Chapter Text
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"Maki-san, you're amazing!"
"Maki-san, you're strong and resilient. I wish I were like you!"
If she had to choose the exact moment when there was no turning back, it would be that winter afternoon in the empty classroom. It might not have been a love confession, but for them, as their friendship and camaraderie deepened, what he said had been very important. Maki could still remember the impact his words had had on her. The heat in her face, the unusual nervousness, and the rapid pounding of her stubborn heart against her chest.
How embarrassing! She thought, how could that boy, with his meek disposition to accept any kind of treatment from her, could even elicit such reactions from her?
No, perhaps that was the day Maki realized that something would change —that their friendship wouldn't remain static— that those emotions had long since taken root, and that the sincere admiration in Yūta's words, accompanied by a gentle smile, had simply been a catalyst.
...
"Wow, Maki-san, you're truly amazing!" He was practically clapping in amazement.
If anyone should be speechless, it had to be her, because how could this guy be so shameless? It was as if Yūta couldn't hold back certain words. And even though he wasn't cloying in public, his unsubtle praise left her stunned and red-faced for longer than she could bear.
"Look who's talking," she retorted in a grumpy tone, trying to hide her embarrassment. She pointed to what was now just viscous liquid from the curse he had eliminated. "It didn't take you more than a couple of moves to get rid of that stuff."
Yūta dismissed his own feat, more interested in celebrating hers.
"No, but the way you moved... your reflexes are so fast—ah, but that last blow was clean and lethal."
"It's not a big deal."
And that's how she saw it. Dealing with curses was routine, so having the skills for it was the bare minimum. Yūta was a different story, of course. With a single movement, he could wipe out an entire city if he wanted—something few could do.
Even so, there he was: praising her physical execution.
Yūta seemed to read her mind, because he shook his head gently. "Your movements with the naginata are clean and precise. Something you don't master in just a couple of years. You're incredible because all your strength and skill are the result of hard work, and few are capable of that. Maki-san, you're my role model, and I promise to work just as hard to be at your level!"
Accompanying his declaration was a sigh and stars in his dark eyes; his admiration was sincere.
It was incredible that a man could express such candor with such ease and frequency, especially someone so strong—and terrifying, according to some.
Given her history with her family and her low opinion of powerful sorcerers—in addition to the inferiority complex that had plagued her until she come to school—praise might have seemed meaningless to her... but the fervor and the words came from Yūta, who didn't hide his feelings for her, who would never lie to her just to make her feel better.
From the beginning and up to that moment, he saw her as the epitome of strength and courage.
Even though she had been receiving his appreciation for a couple of years, he still managed to elicit such honest reactions and emotions from her. She might have grown accustomed to his admiration—adoration—but it never ceased to move her.
...
"Could you please repeat that?" It was incredible how restrained her voice was, as if her insides weren't a spiral of emotions about to explode. But there was something he longed for more in that moment before he succumbed to them.
Yūta looked at her intently, his eyes unable to leave her face, as if afraid of missing the slightest change. He knew Maki felt his gaze on her, but even if it made her uncomfortable, she didn't move away. That gesture comforted his heart even more.
He watched the gradual change in color on her face, the soft blush rising to an almost feverish red. Maki bit her lip for a moment, fighting the shyness that rarely afflicted her. Yūta waited patiently for his request.
She swallowed. "I said: I missed you..."
Hearing it again was like a dream. Yūta stared at her, fascinated, as if she had just uttered the most poetic, melodramatic, and lengthy declaration of love. Of course, that wasn't something Maki would do (corny is your style, not mine!, she would have said). And that was precisely why those three words were enough to make Yūta feel excited. Because Maki didn't say anything, she didn't believe to be true.
The weight of her words, her unusual shyness, and his own longing for her after not seeing each other for over a week were too much.
"I like you too much, Maki-san..." he said, a breath ripped from his chest, his eyes never leaving hers, captivated by the girl who stirred emotions so intense that words couldn't describe them.
Her face was completely red; she'd been caught off guard. She punched him in the arm while complaining about how clingy he was. But her suppressed smile said it all.
Delighted, Yūta engraved in his memory her face, her voice, those feelings.
....
She tried to ignore his gaze; he knew it very well. Her nose wrinkled slightly, and she tried to keep her lips from twisting, pressing them into a tight line. Maki pretended not to acknowledge that Yūta had been staring at her for several minutes, and he found it endearing that she didn't reprimand him despite her obvious discomfort.
"What?" she finally inquired, holding his gaze. Irritation was clear in her voice.
Yūta smiled, thinking again that she was cute when she was annoyed—of course, he meant "annoyed" out of impatience, not truly angry, because when she directed that emotion at him, he would try to find a way to avoid suffering.
Yūta considered for just a moment whether to keep his thoughts to himself. In the end, he couldn't contain the truth bubbling in his chest.
"I just thought you were pretty, Maki-san. beautiful, in fact," he emphasized, his tone captivated. He felt his chest swell as he kept his adoration for her bottled up inside.
Maki was more than pretty; that was an undeniable truth. And although Yūta didn't consider physical beauty the only or most essential quality, he wouldn't deny that it was something that also captivated him about her. He knew that Maki was beautiful on a spiritual and emotional level, that sometimes he didn't think too much about her physical appearance.
He was drawn to her on many larger, deeper levels, but sometimes—like at that moment—he couldn't help but be captivated by her striking appearance. Her face, especially when her relaxed expression was gentle or when she displayed her fierce confidence. When the light reflected in her hazel eyes, adorning them with golden flecks—their shape, her long eyelashes, and her delicate eyebrows—the natural blush on her cheeks, the shape of her lips, and the elegance of her nose… Maki was stunning.
She choked on her words, unable to respond in her usual way. She glanced around, almost expecting a mini panda to appear and mock her.
"You're such a sappy idiot," she snarled sharply, embarrassed. "Saying such nonsense out of the blue... you're so oblivious to the things you say."
Maki broke eye contact, looking away, but she didn't walk away. Nor did she tell him to stop. Yūta smiled contentedly at the implied permission. After all, she could have punched him in the face, pushed him aside, left, or literally told him to stop.
So, Yūta continued to admire her. Burning every image of her face into his memory, feeling that even the adjective "stunning" fell short of describing Maki.
More declarations escaped Yūta, causing Maki to blush even more, and this time, she punched him in the chest. Yūta fell backward, laughing and ardently stating his feelings for her, enveloping Maki in total devotion.