Finally, Megumi Kato, unable to bear the sight any longer, grabbed both Yui Yuigahama and Mashiro Shiina, who were clinging to Kotomi, and promptly deposited them into their respective seats.

“Class is about to start. I don’t want to get caught in the wrong seat by Hiratsuka-sensei,” Megumi said with a serious expression.

While her words were logical, the real reason was jealousy. She couldn’t stand seeing other girls clinging to Kotomi, especially right in front of her!

Is Megumi jealous? Mashiro wondered. Realizing this, she felt a surge of triumphant joy, as if she had finally scored a victory against Megumi. This small triumph left Mashiro in a cheerful mood for the rest of the day.

Kotomi was surprised by Mashiro’s unusually frequent smiles throughout the day. She had never seen Mashiro smile so much in such a short span of time.

During class, Kotomi occasionally pretended to rummage through her bag for her textbook, sneaking glances at Mashiro, who sat behind her. To her surprise, Mashiro wasn’t sketching as she usually did. Instead, she simply sat there, smiling quietly, clearly lost in some happy thought.

Could she be looking forward to my feedback on her manga? Kotomi speculated. Thankfully, she had finished reading Mashiro’s new manga draft the previous day. Since Mashiro had packed a lot of content into the first chapter, Kotomi had read it several times and already had a general idea of her impressions.

Now that it was class time, Kotomi felt confident she could refine her thoughts before the lunch break.

By the way… should I remind Mashiro to pace herself with the page count for each chapter? she mused.

The first chapter had a lot of content, which was understandable to hook readers and establish the story. However, if every chapter were as long, it might be problematic for a serialized manga in a weekly magazine. Editors would never allow it due to the added costs of printing thicker issues.

Unless, of course, it was published digitally, where the page count wouldn’t be as restricted.

As the physics teacher lectured, Kotomi played with her new phone under the desk. Perhaps it was the novelty of the device, but she found it more enjoyable to sneakily use this new phone during class compared to her old one.

Finally, the bell signaling the end of the first period rang, much to everyone’s relief. Some had enjoyed sneaking in some gaming, while others had used the time to hurriedly finish their weekend homework. Monday mornings always seemed to pass in such a way.

The moment the bell rang, Kotomi approached Mashiro and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Mashiro, I finished reading your new manga. It’s a big improvement from last time, but there’s still plenty of room for growth. How about we find a quiet spot on the rooftop during lunch? We can eat and discuss it together.”

Mashiro was initially stunned but then nodded vigorously upon hearing Kotomi’s praise. “Okay!” she responded firmly.

Even though Mashiro’s joy throughout the day hadn’t been solely due to the feedback she anticipated, Kotomi’s compliment felt like a sweet candy, leaving her heart warm and delighted.

What excited Mashiro even more was the prospect of having lunch together with Kotomi—just the two of them, alone on the rooftop!

For someone as naturally stoic as Mashiro, her face showed an unusually bright and lingering smile.

As the next class was about to start, Kotomi received a text message on her phone. It was from Merii Hizuki.

When Kotomi opened the text message, she was greeted by a single, simple character:

[Mom!]

???

Kotomi stared at the concise yet deeply confusing message, her expression frozen in a mixture of disbelief and bewilderment. For a moment, she didn’t even know how to react.

Did I suddenly gain a daughter out of nowhere?

The problem was, this so-called “daughter” was older than her.

Her face grew increasingly complicated as she held the phone, debating for a long while what, if anything, to reply. In the end, she simply chose not to respond.

I can’t just reply with “Huh?” now, can I?

…

The morning’s four classes passed as Kotomi stealthily played Azur Lane on her phone.

Through her highly “efficient use of time,” she managed to complete most of the event missions. Tonight, she’d have enough time left to grind other games.

“Kotomi! Let’s go grab lunch!” Yui jumped up from her seat with lightning speed.

She quickly joined Kotomi and Mashiro, the three of them darting out of the classroom as if they were on a mission.

Whenever the fourth period ended, Yui and the others were always the first to bolt.

Sometimes, they left so quickly that the teacher hadn’t even exited the classroom yet. There were several instances when the teacher wanted to reprimand them, but upon seeing who they were—a top-ranked national student like Kotomi, a rapidly improving dark horse like Yui, and a world-class artistic prodigy like Mashiro—there was an unspoken understanding.

How could they possibly scold these three exceptional students?

The teachers often chose to turn a blind eye.

It wasn’t unreasonable for Yui and the others to rush out so quickly. Their classroom in Year 1, Class F, was quite far from the school’s snack shop. If they didn’t hurry, they’d have no chance against the students from nearby classrooms.

Some enterprising students in closer classrooms had even started charging for a food delivery service, helping those farther away buy lunch. For an extra 300 yen, they’d purchase and deliver meals on request.

For Kotomi, however, paying an additional 300 yen was unthinkable.

She would rather skip lunch entirely than part with those extra yen. Spending that much on a simple delivery fee would haunt her for the rest of the day.

…

Beating the crowd, they managed to buy their lunches without issue. As Yui prepared to head back to class with Kotomi and Mashiro, she suddenly noticed the two heading in the opposite direction.

“Kotomi, Mashiro, where are you going?” Yui called after them.

“Oh, we have something to discuss privately. We won’t be eating in the classroom today. You go ahead,” Kotomi replied, turning to speak with a smile.

What are they going to talk about? Yui wondered. She was about to press further, but Kotomi and Mashiro had already walked off, side by side.

The two seemed deep in conversation, their closeness apparent. Even the usually expressionless Mashiro was smiling faintly and occasionally chuckling softly at Kotomi’s words.

From a distance, Yui couldn’t hear their conversation, but the sight of Kotomi and Mashiro chatting intimately as they walked away left a pang of bitterness in her chest.

“I was planning to give you the cake I made for you after lunch…” Yui murmured, her head drooping, her tone filled with disappointment. Her small hands instinctively clenched into fists.

…

Familiar with the layout of the school rooftop, Kotomi and Mashiro quickly made their way there for lunch. Initially, they had hoped to sit on one of the rooftop benches, but they found they’d arrived too late, and all the benches were already occupied.

The school rooftop had always been a place where countless stories unfolded. Once, a man named Makoto made his infamous mark here. Whether stories imitated life or life began to imitate stories, one thing was clear: rooftops, regardless of whether the school was co-ed, all-boys, or all-girls, seemed to attract couples.

Most often, couples used the space for simple lunch dates, sharing bites of their meals, enjoying some rare alone time. On bolder occasions, young lovers would venture to secluded corners—or even stay in plain sight by the railings—to fully savor the sweetness of their newfound romance.

Kotomi and Mashiro chose a quieter spot on the rooftop and sat down. Occasionally enjoying lunch here was indeed a pleasant change of pace.

But Kotomi quickly noticed one thing: she drew far more attention than expected.

Especially with Mashiro by her side.

Subtle glances and murmurs seemed to ripple through the rooftop. Snippets of conversations floated over.

“Aren’t those two girls from Class 1-F? Kotomi Izumi and Mashiro Shiina?”

“Looks like it. Why are they up here together?”

“They seem really close. Could the rumors be true? That Kotomi not only likes girls but is also a massive flirt, determined to conquer every beautiful girl in the school?”

“Sounds plausible. She’s always surrounded by stunning girls.”

“And wow, just look at Kotomi’s figure—unreal!”

“What are you implying? That my figure isn’t good enough? Last night, you told me I was the only one for you, and now this? Or wait—are you interested in same-gender relationships? That explains why you’ve been so chummy with my little brother lately, always bringing him gifts and gaming late into the night.”

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong! Let me explain!”

“I don’t want to hear it! We’re done! Go be with my brother if you like him so much!”

“Baby, come back! Let me explain!”

Bang!

The sound of a girl storming off and slamming the rooftop door echoed across the space.

Kotomi, in the middle of mixing the sauce into her beef noodle bowl, sweatdropped. Did I just unintentionally cause a couple to break up?

…

“By the way, Mashiro, you really seem to love bread. Every time I see you at lunch, you’re buying those Baumkuchen cakes,” Kotomi said, glancing at the contents of Mashiro’s lunch bag: fried rice, yogurt, and two packets of her favorite Baumkuchen.

“Yeah, Baumkuchen is delicious. I never got to eat anything like it when I was in England. I really like simple desserts without cream, and the ones from Dango Cake Shop are the best in the world.”

“So you don’t like cream-based desserts?”

“It’s not that I dislike them. I’ve just had them all my life. Finding something new and simple like this feels refreshing. I love it.”

“Looks like we have similar tastes.” Kotomi nodded, taking a massive bite of her noodles, finishing nearly a third of the bowl in one go.

Originally a fan of the braised beef instant meals, Kotomi had stopped buying them because the new version had added way too many scallions and bell peppers—ingredients she despised. After picking them all out, barely anything was left of the meal. Worse, instead of lowering the price, they had raised it by 100 yen.

Disillusioned, Kotomi abandoned her once-beloved braised beef and began exploring other instant meal options. She made it her goal to try every flavor and type of food the snack shop offered before she graduated.

…

“Here, Kotomi. Ahh~” Sitting beside her, Mashiro held up a spoonful of fried rice to feed her. Kotomi, without hesitation, opened her mouth and ate it.

At some point, it had become a trend among Yukino, Yui, Mashiro, and Megumi to take turns feeding Kotomi during meals. The practice had become so routine that Kotomi had adjusted her meal portions accordingly—buying four lunch boxes instead of her usual five, knowing her friends would feed her enough to make up the difference.

…

After finishing her lunch, Kotomi stacked up the empty containers but still felt a bit peckish. She reached over and broke off half of Mashiro’s Baumkuchen, munching on it as she started sharing her thoughts on Mashiro’s new manga.

“Honestly, when I first saw your draft for the new manga, I was blown away. The improvement is incredible. There’s no need to even talk about the visuals—they are flawless. The texture, atmosphere, and aesthetic are all vividly expressed.

“Especially the way the female protagonists’ legs were drawn, coupled with those stockings. If not for the fear of damaging the original manuscript, I might have…”

Kotomi trailed off abruptly, realizing where her words were headed and immediately clamping down on the topic. She was alarmed at how close she had come to exposing her… personal preferences.

Too late. The damage was done.

Shiina Mashiro, who had been attentively listening to Kotomi’s praise of her artwork, blinked like a startled squirrel. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she lifted her head shyly to look at Kotomi, her face so red it seemed ready to drip with embarrassment.

“Kotomi, do you like girls who wear stockings…? But I’ve never worn them before. It might feel a little strange for me…” Mashiro’s hesitant gaze drifted to her legs wrapped in short socks, tinged with a faint sense of regret for not realizing Kotomi’s preferences earlier.

There is nothing more embarrassing than inadvertently revealing one’s preferences.

And yet, after the initial wave of mortification, there was a strange sense of liberation—because now, there was nothing left to hide.

Kotomi’s smile froze in place, her lips twitching slightly in a helpless spasm.

“Cough, cough. Let’s put the topic of stockings aside for now and talk about your manga instead.” Kotomi desperately steered the conversation away, fearing it would spiral further out of control.

Her attempt to change the subject didn’t stop her from instinctively glancing down at Mashiro’s pleated skirt, her eyes catching the sight of Mashiro’s slender legs. They were like works of art sculpted from alabaster, perfect in every proportion. The contrast of the black cotton ankle socks added a touch of innocent charm.

It was true—Mashiro never wore stockings, perhaps because her legs already drew enough attention as they were.

Kotomi tore her gaze away, forcing herself to focus on the conversation at hand. Suppressing her inner turmoil, she continued to discuss the strengths and areas for improvement in Mashiro’s latest manga draft.

“This time, the dialogue between characters is a big step forward compared to your last work. Writing effective dialogue is a fundamental skill for any creator, but it’s something you improve at gradually over time. The key is to be mindful during every creative session. Sometimes, a single simple line of dialogue can make a reader fall in love with a character.”

Kotomi spoke with a calm confidence, while Mashiro sat quietly by her side, listening intently. She was so focused on Kotomi’s words that it seemed she was etching them directly into her heart.

She had never paid this much attention during any of her classes.

By the time lunch break was nearing its end, the two had gone through the entirety of Mashiro’s manga. Kotomi encouraged her to submit it to a publisher, confident that the story had a strong chance of being accepted.

Especially after hearing Mashiro’s plans for the future chapters, Kotomi believed the work had great potential.

“Submitting it… After being rejected last time, I still feel a bit hesitant about trying again.” Mashiro’s voice was soft, her earlier rejection still casting a lingering shadow over her confidence.

“If you don’t take this first step, your work may never reach the audience it deserves. Don’t think of submissions as something scary; they’re just the first step toward becoming a creator.”

Kotomi spoke with the tone of someone who had been through the ropes, offering Mashiro heartfelt encouragement.

Mashiro hesitated for a moment before nodding. “You’re right. I do want more people to read the stories I create. I’ll send it out after school today.”

“Which publisher are you submitting to this time?” Kotomi asked.

“Houbunsha.”

Mashiro decided to stick with Houbunsha, the same publisher she had approached before.

Kotomi approved of the choice. Mashiro’s new work, with its blend of endearing character relationships and a backdrop of battling supernatural forces, fit perfectly with Houbunsha’s style.

As the conversation drifted to Mashiro’s manga heroines, Kotomi couldn’t hold back her curiosity anymore.

“Mashiro, I’ve been meaning to ask you something about your protagonists.”

“What is it?” Mashiro tilted her head in an adorably inquisitive gesture.

“The pink-haired heroine in your new manga… She’s not based on me, is she? And Kagura Meya—if you dyed your hair black, you’d look exactly like her.”

Ever since Arisu Sakayanagi had pointed it out, Kotomi couldn’t shake the feeling that Ichinose Karen looked suspiciously like herself. And the more she thought about Kagura Meya, the more it resembled a dark-haired version of Mashiro.

Not to mention Fuu Mahiru, who carried an indescribable yet familiar air.

Just the similarities between Karen and Meya had been nagging at Kotomi. Now, she finally voiced her suspicion.

Mashiro nodded without hesitation, her wide, earnest orange-red eyes locking onto Kotomi’s.

“You’re absolutely right. Ichinose Karen is based on you, and Kagura Meya is based on me.”

“Why did you choose me as the model for your heroine?” Kotomi asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Because I want you to be my heroine, Kotomi. And I want to be the one strong enough to stay by your side, protecting you. That’s why you’re ‘Ichinose Karen,’ and I’m ‘Kagura Meya.'”

Mashiro’s reply was so straightforward and sincere that it left no room for ambiguity. It was clear that from the very beginning, this had always been her intention.

And it had never wavered, not even for a moment.

————————————————————————————————————–

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep