Tangled Threads (3)
People each have their own perspectives on objects and others.
Tae-il's was especially pronounced.
He viewed himself as a reincarnated soul who had possessed this body, perceiving the world he lived in as part of a manga universe. Even if he tried to see things ordinarily like everyone else, his vision unconsciously filtered everything through the lens of a "created world."
The nagging thought that this was now his real world and reality hadn't fully shaken off the deep-seated influence of his subconscious.
As a result, there were subtle differences between Tae-il's perceptions and others'.
First off, Tae-il was more noticeable than he realized.
He'd vehemently deny it, but acting so out of step made him impossible to ignore.
Imagine slipping quietly out of a classroom where everyone else is dutifully listening to the lesson.
That "quietly" part becomes meaningless—he stands out like a sore thumb.
And that's not all.
Tae-il came to school every morning early with Ayane, who had been selected as one of the rare morals committee members—one per grade.
He left the same way in the afternoon.
All perfectly eye-catching behaviors.
If this were any other school, maybe not, but Yuuma High focused on arts and athletics. Students serious about club activities arrived for morning training far earlier than the teachers. Unless they skipped it, they'd inevitably spot the two looking all cozy every morning.
A legless word travels a thousand miles, as they say. Rumors had spread that the pair was actually dating.
The problem? The parties involved were completely oblivious.
And there's more.
One other person.
Tae-il thought he had no connections to the original characters besides Ayane, but surprisingly, there was one more.
Sakuraba Sakuya.
The culprit behind this morning's awkwardness between Tae-il and Ayane.
She'd protest her innocence, but Ayane ground her teeth just thinking her name.
For some fateful twist, Sakuya—who was in Class 8 in the original story—was now in Tae-il's Class 7. Being classmates meant frequent face-to-face encounters, so they were acutely aware of each other. Right next to each other, even—it was inevitable.
Tae-il often owed her favors, and each time, Sakuya lent a hand with a smile.
To onlookers, it looked like Sakuya treated Tae-il differently too.
But in Tae-il's head, filtered through the original work, it was just "Sakuraba Sakuya being her naturally kind and considerate self."
Class 7 had already started seeing them as a set.
Morals committee girl or Sakuraba?
Class 7 openly bet on it.
The oblivious protagonist, always absent, missed the whole mad scene.
To reiterate: Shin Tae-il stood out.
And protagonists stand out.
It was an eternal truth.
"I'm gonna die of exhaustion."
Tae-il grumbled that he should've just napped if he'd known it'd be like this.
After a fruitless consultation, he headed to the changing room to prep for the next class: PE.
By the time he got there, it was empty. Boys always changed at warp speed, like it was a race. Thanks to that, he had the place to himself.
"…."
He stripped off his clothes, threw on the baggy red gym uniform, and stepped out.
Class had apparently started—whistle blasts and shouts echoed from the windows outside. In stark contrast, the hallway was deathly quiet except for his footsteps.
"Is Ayane still mad?"
More worried about her than PE, he descended the stairs.
That's when it happened.
Tak-tak-tak!
Footsteps pounding from afar.
They grew louder, turning into heavy thuds climbing the stairs, echoing down the hall.
Tae-il, just turning at the landing, froze.
Silver hair fluttered like silk in his view.
"Huh?"
The runner, just reaching the landing, spotted him and stumbled to a stop.
Silver hair sparkling like precious metal in the sunlight pouring through the wide window. His gaze was drawn, mesmerized, past the silvery veil to the mysterious, crystal-like eyes. Each blink of her sun-kissed bronze eyelids reflected his image in those transparent purple irises.
It was her, the one on his mind all day: Sakuraba Sakuya.
Those lashes are insanely long.
He wondered if they even served their purpose.
In other words, her features were that sharp.
Her strong presence made her look like a manga character.
Well, she is a manga character.
Lost in trivial thoughts, she suddenly grabbed his arm.
"Found you."
Her husky voice, reassuring just to hear—like they were in a cave—scolded him with a hint of irritation.
"Where the hell were you, Taichi? Teacher's been looking everywhere. Yelled at me to find you."
"Pudding Head?"
"Pfft! Yeah, Pudding Head sensei."
She couldn't hold back a snicker at their homeroom teacher's ridiculous nickname and climbed onto the landing.
She was huge.
Her eye level towered over his.
Tae-il shrank back slightly as their eyes met. The athletic intimidation radiating from her massive frame pressed down on him.
"Hurry up. Or we'll miss our practice."
"R-right. Sorry…."
"Haha, why apologize? You were just slacking off and strolling in late, right?"
"Fair point, but…."
It irked him hearing it from someone else.
He scowled, and she shrugged.
"Then move faster next time. C'mon!"
Sakuya yanked him down the stairs. When he lagged, she forced his arm into a link.
Tae-il let himself be dragged along.
She's always so damn tall.
He glared at the back of her head, way above his line of sight.
Out of the sunlight now, her silver hair didn't shine as much, but on the field, it'd sparkle and demand attention again.
Her hair actually glittered.
A detail overlooked in black-and-white manga that caught his eye.
In The Band ~Girls Do Band~, eye colors varied, but most characters stuck to realistic hair tones.
Blondes like Rena or Arthur were rare; usually black or brown.
Sakuya was a standout exception.
Her near-kotori-beige silver hair and mystical purple eyes made her pop even in the story.
And her uniqueness didn't stop there.
The Band ~Girls Do Band~ revolved around the girls' band Burning Blaze. Their world was narrow and limited—named characters were few.
Homeroom teacher, student council president, mom, dad, shopkeeper, Friend 1, Friend 2—mentioned in passing.
But not her.
Sakuya's world was vast.
She popped up in every sports club, making her the most well-connected among the mains. Her phone never stopped buzzing.
She was popular in-story and beyond—later in gag episodes or wild fanfics, she'd even sell out allies without hesitation, carving her own iconic niche.
"Good, we didn't miss it."
Her relieved voice snapped Tae-il back.
He looked up to see their homeroom teacher bellowing.
"Hurry it up, Taichi! You're the only ones left for stretches!"
"Ugh…."
Late was late, so Tae-il bowed half-heartedly in apology.
The teacher sighed, hands on hips.
"Fine, at least you're here. Sakuraba, he's all yours."
"Leave it to me."
Unlike Tae-il's rock-bottom credibility, Sakuya's was sky-high.
The teacher nodded once and herded the students.
"Alright! Rest of you, tennis courts with me. Finish two sets, and free time—soccer, dodgeball, whatever! But lose the ball, no lunch till you find it! Got it?"
"Ehh? That's not fair, sensei!"
"Yeah! Boys always smash home runs on tennis courts! No way we'll find it."
"Says the girls who've already broken two rackets!"
"Hear, hear!"
"Shut it, you brats! No confidence? Hit the indoor courts!"
"No AC there—it's hot!"
"I'll call the office to turn it on!"
"We love you, sensei!"
The teacher deftly quashed the complaints and marched them off.
Sakuya watched silently, then pivoted on her heel to face Tae-il, eyes twinkling mischievously.
"So, shall we get started?"
"Pudding Head's gone—can't we just fake it and chill?"
"Nope."
Sakuya, who unusually used boku as her first-person pronoun—a masculine one—firmly shot him down.
"Skipping entirely is one thing, but if you're participating, do it right to the end."
"Such a goody-two-shoes…."
And so.
The hellish stretching session Tae-il dreaded most began.
"Man, I wanna collapse from heatstroke right now."
"Don't say that."
Sakuya lectured him on heatstroke dangers, then placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Remember the order?"
"Yeah."
Other kids would've blushed at pairing with her, but after half a year, Tae-il was unfazed.
They steadied each other with hands on shoulders, bent one knee, grabbed the ankle, and pulled the thigh back till parallel to the ground.
"One. Two. Three. Four…."
The now-empty field, just the two of them. Embarrassing, but Sakuya called cadence in her usual steady voice.
Tae-il figured all athletes were like this.
"Something I've always wondered."
"What."
Mid-stretch, she asked casually.
"Why don't you skip PE, Taichi?"
The classes he never missed: music, PE, and art.
"It's not like I only take PE—why's that bug you?"
"We're partners, right? And you clearly hate it."
Beyond hating PE, Tae-il treated the whole subject like it was pointless.
"But you show up every time. Weird."
Her gaze slyly scanned him.
Of course, Tae-il didn't flinch.
"Oh."
"What now."
"I think I get it?"
"Probably something dumb, but hit me. What?"
"You like close-contact stretching with me?"
Instead of answering, he squeezed her fingers on his shoulder—Ayane's signature "massage" punishment for cheeky questions. But to Sakuya's toned athlete body, it was like a kid's poke: ticklish.
"Haha! Guilty, huh? But that doesn't hurt at all. If you're gonna do it… like this!"
"Gahhh!"
Sudden pain buckled his knee.
"Oops. Too hard?"
"Y-you little…!"
"Sorry, sorry. Next one!"
"Tch…."
No payback, but he prepped the next pose, grumbling.
"Waist bend now?"
"Got it…."
Her strong hands gripped his shoulders.
He flinched, recalling her counter, but she just pressed lightly and thrust her hips back. He awkwardly followed, their bodies forming a trapezoid. She added pressure.
"Ngh!"
"Hang in there."
He twisted; she scolded softly.
No escaping—her strength outclassed his. He submitted quietly.
"Ten more seconds like this."
"Ack! Y-you bi…!"
He choked.
She pressed mercilessly while urging him on.
"Haha. Onto the next?"
"Wait, shoulders next—don't yank too ha—!"
She ignored him, naturally.
"Ready?"
Unilateral declaration.
She stepped on his instep, seized his wrists, and yanked his torso back.
To keep her from falling, he tensed his hips and back to support her.
"Hoo."
She counted ten aloud, then pulled up, pressing them close.
"Your turn, Taichi."
No veto.
He mimicked her exactly. Wrists ached, but his lower back screamed worst.
Sakuya cheered with a smile.
"Almost halfway—keep it up!"
"Shouldn't you say 'only halfway left' to motivate me, nya…?!"
"Long way to go. Next: hips and waist focus."
Stretching was meant to prevent injuries, but Tae-il felt like it'd kill him first.
Sakuya was subtly Spartan.
This was already considerate, but overwhelming for him.
As he stiffened too much, she eventually skipped her own stretches to forcibly loosen him up, hands roaming.
Beauty's devoted touch wrecked him.
"Eeeek!"
Oxygen deprivation and tearing muscles drew screams-laughter hybrids.
"Whoa whoa whoa, stop! My shoulder doesn't go that high, hahaha!"
"Do more stretching, Taichi. Hips and waist all twisted. At our age? You'll suffer later."
"O-okay, just stop pulling—gyaaaa!"
A hip crack, and he melted.
"Such a wimp."
"Not whining…."
His hand on his near-cramped calf lacked strength.
"Even if it cramps, I'll fix it. No worries."
"You're a demon?"
She chuckled, hauling up his slimy form.
Then hugged him from behind tenderly….
"Breathe in, hold, out… good!"
"Eek! N-no lower! Can't go further, heehee!"
"You can. Won't die from it. Trust me—I've done it."
"…!"
Despite his thrashing, his back folded.
Speechless, he went silent.