He felt like a total scumbag.
Natsukawa Kanade suddenly realized something unsettling.
When he agreed to everything earlier, it hadn't seemed like a big deal. But now, in practice, it all felt rather unnatural.
This wasn't about his feelings toward the game itself. It was the idea of spending time with Kaguya Shinomiya, completing their challenge, earning their badges… and then immediately "ditching" her to rush off to meet Eriri.
If that didn't scream time management master, what did?
He couldn't even wait to see if others would misunderstand him during the next challenge—his own self-doubt had already set in. Wasn't his behavior just plain wrong?
Sure, his initial agreement had come from a place of friendship. He hadn't considered whether it might carry other implications. But looking back at the atmosphere they'd shared, it was clear it might not have been just a friendly invitation.
And Kaguya's attitude toward him? That alone was enough to raise questions.
After all, this was Kaguya Shinomiya—the aloof, unapproachable "Ice Queen."
Unlike Yukino Yukinoshita's surface-level "cool and untouchable" persona, Kaguya was genuinely difficult to approach. Yukino's demeanor was more a defense mechanism, a mask to protect herself. But Kaguya? Her imperial upbringing made her coldness real.
Yukino might dismiss someone as an idiot or decide whether they were worth interacting with. But Kaguya? She didn't care whether someone was smart or dumb—or even human. Her only measure was whether they could be used.
In fact, Kanade couldn't shake the feeling that Kaguya's utilitarian perspective had grown even more pronounced recently. Once, she would simply regard people with cold detachment. Lately, though, she seemed to look at even Chika Fujiwara—her childhood friend—as if Chika were a farm animal.
And weren't they supposed to be close friends, practically inseparable since elementary school?
Kanade couldn't make sense of it.
Perhaps Chika had annoyed Kaguya in some way. It wouldn't be surprising, given Chika's carefree, thoughtless behavior. Still, for all her quirks, Kaguya was undeniably indulgent toward her childhood friend.
But what about him?
Would someone as proud as Kaguya really tolerate "mandatory hand-holding" during the game just because it was part of the rules?
What's more, it hadn't just been hand-holding. There had been moments of even closer contact between them.
Yes, Kanade could chalk it up to the influence of Kaguya's alternate, clingy "childlike" persona. But even if her personality had shifted temporarily, her fundamental emotions toward others shouldn't have changed so drastically.
And it wasn't just the game. He'd noticed subtle hints in their day-to-day interactions, too.
At first, Kaguya's smile toward him had been the same fake, businesslike one she used on everyone. There were even moments when her gaze carried a chilling malice, a barely veiled warning. Yet, he hadn't minded—it was exactly what he expected from her.
But over time, his efforts had seemingly paid off. She began to smile at him genuinely, and their exchanges became less antagonistic.
Kanade had assumed this was because she had started to see him as a friend, raising him from "potentially useful" to "worthy of interaction." Perhaps even a friendship on par with her bond with Chika.
But looking back… was that really the case?
Would someone like Kaguya, with her personality, offer such warm and gentle smiles to a mere friend? Would she be okay with holding hands—or sharing even closer moments—with a male friend?
And lately, she'd even shown him sides of her personality that were playful, affectionate, or outright childish. True, some of those moments could be attributed to her alternate persona. But Kanade had caught glimpses of those same qualities during their ordinary interactions. Surely, not all of it was due to her alternate self.
It made him wonder… Could it be that she actually liked him?
If her feelings had grown strong enough, it would explain her willingness to be close to him and her acceptance of more intimate interactions. It would be like his relationship with Mahiru Shiina—while not romantic, their level of closeness was far beyond that of casual friends.
Of course, there was another possibility: Chika's influence.
As Kaguya's only close friend, Chika's personality had likely rubbed off on her over the years. Maybe Kaguya's playful, mischievous behavior toward him was just a reflection of Chika's tendencies.
Either way, this wasn't something he could figure out through guesswork alone. Only by asking Kaguya directly could he confirm whether she felt "more than friends, but not quite lovers" toward him—or if it was something else entirely.
But could he really ask her outright? Of course not.
It would make him seem like an egotistical fool—someone who arrogantly went up to girls asking, "Hey, do you like me?"
What kind of self-respecting guy would do that?
Even if there was a subtle difference between the scenarios, the core of it remained the same. Kaguya—or even Mahiru, his closest friend—would probably just respond with something like:
"Kanade, you're so full of yourself! You're a great guy, sure, but you're far from boyfriend material!"
Mahiru had already rejected him once, outright and angrily. He'd respected her decision and chosen to let go instead of clinging to false hope.
He had worried his presence might only bring her further discomfort.
But as it turned out, Mahiru still valued their friendship. While she didn't see him as a romantic partner, she genuinely cared about his feelings and even went out of her way to support him. Perhaps she felt some guilt over how things had turned out.
Kanade shook his head, dispelling the spiral of thoughts.
He shouldn't question Mahiru's sincerity—or let his overthinking interfere with their relationship. They were good friends, and that was what mattered most.
As for Kaguya…
It was pointless to dwell on it. Overanalyzing would only bring him more headaches.
Kanade sighed deeply, deciding to let it go.
Their current relationship was good enough. With so many close friends around him now, he no longer felt lonely. He believed that, as long as he called out to them, they would respond—and that thought alone gave him the strength to keep moving forward.