After a heated back-and-forth, Hiratsuka Shizuka finally rembered the real reason she had called in the first place.
"Kisaki and Mihashi are already attacking the Yamazakura base. I don't know what you wanted them to do, but surely you don't want to see how this ends, right? If tomorrow morning during roll call they don't show up, as their teacher I'll be in serious trouble!"
She deliberately held back—she didn't criticize Hojou's actions, nor did she try to give him instructions.
She just stated the facts.
Because she knew very well: even though he was technically her student, his influence in the world had already far surpassed her own.
On the other end, silence.
For a mont it felt so quiet Shizuka swore she could hear the moon moving across the night sky.
In reality, it was just her own breath mixed with Hojou's steady breathing.
"…Understood. I'll take care of it. Thank you for worrying, Hiratsuka-sensei."
At last—finally!—the most comforting words she had heard all night.
Sitting on her bed, Shizuka unconsciously crossed her long legs, striking a posture she often used in the teacher's office when counseling students—elegant, warm, and reassuring.
"Hojou, don't carry everything on your own—"
"Thanks for tonight, sensei. Consider it repaynt for the ti you puked all over when I walked you ho. We're square now. 3Q."
"I didn't puke all over you—!"
But before she could finish, the call ended with a flat beep.
Her fingers curled into tight fists as she slamd them into the mattress.
That damn brat! So utterly un-cute! Why on earth do so many people like him?!
Her once-elegant crossed legs thudded angrily against the floor.
She suddenly realized—this pose belonged to a woman in a skirt.
But she never wore skirts. She wore slacks.
Yes. The real her was the type to sit with legs crossed, cigarette in one hand, beer in the other.
She made up her mind.
Tomorrow, she'd drag that brat to the office smoking area for a "heart-to-heart."
She could already picture him bowing at a perfect ninety degrees while she enjoyed her cigarette in triumph.
Surely, in that mont, even nicotine would feel healthy.
Still, she couldn't just sit idle.
Shizuka contacted a trusted old family retainer—basically her clan's business manager—and asked him to drive her to the Yamazakura headquarters.
If Hojou couldn't handle it, she'd step in and clean up the ss herself.
And even if he did settle things, soone would need to smooth things over with the Yamazakura group afterward.
She knew Hojou was strong—he had even won the Thirty-Man Dare-to-Fight Award back in middle school at the national tournant—but yakuza weren't like normal delinquents.
They weren't feared just for their brutality, but for their filthiness.
Against people like that, fists alone ant nothing. What mattered was power.
They only bowed to overwhelming force—or to sothing even darker than themselves.
Dressed and ready, Shizuka waited downstairs for her ride.
In the anti, she kept an eye on Hanabana Tarou's live-text updates in the group chat.
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[Hanabana Tarou]: "Whoa, more people just arrived! A jet-black luxury car. Definitely a big shot!"
————————————————————————
"Must be Yamazakura reinforcents. Delinquents all ride motorcycles."
"What are you talking about? Motorcycles can be way more expensive than cars. Hojou's bike costs as much as a mid-range sedan!"
"Exactly! Since even Hojou rides a bike, anyone showing up in a car has gotta be yakuza."
"But just one car? That's too few for reinforcents… could it be their secret weapon?"
————————————————————————
Shizuka stared at the chat, utterly speechless.
These people—ever since learning that the ones surrounding Yamazakura were the infamous Angels of Anarchy—had done nothing but sing their praises.
So were even using honorifics when ntioning Hojou Kyousuke.
Honorifics! These were the sa kids who never spoke of their own parents with half as much respect.
A bunch of cowards.
Just a short while ago, when Hanabana said it was delinquents versus yakuza, they were all wishing for both sides to destroy each other.
Now? They'd completely flipped, fawning like sycophants.
Unlike them, Shizuka knew the truth.
There was no way Yamazakura reinforcents would show up.
Any allies they had would co from the Higashikawa Syndicate, and none of those would dare move after she, the clan's daughter, had given orders.
Which left only one possibility…
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[Hanabana Tarou]: "All the Angels have stopped fighting. They're lining up at the car, bowing at ninety degrees.
Whoa! It's like a movie scene. No wonder they're idols—completely different from other gangs."
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"Too cool! I thought the photos and videos online were touched up, but he's even more gorgeous in real life. Unreal!"
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[Hanabana Tarou]: "He's out, he's out—It's Hojou Kyousuke!"
————————————————————————
Hanabana's texts poured in rapid-fire, brimming with excitent.
Just minutes ago, he'd been whining about noise pollution and threatening to call the cops.
Now he sounded ready to sprint over and beg for an autograph.
And if Hanabana was over the top, the others in the chat were even worse, showing her firsthand just how insanely popular Hojou Kyousuke was among students.
————————————————————————
"Photos! Hurry, Hanabana! If you die, I'll send a massive condolence gift, I swear!"
"What's Hojou wearing? A sky-blue kimono with cherry blossoms? Or maybe deep indigo—just imagining it gives chills! How tall are his wooden clogs? What's his hairstyle like?"
"Idiot, of course it's a suit. That body was made for suits. They were invented for him!"
"Hurry and take the damn photo! Hojou would never get mad at you for it. He's the sweetest guy alive! Trust !"
"Yeah right. I saw soone get their phone smashed by the Angels for trying to sneak photos."
"Forget it—just drop the address! I'll rush over no matter where it is!"
"Didn't Hanabana tell once he lived in Katsushika?"
————————————————————————
'Goddess! Why would you post that?!' Hanabana nearly dropped his phone.
'I only told you I lived in Katsushika to show off I'm from Tokyo, not so you could dox here!
————————————————————————
"Katsushika, huh? With that cherry blossom tree in the photo, we can probably pinpoint the exact spot on satellite maps."
"Yeah, shouldn't take long."
"Wait for , Hojou-sensei—I'm coming!"
"This is heaven… seeing him as a bestselling author during signings, and then as a delinquent king at night. Forbidden pleasure much?"
"I'm in!"
" 1."
————————————————————————
This… this was insane.
Staring at the group chat, where everyone raved like cult fanatics, Hiratsuka Shizuka swallowed hard, her throat dry.
She normally had no interest in chasing trends.
But right now, all she felt was that these goofy online friends she'd t through gaming suddenly seed like complete strangers.
What really floored her was Hanabana Tarou's reaction—especially when his so-called goddess suddenly declared in the chat:
————————————————————————
"I live in Taitō Ward, really close to Katsushika! If soone pinpoints the location, I'll rush there imdiately!
I didn't get Hojou-sensei's signature at the last signing event even though I stayed late. This ti I'll make sure to get one—it'll be one of a kind! Lucky!"
————————————————————————
So her goddess lived in Taitō Ward all along…
But hadn't she told him before, when he invited her to an offline etup, that she lived far away from Tokyo and couldn't make it?
And it wasn't just her.
The chat suddenly exploded, with way more people talking than ever before.
Hanabana couldn't tell if they'd just been lurking this whole ti, or if their friends had literally called them awake for this.
Among the new voices were girls who, during offline etups, shone brighter than celebrities—far more dazzling than Hanabana's "goddess."
These were the kinds of players who always got the latest in-ga characters first.
Terms like "lucky" or "unlucky" draws didn't apply to them; wealthy fans always lined up to shower them with attention.
And then there were the true elites—like the group's leader, a genuine ojou-sama.
Not only was she as beautiful as a CG character, but she always covered everyone's expenses at etups without a second thought.
She was practically a god-tier existence.
The only reason this chat group was overflowing with rich players and gorgeous girls was thanks to her.
So people flocked to bask in her presence; others just wanted free food and drinks.
Either way, they all gathered because of her.
And now, to Hanabana's utter disbelief, he actually received a private ssage request from that very person.
When the pop-up appeared, he thought he was hallucinating.
He rubbed his eyes over and over, but the glowing ID was still there: "Hino Kiyoko."
His hands trembling, he clicked "accept."
"Good evening, Hanabana Tarou-san."
'San!? Hino-senpai just called san!'
Hanabana felt as if pure happiness had smashed into his head, leaving him dizzy.
He wanted to reply "Good evening" too, but his shaking fingers refused to obey.
The only ti he'd ever spoken to her before was at his very first offline etup, during introductions.
He hadn't even dared look directly at the dazzling girl in the center seat—he'd only bowed his head and mumbled his na. B
ut in his heart, he told himself: This introduction is for Hino-senpai to hear.
When he sat down afterward, and heard her clear, cheerful applause, it was the first ti he'd ever thought:
I'm so glad I'm just so nerd who plays gas. Because otherwise, how would he have ever had a chance to let soone like her hear his na?
"Could you tell where Hojou-sensei showed up? I know this is a shaless request, but I can't suppress the urge to see him. I'll make sure to repay your kindness."
Hanabana stared at the elegant words floating in their chat window, but what he really saw was a girl whose body was here, yet whose heart had already flown far away.
Maybe it was arrogant to think so—but he almost saw himself in her.
Because he too had once nervously fired off a ssage to his goddess, hoping against hope to catch her attention, waiting with bated breath for a reply.
Turning to the window, he pushed his head out past the sill, peeking through with his thick, bottle-bottom glasses.
He wanted to see just what kind of man Hojou Kyousuke really was—soone so magnetic that even a godlike figure such as Hino-senpai would stoop to ask a nobody like him for help.
Flip-flops. Board shorts. Oversized T-shirt.
Honestly? His style was almost identical to Hanabana's own.
You couldn't call it "similar"—it was as if they'd shared the sa lazy stylist.
But then—just in a blink—Hojou, who'd been standing casually at the Yamazakura clan's gate, suddenly appeared atop the gate itself.
His loose blue T-shirt rippled in the night breeze, and under the moonlight, his black hair seed tinged with strokes of indigo ink.
He looked so handso it was almost otherworldly.
And then he smiled down at the stunned yakuza below, speaking in a voice like a spring breeze:
"Pardon , Doma leader. I don't have the habit of talking to people through doors.
Besides… it must be tiring for you, always peeking at through the crack, right?"
His voice wasn't loud, but sohow every syllable drifted crystal clear into Hanabana's ears.
It was like hearing cold wind across an icy plain—pure, sharp, and strangely refreshing.
But wait—just because he "doesn't talk through doors," he decides to jump onto soone's gate?
Because he thought it must be "tiring" for them to peek through the crack, he graciously climbed up so they'd have to crane their necks in terror to see him?
If ho invaders started using logic like this, they'd have a brand new excuse for breaking in!
Still, snark aside, Hanabana's blood was racing.
Too badass. Too cool.
If he had the vocabulary, he'd have shouted, "Behold! This is how a man should be!" But since he didn't, one raw word was enough: "Sick!"
It wasn't just that he was strong or stylish—Hojou had this indescribable aura about him.
Hanabana even thought… maybe getting beaten up by soone like that would be an honor.
If Hojou robbed him, everyone would be jealous.
Maybe even his goddess would finally notice him.
The thought made Hanabana's face glow with a giddy smile, his body itching to act.
Hadn't soone said in chat earlier that Hojou had a really good personality? That he never got mad?
Just like now—even though standing on the clan's gate was insanely rude—that wasn't his fault.
The Yamazakura thugs were the rude ones for not opening the door!
If they'd politely let him in, Hojou wouldn't have had to climb up there. And gates that tall… it must be freezing up there.
And despite the clan's disrespect, Hojo was still smiling as he spoke to them. And every word sounded so refined.
Seriously, yakuza are yakuza—no manners at all.
The more Hanabana thought about it, the more indignant he felt. What a disgrace to Katsushika, having such a gang in the area!
There was only one solution: the clan needed to grovel in apology imdiately. Whatever Hojou wanted, they should give it without hesitation.
And then Hanabana could step in, proudly offer up his wallet, and declare himself robbed by Hojou.
Others might only own his signed novels, but he would have sothing greater: the honor of being mugged by him.
Now that… that was the ultimate character stat boost.
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