Forming the Temporary Study Group (2)
No sooner had Tae-il leaped over the wall than he locked eyes with a stranger.
“Ugh!”
He'd thought no one would be there.
Startled, he ended up falling flat on his butt.
The soft, cushy dirt meant no real injury, but his face burned with embarrassment.
Kindly, she checked on him first.
“...You okay?”
“Y-yeah, I'm fine! Ahaha...”
Still dusted with dirt on his butt, Tae-il scrambled up and offered an awkward greeting.
“Oh, h-hi?”
“Yeah.”
She returned the greeting without hesitation.
It would've been perfect if he could just leave it at that, but her appearance caught his eye.
Not just her unique mint-green hair and jade eyes, but her beauty was stunning beyond belief.
Is this really a manga world...?
Even characters he'd never seen in the original story had above-average looks.
He had no idea why a girl would be crouching alone in such a secluded path behind the school building during class time, but first things first—he brushed the dirt and sand off his hands.
“Skipping class?”
“Class is self-study. So I just stepped out.”
Her soft, languid voice reminded him of Izumi.
“Skipping, then.”
“Maybe.”
With finals approaching, classes that had finished the curriculum often turned into self-study periods.
The college-prep class was all about intense studying, but the free elective class was a mix—some studied, some didn't.
He figured she was from the free elective class.
“And you? Tardier...?”
“As you can see.”
Tae-il gave an awkward smile and shrugged.
There was no excuse. Anyone could tell he'd hopped the wall because he was late.
The girl before him expressed concern rather than scolding.
“You didn't hurt yourself earlier, right?”
“I'm fine. The ground here's all soft and cushy.”
When Tae-il tapped his shoe against the dirt, it gave way softly without resistance.
“I see... Good thing. No need for the nurse's office.”
“Worried about me?”
“Yeah.”
Tae-il was touched.
This nameless senior seemed to have a truly kind heart.
“So, what are you doing here, senpai? Self-study or not, skipping's skipping.”
“Just taking them for a walk...”
“A walk?”
As she drew her arm back, a kitten that had been hiding behind her peeked out.
Nyaah.
“A cat?”
No, it wasn't just the cat.
Things he'd missed because her face had captivated him now came into view.
A sparrow perched on her head, swallows and a squirrel on her shoulders, a rabbit and cat at her feet, and finally, a small turquoise snake coiled around her outstretched hand.
It was so natural he'd overlooked it, but this was blatantly abnormal.
“Druid?”
Tae-il doubted his own eyes.
Surrounded by animals, she looked just like a druid.
At the same time, he racked his brain—Was there a girl like this in the original? From her turquoise, nature-embodying looks to her vibe, she was too distinctive.
If she'd ever shown her face in the story, he'd never have forgotten such a unique character.
No, there wasn't.
His gaze drifted to the yellow ribbon at her chest. Definitely an upperclassman.
The original story's upperclassmen were limited to the morals committee, student council, and faceless extras.
Tae-il got a strange impression from this senior before him.
“Not going to class?”
“I should... Yeah, I should...”
As he lingered, she slowly straightened her crouched legs and stood.
The squirrel hopped off her shoulder and scampered up a tree, the snake slithered naturally into the underbrush.
The swallow and sparrow on her shoulder and head had already flown off.
All that remained were the rabbit in her arms and the cat licking her shoe.
“Tama, come here.”
Nyaah.
The girl reached out, and the cat clambered clumsily onto her hand.
A white rabbit and cat nestled obediently in a beauty's arms—it was quite the destructive sight.
“S-sorry. I didn't interrupt, did I?”
“Nah. I was just gonna walk them a bit anyway.”
“That snake—you just leave it like that?”
“Yeah. Midori's sweet; doesn't bite people.”
“Naming it means you're raising it too, right?”
She shook her head no.
“Just...”
“Just?”
“'Cause it's cute.”
“...”
Ignoring Tae-il's odd look, she passed by him without a care.
“Let's head in.”
“You can take it inside!?”
“Yeah. Shiro's the rabbit we raise at school. Tama just got approved too.”
Approval reminded Tae-il of the club list from early semester. There had definitely been an Animal Husbandry Club.
So that's what she meant by taking them for a walk.
Tae-il grabbed his bag from where it'd rolled in the dirt and followed her awkwardly.
“The rabbit's from that pen behind the school building...?”
“Yeah. You've seen it too, huh.”
Yuuma High School raised rabbits in the pen behind the school building.
It started as the chairman's rare hobby, but student interest grew it into a full club activity.
Now they kept insects, aquatic life, and reptiles in their clubroom too, beyond just the rabbits.
“So you're in the Animal Husbandry Club, senpai?”
“Interested?”
Her deep jade eyes stared piercingly at Tae-il.
“No, not really. I'm kinda weak with animals...”
“I see...”
Her expressions were so subtle it was hard to read, but Tae-il sensed her disappointment.
“Not many members?”
“Yeah. Even the trial joins couldn't hack it and quit quick.”
“Haha. Kinda get it. Raising pets is tough.”
Tae-il thought dogs and cats were cute and lovable, sure—but actually raising one? No thanks. Responsibility for a life was a hassle.
Agreeing, she stopped and looked up at him.
“Um, senpai?”
“You raising any animals now?”
“No. Not right now...”
“Right now? So before?”
“I have.”
Tae-il scratched his cheek with a wry smile, looking deeply regretful.
“They all died.”
“Okay.”
No scolding.
They resumed walking.
“Rabbits aside, you just leave the cat like that?”
“After school, members take turns taking 'em home. It's my shift here.”
“You're really dedicated.”
“'Cause I like it?”
True—no one would take on that chore without loving it.
They went to the rabbit pen behind the building, returned Shiro to its enclosure, and refreshed their grass and water.
While the nameless senior worked, Tae-il held the cat.
“What about this cat?”
“Clubroom.”
She took the cat back from Tae-il, stroking its belly with a faint smile.
Nyaah.
It was a heartwarming sight.
“Raising cats at school feels weird.”
“We raise lizards too?”
Tae-il wondered how the club funded its activities.
“Heading out now?”
“Yeah, guess so?”
Tae-il checked his smartphone for the time.
He'd followed her to the pen like he'd been enchanted, but now he really had to go.
“Study hard...”
Her pure encouragement pricked Tae-il's conscience.
“Ah, ahaha. I'll try. So...”
As he fumbled for a proper way to address her, she belatedly introduced herself.
“Mori Yuuya. That's me. Yuuya's fine. Second year, Class 8, free elective.”
“Call me Taichi, then, Yuuya-senpai. First year, Class 7, free elective too.”
“Okay, Taichi.”
Tae-il bid Yuuya farewell and hurried to the school building.
It had been a truly bizarre encounter.
* * *
Tae-il considered himself oblivious.
He couldn't read others' moods or group atmospheres well.
He always marched to his own beat.
Even in hobby bands, this trait was a stumbling block. It worked if there was a leader or yielding personalities.
But in bands with stubborn egos, fights were daily.
It tripped him up in dating too.
His first girlfriend dumped him for being clueless. She'd raged about how he missed such obvious hints.
And after, whining to friends over drinks, 'Why'd she dump me?' got him punched.
At this point, he must've been born leaving his tact in the womb.
But it wasn't all bad.
His obliviousness let him hyperfocus, tuning out the world—even if they yelled.
Even Tae-il felt an odd dissonance walking the halls today.
Something's off...?
He, who usually ignored surroundings, noticed the stares today.
It was unfamiliar, novel.
Being this watched outside the stage was new.
Turning, he'd catch unnatural averts or guilty flinches.
He first thought self-consciousness, but realizing every passerby glanced, he sensed something real.
“What the...”
Feeling like a zoo lion on display wasn't pleasant.
And why was this happening?
The mystery lingered into the classroom.
Same here.
Despite break allowing back-door traffic, all eyes snapped to him.
Eye contact, and they'd feign ignorance.
What?
Clueless about any morning chaos, Tae-il quietly found his desk.
He planned to drop his bag and bolt, but unluckily, Sakuya sat next.
“Hey, Taichi. Late today?”
“Y-yeah. Morning.”
Sakuya paused her chat with a friend-like girl, greeting him with a smile. The girl and all who'd heard stole glances, pretending not.
Tae-il wasn't dumb; he felt the focus.
“Overslept?”
“Kinda.”
“Weird. Don't you always come with the morals girl?”
“She's busy today.”
Sakuya probed casually with a grin.
Tae-il missed her intent but stuck to vague answers for Ayane's reputation. Couldn't say she ditched him, right?
Conversely, his ambiguity convinced Sakuya.
After Iris dragged Taichi off yesterday after school, something happened for sure.
It was a misunderstanding, but circumstances pointed that way.
Iris taking Tae-il was school-wide rumor; their absence after, too.
Truth: Iris vented to Rena in remote Art Room A; Tae-il went home early with Ayane.
All coincidence, but coincidences get scary piled up.
The rumor hit Class 7 pre-homeroom, causing uproar. Sakuya's quick intervention contained it.
Scandal of school celebs.
Finals-stressed students had no juicier gossip.
Class 7, seeing no morning Tae-il, was convinced.
Sakuya took the lead on the burning question.
“Heard Iris dragged you off yesterday—is that why?”
“Not exactly...”
Wait, was it? Tae-il held back.
Without facing Ayane yet, talking her was awkward.
Maybe it's all my imagination.
Tae-il sighed in frustration.
He didn't know his fault, but if Ayane was mad, it was on him.
Still trapped in preconceptions.
Self-blaming, he caught the oddity in Sakuya's words late.
“Wait—how do you know, Sakuraba?”
“Rumors spread already.”
Her answer clinched it.
Tae-il realized the dissonance: hallway stares, classroom pretense-focus.
“Haa. It's nothing. Really.”
“Liar.”
Usually just nods, but today's Sakuya clung aggressively. Smiling, yet vaguely pissed.
Did I mess up with her too?
Lately, more people snapped at him.
Ayane, now Sakuya.
All original characters he needed—subtly unnerving.
“You know Iris approaching a guy first is unprecedented?”
“No clue. Heard she's picky with the opposite sex, though.”
“Taichi really lives in his own world...”
Sakuya eyed him pitifully.
Whatever.
Tae-il found her barrage, ignoring his friends, burdensome.
Was she always like this?
Even seated, Sakuya pressed.
Rooftop escape? Gone.
“So what really happened? Tell me, just me. Friends, right?”
“Tell you, and it'll spread school-wide. My imagination?”
“No way. My lips are sealed.”
Sakuya mimed zipping her lips.
Tae-il snorted, eyeing her friend and eavesdropping classmates pretending otherwise.
Usually ignored his absences; today, superstar treatment.
“Fine!”
Sakuya clapped.
Tae-il stonewalling, she offered Plan B.
“Then swap it for the reward you promised yesterday.”
“Makes no sense. This is private life stuff.”
Tae-il drew the line; Sakuya pouted.
Her silent-watching friend covered a giggle.
“First time seeing Sakuya like this. Might as well tell, Taichi?”
“Not really shareable...”
Not that something happened—just was.
Did he need to broadcast Iris outing as BARD fan?
Even truth—would anyone buy it?
They won't believe anyway.
BARD fandom? Sure, top band.
Issue: her confessing to Tae-il? Unbelievable.
Sakuya's relatively mild demand showed it.
Insanity brewing.
“Hard to share... Did she confess or something?”
“Confess!?”
The girl's guess rocked the class like an earthquake.
Tae-il nonchalant; Sakuya more flustered.
Ah, annoying.
Tae-il swallowed a sigh.
They wanted absurd lies, not truth.
Still, clarify vaguely.
Flat denial wouldn't stick.
“Not a confession.”
Class hushed at his words.
Unnatural silence, broken by a screeching chair.
“Just... helped her once before...”
Mix truth in lies—old trick.
Just as no one bought it, unexpected aid arrived.
“Oh, I get it. Heard Iris is stubborn about that stuff.”
“Yeah, she's like that.”
Tae-il latched naturally onto the girl's explanation.
“Stubborn how?”
Sakuya snapped curtly, unsatisfied.
“Her creed: repay favors threefold? So old-school.”
“Totally. I was shocked yesterday too.”
Tae-il nodded eagerly at her agreement.
Flow shifted to her; Tae-il slumped relieved over his desk.
“It's their family motto. Revenge double, favors triple.”
“How do you know so well? You in her fan club or something?”
“Nah. Same middle school. That personality made her super popular with girls—maybe more than you, Sakuya?”
Futaba Miyo, eavesdropping from the corner, nodded vigorously in agreement.
“But repaying threefold for real?”
“Famous. Valentine's chocolates? Returned triple on White Day.”
Valentine's wasn't just girls-to-boys now. Girl-to-girl, boy-to-crush—all fair game.
Direct confession fest.
Iris got tons.
Called out every break, lunch skipped.
Yet she rejected all—guys, even girls—with smiles, no frowns.
School-wide chocolate rejections.
Then White Day: tracked each confessor, returned triple chocolate.
Sakuya admired Iris's tale.
“Amazing. I'd never. Money first.”
“So practical.”
Sakuya's friend chuckled—rich girl perk.
Sakuya held back.
She could if she wanted, but chocolates over manga for payback? Inefficient.
And maintaining image via favors? Not her style.
“What do you think, Taichi?”
The duo's chat arrowed to Tae-il.
Drifting to sleep, he flinched.
“Taichi get Valentine's chocolate?”
“Didn't he? Saw him munching alone in class once.”
“Oh, not just me?”
habitual skipper eating chocolate? Unreal, memorable—girl added.
Sakuya poked his side mischievously.
“Heh. Say something?”
“You know who gave it, teasing?”
Tae-il glared up; Sakuya grinned knowingly.
“Morals committee childhood friend, right?”
“Knew it. Tired—gonna sleep. Don't wake.”
Tae-il snarked coldly, face-planted again.
“Overslept, sleeping more?”
“Please leave me. Ran from home, exhausted...”
Tae-il wilted.
Sakuya then noticed his damp hair was sweat, not half-dried post-shower.
“Late anyway—why run? Could've strolled.”
“How? You'd dawdle if I said be late?”
“Coming from you, sounds unconvincing.”
Sakuya laughed blankly.
“Might as well skip class properly from now on?”
“School grades pay bills?”
“Ah, classic from bad students.”
“Thanks. Midterms, I averaged 70s.”
Ambiguous score.
Average-wise decent, but free elective not study-focused—mediocre. Mid-pack safe.
College or jobs? Meh.
Qualifiers short; passable GPA, not great.
Tae-il seemed content with middling effort for middling results.
Probably saw it as natural.
Finals too, likely.
Won't be that easy this time...
Sakuya recalled teachers smirking at absent Tae-il.
Obvious schemes.
They taught exam-range with suspicious grins.
Too blatant for Sakuya, but all off-textbook.
Wait, targeting Taichi?
Midterms forgave fails; finals mandated summer makeup if failed.
Penalty to keep free-elective kids from total neglect amid Interhigh, contests.
Normal attendance avoided fails.
But off-book additions hiked averages, dooming skippers.
Shin Tae-il fit perfectly.
Teachers gunning to fail him.
Japanese might common-sense it, but he's Korean?
Two teachers loathing him: Japanese lit/history. Latter subtle, former blatant—known.
Sakuya's thoughts advanced.
Opportunity?
He seemed on the outs with childhood friend.
And even studious, free vs. prep exams differ.
Sakuya grabbed and shook dozing Tae-il's shoulder.
“Hey, Taichi.”