Chapter 49

Hasegawa Saori felt her heart grow warm. She turned her head, catching the smile on the boy's face, and a sweet emotion welled up inside her, a tingling rush that swept from her toes to the crown of her head.

Her body relaxed of its own accord; facing Shiratori Kiyoya, she thought, nothing—no matter how shameless—could ever embarrass her again.

She replayed what he had just said, hesitated, then couldn't help asking,

"Kiyoya... do you like Saori?"

Without pausing in his work, Kiyoya dried her left foot with a cloth, tucked it gently against his chest, and lifted the other.

"Why even ask? How could I not?"

"But everyone says Saori is stupid."

"Mm. You are stupid."

The admission made Saori's slender brows pinch; a sour note rose in her chest.

For a moment she was unhappy.

Yet when she looked back at him, there was no mockery in his clear eyes—only curiosity.

"Eh? Kiyoya likes stupid girls?"

He glanced at her, realized the question mattered more than he'd thought, and answered carefully.

"Nobody likes stupidity for its own sake. But Saori, you're more than that. There's a brightness in you so strong it makes even the 'stupid' part adorable."

"So... you like Saori. Even a stupid Saori."

"Oh."

Saori nodded slowly, turning his words over in her mind. After a long moment she asked,

"What exactly are Saori's good points?"

"Too many to list..."

He was about to elaborate when he noticed her staring at him, eyes shining with expectation.

He laughed softly.

"You really want to hear me praise you, don't you?"

"Is that bad...?"

She bit her lip, twisted slightly, and bumped her forehead against his shoulder.

"Hearing it makes Saori happy."

"If Saori's happy, wouldn't Kiyoya be happy too?"

"All right. Let's make you happy today."

Kiyoya decided it was time to give her some real confidence. He paused in drying her feet, met her gaze, and spoke with quiet conviction.

"Listen carefully, Saori. No matter how many people look down on you, remember what I'm about to say."

"You're athletic, pure, determined, tough, beautiful... and most importantly, your talent in kendo is the strongest I've ever seen. You love the art, and in that field I don't think anyone can surpass you."

As he listed each virtue, Saori's eyes grew brighter; the tingling warmth flooded her chest again.

She could hardly believe it.

"Saori... is really that amazing?"

"Of course. Even if you don't believe in yourself, believe in me. One day you'll be famous. Next month's tournament—that's where it starts."

He paused, studying her.

"Does Saori want to become famous?"

Meeting his expectant gaze, Saori nodded firmly.

"Mm! Saori will work hard to become famous."

"You will."

Kiyoya smiled, lowered his head, finished drying her feet, slipped on the new white socks he'd bought, and tied her shoes.

"Eh?"

Staring at the new shoes and the boy fastening the laces, Saori went blank—then delight surged through her.

"Um... about the 'H' thing—does Kiyoya not need it anymore?"

Kiyoya looked up, a teasing curve to his lips.

"So Saori was actually looking forward to it?"

"I wasn't!"

Saori gave a little huff, wiggled her new shoes, joy sparkling in her eyes.

Suddenly she remembered something and turned to him.

"What about Kiyoya?"

"What about me?"

"What's Kiyoya's dream?"

The question caught him off guard. After a moment he laughed.

"If I can watch Saori become famous, my dream will already be complete."

...

Often, while resting, Saori wondered what her life would have been without Kiyoya.

Mind empty, spirit dull, following everyone else's tracks yet never quite keeping up.

Poor grades, slow reactions, unable to fit in—teachers and classmates didn't seem to like her.

She wouldn't have called it despair, but it was far from happy.

What did it feel like to be admired?

Saori didn't know, yet being the focus of Kiyoya's expectant gaze felt better than roast chicken.

That night, as on previous nights, Saori put away her bamboo sword, laced her shoes, and slipped out alone.

Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh...

The moment she stepped outside, wind-driven drizzle lashed her face; she paid it no mind.

At the foot of the mountain she set off along the route Kiyoya had mapped, heading uphill against the gale.

She was fast—already a third of the way up—when the rain hardened into pea-sized drops that stung her skin and blurred her vision.

Clothes soaked and clinging, ground turning to mud, Saori's steps only quickened.

Since that day she had vowed to push herself "beyond anyone's limits," to answer Kiyoya's faith.

"Saori..."

She thought she heard someone call behind her, but the wind rattling the leaves drowned it out.

Crack!

A branch snapped overhead. Saori looked up—an enormous shadow plunged toward her.

She tried to stop, her foot slid, and she pitched helplessly down the slope.

Mind blank, she let herself fall.

"Saori!"

The voice sharpened. She twisted mid-air to see Kiyoya hurling himself after her.

...

Kiyoya seized her wrist with one hand and hooked a branch with the other.

After a quick check that she was unharmed, he gritted out,

"Saori, hold tight!"

He inhaled, braced, and tried to haul her up.

The branch groaned—then snapped.

Damn it!

Kiyoya cursed silently, clawing at the muddy slope with his free arm to slow their slide.

A searing pain tore through his left arm, but he clutched Saori tighter as they tumbled downward.

Saori stared up at him, feeling his warmth through the rain, tears and water streaking her face.

On that slope she knew, with absolute certainty, that she would marry Shiratori Kiyoya.