Hayama Hayato picked up the tab for the victory dinner. Coming from a well-off family, he'd always been generous with his teammates—the guys who'd fought alongside him on the field.
Not long after everyone had taken their seats in the private room, the curtain at the door lifted, and a familiar voice followed.
"Sorry, I'm late."
In walked Kirisu Mafuyu, dressed exactly as she did at school—teacher's uniform, black stockings, the same frosty air about her.
No one looked particularly surprised. Hayama had mentioned earlier that he'd invited both supervising teachers from the soccer club.
"Please, have a seat, Kirisu-sensei," Hayama said, standing to greet her politely. "Unfortunately, Kojima-sensei declined. Said she had other plans."
"Kojima has something else to do?" Mafuyu asked, giving Shirase a quick glance as she sat down.
"I'm not too sure either," Shirase replied easily. "She probably has her own stuff to take care of."
Though, when he'd left home, Kojima Kana had still been sprawled lazily on the sofa, grinning at photos on her phone—clearly not planning to leave her fantasy world anytime soon.
Fukuda—the same guy who'd cross-dressed at the convention—was there too. Shirase kept his word, treating him no differently than usual.
Fukuda visibly relaxed. That particular topic wasn't exactly one you wanted floating around.
"Why'd Kirisu-sensei specifically ask Shirase-kun about it?" Isshiki Iroha suddenly piped up, having watched Shirase the whole time.
The casual chatter around the table quieted, and several curious gazes turned their way.
The captain chewed on his chopsticks, muttering, "Now that you mention it, I've heard rumors that Shirase-kun and Kojima-sensei have some… unusual relationship."
"Yeah, same here. When we played at Toritsu High, I swear I saw Kojima-sensei smiling on the sidelines."
"Seriously? She can smile?"
"What are you, stupid? She's not a robot—of course she can smile!"
The conversation quickly devolved into noisy teasing. Kirisu Mafuyu glanced at Shirase, silently asking if she should clear it up.
He gave a small nod. No reason to hide it.
"The rumors you've heard aren't entirely wrong," she said calmly. "Kojima-sensei and Shirase-kun do get along well. Ever since he moved to Tokyo, he's been living at her place."
"Wait, really?"
Everyone froze, wide-eyed.
Then came the looks—half curious, half sympathetic. Clearly, in their minds, living with the Demon Kojima sounded like a daily survival challenge.
Even Isshiki, who had deliberately taken the seat beside Shirase, tugged at his sleeve and whispered, "Kojima-sensei doesn't bully you at home, right?"
"Of course not. Usually, I'm the one bullying her," Shirase said flatly.
Isshiki frowned. "Yeah, right. Kojima-sensei's terrifying! You mean you beat her in arguments or something?"
Shirase only shrugged. No point explaining—because, well, it was true. He really did bully Kojima Kana.
In every sense of the word.
When the waiter came in with dishes, someone muttered, "Man, I could really go for a cold beer right now…"
And immediately caught Kirisu-sensei's icy death glare.
Hayama quickly stepped in. "We're all still students, so no alcohol tonight. But order whatever juice or soda you like—don't worry about the bill."
Translation: drink whatever non-alcoholic stuff you want openly, just don't get caught doing otherwise.
Everyone knew underage drinking was technically forbidden—but in reality, most had already sneaked a beer or two somewhere.
"Hayama's the best!"
Laughter broke out, and the mood lightened again. Kirisu didn't scold anyone further, quietly picking up her chopsticks.
Truthfully, she hadn't planned on coming. But Hayama's call had been so polite and persuasive that she'd run out of excuses.
She'd always held a good impression of him—an ace on the field, smart, and socially graceful.
And lately, whenever she thought of the soccer club, another name inevitably came to mind:
Shirase Haruto, who'd practically carried them in the last two matches.
Kirisu stole a glance at him. He was chatting easily with the pretty girl beside him, eating with unbothered calm.
This guy really does attract girls wherever he goes…
She thought back to the day he'd come to her place to deal with that bug problem—and how she'd panicked so badly she'd literally fallen on top of him.
Thankfully, he'd never brought it up again. Otherwise, she'd have died of embarrassment.
Right then, Shirase's phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID—"Nino"—and stood up.
Isshiki instinctively asked, "Is it important?"
"It's from Nino," he said, already walking out.
Isshiki's face froze. Both Hayama and Kirisu noticed but tactfully said nothing.
After the call, Shirase didn't return to the private room. He waited by the restaurant entrance instead.
He hadn't expected Nino to call just to tell him she was already on her way to see him.
He couldn't help picturing the four hungry sisters left at home—without Nino's cooking, they'd probably just order delivery.
Ten minutes later, a taxi pulled up.
Out stepped Nakano Nino.
She'd clearly changed in a rush—something like a cocktail dress, simple yet elegant, no makeup, a little more natural than her usual fashionable self.
Still, she wore her signature white thigh-highs.
"What about dinner for your sisters?" Shirase asked, smiling.
"I told them to order delivery," Nino said easily. Then, with a hint of hesitation, "Would it be weird if I joined your soccer club's celebration? I'm kind of an outsider."
Shirase puffed out his chest. "Relax. If I'm the one bringing you in, no one'll think it's weird."
Nino chuckled softly. "Oh? Are you that respected in the club—so much that everyone's scared to say anything?"
"That's how you're taking it? I meant they'll think we look perfect together."
That shut her up. Her cheeks flushed, eyes glimmering faintly.
Only then did Shirase notice her heels, which made her long legs—wrapped in those white stockings—even more striking.
The short skirt of her dress highlighted her curves, her chest drawing dangerously more attention than usual.
He couldn't help but sigh. "How did I not notice before? You just change your outfit and suddenly you're a total enchantress."
Nino raised an eyebrow. "Flattering me so blatantly—what are you after?"
"Nothing. Just being honest."
"…Thanks."
Her smile brightened, soft and breathtaking, and for a moment even Shirase forgot to breathe.
As they reached the door, she asked, half-expectant, "So how exactly are you going to introduce me?"
"Like I usually do," he said simply.
Her blush deepened. "You think anyone's going to believe that?"
"They'll believe it. Everyone knows Shirase Haruto doesn't lie."
Nino nodded, but there was a flicker of disappointment behind her eyes. She'd been hoping for something sweeter.
He's such a blockhead… How can someone so smart be this dense?
Still, her eyes drifted toward his hand, fingers twitching slightly. She'd dressed up for this—hoping he'd take her hand as they went in.
Only that way could she send a certain someone an unspoken warning.
But just as she followed him into the room, gloomily resigned—
Shirase suddenly reached out, took her hand firmly, and said loud enough for everyone to hear:
"Let me introduce you all. This is Nakano Nino—the girl I like the most."
The room went dead silent.
Nino froze.
A second later, her face turned bright red, color spreading all the way down her neck.
She didn't deny it. She couldn't.
Her heart thudded wildly as she stood beside him in stunned silence.
One second. Two. Five.
And when the room finally stirred, her slender fingers—trembling but certain—tightened around Shirase's hand.