Seishun Buta Yarou Series - Volume 11 - Chapter 1.1

Not here
Not here
Not here I cried
Over and over and over again
Searching for anything good about me
Finding only things wrong about me
I’m right here
In a world I loathe
Hoping for love
From Touko Kirishima’s “Hilbert Space”
 

Chapter 1 - Heroism

1

Sakuta Azusagawa was meeting friends outside the gates of Katase-Enoshima Station.

It was the last Sunday in October, the thirtieth, and the time was just before noon.

The sky above was beautifully clear, the sunlight warm.

Perfect day for an outing.

The recently remodeled station elegantly welcomed throngs of tourists to the ocean’s depths. A striking arched gate, elaborate decorations, and tanks of jellyfish supplied by the new Enoshima Aquarium—these fixtures made it seem even more like the fabled Dragon Palace.

Next to Sakuta, Yuuma Kunimi was muttering, “This place sure has changed.” Sakuta thought Yuuma had changed far more dramatically.

Back from six months of firefighter training, Yuuma had noticeably bulked up. Even when he was fully dressed, it was clear how ripped those arms and chest were. He’d cut his hair short, and even his face in profile looked way more grown-up than the last time they’d met.

Was that what happened once you entered the workforce?

Firefighters save lives, and maybe that responsibility fostered a newfound maturity.

The time they’d been apart had made him positively virile.

“Kunimi,” Sakuta said, his tone the same as it had been in every one of their high school conversations.

“Mm?” Yuuma glanced his way.

“Do you like miniskirt Santas?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

He didn’t even sound curious. His eyes went right back to the station building.

“Then do you love them?”

“Absolutely.” Yuuma nodded for emphasis.

He might look like he’d grown up, but he was still willing to play along with the dumbest jokes.

“If an attractive miniskirt Santa came strolling along here, what would you do?”

“I’d do a double take.”

“Same.”

“Then stare real hard.”

“Mm-hmm.”

The banter came as naturally as breathing, and they both laughed—until a new voice interrupted.

“How long is this degeneracy gonna last?”

Sakuta and Yuuma both spun around.

The last to arrive—Rio Futaba, looking thoroughly disgusted.

She wore a loose-fitting basic tunic and slacks that stopped just above her ankles. On her feet were a pair of casual short boots, which must have had rather thick soles—she seemed taller than usual. Lately, she’d been wearing contacts, but today she was back to her glasses.

But why did she show up behind them instead of coming through the station gates?

Before Sakuta could ask, she shrugged. “I got here early, so I walked around a bit.”

“It’s been too long, Futaba.”

“Same, Kunimi.”

“Let’s catch up once we sit down. The shop’ll be packed by noon,” Sakuta said.

They headed toward the water.

“Sakuta, Futaba. You’ve both changed a lot since we last saw each other.”

Yuuma glanced from one to the other over his boiled whitebait bowl.

They were at a popular seafood restaurant by the tourism center a five-minute walk from Katase-Enoshima Station—if you caught a green light on Route 134, only two or three minutes. They’d arrived before noon but found it already teeming with customers.

A glance around suggested the crowd was mostly tourists here to see Enoshima. Many were grabbing a bite before they crossed the bridge or otherwise taking a break on the way back.

“How have I changed?” Sakuta asked. He didn’t think he had. The only obvious difference was that he’d graduated and was no longer in his Minegahara uniform.

“You’re the one who’s become a whole new person, Kunimi,” Rio said. She was sitting next to him, eating the staff special, a bowl of rice topped with namero—seasoned minced fish. This came covered in a large sheet of seaweed, which made it possible to roll your own sushi. You could then pour the soup over the leftovers, ochazuke-style. The dish offered different flavors and textures as the meal progressed, which made it a popular choice.

“How have I changed?” Yuuma asked, just as confused as Sakuta. Maybe humans aren’t conscious of their own transformations. You see yourself every day but never notice the little changes adding up.

“Your hair, your face, your build—they’re all different now,” Rio said.

“I guess?” Yuuma said, sounding like he understood what she meant but also didn’t.

“How’s the firefighter life treating you?”

Sakuta was aware that firefighters existed and had an idea where the local fire stations were, but he was surprisingly fuzzy on what their actual job entailed.

“We alternate twenty-four-hour shifts with off-duty days. Like, this week I started yesterday morning and was at the station until the same time this morning. Then the next squad came to relieve us, and now I’ve got the whole day off. Tomorrow morning I’ll be back at work, taking over for them.”

“And on the clock until the next morning?”

“Yep.”

That sounded pretty rough, but Yuuma didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. If he was struggling, it didn’t show.

“So you came straight here after working all night? Aren’t you tired?”

“We take turns napping! In uniform so we can roll out at a moment’s notice.”

“Huh. But I guess if you’re alternating like that, you get a good amount of time off.”

That’s what it seemed like to Sakuta, considering that half the time would be spent outside of work.

“But off duty doesn’t mean a day off,” Rio pointed out.

“Futaba’s right. If I get the call, I’ve gotta head straight in. And since I’ll be on a long shift again tomorrow, I’m supposed to rest up so I’m good and ready.”

“Resting is part of the job, then?”

You definitely wouldn’t want firefighters partying so hard they couldn’t do their jobs.

“Basically, yeah.”

It was a fairly unusual career, quite different from the relaxing college life.

“You’re all professional and shit.”

“That’s right—I’ve got a real job. Pays so good I can order a rice bowl and karaage.”

For emphasis, Yuuma grabbed a piece of chicken off the plate and tossed it in his mouth. He seemed to be savoring every bite. By high school income standards, that was the height of luxury. They would’ve never even considered meeting at a restaurant this pricey back then.

“Bourgeois scum,” Sakuta said, swiping some chicken for himself.

“You can have some, too, Futaba.”

“Just the one,” she said, showing far more restraint. She even went out of her way to pick the smallest piece. Was that because Yuuma had paid for it or because she didn’t want the calories? Probably both.

Rio glared at him, like she’d read his mind. He hadn’t said a word!

“How’s college, then?” Yuuma asked. “Blast and a half?”

This freed Sakuta from her glare.

“It’s all right. Most days nothing really happens.”

“I think you’re legally required to enjoy it, Azusagawa. Since Sakurajima’s there.”

“Nah, we have different majors. We really only see each other at lunch.”

And since Mai was famous nationwide, she was very busy and often not attending classes at all.

“Hmm, that makes sense. You any better?” Yuuma glanced at Rio.

“I’m…” She thought for a moment. “Doing all right.”

She used the same phrase Sakuta had gone with.

“I thought college was all about joining clubs and going wild at mixers!”

That was a pretty biased impression, but some people certainly were doing that. He knew students who were very focused on their social lives. They acted like a person’s value was determined by the number of mixers they’d been to and the number of phone numbers they’d amassed.

“Maybe other people, but not me.”

Sakuta hadn’t joined a club or gone to any of those mixer things.

“No one’s even invited me.”

“Your fault for dating the cutest girl in the world,” Rio said.

This was true. Everyone around knew Sakuta and Mai were a thing, so no one was about to invite them to singles parties.

“But how you faring, Futaba? Been to any?”

At the very least, she’d yet to mention anything like that.

“Of course not,” she said with a snort. At the same time, it sounded like she meant that in a self-deprecating way.

“It wouldn’t be the end of the world if you did, you know…”

Rio’s self-esteem was perpetually a little low. Sakuta had no doubt that if they ran a straw poll of the customers in this restaurant, a solid 80 percent would deem her attractive. Since starting college, she’d begun wearing natural makeup and bringing out her hidden charms. Rio insisted this was just his imagination.

“But you have been invited?” Yuuma said, swallowing the last of his whitebait. He hadn’t missed that there was more to her denial than first met the eye.

“Well, yes…,” she admitted. Reluctantly.

“First I’ve heard of it,” Sakuta said.

“Why would I tell you?”

“We’re friends?”

“I had a cram school shift that day.”

“And you used that as an excuse to get out of it.”

“……”

Sakuta deliberately spelled it out, which earned him another baleful glare. He turned to Yuuma for help but only got the sound of slurped soup. His friend was pretending not to notice his predicament.

Luckily, Sakuta was saved by the buzz of a vibrating phone.

“That yours, Futaba?” Yuuma asked, already checking his own.

Rio dug her phone out of her purse, and sure enough, she was getting a call.

She glanced at the display.

“Classmate.”

“Don’t mind us,” Yuuma said, gesturing for her to answer.

“Sorry,” she said, and got up. “What is it?” she asked, walking toward the door.

“Looks like Futaba is a proper college kid after all,” Yuuma said, looking pleased. Anyone calling Rio was good news.

“Well, she is a college student.”

“Fair.”

Yuuma didn’t say it outright, but Sakuta knew what he meant. Rio had spent high school alone in the science lab, so this was an obvious improvement.

“The students at the cram school really trust her, too.”

Sakuta often saw her after classes answering questions. On the other hand, both of Sakuta’s students tended to bolt the second class ended.

“I heard.”

“From her?”

“As if she’d say? She ain’t you.”

“I wouldn’t, either!”

“Basketball Club kid, two years under us, second-year now. He’s one of Futaba’s students.”

So he would’ve been a first-year when Sakuta and Yuuma were third.

“He’s taller than me, so I bet you’ve seen him around. I bumped into him at the station last week—dude got even taller. Bet he’s nearly six foot three.”

“Mm, I think there is one such giant.”

Sakuta had been on the elevator with him and gone, Damn.

“But I’m glad you’re both doing well.”

“You’re the one who did a six-month disappearing act. Training, my ass.”

Sakuta and Rio were the ones who were relieved that all was well with their friend.

“Looks like she’s enjoying herself,” Yuuma said, watching Rio on her call.

Rio had her back to them, but her shoulders were shaking. Whoever she was talking to must have made her laugh. She probably had an awkward grin on her face, too.

“…Did you ever consider going to college?” Sakuta asked.

“I guess a part of me did. Most people I know are going.”

Kanagawa Prefecture had a 60 percent higher-education rate. That was the sort of fun fact you naturally acquired working at a cram school.

But from his own experience at Minegahara, far more students were studying for exams, trying to get themselves into college. That 60 percent was just how many succeeded, and it didn’t include all the students who ended up having to sit exams again the next year. Sakuta was pretty sure something like 90 percent wanted to go to college. Only a handful were immediately entering the workforce like Yuuma, one or two per class. Anyone not in those groups was likely headed to a vocational school.

“But now that I’m working, it’s actually a relief.”

Sakuta surmised this was because his friend could finally ease the burden on the single mother who’d raised him. Yuuma had already planned to go down this path when they’d met back in the first year of high school. He’d decided it all on his own. And he’d achieved his goal. That would be a relief. No other word could capture it better. And Sakuta was relieved to hear it.

When Sakuta didn’t immediately say anything, Yuuma joked, “Plus, no more nodding off in boring classes.”

“Firefighters don’t study?”

“When we’re not out in the field, we’re learning about how crews handled tricky problems in the past, et cetera. And there’s a ton of drills and training.”

“You act like that’s fun.”

“Muscles never betray you.”

Sakuta couldn’t relate.

“Well then, keep protecting our town.”

“I will.”

There was a lull in the conversation, so they took a sip of water to fill it.

“Oh, right. Sakuta.”

“Mm?”

“You got anything to say to me?”

“Good work surviving training. Congrats on getting a posting? That cover it?”

“I knew you hadn’t noticed.”

“What?”

“I ain’t telling now. It’ll be funnier that way.”

“Uhhh…”

He was lost. What was it he’d missed? Some schoolyard prank? Was there a note with an insult on his back?

Yuuma made it sound significant, but before Sakuta could press the point, Rio hung up and came back.

“Sorry,” she said again, taking a seat.

“Friend?” Yuuma asked.

“Mm…there are classes where you do experiments and write reports on them, but you’ve gotta pair up for it. And that meant we got to talking…”

She wasn’t doing anything bad, but her story sounded more like an excuse. She always spoke clear and emphatically, but this felt like prying teeth.

“What’s she like?”

“She’s from Hokkaido. Doesn’t really know her way around Tokyo yet. All these trains. Asked me to show her around, but it’s not like I know…”

Sakuta had heard this much before.

“I’ve been telling her to introduce us, but Futaba won’t make it happen.”

“Why would I let her meet you?”

“Gotta ask her to look after you.”

“Yep.” Yuuma nodded.

“What are you talking about?” she asked before letting out an exasperated sigh. “I guess I could ask…”

“Oh?” He got his hopes up.

“Would you like to meet two boys who both have girlfriends?”

She was fully back in her stride now.

“You’re never letting us meet, huh?”

“You two would definitely put ideas in her head.”

Rio got up.

“There’s a line outside. We should get going,” she said, and she took out her wallet.

Ten minutes later, they were walking along the Katase Eastside Beach. They hadn’t made further plans, and none of them had specifically suggested heading to the shore. They’d just eaten their fill, started walking, and wound up here.

During swimming season, beaches in sight of Enoshima would be covered in people and seaside stalls.

But with fall settling in, all that hubbub was forgotten, and people were few and far between. Young couples strolled hand in hand along the surf. Married couples were walking their dogs. College crowds sat on the steps between the sand and the street, talking.

The coast curved gently, like a crescent moon. Today was the spring tide, and the sands went all the way to Enoshima itself.

They walked across lands usually below sea level, toward the island opposite.

A pair of college girls heading the same way were chatting.

“Crazy, we can walk to Enoshima!”

“It’s not an island anymore! It’s part of the mainland!”

They were competing to see who could upload the best photo. Electronic shutter sounds filled the autumn air.

“Lemme take one,” Yuuma said, hoisting his phone. He stuck his arm all the way out so Sakuta and Rio could fit in the shot. He took several pictures. “Let’s call it Arrival at Enoshima,” he said as he showed them the best result.

“We’ve been there before.”

“But always crossing up above.”

It was fun seeing the Benten Bridge from below. Sakuta had never realized it walking across, but from down here, it really was a massive structure. Obviously—it was well over four hundred yards long.

“We go too slow and the waters’ll roll back in,” Rio warned as she began walking back to the beach.

She had a point; it did seem like the water was getting closer.

The tides really were a fascinating phenomenon. The line between the ocean and the land would change by dozens of yards, hundreds.

He and Yuuma followed Rio across the wet sands. They chatted about what they’d been up to, trading stories from high school, laughing and clapping at the dredged-up memories, allowing themselves to wander on meaningless tangents. The smell of the sea washed over them. The three of them basked in the familiar glow, even as Benten Bridge loomed over their return.

They whiled away the time like this, with no real goal in mind. Before they knew it, it was past two.

“You said you had work at three?”

“Yep.”

“Mm.”

Sakuta’s and Rio’s answers overlapped. They both had private lessons scheduled at the cram school.

“And you’re off duty, Kunimi. You should go home and get some real rest.”

With flawless timing, Yuuma yawned.

“I’m definitely not used to these long shifts yet,” he admitted. “Always pretty sleepy after one ends.”

He yawned again and flashed a sheepish grin.

They headed back to the station they’d met up at and boarded a train. They rode three stops to Fujisawa Station. This was Yuuma’s stop, and the cram school where Sakuta and Rio worked was certainly close enough to classify as “by the station.” A few minutes’ walk at most.

Outside the gates, they said good-bye and waved Yuuma off. They watched him mingle with the crowds; he was soon out of sight.

“Firefighting sounds hard.”

“He’s built for it.”

“You definitely aren’t.”

With that remark, Rio started walking to the north side of the station, where the cram school was. Sakuta kept pace.

“It’s my dream to become Santa Claus,” he said.

“See, this is why you started having visions of miniskirt Santas.”

“I wish that’s all it was.”

That would be preferable. Vastly.

But the miniskirt Santa he’d met that Monday had been far too real.

“Only you could see her, right?”

That was true. But the words she’d said stuck in his ears. He remembered the timbre of her voice. Felt her breath on him. She had been there, with him. He was sure of it.

He’d called Rio that day and told her all about it. This was why she’d brought it up just now.

“What do you think that was?” he asked. He’d still only seen her the once.

“If she called herself Touko Kirishima, then she probably is.”

Rio clearly just couldn’t be bothered.

“Take this seriously, Futaba.”

“It’s closest to Sakurajima’s case.”

No one else had been able to perceive her—or even remember she existed.

“But you know that better than I do, Azusagawa.”

“True.”

“I looked into Touko Kirishima online, but nobody mentioned anything about miniskirt Santas.”

The only appearances she ever made were exclusively on video-sharing websites. There were no reports of anyone seeing her in person. Some of her videos did feature a silhouette, but nothing that could positively identify her. And there was no guarantee that silhouette was even hers.

“All my investigation dug up was extremely dubious-sounding speculation.”

“Like how she might actually be Mai?”

Takumi Fukuyama—a friend of his at college—had told him that one.

“Or she’s an AI.”

“People sure do have wild imaginations.”

“But if you look at it another way, it’s actually pretty weird that there’s so little real info in this day and age. Like, even if the papers and TV keep a criminal’s name under wraps, you can usually find that somewhere online.”

Anyone and everyone could drop word whenever they felt like it—both handy and a headache. Truth and lies could be found everywhere in equal measure.

“But if she’s like Mai and no one can actually perceive Touko Kirishima, then it makes sense she’d be able to keep her identity secret.”

“In which case, she’s been living like a ghost for two whole years. That’s how long she’s been a thing.”

Sakuta had first heard the name Touko Kirishima in high school, straight from Mai’s lips. A girl from her agency had recommended a video, and she’d started watching it.

He had never imagined he might one day meet the performer in question, much less when she was dressed as a miniskirt Santa.

The most thought he ever gave it was, Is that the latest rage?

“Two years as a ghost would be brutal.”

Sakuta had learned firsthand what being imperceptible was like. Everyone walking right past him. No one responding when he spoke. Ignoring his touch.

Only a few hours of this had nearly driven him around the bend. Two whole years of that—just the thought made him shudder.

But there was a big difference from Mai’s and Sakuta’s cases—Touko Kirishima did exist, online. People had not forgotten her and could still perceive her work.

Perhaps that had made all the difference.

“Why is it you want the miniskirt Santa to be real?”

“I’d rather she stay a complete and total stranger.”

That was ideal.

No connection to him, no further contact, no disruptions to his life—he’d much rather go on living like nothing was happening.

Unfortunately, he’d already met her—a miniskirt Santa calling herself Touko Kirishima.

And the worst part was what she’d said to him.

Sakuta had met the miniskirt Santa—Touko Kirishima—six days ago.

Monday, October 24.

His college campus.

Before first period even began.

Between the rows of gingko trees, students streamed down the path to class.

He’d just seen Uzuki Hirokawa off after her surprise early graduation.

“Aww, such a shame. And after I let her read the room,” a certain girl said, appearing next to him.

She was dressed as a miniskirt Santa. Her long lashes fluttered. She saw him staring and turned to him.

They’d exchanged a few words before she gave her name.

“I’m Touko Kirishima.”

All that was just her saying hello. The real meat of the matter came after, sandwiched by the conversation that followed.

“You made it sound like Zukki’s Adolescence Syndrome was your doing.”

He’d gotten the ball rolling, voicing his concern.

“That was the intent!”

She looked baffled that the events could have been interpreted any other way.

“Really?” he asked, just to be sure.

“Really,” she said, all smiles.

“How is that possible?”

“You didn’t know? Santa Claus brings presents to all the good children.”

“Does that mean I’ve been good, and you came to see me?”

Sadly, it wasn’t Christmastime yet. Halloween hadn’t even come yet.

“You’ve got your eyes peeled, trying to figure out who Santa really is—you might just be a bad boy.”

Boots clicking, Touko made a circuit around him. She moved at a steady pace, her eyes never leaving him.

The whole while, students were all around them, walking quickly down the path to make sure they got to class in time.

No one noticed the attractive miniskirt Santa. A few of them gave Sakuta puzzled looks, wondering why he was just standing there.

“Do me a favor,” he said when the footsteps were right behind him.

“What?”

“Stop handing out presents.”

As he spoke, she came into view on his left. She kept moving until she was right in front of him—then she turned to face him.

“Okay,” she said.

“That easy?”

He hadn’t expected her to agree.

“I mean, I’m already out of presents.”

Touko held up her white sack. It was clearly empty. Nothing left inside.

“How many were in that?”

“Five? Ten? Or more than that?”

“This many,” she said, holding up an index finger and pointing it at him.

“One?”

“Hardly,” she said with a laugh, like he had to be joking.

“Ten?”

“Bzzt, wrong.”

He really didn’t want to go up another digit, but she didn’t leave him much choice.

“A hundred…?”

Not a number he even wanted to imagine.

“Not even close. I’m Santa Claus!”

“A thousand?”

“More like ten million.”

“……”

The sheer scale of that number was so vast. At first, he couldn’t even grasp it. Not a handful or even a bunch but ten damn million.

“See? Him and her and her and him and him and her,” Touko said, pointing at people in the crowd. “I gave them all presents.”

She looked very pleased with herself.

Did everyone she pointed at have some sort of Adolescence Syndrome, like Uzuki? Was that true for ten million people not here? His mind couldn’t even process the thought.

“Santa, you’re only supposed to work on Christmas Day,” he managed, after a long silence.

“Well, they’re the ones who wanted presents. She’s one of them.”

Touko was looking his way, but not at him. Her gaze went past where he stood to someone behind him.

Who was she talking about?

He slowly turned around.

A college girl was walking at the edge of the path.

He recognized her.

Ikumi Akagi. His classmate back in junior high.

Sakuta had no idea if everything Touko Kirishima had said to him was true.

She’d given out Adolescence Syndrome like it was a present—because that’s what Santa Claus did. To ten million people…Ikumi Akagi among them.

A ridiculous story.

A huge pain in the ass.

“What’s your take on it, Futaba?”

“We can’t prove that it’s true or prove that it isn’t.”

“I guess not.”

That’s where they were at right now.

“But if it is true, doesn’t it back up what you said before?” he asked. “When I talked to you about Zukki, you said the Adolescence Syndrome was affecting all college students, making them all read the room.”

When he’d first heard that, it had sounded like far too many people, and he’d almost laughed. Rio herself hadn’t really believed that theory. But if ten million people were affected, then “all college students” no longer sounded so absurd.

“If it was real, what would you do?” she asked.

“Be very surprised?”

“Not gonna be a big ole hero and step in to cure ’em all?”

“All ten million?”

“Yes, all ten million.”

“Afraid I’ll be too busy flirting with Mai.”

He’d never been the heroic type, and this world didn’t seem like it needed any heroism. Several days had passed since he’d spoken to Touko, and they’d been just like any other. Adolescence Syndrome was hardly causing a worldwide panic.

Nobody was begging for help. Villains were not out and about wrecking everything. Even if superheroes did exist, they would’ve closed up shop.

“You say that, but you are worried about her, right? Ikumi Akagi, was it?”

“Less worried and more…it’s just been bugging me. This whole time.”

“……?” Rio looked at him, waiting.

“The day of the entrance ceremony. Why’d she call out to me?”

Was it possible she actually had something to say?

 “You’re Azusagawa, right?”

 “Akagi?”

 “Yeah. Been a while.”

Had she meant to say more? If Nodoka and Uzuki hadn’t caught up with him, would she have?

“And now in hindsight, you’re thinking that might have been connected to Adolescence Syndrome?”

Rio could see where he was going with this.

Adolescence Syndrome was all about mysterious phenomena that nobody would ever believe. But in junior high, Sakuta had publicly insisted it was real. Ikumi had been in the room for that.

If she was mixed up in something strange and in trouble, if she’d tried to turn to him for help—that idea wasn’t so far-fetched. Who else would believe her? If she was affected, Ikumi knew just how rare that was.

“I’m probably overthinking it.”

“Almost definitely,” Rio said. “If I was her, you’re the last person I’d go to.”

“Why?”

“She didn’t help you, but now she’s got the nerve to ask you for help?”

“Oh. Well, if she can still make those kinds of distinctions, it can’t be that bad.”

“I think it’s more a point of pride.”

Sakuta got that. And she knew that he did, but she said it anyway. For emphasis.

“What’s she been like since?”

“Akagi?”

“Mm.”

“Haven’t seen her since I met the miniskirt Santa.”

Ikumi was probably attending classes, but she was in the nursing school, so their paths didn’t cross often. They barely even saw each other around campus. He’d fully intended to make contact, but the opportunity had yet to arise.

“Maybe it’s for the best if you don’t run into her again.”

“Mm?”

“I’m saying, you’re better off having nothing to do with either Touko Kirishima or Ikumi Akagi.”

“Well, glad my friends still worry about me.”

By this point, they’d reached the building that housed the cram school.

“I just don’t want you coming to me for advice,” Rio said, punching the elevator button.

Four, three—the flashing numbers of the floor indicators were steadily coming down.

“I know saying this won’t change anything…”

“What?”

“If you keep this up, it’ll be just like…”

“Like what?”

“Like how detectives constantly stumble across murders.”

The bell rang, and the elevator doors opened.

“And what advice do you have for me there?”

“If you run into the miniskirt Santa again, get her phone number.”

With that, Rio stepped into the elevator. He followed her.

“I’ve got a girlfriend. Am I allowed to ask girls for their number?”

“That’s what rascals do,” Rio said with a smirk as she pushed the button for their floor.