Chapter 22: The Shadow, The Trash Panda, and the Matcha Trap
(Miki Yamamura POV)
Rule Number One of covert reconnaissance: A true shadow does not exist.
Rule Number Two: Do not, under any circumstances, make direct eye contact with the target.
Rule Number Three: Pray to whatever divine entity is listening that the target does not turn around.
I was currently violating every single principle of espionage known to humankind, and I was doing it from behind a ceramic potted ficus tree near the pool deck.
The summer heat was a physical weight pressing down on the back of my neck. Sweat was trickling down my spine, gluing my white school shirt to my skin. But I couldn't move. I couldn't even allow myself to breathe at a normal volume. My hand was trembling slightly as my fingers gripped my tiny, leather-bound notebook and a micro-mechanical pencil, recording every single millisecond of the madness unfolding before me.
Entry #142: Target (Sunny) has been submerged beneath four feet of chlorinated pool water for precisely six minutes and twenty-two seconds.
Entry #143: Target is still wearing a full, multi-layered Victorian pirate ensemble, complete with leather tricorn hat and boots.
Entry #144: Target is... somehow breathing? Or perhaps oxygen is merely an optional social construct for him.
It was horrifying. It was unnatural. It was something straight out of the morning cartoons I used to watch when I was eight years old. Normal human lungs did not function like this! Normal human biology dictated that a person wearing thirty pounds of wet leather would sink to the bottom and require immediate emergency resuscitation!
Yet there he was, sitting peacefully at the bottom of the deep end, blowing bubbles that formed perfect little aquatic heart shapes before floating to the surface.
Sakayanagi-san was right, I thought frantically, my mind spinning into a dark, swirling vortex of panic. He really isn't human. He's an anomaly. A silver-haired, unpredictable, reality-bending lunatic. How am I supposed to gather actionable intelligence on a boy who defies the laws of thermodynamics?! If Sakayanagi-san finds out my notes are just descriptions of cartoon antics, she's going to realize how utterly incompetent I am! She'll look at me with those cold, disappointed eyes and say, 'Yamamura-san, your presence is no longer required.' AND THEN WHAT?! I'LL BE ISOLATED! I'LL HAVE TO EAT LUNCH IN THE THIRD-FLOOR BROOM CLOSET FOR THE REST OF MY HIGH SCHOOL LIFE!
I squeezed my eyes shut, taking a shaky, silent breath through my nose to suppress the sheer terror threatening to break my heart out of my ribs.
I had to stay quiet. I had to remain invisible. The moment I spoke up, the moment I raised my voice, the delicate veil of my existence would shatter, and everyone would notice the weird, creepy girl hiding behind the foliage.
After the female swimming trials finally concluded and class was dismissed, the students dispersed into their respective social cliques. I maintained a distance of exactly fourteen meters, blending into the shadows of the walkway as Sunny and Horikita-san exited the main facility.
They walked toward the secluded alleyway near the eastern annex—a quiet, low-traffic zone shaded by the overhang of the gymnasium.
I ducked behind a tall, blue vending machine, pressing my back against the warm metal casing. My blazer was already stuffed into my bag; wearing it in this sweltering April heat would have resulted in immediate heatstroke. My thin white uniform shirt was practically transparent with light perspiration, but I didn't care about the discomfort. I pulled my tiny notebook up to my chest, my pencil poised over the paper like a weapon.
Listen carefully, Miki, I commanded myself, my heart hammering against my sternum like a trapped bird. Filter out the cicadas. Filter out the distant hum of the AC units. Focus on their voices.
-and if we structure it properly, the e-sports club will become a primary revenue generator," Horikita is saying, her voice crisp, cold, and entirely immune to the weather. She is holding a clipboard, tapping a pen against the metal clip. "I am already making a list of prospective members we can recruit or, if necessary, financially coerce. You are joining, obviously.
"Obviously," Sunny replies. He's standing with his hands behind his head, looking up at the sky like he's bored. "I need a place to use my mechanical keyboard without you threatening to snap it in half, Suzu."
E-sports club. I write furiously, my handwriting turning into a jagged, panicked scrawl. Horikita Suzune is planning a hostile takeover of the gaming sector. Sunny is her primary asset. Financial coercion mentioned.
Horikita nods, looking at her watch. "I need to drop these forms off at the student council room. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. Or, if you do, make sure it isn't legally traceable to me."
"You wound me, Empress. Have a safe trip," Sunny waves lazily.
Footsteps.
I held my breath, waiting for Horikita-san's footsteps to fade back toward the main building. Once her presence vanished, I carefully peeked around the left edge of the vending machine to re-establish eyes on the target.
He wasn't there.
I blinked. I rubbed my eyes. I looked at the pavement. I looked at the wall. I looked up at the sky.
Empty.
WHAT?! WHERE DID HE GO?! My brain instantly went into hard error-reset mode. HE WAS JUST THERE! HE WAS STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO THE TRASH CAN! DID HE TELEPORT?! DID HE MERGE WITH THE ATOMS IN THE AIR?! HE BECAME VENICE AGAIN! NO, WAIT, NOT VENICE, VANISHED! MY BRAIN IS SCRAMBLING WORDS! HOW DOES HE KEEP DOING THIS?! IS HE A PHANTOM?! A NINETEENTH-CENTURY GHOST WHO HAUNTS THE SCHOOL GROUNDS?!
I frantically turned my head left and right, my breathing becoming shallow and erratic. I had lost him! I lost the target! Sakayanagi-san was going to execute me! She was going to write my name in a black book and—
"You look so tired, and I have a favourite tea for you."
A voice—lazy, smooth, and terrifyingly close—sounded precisely two inches from my right earlobe.
I didn't even have time to scream. My entire nervous system paralyzed itself instantly. I stiffened into a literal statue, my arms locking at a ninety-degree angle against my chest.
Slowly, without my permission, my eyes drifted downward.
A pale, slender hand was extending a condensation-covered, ice-cold can of matcha green tea right into my field of vision. The drops of water trickled down the green metal surface, evaporating the ambient heat around my face.
Before my brain could even process the fact that I had been ambushed, the voice spoke again, completely casual, completely unbothered by the laws of basic human decency:
"And I can see your boobs through your shirt. Cool B-cup you got there—if I reckon, around 74 to 76."
...
...
...WHAT?!
A nuclear warhead exploded inside my chest.
My body went into total, absolute lockup. My face didn't just turn red; it ignited into a shade of violent, radioactive crimson that radiated physical heat into the surrounding air. My internal monologue wasn't just spiraling—it was screaming at a frequency that could shatter glass.
HOW DID HE SAY THAT SO CASUALLY?! HOW DID HE CALCULATE MY BUST SIZE WITH SCIENTIFIC PRECISION FROM A SIDE GLANCE?! IS HE AN ACCOUNTANT?! AN ERUSIA MILITARY RADAR?! IS MY SHIRT THAT TRANSPARENT?! OH NO! THE SWEAT! THE LIGHTING! MY PRIVACY IS GONE! MY DIGNITY HAS BEEN SHREDDED INTO ATOMIC DUST!
I slowly turned my head.
He was standing right there, leaning his hip against the side of the vending machine, looking down at me with a lazy, lopsided smirk and a pair of eyes so bright blue they almost hurt to look at.
"What's up, little raccoon?" Sunny chirped.
CRISIS LEVEL: MAXIMUM! CODE RED! CODE RED!
Little raccoon?! my mind shrieked, going into full meltdown mode. WHY LITTLE RACCOON?! I AM A FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLD HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT! I DO NOT RUMMAGE THROUGH MUNICIPAL TRASH CANS! HOW DID HE GET BEHIND ME?! HOW DID HE KNOW I WAS HIDING HERE?! HOW DID HE KNOW I PREFER MATCHA TEA OVER REGULAR GREEN TEA?! HAS HE BEEN SPYING ON MY SPYING?! IS HE A TELEPATH?! DID SAKAYANAGI-SAN LEAK MY DOSSIER TO HIM FOR FUN?!
Before I could even attempt to form a word with my vocal cords, Sunny reached out his hand.
Soft, warm fingers gently rested on the crown of my head, patting my dark hair with a slow, rhythmic motion.
I SHOULD BE ANGRY! my inner voice roared, flailing its arms in despair. I AM A COVERT OPERATIVE FOR CLASS A! I AM SAKAYANAGI-SAN'S SILENT SHADOW! I SHOULD SLAP HIS HAND AWAY AND DEMAND AN APOLOGY! I SHOULD ASSERT MY DIGNITY!
...Except... the head pats were surprisingly gentle. The rhythmic pressure was somehow... incredibly soothing. My soaring heart rate began to drop. The sheer panic in my chest began to dissolve into a weird, comfortable warmth.
NO, MIKI! RESIST THE PATS! DO NOT SUCCUMB TO THE SILVER-HAIRED DEMON'S CALMING TECHNIQUE! YOU MUST DECEIVE HIM! YOU MUST MAKE HIM THINK YOU ARE JUST AN INNOCENT BYSTANDER AND NOT A SPY!
I squeezed my eyes half-shut, forcing my tiny, squeaky voice to break through the paralysis holding my throat hostage.
"W-Why..." I stammered, the words coming out as a fragile, pathetic whisper, "why did you call me... Little Raccoon...?"
Sunny chuckled, his hand lingering on my head for one last gentle pat before dropping to his side. "Your sad look and posture look like a raccoon trying to dig up some treasure from my trash can, and you just need a little mask to cover your eyes; it would be perfect."
MY POSTURE IS NOT THAT OF A TRASH PANDA! I screamed internally, though outwardly I just shrank an inch lower into my posture.
"H-How..." I stuttered, my trembling fingers clutching the notebook so hard the leather groaned, "how did you... see me...?"
Sunny leaned down slightly, bringing his face closer to mine. The goofy grin on his lips widened. "How cute you look; how can I not see you?"
SYSTEM FAILURE. REBOOTING.
My brain completely fried. The embarrassment overwhelmed every logical defense mechanism I possessed.
"H-Hentai..." I squeaked out, the word barely louder than a breeze passing through dry leaves.
Sunny instantly clutched his left chest with both hands, stumbling backward half a step as if he had just been struck by an anti-tank missile. His face contorted into a mask of pure, melodramatic heartbreak.
"You are so right!" he declared, his voice echoing with absurd pride. "I am your local pervert!"
WHY IS HE ACCEPTING IT LIKE A BADGE OF HONOR?! I wailed inside my head. WHY IS HE PROUD OF IT?!
"Besides," Sunny added casually, pointing a finger at my torso, "I can still see your boobs."
I gasped! In my panic, I had forgotten to cover myself! I instantly slammed my arms and my notebook across my chest, ducking my head down so low my chin practically touched my collarbone.
"H-Hentai!" I squeaked again, redder than a ripe strawberry.
Sunny just laughed—a bright, genuine sound that bounced off the brick walls of the alleyway. "Anyway, why don't we go to the cover of the AC in that Cafe over there? It's my treat."
A cafe?
My mind went completely blank again.
A boy... a boy is inviting me to a cafe?! A REAL BOY?! IS THIS A DATE?! NO, IT'S A HOSTAGE TAKING! IT'S AN INTERROGATION TECHNIQUE! BUT I FAILED MY MISSION! I WAS SPOTTED! SAKAYANAGI-SAN IS NEVER GOING TO NEED ME AGAIN! I'M USELESS! I'M A FAILURE OF A SHADOW!
My mouth moved before my brain could stop it. With a pitiful, hesitant stutter, the word slipped out:
"Y-Yes..."
The air-conditioned interior of the cafe felt like an oasis in the middle of a desert. The cool air washed over my overheated skin, instantly drying the light sweat on my neck.
Sunny walked up to the counter and placed the order without even asking me what I wanted. A few minutes later, he returned to our small corner booth, carrying a wooden tray.
He placed a small Matcha Latte (hot, extra milk) paired with a single, delicate slice of Strawberry Shortcake in front of me. For himself, he had ordered a Jumbo Mini Cinnamon Roll that looked large enough to double as a spare tire.
I stared down at the matcha latte.
Hot. Extra milk.
That was my exact, highly specific favorite drink. I hadn't said a single word about my preferences. I hadn't even opened my mouth since we entered the building!
HOW DOES HE KNOW?! my mind screamed in terror. DOES HE HAVE ACCESS TO MY INTERNAL THOUGHTS?! IS HE A GOVERNMENT EXPERIMENT?!
While I sat there, paralyzed by suspicion, Sunny pulled a plastic fork out of his napkin and took a bite of his cinnamon roll. For a moment, he wasn't talking. He wasn't pulling a ridiculous face or shouting Gojo quotes.
I stole a quiet, covert glance at his face.
Without his goofy smile, there was something... strange about him. A weird, terrifying wiseness to his deep blue eyes. It was a look that felt completely detached from a normal teenager—an intensity that seemed to perceive the world in three different dimensions at once.
I... I need to note this down in my notebook later, I decided internally, taking a mental snapshot of his eyes. 'Target possesses an eerie, unnatural gaze when dormant.'
I picked up my tiny dessert fork and took a microscopic bite of the strawberry shortcake, letting the cream melt on my tongue before taking a tiny sip of the warm matcha.
Sunny leaned his chin on his palm, watching me with a soft, amused expression.
"You're eating like a little raccoon, so cute," he commented lightly. "And when you're eating your cake with a small bite, it looks like your presence is gone from the world 10% again and again, like a game."
My hand froze mid-air. The tiny fork hovered an inch from my lips.
Presence gone 10% again and again... like a game...?
Before I could digest the sheer absurdity of his observation, Sunny tilted his head and let out a soft sigh.
"You know," he said, his voice dropping into a gentle, surprisingly understanding tone, "Arisu isn't going to fire you for this."
The world stopped spinning.
The cafe music faded into white noise. The cold air from the AC felt icy against my skin. Tears instantly welling in the corners of my eyes.
He knows.
He knew the entire time.
He knew I was Sakayanagi-san's spy.
It's over. My career is over. I'm going to be discarded. Sakayanagi-san is going to replace me with a real operative, and I'll be forced to transfer back to a normal school where everyone ignores me—
"Hey, don't look like you're about to vanish into thin air," Sunny said softly, reaching across the table and lightly tapping the tip of my nose with his index finger. "Arisu is smart. She's going to understand that she's fighting an anomaly. She knows you're far too useful to her to ever fire you over a silver-haired menace like me."
I blinked. The tears frozen in my eyelashes.
Useful... to her...?
He... he thinks I'm useful...?
A intense, burning blush crept up from my chest, flooding my neck and face with a heat that had nothing to do with the summer weather outside. My heart, which had been beating out of sheer terror seconds ago, was now doing a weird, fluttering dance inside my ribs.
I stared down at my plate, unable to meet his eyes.
"T-Thank you..." I squeaked out, my voice so soft it was almost entirely swallowed by the hum of the cafe's air conditioner. "F-For... the treat..."
Sunny just grinned—that bright, chaotic, totally unhinged smile returning to his face in full force. "Anytime, Little Raccoon. Now finish your cake before I steal the strawberry."
I quickly ate the rest of my slice in tiny, rapid bites, my face buried as deep into my collar as physically possible.
Ten minutes later, after thanking him once more with a hurried, clumsy bow, I scurried out of the cafe and made a beeline toward Class A's private quarters, clutching my tiny notebook against my chest.
I had a report to write for Sakayanagi-san. But for the first time since I arrived at this school... my hands weren't trembling out of fear.