"It's been a long time, Sawamura-san."
"Huh!?"
Eriri's eyes widened, stunned, mouth agape.
She stammered, her throat tightening—
And then turned tail and bolted.
"Ehh!? Eriri!"
Sayuri called after her daughter, her voice ringing through the plaza.
But Eriri didn't slow down. Didn't even look back.
She was in full flight mode.
Sayuri sighed, shaking her head.
"Sorry about that, Yukima-kun."
She lifted the hem of her kimono as if to give chase, her wooden geta clicking slightly.
But before she could take a step—
"Sayuri-obasan," Azuma raised his hand. "Running in a kimono's not ideal. I'll go after her."
Sayuri let the hem fall back in place, smiling pleasantly.
In truth, she'd been hoping for that response.
Had he hesitated, she was fully prepared to do her "trip and fall" act.
In geta sandals and a kimono, it would've been completely believable.
"Then, I leave Eriri to you, Yukima-kun."
Her tone was light, as if everything had unfolded exactly as planned.
Azuma nodded and broke into a run.
Sayuri watched him disappear into the crowd, resting her hand gently on her cheek, a soft smile curling her lips.
"Ara ara…"
Eriri ran with her head down, weaving through the crowd like a startled deer.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
Why did he have to say it like that?
Why that name?
She wasn't just "Sawamura-san."
Not to him. Not after everything.
She clenched her teeth, swallowing the lump rising in her throat.
Eriri Spencer Sawamura was a proud otaku.
Anime, 2D games, doujinshi—especially the R18 kind—she lived for them.
She'd spent all of spring break holed up in her room, barely seeing the sun.
Drawing, gaming, binge-watching shows—it was paradise.
But today was different.
There was an anime event being held in the Osaka shopping center.
She hadn't planned to attend—too small, too niche compared to the glory of Winter Comiket—but her mother had insisted.
"Come take a walk with me. It'll be fun."
Eriri grumbled, but gave in.
She owed her mother at least that much.
The event itself had been a letdown.
Mediocre merch, no standout artists, and barely any interesting panels.
She was already regretting leaving the house—until it happened.
In the middle of the plaza, she stopped cold.
Through the crowd, her eyes locked on a silhouette she knew by heart.
For a moment, it felt like a dream—beautiful and surreal.
Time stopped.
She stood frozen, breath caught in her throat.
Sayuri noticed her daughter's sudden halt and followed her gaze.
"Eriri?"
And then, that familiar figure turned around.
Azuma.
Her heart jumped.
All those nights she dreamed of seeing him again—
And now, fate had delivered him right in front of her.
'This is it. This is my chance. If I don't say something now, I'll regret it forever.'
She braced herself.
Only to have her dream crushed the moment he opened his mouth.
"It's been a long time, Sawamura-san."
Just one sentence.
One knife to the heart.
'What the hell!? Back then, no matter how many times I told him to call me Sawamura, he wouldn't! He just kept saying "Eriri! Eriri!" again and again!'
But now?
Now he used her last name, like she was just some stranger.
Tears welled up before she could stop them.
They rolled down silently, splashing onto the pavement like shards of glass.
The reunion she'd dreamed of…
Shattered.
And with that, she ran.
She ran as if the world itself were collapsing behind her.
In her panic, she didn't see the girl walking toward her.
BUMP!
Eriri stumbled back slightly, blinking in surprise.
"S-Sorry, sorry!"
Despite her turmoil, her manners kicked in automatically.
Even if she was a tsundere, she'd been raised as an Ojou-sama.
But apparently, that wasn't good enough.
"Oi, what the hell do you think you're doing? Are you blind or something, you idiot?"
The harsh voice snapped her out of her daze.
Two girls stood in front of her—both taller, both sneering.
Short skirts, jackets tied loosely at the waist, bright red-dyed hair.
The real kind of gyaru.
Not the cute, flirty gyaru from anime—
The kind that made normal people change sidewalks.
Eriri stiffened.
"I said I was sorry…"
"Tch. What's with that face? So damn annoying."
"Bakayarou! Did you hit your head or what?"
They were ganging up on her now.
Sensing weakness. Pressing in.
Eriri took a shaky breath.
'Crap, I need to get out of here…!'
"M-My boyfriend's nearby! He'll be here any second!"
She blurted it out, desperate.
She'd read online that acting confident—or mentioning a guy—could make delinquents back off.
The two gyaru paused.
They exchanged a glance.
Then, with a sour smirk, one extended a hand in front of Eriri.
"I was gonna let you off with a few bruises, but lucky you—I'm in a good mood today."
"So how about this: pay us a few thousand yen, and we'll forget it ever happened."
Eriri froze.
Shaking.
Cornered.
Alone.
And just as her hand started to reach into her bag—
A cold voice cut through the noise like a blade.
"You're bothering someone important to me. Should I repeat that in a language you understand?"