Chapter Thirty-Eight: Kokomi Teruhashi’s Stalking Record (Part Two)

After finishing his meal, Aoki replaced his clothes with a loose tracksuit and looked at the two girls at the dining table, still staring at each other with wide eyes. He shook his head with a wry smile, unable to shake the feeling that there was some secret between them that he wasn’t privy to.

But Aoki had no intention of prying into the girls’ affairs. He simply stretched a bit and said, “I’m heading out. Ootera, are you staying a while longer or…?”

Shinmi Ootera immediately stood up, smiling at Aoki. “Ah, it’s getting late. I should go home too. Seeing that Kasugano has you to look after her, I realize all my worrying was for nothing. Sorry to trouble you for making dinner for me.”

Aoki shook his head. “Not at all. I’d actually be glad if Sora had more friends. I’m grateful you care about her—nothing could make me happier.”

Sora shot Ootera a sidelong glance and pursed her lips silently. For some reason, she regretted asking Ootera to look into what Aoki did at night. She could have just asked Aoki herself; he probably would have told her everything honestly. Watching Ootera and Aoki converse so easily, for the first time Sora felt her own clumsy way with words was such a hindrance.

But every time she tried to speak, the words got stuck. She wanted to be less distant from Aoki, but when it came down to it, she didn’t dare approach him.

With a pang of frustration, Sora picked up a chocolate stick and, ignoring her already bulging stomach, bit into it with some force.

“Sora, let your food digest a bit before eating more,” Aoki reminded her, glancing at the time. If he delayed any longer, he’d be late for his appointment with Matsuyama Iwa. He turned to Ootera. “Will you be all right getting home alone? I have something to take care of, so I might not be able to walk you back.”

Ootera waved her hands quickly. “Go ahead, Aoki, don’t worry about me.”

So Aoki headed out the door.

Ootera watched Sora, who still had the chocolate stick in her mouth but wasn’t biting into it, and gave her a small, secretive smile. In a hushed voice, she whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll follow him and let you know where he goes tonight on Line.”

Sora didn’t reply, but nodded.

Ootera hurriedly donned a mask, sunglasses, and a baseball cap to disguise herself, opened the door, and saw Aoki about to disappear around the corner. She broke into a trot and followed after him.

Frustrated, Sora bit through the chocolate stick, swallowed it in a few mouthfuls, then looked at the remaining sticks in the box. She wanted another, but recalling Aoki’s words, she held back, lips puffed out in mild annoyance. Remembering how Aoki had patted her head earlier, two bright patches of red suddenly bloomed on her cheeks.

Ootera seemed so smart—surely she wouldn’t give away her secret? If Aoki found out that she’d been so worried he might be a bad person and even asked someone to investigate him, he’d probably never be so nice to her again.

Anxiously, Sora fidgeted with her fingers.

If he knew, would he stop patting her head? Would he stop cooking for her?

Sora pressed her lips together, eyes full of unease, her long silver hair falling to cover half her face. At last, she pulled out her phone and sent Ootera a message: “Don’t follow him.”

But Ootera didn’t reply.

This made Sora even more uneasy. She sat at the dining table, looking at the kitchen Aoki had left in a hurry, dishes unwashed. Lost in thought, she stood up and, for the first time in a while, started washing the dishes.

But the dishes were soon done.

Still restless, Sora returned to the table. The computer and the internet, things that usually attracted her, no longer held any appeal. She gazed out the window, scrolling through her chat with Ootera on her phone, refreshing it again and again...

Meanwhile, Ootera had no idea how anxious Sora was. She only felt like she was about to throw up—who could have guessed Aoki would suddenly break into a run? Though it wasn’t fast, the distance was long. Even with her regular exercise, she quickly realized how much she lagged behind Aoki.

Aoki finally disappeared into a trendy-looking building called “Matsuyama Boxing Club.” Ootera leaned against the wall, pulled down her mask, and retched a few times at the corner, gasping for breath.

“Damn it…” she muttered, watching Aoki go inside. It took her five or six minutes to catch her breath. After composing herself, she entered the club.

“Welcome! Are you here to work out or—” The two pretty greeters at the entrance were all professionalism, but Ootera simply smiled and waved, politely asking, “I’m sorry, but do you know what that fierce-looking bald young man who just came in is here for?”

The two hostesses exchanged glances. One apologized, “Sorry, we can’t reveal customer information.”

Ootera thought quickly, removed her sunglasses and cap, revealing her big blue eyes and tousled blue hair, and put on a look of innocent concern. “He’s my classmate. I saw him come to class with injuries the other day and I’m really worried about him. I only want to know what he’s doing here—I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

The hostesses let out an involuntary “Oh-ho!” and exchanged another, slightly panicked look, hands over their mouths, surprised at their own reaction, but unable to refuse.

After a long hesitation, one whispered, “Just don’t say we told you.”

“You can trust me. I’m just worried about my classmate,” Ootera said earnestly, radiating responsibility. “As class president, I feel it’s my duty to look out for everyone. I just can’t ignore the wounds on his face. But he’s so proud—he wouldn’t tell me, so I had no choice but to follow him. Please, I’m begging you!”

The two greeters, barely containing another “oh-ho!” with professional composure, whispered, “Last time he came, it was to apply for a job as a sparring partner. The injuries were probably from that.”

“A sparring partner?” Ootera tilted her head in confusion.

“A sparring partner helps students practice boxing or other fighting sports. Basically, they just take hits and don’t fight back. If it’s for pros or semi-pros, it can be dangerous, so injuries are common,” one explained. The other added, “Usually, people who do this job work for a day, then rest a day to recover. But he’s come three days in a row—he must really need the money. The pay’s quite good.”

Ootera’s mind exploded with images.

Aoki, face swollen and bruised, being beaten by others.

Aoki bowing and scraping as he receives a meager wage from a fierce manager, humiliated by a balding, vicious boss for a paltry salary, finally pocketing his hard-earned cash with tears in his eyes.

Aoki spending his part-time earnings to buy snacks for Kasugano, while he himself crouches in a corner gnawing on bread; though every cent is precious, he still treated Ootera to such a delicious dinner...

Scene after scene of Aoki’s miserable plight flashed through Ootera’s mind until she was nearly in tears.

She could hardly control herself, imagining herself rushing in to shield Aoki as he’s beaten, telling him, “Don’t do this anymore. If you need money, I’ll take care of you!”

She could picture Aoki overwhelmed with gratitude, falling to his knees in tears. Then, regaining his composure, he would wave her off with stoic resolve, his swollen face full of unyielding spirit as he refused her, wounded and sensitive, ashamed that she’d seen him this way.

Perhaps, being seen like this would shatter his pride, and he’d never speak to her again…

Aoki’s eyes, secretly full of admiration, his heart yearning for her but unable to express it because of his wretched circumstances—just thinking of it nearly melted Ootera’s heart.

No, I can’t stop him. This is his choice!

If I go to him now, it’ll hurt his pride!

He must not want anyone to see him so downcast!

In an instant, Ootera’s mind composed an entire romantic light novel. She covered her face, fighting back tears, and resolutely told the bemused hostesses, “I can’t disturb him—this is his own decision. I’ll just quietly cheer him on from behind. Please don’t tell him I was here; I don’t want to hurt him like that!”

“Maybe the best thing I can do is watch over him from afar and warm his heart in my own way.”

Ootera turned and walked away, her back trembling as if she were weeping in secret.

The two hostesses stared after her, waving dumbly, feeling as if beams of holy light rose behind her—she looked like an angel off to save the world.

“Thank you… please come again…” they said numbly, and then, as if compelled by a mysterious force, let out another involuntary “oh-ho!”

Upstairs, Aoki was diligently practicing mixed martial arts with Matsuyama Iwa and two coaches. Suddenly, he sneezed.

He rubbed his nose in puzzlement, but under Matsuyama’s guidance, quickly threw himself back into training, enthusiasm undiminished.

Ah, my mixed martial arts skill has reached level 2—the experience is racking up so quickly!

Thinking happily of the large payment he’d receive after training, Aoki’s punches became even faster.