?" She had imagined countless humiliating demands, but never expected something so simple. Her astonishment was impossible to hide.
"What else?" Uesugi Hara turned his face slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting. "Did you think I was actually going to do something to you?" His gaze passed over her still-flushed cheeks. "Don't think so highly of yourself, and don't assume the worst of me. The 'sincerity' I want is for you to remember what it feels like to need someone's help. And I want to see if you, my 'untouchable flower,' can bring yourself to bend down and do a few tedious little tasks."
He paused and tapped the screen with a fingertip. "Of course, if you can't even gather information properly, or you dare tamper with it—" He didn't finish, but the chill in his eyes said everything.
Kushida's hand slowly loosened its grip on the bedsheet, and the white marks on her knuckles gradually faded. The shame was still there, but it no longer burned as fiercely as before. She watched Uesugi Hara's back and bit her lower lip. "...I understand." Her voice was still a little hoarse, but much steadier than before.
Uesugi Hara swiped a finger across the Terminal interface. His gaze paused on a name, and when he looked up, his tone was as casual as if he were talking about the weather. "By the way, there's one more thing."
He turned slightly. His previously wandering gaze sharpened and settled on Kushida. "Starting tomorrow, pay more attention to Sakura Airi. Go with her to the library, or sit beside her at lunch and have a meal. You don't need to go out of your way to flatter her. Just make her feel you're not there to bully her."
Kushida's brow immediately furrowed, and the astonishment in her eyes turned to open resistance. "Sakura Airi? That girl who's always got her head down and talks like a mosquito?" She scoffed, unable to hide her distaste. "Why should I be nice to her? What can she do for me? If people see me hanging around with her, they'll just think less of me."
In Kushida's social circle, someone like Sakura Airi, who had neither influence nor anything interesting about her, wasn't even worth noticing.
"There's no reason." Uesugi Hara tapped the desktop with his fingertips, the knock sounding especially clear in the quiet room. "If I had to give one..." He paused, his gaze drifting toward the window, his voice softening. "That girl matters to me. She's timid and shy around people, and she's always being overlooked. Aren't you good with people? Keep an eye on her for a few days. Don't let anyone bully her, and don't let her keep hiding away by herself."
Kushida was completely stunned. She had assumed he was up to some other scheme, but she hadn't expected a reason that sounded so much like a "favor." Uesugi Hara, who plotted every step of the way, actually cared about Sakura Airi? That was even harder for her to understand than being told to watch Ayanokouji.
"You..." She parted her lips, wanting to ask, "What are you two to each other?" But when she met his expressionless gaze, she swallowed the question. She was the one asking for his help; she had no right to pry.
Uesugi Hara seemed to see through her thoughts. He tapped the Terminal and brought up a photo of Sakura Airi. In it, the girl had her head lowered, her bangs covering half her face. She wore an ugly pair of glasses and nervously clutched the strap of her schoolbag. "Don't overthink it." He turned the Terminal toward her. "Just consider it an extra condition of our deal."
"If you take good care of her, I'll speed up my efforts to deal with Horikita. But if I catch you brushing her off or deliberately bullying her—" He pulled the Terminal back, his voice turning colder. "Our previous agreement is off."
Those last few words weighed on Kushida's heart like a stone. She looked at the photo. Sakura Airi's timid appearance inexplicably irritated her, but at the thought of Horikita, she could only swallow her reluctance. "...Got it." She turned her face away, her voice stiff. "I'll 'take good care' of her."
Only then did Uesugi Hara nod in satisfaction. He got up and went to the window, pushing it open a crack. "It's getting late. You can go now. If you stay any longer, people might start spreading rumors. Besides, we can't have Sakura see you looking so grumpy and think you dislike her."
"And if you ever feel like letting off steam again, you can come here. Don't wait until someone catches you at it," Uesugi Hara added as a final reminder.
Kushida clenched her fist, but said nothing. She turned and strode toward the door. As she passed the desk, the corner of her eye caught the Terminal. It was still displaying Sakura Airi's photo, and Uesugi Hara was gently tapping the girl's head in the picture, an unusual hint of warmth in his gesture.
The moment the door clicked shut, Uesugi Hara withdrew his finger from the photo. As the Terminal screen went dark, that rare warmth faded from his eyes as well. He went to the desk and stuffed the voice recorder and camera into the very back of a drawer.
"Taking care of her? It's just making the person most skilled at pretending learn how to treat someone sincerely," he murmured to himself, his fingertips tapping lightly on the desktop.
The morning mist outside had completely cleared. The campus was especially quiet on Sunday. From the window, he could see the stone path outside the cafeteria and a small figure hurrying along with a canvas bag in her arms. A camera strap poked out from the side of the bag. She was clearly on her way to get breakfast, then find a quiet corner to take pictures. He didn't need to check the Terminal to know it was Sakura Airi.
A breeze flipped the mystery novel at the corner of the desk to a new page. A line was printed on it: "The most unexpected changes often begin with the most deliberate arrangements. The hardest disguises are often quietly pried open by the smallest acts of kindness."
Uesugi Hara ran his fingertip across the page, his interest deepening. This "taking care" of someone, mixed up with schemes and surprises, might prove more interesting than dealing with Horikita herself.
At that moment, Kushida was hurrying down the hallway, clutching the hem of her clothes.
Sunday was supposed to be a day for chatting with friends at a dessert shop, but Uesugi Hara's "task" had dragged her out of bed. The thought of having to act "friendly" toward Sakura Airi made her feel uncomfortable all over. That girl who hid behind her camera and skulked around looked like a nuisance—she even had to work up the courage just to make eye contact.
But Uesugi Hara's promise to "speed up the process of dealing with Horikita" was like bait. Even knowing there might be a hook, Kushida couldn't help taking a bite.
The cafeteria was nearly empty. Sakura Airi was standing in front of the breakfast counter, hovering her fingertip over the menu. With her other arm, she held her canvas bag tightly against her chest, her elbow clamped around it as if she were afraid someone passing by might bump into the camera inside.
Her gaze shifted between the ham and egg sandwich and the vegetable wrap. Her lips were pressed tightly together, clearly unable to decide which one to choose.
"Does it really take you that long to pick out breakfast?"
The sudden voice behind her startled Sakura Airi like a frightened bird. She spun around, and the strap of her canvas bag slipped from her elbow to her wrist. She hurriedly caught it with her other hand, her fingertips going white from gripping it so tightly.
When she saw it was Kushida, her pupils contracted. She instinctively hid the canvas bag behind her back, her voice barely above a whisper. "K-Kushida? What are you doing here too?"
Watching her act as if she wanted to curl up inside her canvas bag, Kushida tightened her grip on the Terminal. Just as troublesome as she'd expected.
Still, she stepped forward and pointed at the ham and egg sandwich. "That sandwich goes well with hot milk. It'll keep you fuller than the vegetable wrap, so you won't get hungry later when you're tired from taking pictures."
Sakura Airi's face turned bright red, the color spreading from her cheeks all the way to her ears. She quickly lowered her head, winding her fingers around the strap of her canvas bag. "Th-thank you... I just thought both of them looked good..." She paused, then added in a quiet voice, "How did you know I was going to take pictures?"
"I guessed." Kushida avoided her gaze, picked up two sandwiches, and went to the register. After paying with points, she pushed the ham and egg sandwich into Sakura Airi's hands. When their fingers brushed the back of Sakura Airi's hand, Kushida felt her stiffen instantly. "It's on me. Just... let me see the pictures you take next time."
The excuse sounded more natural than her last one. Sakura Airi's fingers relaxed slightly around the sandwich, and a flicker of delight crossed her eyes before shyness quickly smothered it. "R-really? I'm not especially good at taking pictures... but I'll pick out the nice ones to show you!" She secretly glanced up at Kushida, then lowered her head again as if she'd been burned. Only the tips of her ears stayed bright red.
Kushida didn't reply. She just pointed to an empty seat by the window. "The light's good over there. Let's eat there."
Sakura Airi immediately nodded and followed behind her, carrying the sandwich and canvas bag. Her steps were lighter than before, and the charm on her bag swung along with her.
When they sat down, Sakura Airi carefully placed the canvas bag on her lap and unzipped it just a little. She quickly touched the camera's lens cap with her fingertip, then hurriedly zipped the bag back up. She guarded it like it held some secret no one could know.
"Is the camera valuable?" Kushida asked casually, taking a bite of her sandwich.
Sakura Airi paused, her fingers resting on the bag. Her voice was soft, but there was a note of earnestness in it. "Mm... It was a very important friend's gift." She lightly tapped the side of the bag. "I can take pictures of so many beautiful things with it—like cherry blossoms in the morning, the clouds outside the cafeteria window, and... and pictures of myself looking into the camera." Her voice grew as light as a sigh at those last few words, but it held a private hint of excitement.
Kushida glanced out the window. A few fluffy clouds drifted across the sky, their edges tinged a pale gold by the sunlight.
Suddenly, the sandwich in her hand didn't taste as good. Her Sunday breakfasts were supposed to be spent laughing with friends and gossiping about the latest news. She had never sat so quietly with anyone before; even her breathing seemed to need to soften.
She watched Sakura Airi nibble at her sandwich, taking a bite and then pausing for two seconds, as if savoring it—or gathering her courage. Suddenly, she said, "When you're done eating, take me to one of the places where you usually take pictures."
Sakura Airi looked up sharply. Astonishment rippled through her eyes like a drop of water falling into a still pond. After a long moment, she nodded emphatically, unable to hide the curve of her lips. "Okay! Though it's a little out of the way."
Watching the light in Sakura Airi's eyes brighten when she talked about taking pictures—that pure light, untouched by schemes—Kushida suddenly thought of herself by the lake the night before. She remembered how fiercely she'd gritted her teeth at the railing, and how exhausting it had been to act sweet in front of Uesugi Hara.
She was beginning to understand why Uesugi Hara cared about this girl. She was as pure as a blank sheet of paper, worlds apart from people like them, who hid their schemes behind their smiles.
She said nothing more. She simply pushed the untouched hot milk toward Sakura Airi. The warmth of the cup seeped through her fingertips. "Drink up. It won't taste as good when it gets cold."
"Mm," Sakura Airi answered. She held the cup of milk in both hands and took small sips. A touch of morning light clung to her eyelashes like fallen stardust.