CHAPTER XL
~The Hero of the Fields~
Reina chattered enthusiastically, “Yuzuki-chan, seriously, have you heard? Apparently, Miyu and Haruto almost caused a scene yesterday over some dumb rumor about that new transfer student. Like, it ended up with Miyu yelling in the hallway and Haruto storming off! Drama squad, for real.”
Yuzuki smiled politely, nodding along, but Rin leaned close to her ear, his voice dripping with sly amusement and Gen Z flair.
“Lowkey, Miyu’s whole vibe screams ‘doesn’t care but secretly binge-watches gossip vlogs.’ Like, she’s out here flinging shade with the subtlety of a catapult. Straight up ‘watch your back, queen’ energy,” Rin whispered, barely containing his grin.
Yuzuki barely held back a giggle, but just as Rin was about to continue, she pressed her free hand firmly over his mouth. Rin’s eyes went wide, but he playfully rolled them and mouthed, “Chill, chill.”
Reina wasn’t fazed and kept talking. “And then Haruto? Total drama king. I heard he actually cried during that cheesy soap opera the other day. No joke. The toughest dude in school, bawling over fake tears.”
Rin snorted quietly into Yuzuki’s ear. “Facts. Haruto’s crying game? Legendary. Probably has a secret tissue stash in his locker labeled ‘For Emergencies Only.’ Bet he sobs during those ‘Feel Good Friday’ Instagram stories, too.”
Yuzuki struggled not to laugh, giving Rin’s hand a slight squeeze to remind him to keep it down.
Reina continued, “Honestly though, school’s like one big reality show sometimes. You never know when the next episode’s gonna drop, and it’s all scandal and friendship and… ugh, just messy.”
Rin winked at Yuzuki, whispering one last nugget: “Bet if this was a Netflix series, it’d have, like, five spin-offs by now. ‘High School Hustle: The Snack Wars,’ ‘Locker Room Legends,’ and ‘Drama Diaries: The Untold Snapchats.’”
Yuzuki smiled, their secret little exchange a playful pocket of calm amid the usual chaos as they moved ahead with the restless crowd.
As the corridor’s damp chill wrapped around them, Yuzuki and Rin kept pace between the walls, their small, secret connection hidden in the quiet squeeze of fingers. Reina’s voice dwindled behind them as she trailed off, caught up in her own concern and stories.
Rin nudged Yuzuki’s side with a mischievous grin, whispering, “Yo, did you hear about that wild debate in the art club? They spent, like, three hours arguing whether a banana is art or just a snack. No cap, that’s peak drama right there.”
Yuzuki couldn’t help but smile softly, shaking her head as she tried to stay focused on following Reina, but Rin wasn’t done.
“And get this—there’s apparently a secret ‘snapchat war’ going down between the science geeks. Like, who thought science experiments could turn into a memefest? I swear, those kids break more test tubes than hearts.”
As they kept moving, the soft rain’s rhythm slipping through the cracks in the windows, Reina’s voice floated back, oblivious to their whispered banter, “I just hope this semester has fewer surprises. Last year was insane.”
Rin whispered again, “Yeah… ‘fewer surprises’ they said. Next thing you know, someone’s gonna try to recruit the janitor for the basketball team. High-key epic chaos incoming.”
As Yuzuki and Rin slipped into the multipurpose hall, the noisy crowd immediately swept Reina away as her friends tugged her in different directions. The hall brimmed with a mixed sea of students—everyone from tiny first graders to tall, older classmates from other grades—all merging together under the wide, high ceiling.
Kaito darted quickly to the far side of the hall with some of his friends, disappearing into the crowd, and Ayaka was nowhere to be seen. Sayaka was nearby, chatting with her group of friends.
Yuzuki glanced around anxiously, scanning the packed hall. Where’s Himari? she wondered. Himari was always close by, watching over everyone. Noticing that no teachers had arrived yet, she saw the students gradually blending together, classes mixing, the usual order dissolving into a noisy, chaotic mass.
Rin tugged gently at Yuzuki’s fingers, leading her toward a dense cluster of bodies gathered near a large standee set up in the hall. They slipped behind the freestanding display, its sturdy supports casting long shadows. Hidden in its shelter, the noise of the crowd around them swallowed their whispered words, shielding their conversation from prying ears.
Yuzuki knelt down, lowering herself so their heights aligned. Rin’s small frame seemed even tinier compared to the massive poster behind them. She looked at him and offered a warm smile.
“Feels kinda like being secret agents, huh?” she whispered.
Rin grinned back, a playful gleam in his eyes. “Lowkey, we’re like, the stealthiest redo of those anime ninjas.”
Yuzuki chuckled softly, “Exactly. Except our mission is ‘don’t get caught while everyone else is lost in drama.’”
He tapped his fingers together, mock serious. “Elite squad, activated.”
They shared a brief quiet moment amidst the hum of the hall, gathering themselves before Yuzuki leaned in slightly, signaling she was ready to hear what Rin had to say next.
Rin took a small step back, tilting his head like a curious pupper. He squinted at Yuzuki, silently wondering why she suddenly leaned in like that. When he saw her lower her gaze with that “oh, you got nothing to say” vibe, a silence settled between them—just the distant hum of the crowded hall leaking through their little hideout behind the standee.
After a beat, Rin pressed his lips tight, clearly fighting the urge to not spill, but then puffed out his chest and blurted in that unmistakably Gen Z, goofy style:
“DUDE, DO YOU LIKE Tsukihana Shigure?” His eyes locked onto hers, all wide and hopeful like he was waiting for the “no” that’d save him.
Yuzuki felt her throat tighten, almost blurting “No” right away. But then, bam — the thought hit her: why does Rin even like me? And if she hesitates now, Rin might think she’s dodging or lying. So, with a quick breath, she declared:
“No. I don’t.”
Rin’s eyes sparkled as if he just hit the jackpot. He bounced slightly on his toes and went full-on hype mode:
“REALLY? NO WAY NO WAY NO FREAKIN’ WAY!”
Yuzuki grabbed her composure and shot back sincerely, “Yes, seriously. I don’t like him or anyone else.”
Then Rin dropped the next level with a sly grin: “Not even Kaito?”
“No. Not even him,” she answered steady.
Rin’s lip curled into the most dramatic quizzical face imaginable, eyes narrowing with mock suspicion as he teased, “Wait—ME???”
Yuzuki’s cheeks flushed but she started, “I like you—”
And before she could finish, Rin jumped up and down with glee like she’d just handed him a winning lottery ticket.
She quickly added, “As a friend!” And he froze mid-bounce, blinking like she just dropped the plot twist.
Rin threw his hands up in a silly surrender, grinning:
“Aww, fr, the ol’ ‘friend zone’ move! Classic snapback! Lowkey, you just hit me with the ‘chill, bro’ vibes.”
Yuzuki rolled her eyes but smiled softly.
Rin winked and mumbled with playful swag, “But hey, a friend like me? That’s rarer than a shiny Pokémon, no cap.”
Yuzuki’s smile lingered for barely a heartbeat before fading, the brightness draining away as a shadow of sadness settled over her features. Her eyes darkened, lips pressing into a thin line as the weight of something unspoken pulled at her.
Rin noticed immediately and cocked his head, concern flickering across his youthful, mischievous face. “Yo, what’s up? You look like someone just ghosted your vibe,” he said with his usual sly grin, but his tone softened, trying to lift her spirits.
He nudged her shoulder playfully, “Come on, spill the tea! Let me throw some hype your way and turn that frown upside down.”
But Yuzuki hesitated a moment, then met his gaze seriously. Her voice dropped to a softer, steadier tone: “Hey… can I be honest with you? Like, really honest?”
Rin blinked, surprise flashing across his features as he blinked twice. Then, as if flicking a switch, his entire demeanor shifted—the playful spark dimmed, replaced by a sharp, calm focus, almost adult-like in its depth. He straightened up, the rogue edge smoothing into something mature and steady.
“Okay,” he said, voice quieter but firmer, eyes steady and serious. “Hit me with it. No cap, I’m all ears. For real this time.”
Yuzuki took a breath, finding courage in his unexpected sincerity, and began to open up, knowing this rare seriousness was a safe space—just between them. Meanwhile, Rin’s expression stayed composed, the kind of unwavering calm that made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t alone in the chaos swirling around them.
Yuzuki’s lips were just parting, ready to pour her heart out, when the air overhead seemed to ripple—distorting for the briefest instant as if reality itself had hiccuped. Out of nowhere, Mofumi materialized above them, twisting in midair, fur fluffed, eyes glinting with the thrill of chaos. Before Rin or Yuzuki could react, he swooped down and pounced—landing squarely atop Yuzuki’s head with uncanny feline grace.
As Mofumi’s soft paws pressed against her hair, a sudden blue light burst forth—sharp, electric—a brief flash that pulsed from the point of contact and shot out in radiant lines before collapsing in on itself. The force overwhelmed Yuzuki in an instant: her eyes rolled back, her body going limp. She crumpled backwards, falling onto the floor behind the standee with a dull, breathless thud.
“HEY!” Rin shouted, shock piercing his composure. He scrambled forward, dropping to his knees beside Yuzuki. He shook her shoulder urgently, voice trembling. “Yo—wake up! What are you doing? Bro, c’mon, this isn’t funny!”
Above him, Mofumi balanced momentarily with a wicked, satisfied grin—his tail flicking, the blue light still shimmering faintly across his fur. His eyes met Rin’s, all mockery and mystery, and he gave a sly, feline wink. With a swirl of shadow, Mofumi’s form flickered and dissolved into inky black mist that drifted away, leaving only the faint scent of smoke behind.
Rin stared, helpless and furious, at the dissipating mist, then turned his full attention to Yuzuki—her stillness amplified by the riot of noise from the hall just beyond their little world. The crowd’s chaos felt distant, swallowed by a sudden, unnatural silence that pressed around the two of them.
He pressed his palms against Yuzuki’s cheeks, face etched with raw worry. “Hey. Hey! Don’t you dare check out now. This is not the move. You gotta wake up. Please.”
But Yuzuki remained unmoving—her features peaceful, cast in the lingering afterglow of that strange blue light—while Rin braced himself, panic and anger rising at the brink of something much, much bigger than before.
“HEHEHHEEEE!” A squeal of glee echoed across the ancient valley, the sound of a little boy’s laughter tumbling through tall summer grass. Under a cloud-dappled sky, four boys darted barefoot through wide, mirroring rice paddies and between rows of straw-topped fields, their kimono sleeves flapping wildly. Their outfits were old, plain, and patched—worn with the long-ago look of Japanese folklore. Leading the game of onigokko (鬼ごっこ), tagging and dodging with wild bursts of energy, was a short boy in black. His hair shone obsidian, and his steel-blue eyes flashed with pure mischief—Rin, but impossibly younger, vivid, and very much alive.
Yuzuki stood on a low mossy hill, heart pounding, watching the scene as if trapped in a moving picture from a storybook. She could almost feel the warm air and hear the boys’ laughter ring around her.
Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, motion jarred the peaceful landscape. A tall figure, face obscured by a black scarf, sprinted crookedly through the fields—an outlaw, hunched and desperate, moving with the roughness of someone out of place. He careened past a stooped, elderly fisherman hauling a meager catch—a single glinting fish hanging proudly from his stick. With a flash, the robber lunged, swiping the fish from the old man’s outstretched hands and bolted across the dirt path.
“Thief! Give that back! Please!” the old man wailed, voice cracked with age and hunger.
The four boys halted mid-tag, all eyes wide, but Rin moved first—an instant’s blur. With a fearless grin, he slid a slender, lacquered sheath from his side and drew a child’s wooden sword, weathered but lovingly kept. The robber sneered at the tiny challenger and jeered, “Oi, little brat, run home!”
But Rin only grinned wider, a ferocious energy in his eyes. At a speed that belied his age, he dashed forward, the sword flashing—sidestepping nimble as a firefly, forcing the burglar to retreat, then trip and crash to the mud.
“Shouldn’t steal from good folks, mister!” Rin crowed, pressing the harmless blade to the robber’s chest.
His friends, emboldened, swarmed in tying the man’s legs with a length of frayed rope, their fingers practiced from countryside games.
The commotion drew villagers—fieldworkers and mothers in straw hats. They closed in, a flurry of grateful shouts and relieved bows.
“Thank you, Rin-kun! Just like your family!”
“His father’s from the Amane clan, right? Their blood’s been guarding us for generations!”
“Of course he’d step up, that’s the Amane spirit—true exorcists!”
“Didn’t his grandfather save the shrine from that flood yokai?”
The elderly fisherman hobbled over, leaves and tears mixing on his wrinkled cheeks. Bending low, he pressed his forehead to the dust at Rin’s feet. “Thank you, young master, truly. What’s your name, hero?”
Rin flushed crimson, shuffling his feet and grinning childishly. “It’s Rin. Um—Amane Rinsuke, sir!”
A cheer rose and the old man wiped his eyes. “I’ll never forget you, young Rin. Someday, I’ll find a way to repay you, I swear!”
“Aww, nah, really, you don’t gotta,” Rin babbled, waving his little arms. “I just… it’s just what you do, right? S’not a big deal. We’re all neighbors.”
Suddenly, a regal shadow crossed the sunlit field. From the path beyond, a servant in ornate silks—a crisp, formal hakama, crest clear on his sleeve—appeared with a deep, dignified bow.
The man’s face caught the light and Yuzuki drew in a sharp breath—the resemblance to their own school’s third-floor janitor was uncanny. Every feature was echoed, from his wise eyes to his steady posture.
In a clear voice, he addressed Rin with respect: “My lord, your father requests your presence at the court.”
“Aw, okay! Okay! I’m coming,” Rin chirped, shooting a grateful glance at his friends and the crowd.
As they walked the winding path home, the servant leaned down to murmur: “Young master—why did you intervene? The villagers adore your family, but many in your position would have simply watched. Why risk yourself for a poor fisherman?”
To be Continued...
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