Chapter 18

Chapter 18: I Like It

The lawn was dotted with students relaxing under the cherry blossoms, clustered in small groups like tiny ant colonies.  

Spreading out a blanket and laying out beautifully prepared bento boxes, assorted snacks, and desserts—it felt almost like an autumn picnic.  

The bodyguard, Kazuichi Akiyama, efficiently laid out a soft, reddish-brown cashmere blanket and arranged the luxurious lunch prepared by the master chef.  

Then, he opened a large parasol nearby, instantly creating a comfortable shaded area in the middle of the open grass.  

Amami Saori and Shimizu Sakuya sat side by side.  

Saori neatly arranged her bento box, drinks, and the snacks she had brought onto the blanket.  

Ayase Aoi and Fujiwara Yuki, though no longer bickering like elementary schoolers, had now entered a strange tug-of-war.  

Their current dynamic was… peculiar.  

It seemed they were both vying for the seat directly across from Saori.  

Ayase Aoi, watching Yuki casually take her seat and pull out her chopsticks, frowned slightly when she noticed Sakuya sitting directly opposite her.  

Standing with her arms crossed, she glared at the black-haired crow.  

“Move. This is my spot.”  

Kazuichi held the parasol over Ayase Aoi, her sharp red eyes glinting with icy pressure under the shade.  

“I’ll sit here for now. You can have it next time,” Yuki replied cheerfully, already unwrapping her chopsticks as if ready to start eating.  

“Do you want to fight again?”  

“Ah~” Yuki gasped in mock fear, covering her mouth before perfectly mimicking Ayase Aoi’s tone when ordering her bodyguard around.

“What, are you going to say, ‘Kazuichi~ throw this person out for me’ or something like that?”  

Ayase Aoi was about to engage in another three hundred rounds with this infuriating fox, but the two across the blanket had already begun their picnic without a care.  

“This is a bit spicy. Sakuya, you can’t handle spice, right?”  

“It’s fine. I’m not that weak.”  

“It’s gone cold already. Next time, come to my place—I’ll make it fresh for you.”  

“Ah~ Try the miso soup I made. How is it?”  

“A little salty, but good.”  

“I see. I’ll use less salt next time. I’ll make it to your taste every day from now on.”  

Sakuya casually picked up a bottle of orange juice, only for Saori to snatch it right out of her hand.  

“Let me open it for you.”  

Ayase Aoi’s attention was now completely captured by their little interactions.  

An unpleasant feeling.  

What is this, a teenage rom-com? Why are they so clingy?  

Can’t these two just tone it down?  

The golden-haired mutt was annoying enough on her own, but now she’s getting even more annoying with her friend glued to her.  

What even is this emotion? I don’t get it.  

I know I don’t like her.  

But there’s also this strange expectation—wanting her to acknowledge that I’m not alone.  

And why… Why is she considering my feelings, when I was the one who bullied her first, telling her to stay away?  

An indescribable emotion, like a drop of thick ink staining a carefully written diary page, tainting every recorded emotion with murky gray-black swirls that spread endlessly.  

It’s inexplicably bothering me. I can’t ignore it. Even if I lie to myself, I can’t calm down.  

“Aoi’s always like this—can never really be harsh to girls. So tsundere~ So adorable~”  

Yuki, still beside her, teased Ayase Aoi while twirling a lock of hair around her finger, her playful tone like a relentless barrage.  

Ayase Aoi closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself.  

I should’ve never invited Fujiwara Yuki to lunch. This is just me shooting myself in the foot.  

Absolutely idiotic.  

When she opened her eyes again, the faint irritation in her crimson gaze had cooled into clarity.  

She crouched down, speared a piece of tuna sashimi with her fork, and—with lightning speed—shoved it into Yuki’s endlessly chattering mouth.  

“Shut up. Eat It.”  

Yuki’s lips were abruptly sealed, but her amused expression didn’t waver. She covered her mouth gracefully, chewing like a satisfied hamster before praising.

“Aoi, this is delicious.”  

“Hn.” Ayase Aoi responded indifferently, no longer in the mood to engage. She picked up her chopsticks and began eating.  

When it came to anything related to Sakuya, Saori always acted like a fiercely devoted butler, striving for perfection in every little thing.  

Saori had always been clingy, and Sakuya was used to it.  

But it seemed Saori’s behavior was rubbing Ayase Aoi the wrong way.  

Right now, Ayase Aoi sat primarily on the opposite side of the blanket, legs neatly folded, holding an exquisite glazed ceramic bowl in one hand and chopsticks in the other.  

She had scanned the master chef’s dishes but hadn’t touched any of them.  

Just as she was about to reach for a grilled octopus sausage, she noticed Sakuya watching her.  

Ayase Aoi stiffly withdrew her chopsticks, reluctantly picking up a piece of grilled eel instead.  

That hesitant, evasive look—it reminded Sakuya of the old Ayase Aoi.  

The one who pretended to be a drenched, love-starved puppy, waiting for her owner’s affection.  

But Sakuya couldn’t help it—she was weak to this act. A deep-seated maternal instinct urged her to pamper this pitiful little dog.  

So, under Ayase Aoi’s slightly puzzled gaze, Sakuya picked up the octopus sausage and placed it in her bowl.  

“Ayase, Saori’s octopus sausages are really good. Want to try one?”  

Her tone was gentle, her smile flawless—a full-score response that gave Ayase Aoi all the respect she could want.  

Surely she won’t still be tsundere now?  

But the yakuza princess’s pride exceeded Sakuya’s expectations.  

Though Ayase Aoi’s eyes flickered with surprise, she still replied in that haughty tone. 

“Fine. I’ll try a bite, then.”  

Saori tugged at Sakuya’s sleeve, pouting.  

“Sakuya, why didn’t you give me one? Aren’t we best friends anymore?”  

“Saori, I’ll give you one.”  

Yuki swiftly picked up a piece and dropped it into Saori’s bowl.  

Sakuya pinched Saori’s arm lightly, signaling her to quiet down, then carefully observed Ayase Aoi’s expression.  

Covering her mouth, Ayase Aoi chewed the octopus sausage, her long lashes fluttering like delicate butterfly wings.  

“…Hn. Not bad. A little better than what we have at home.”  

Her gaze shifted to the lavish spread on the blanket, as if too embarrassed to meet anyone’s eyes.  

Her words were still sharp, but the edges of her expression had softened.  

Sakuya understood what Ayase Aoi really meant—  

I like it.