Chapter 182: Touka’s Button

The food in the cafeteria was surprisingly good that day — the aroma of frying oil, freshly steamed rice, and savory sauce filled the air as the group entered. The flavors were decent, the hygiene was dependable, and the prices reasonable enough that even a student’s allowance could handle it. The stainless steel counters gleamed, the tables were spotless, and the atmosphere, while a little quiet, had that comforting warmth of a typical school canteen.

Still, because of the long-standing bento culture, not many students actually came to eat there. Most preferred their homemade lunches, leaving the large cafeteria only half-filled even during peak hours.

That meant there was no need to line up. After stepping inside, they simply approached the automatic ticket machine, selected their meals, and exchanged tickets at the counter with the kind old lady who served with a smile.

Vigne had brought her own bento from home — neatly packed, colorful, and balanced as always. Satania, the eternal fool, carried two seaweed rice balls she probably bought at the convenience store. Rikka, whose appetite was tiny, ordered a simple fox udon with a piece of fried tofu on top. Gabriel, on the other hand, went all out with curry and fried chicken, though her eyes didn’t sparkle with much excitement.

Kouya, being Kouya, never cut corners on food. He went straight for the full deal — a pork cutlet rice bowl, grilled shrimp, and dumplings on the side. If he was going to eat, he’d eat well.

It was worth noting — as always — that in Japan, dumplings weren’t considered a main dish, but a side. An odd custom, really.

Gabriel prodded her curry with the tip of her chopsticks, pouting. “So this is what curry tastes like? I think Vigne’s bentos are way better. This one’s too bland. It’s missing that homemade warmth.”

Her golden eyes lit up with mischief as she turned her gaze toward Kouya’s plate. “You’ve barely eaten half of that, so I’ll just help myself to your grilled shrimp. Sharing is caring, right?”

Before he could react, her chopsticks darted forward, snatching a shrimp with the precision of a thief.

“Gabi-chan, what do you think you’re doing?” Vigne’s tone was firm but calm, the kind that usually preceded a scolding.

“It’s fine,” Gabriel waved her hand dismissively. “This guy did something terrible to me last night. I’m just taking one shrimp as revenge — honestly, he’s getting off light.”

Vigne blinked in confusion. “You— you did something terrible?” Her gaze shifted toward Kouya, uncertainty flickering in her gentle expression.

Kouya froze mid-bite.

“N-no! Nothing like that!” Gabriel waved her arms quickly. “He just refused to share his snacks with me. That’s all. And, you know, food always tastes better when it’s not yours.”

Vigne sighed with visible relief. “Ah… I see. Then that’s fine, I suppose.”

Satania leaned in, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “Wait, really? Then I want one too!”

“Denied,” Kouya said flatly.

“Wha—! Then I’ll challenge you to a duel for it!” Satania slammed a hand on the table, her cape fluttering dramatically.

“Both of you, stop that right now,” Vigne said wearily and flicked both of their foreheads. “No chaos in the cafeteria.”

The table went silent for all of two seconds before Rikka’s voice cut through.

“Beep— Stamina replenishment complete.”

She had just finished her udon, and now, in full chuunibyou glory, raised her hand to her eyepatch, her ahoge swaying like an antenna. “The next mission objective: replenish magic energy with carbonated elixir of vitality — cola.”

Kouya nearly choked on his rice. ‘When did cola become a mana potion? Is Coca-Cola secretly managed by dark sorcerers now?’

And seriously, cola isn’t black! It’s brown!

“Hero, I’m going to buy some cola,” Rikka announced. Because she sat on the inside, Kouya had to stand to let her pass.

“I’ll go. I want one too,” he said, rising.

“Bring me one too!” Gabriel immediately chimed in.

Kouya disappeared for a few minutes, returning with four chilled cups of cola, condensation glistening on the plastic lids.

He handed one to Rikka, another to Gabriel, kept one for himself, and then placed the last cup in front of Vigne.

“W-what are you doing?” Vigne asked, cheeks pink as she stared at the fizzing cup.

“There’s no miso soup, so cola will have to do,” he said casually.

“That’s not fair!” Satania cried, practically banging the table. “Why am I the only one without cola?!”

Kouya gave her a lazy sideways glance. “Because you’re an idiot.”

“I-I’ve been rejected by my own servant!” Satania wailed dramatically, sinking into her seat as her world turned grayscale.

‘You’re just realizing that now? I’ve been looking at you that way since day one.’

“Here,” Vigne said softly, pushing her drink toward Satania. “You can have mine. I don’t like this stuff anyway.”

She cast Kouya a mild glare as she did so.

‘Hey, what’s with that look? If it weren’t for me being too lazy to get change — and because you treated me to dinner yesterday — I wouldn’t have bought that in the first place!’

He sighed, silently taking a sip of his own cola.

…

By the time afternoon rolled around, Monday had stretched endlessly long, and everyone looked like their souls had left their bodies.

After the final bell rang, the class erupted in life. Chairs scraped, laughter filled the halls, and the sound of shuffling bags echoed like freedom.

Gabriel was the first to vanish, eager to rush home to her games. Vigne hurried off toward her café part-time job. Satania and Rikka paired up to go buy pineapple buns, no doubt turning that simple errand into a grand adventure.

Kouya finally had some peace. With his bag slung over one shoulder, he walked home at an easy pace, the evening sun casting a soft orange glow across the quiet streets.

As he approached the entrance of his apartment complex, a tall, elegant figure came into view — a woman with long dark hair, composed steps, and an aura of mature beauty.

“Oh? It’s you, kid?” she said, stopping with a faint smile.

Kouya looked up. Recognition clicked instantly — it was Takanashi Touka, Rikka’s older sister.

“Heading home from school?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied simply.

“And Rikka? She’s not with you?”

“She went off with Satania to grab something to eat.”

“I see.” Touka’s smile softened. “Looks like Rikka’s finally making friends. I was a bit worried she’d isolate herself forever.”

‘One’s a chuunibyou, and the other’s a complete idiot,’ Kouya thought silently. ‘Yeah, perfect match.’

As they spoke, Touka’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying him. The last time they met had been on that foggy, rainy night — a brief encounter. Now, under the golden evening light, she could finally see his face clearly. The boy was more striking than she’d remembered — calm, refined, with a quiet confidence that made him seem older than his age. Not forced maturity, but genuine composure.

“Since you’re Rikka’s classmate, I’ll just call you Kouya.” Touka crossed her arms, which made the generous curves beneath her blouse more noticeable. “I’ve been so busy with work that I haven’t had the chance to thank you for looking after her.”

“It’s not really looking after,” Kouya said evenly. “Honestly, I’d rather not.”

Touka blinked in surprise, then let out a soft laugh. “You’re refreshingly honest. I was a bit uneasy about leaving her alone at school, but now I feel like she’s in capable company.”

‘Where do you even get that confidence? You should worry about your sister more!’

“Anyway,” Touka continued, stretching her arms above her head, “once my schedule clears up, I’ll invite you both over for dinner this weekend.”

Her movement was graceful — but devastating. As she stretched, her shirt tightened against her body, emphasizing her flawless figure: slim waist, round hips, and an undeniably generous bust that pressed firmly against the fabric.

Then—

Snap!

A crisp sound echoed in the air.

The source: Touka’s chest.

A white button shot free, cutting through the air like a bullet, and landed squarely in Kouya’s hand.

He stared blankly for a second, feeling the faint warmth and the soft fragrance that lingered on the small plastic disk.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of pale skin and the black curve of a lacy bra peeking from the gap where the button used to be.

For a moment, time froze.

Touka looked down, realization dawning, her face flushing lightly. Kouya quickly turned away, pretending to cough, the button still in his hand.

And in the silence, one dry thought rose in his mind:

‘Women with big breasts really are troublesome creatures… even stretching can cause structural failure.’

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