Jun looked up, setting aside his practice booklet for the National Earth Science Olympiad. Standing at the back door was a girl wearing the deep green neckerchief of a sophomore.

  "Can I help you, Senpai?" he asked, stepping out into the hall.

  He wasn't familiar with the upperclassmen, but he recognized her from the school’s promotional video.

  "I’m Maki Yamami, President of the Band Club," she said, her voice steady and composed. She tucked a stray lock of dark, lustrous hair behind her ear.

  She wasn't particularly tall, but she possessed a refined, understated grace. She didn't wear any flashy accessories, yet she commanded attention through sheer poise.

  "Nice to meet you, Yamami-senpai," Jun said. She feels a lot like Tomatsu, he noted internally.

  "Is Yuka in the room?"

  Yuka was also in the Band Club. Jun wasn't sure why the President was asking him, but he glanced back into the classroom.

  "No, she’s out. Did you need her for something?"

  "No, actually... it’s better that she’s not here." Maki let out a visible sigh of relief. "To be honest, the Band Club is facing a bit of a crisis, and I think you’re the only one who can solve it. That’s why I came to find you."

  "Does this 'crisis' involve me?"

  Maki tilted her head, her lips pursed in thought. "In a way? Yes. Very much so."

  "We have practice after school today. I’d like you to come by and just... observe," Maki said, clasping her hands together in a silent plea. "I know you’re busy—you’re the Class Rep, you’re training for the Olympiads, and you have your own club—but please, try to find a moment to stop by."

  Before Jun could answer, another voice drifted from behind him.

  "Jun? Are you talking to someone?"

  It was Yuka. Her voice was as soft and sweet as ever, yet Jun felt a sudden drop in the hallway’s temperature.

  "Oh! Maki-senpai, good afternoon!" Yuka’s smile was bright, but Maki’s face went slightly pale. She greeted Yuka with a frantic, almost panicked energy.

  "So it was Maki-senpai," Yuka said with a chuckle that didn't quite reach her eyes. "What are you doing here with Jun? Can I hear? I’m suddenly very curious."

  "It’s nothing major!" Maki waved her hands dismissively. "The Journalism Club is planning the new recruitment video, and Ko asked me to coordinate with Matsue about filming the Band Club's segments."

  "Is that so, Jun?" Yuka turned her gaze toward him, her eyes lingering on his face with a possessive, tactile intensity.

  "Yeah." Jun saw no reason to blow Maki’s cover, even if her lie was paper-thin.

  "Well, now that the business is settled, I’ll take my leave! See you later, Matsue!" Before she left, Maki shot Jun a look that clearly translated to: PLEASE SHOW UP.

  Back at his desk, Jun asked Yuka casually, "Is everything okay with the Band Club lately?"

  "Everything’s fine, why?" she replied distractedly. Then, realizing this was a rare moment where Jun was initiating conversation, she perked up and talked for ten minutes straight about the club.

  Her voice was melodic and pleasant, but Jun didn't hear a single useful clue in her rambling.

  Deciding to maintain his "helpful Class Rep" persona, Jun cancelled his shift at the Mitaka Forest convenience store and headed to the Band Club practice room after school.

  The music reached him before he even saw the room—a bright, airy woodwind arrangement. Maki was waiting for him in the hallway.

  "Don't go inside," she whispered, pulling him toward the door. "Just watch through the glass."

  They huddled together like a pair of voyeurs, peering through the small window in the door. The members were focused, their instruments gleaming under the afternoon sun.

  "I don't see the problem," Jun whispered.

  "Wait for the break. Watch Yuka."

  When the music stopped, the room erupted into chatter as the girls discussed their timing. Except for Yuka.

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  She sat alone, staring at her instrument. She didn't participate in the critique; she didn't even look at her bandmates.

  "She’s been like this for days," Maki whispered. "The others aren't freezing her out; she’s freezing them out. She’s losing her passion, Matsue. You might not hear it, but her playing has lost its soul."

  Maki pointed toward the gold instrument in Yuka’s lap—an alto saxophone. "She used to insist on a hard rubber mouthpiece for a warm, classical tone. Today, she’s switched to a metal one. It’s loud, aggressive, and completely lacks her usual nuance."

  "And now she says she’s dropping out of the Summer Intensive," Maki added. Haneoka’s band was a National Gold contender; losing their lead saxophonist and section leader was a death sentence for their ranking.

  "I see," Jun muttered. Yuka didn't think there was a problem because she was the problem.

  "What caused this?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

  Maki just stared at him.

  "Really? What could it be?" Jun asked dryly.

  Maki kept staring.

  "Is it me?" Jun finally pointed to himself.

  The President sighed. "Look at how she acted at lunch. Her head is so full of 'Matsue Jun' that there’s no room left for music. She’s obsessive."

  "I need you to bring her back to us," Maki pleaded. "If you aren't going to date her, the Band Club is the only thing that can distract her from stalking you. If she has the club to focus on, she’ll give you some breathing room. It’s a win-win."

  "And if you need a... reward, just name your price."

  Maki Yamami was a smart leader. She knew that involving Jun was the most efficient way to save her club.

  Jun watched Yuka through the glass. The summer sun was setting, casting a golden glow over her profile. Her dark hair, the sharp line of her nose, the rhythmic movement of her fingers on the keys—she looked like a dream.

  Compared to the girl who was desperately, suffocatingly in love with him, Jun much preferred this version of her.

  Later that evening, Jun made his pitch.

  "You want me to go to the Summer Intensive? No."

  It was the first time she had ever said "no" to him.

  ______

  Finals were less than two weeks away, but the atmosphere at Haneoka High was far from tense. In Class 2, the students were laughing and scrolling through their phones.

  In a suburban school like this, the pressure didn't really ramp up until senior year.

  Yuka sat at her desk, staring at the empty seat to her right. Jun was currently in Mr. Kashida’s office for an evaluation; thanks to his Earth Science standing, he was exempt from most Geography lectures.

  While he worked through his practice problems, Jun’s mind was elsewhere. Ko Tsushima had also caught him earlier, mentioning that the Band Club was a "key aesthetic" for the recruitment video and that he needed them at 100% capacity.

  Everyone was pulling Jun into the Band Club drama.

  But his first attempt to convince Yuka had failed. He wasn't surprised. This was Yuka Tomatsu; she didn't fold easily when her time with Jun was on the line. Since he’d asked her to go, she had been following him around with a wounded, "wronged wife" expression, as if he were trying to exile her.

  "Matsue," Mr. Kashida said, breaking his train of thought. "Is it true that every time you go to a competition, you end up bringing a few girls back with you?"

  "It’s not every time," Jun said modestly. "And I don't 'bring them back.' They usually just inquire about transfer options for academic exchange. Most of them go home after a semester."

  "So it is true," Kashida said, a rare look of shock crossing his academic face. "The faculty lounge calls you 'Incubus Matsue.'"

  Jun’s pen stopped. "The what?"

  "It’s your nickname among the teachers. A creature that lures people in with its charm."

  Jun hated the comparison. "Sir, it’s purely academic. We meet, we discuss geography, and they realize Haneoka has a superior curriculum. That’s all."

  "Right. Geography," Kashida muttered, clearly not believing a word of it.

  Jun finished his work in silence and handed it over. As he walked back to class, he felt Yuka’s gaze lock onto him the second he stepped through the door.

  I need to have a real talk with her, he decided.

  When the lunch bell rang, Jun went to the restroom. When he returned, Yuka was gone.

  He waited ten minutes, then went to look for her. He checked the first floor, the second, and the third. No sign of her.

  He began checking the empty classrooms on the fourth floor. Near the end of the hall, he heard voices.

  "Why did you call me all the way up here, Mochizuki-san?" Yuka’s voice was flat, stripped of its usual sweetness.

  Mochizuki? Jun froze. He had never seen the two of them interact. He moved silently, pressing his back against the wall next to the door.

  "I called you here to tell you to stop acting like a parasite," Haruka Mochizuki’s voice rang out, cold and imperious. "You’re buzzing around Matsue all day, every day. It’s pathetic."

  The two girls sounded like they were standing at opposite ends of the room, a physical gap reflecting their mutual distaste.

  "Jun hasn't told me to leave," Yuka shot back, her tone dripping with venom. "So why are you weighing in? You’re a bystander, Haruka. An extra in our story."

  Haruka let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "'Jun'? Does he even look at you when you call him that? You’re the most thick-skinned woman I’ve ever met."

  Yuka took a breath, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

  "At least he knows I exist. He used to call me 'Yuka.' We have a history. Unlike you, Mochizuki. You appeared out of nowhere and started stalking him from the shadows. You vet his background, you spy on him, and you play the part of the 'uninterested heiress' while you drool over him from across the hall. Do you think he doesn't see you? Do you think he doesn't have his guard up against someone as manipulative as you?"

  Jun heard Haruka’s breathing hitch. After a long pause, she spoke.

  "I’m not like you. I didn't approach him because of some 'crush.' I have my reasons. I’m not... disgusting, like you."

  "Are you sure about that?" Yuka taunted.

  Haruka went for the throat. "Did you know that Matsue worked as a host in a bar—selling smiles to strangers—just to afford a private investigator? He was desperate to find out who was trying to ruin him. He was desperate to find the person who betrayed his trust."

  "You say you love him, but you’re the one who pushed him into that corner. You were angry that he worked at that bar, weren't you? But you’re the reason he was there in the first place!"

  The sound of a chair scraping against the floor echoed in the room. It sounded like Yuka had lost her footing and collapsed into a seat.

  "He never told me..." Yuka’s voice was muffled, as if she were covering her mouth.

  "Your 'love' is a pile of toxic sludge," Haruka sneered. "And you expected your victim to come and thank you for it? You’re just a narcissist chasing a high. You think because he doesn't scream at you, he’s okay with it? He doesn't scream because he doesn't care about you enough to waste the energy!"

  A heavy thud followed—Yuka slamming her fist onto a desk.

  "Does judging me make you feel powerful, Mochizuki? You’re just a coward. You’ll never admit you want him. You just sabotage me from the shadows, using your family’s money to play God. You think you’re so high and mighty, but you’re just a rat scurrying in the dark!"

  "I TOLD YOU, IT’S NOT ABOUT LOVE!" Haruka’s voice was like a cornered wolf’s. "I need him because he’s useful! And if you don't stay away from him, I’ll make sure your mother’s company goes under by the end of the week."

  Then came the sound of Yuka’s footsteps—fast and deliberate. SLAP.

  She’d returned the favor from the archive room.

  Jun pushed the door open. The two girls, practically vibrating with rage, spun to look at him.

  There was no mark on Haruka’s face; her left forearm was bright red. She’d blocked the strike. Jun noted the detail with clinical detachment.

  Haruka went pale when she saw him. Her lips trembled for a second before she forced her "Ice Queen" mask back on. She didn't say a word.

  "Jun? What are you doing here?" Yuka asked. Her eyes were wide, her confidence shattered. She couldn't meet his gaze.

  "I was looking for you, Tomatsu. We have things to discuss." Jun’s tone was perfectly normal, which seemed to terrify them both more than a shout would have.

  "I’ve never seen the two of you talk," he said, turning toward Haruka. "I didn't realize you were on such intimate terms."

  He sighed. "I appreciate the concern, Mochizuki, but Tomatsu and I will handle our own business. We’re all classmates; there’s no need for this kind of... hostility."

  Jun paused, his eyes locking onto Haruka’s. "I am grateful for everything—your family’s support of the orphanage, and your help with my suspension. I haven't forgotten. You don't need to 'manage' my life from the shadows to get me to help you. I’m a man of my word. If you need me, I’ll be there."

  "K," Haruka whispered, a single syllable that sounded like a cracked glass.

  Jun turned to leave, and Yuka followed him like a shadow. As she passed Haruka, her lips moved in a silent sneer.

  "The Bystander."

  Haruka stood in the empty classroom, watching them disappear down the hallway.

  "She says she doesn't like him," she whispered to the empty room. "Then why does my chest feel like it's being ripped open?"

  "I guess loving him hurts... but not loving him hurts even more."