625 – Unlike Them, I’m Special

“Are there any other celebrities filming here today? Is this considered a production accident? Don’t your crew coordinate things beforehand?”

“All those fans who were supposed to gather here have run off to the front. What do we do now?”

“Seriously, what’s with the entertainment industry these days? Public figures should know how to maintain public order!

Holding a fan event in a park where people are just out for a walk—what kind of company even allows that? I’m definitely filing a complaint later.”

“What!? The one breaking the rules is Professor Hojou?”

“Watch your mouth! Who gave you the guts to badmouth Hojou-sensei?!”

“But that can’t be right. Tomorrow’s the Japan Mystery Writers Association Awards, why would Hojou-sensei be here?”

“It’s true!?”

“No way! These people are so lucky—just out for a casual walk and they bump into the Hojou-sensei!”

“Hurry up, is the camera rolling?”

“On this fateful day, the one and only Hojou-sensei arrives in Kyoto!”

“Get the boom mic ready! I need my conversation with Hojou-sensei perfectly recorded!”

Kusaka Hideo shouted as he bolted toward Hojou Kyousuke.

At first, he was walking briskly, then jogging, and finally charging like a wild boar.

Even the casting director hadn’t expected Kusaka to deliver such good TV.

The whole crew, including the host, stared in disbelief as he went from feigned calm to full-blown fanatic.

He was the living embodiment of “the louder you hate, the harder you fall.”

On Kyousuke’s side, he frowned slightly when he noticed the cameras approaching.

Thankfully, the nearby university students quickly formed a human wall to block the filming crew.

The director knew Kyoto University students well.

They’d once done an interview about the infamous Yoshida Dorm that is described as looking like a “pigsty utopia”, and he half-suspected these students might actually throw something unpleasant at his face if provoked.

So, wisely, he stopped in his tracks and watched Kusaka bouncing up and down outside the crowd like an overexcited monkey.

“Hojou-sensei! Hojou-sensei! It’s me, Kusaka Hideo—your most devoted follower!” Kusaka yelled, waving both arms.

“Who?” Kyousuke asked, puzzled.

“No idea,” Yamauchi Sakura frowned as well.

Someone still waiting in line spoke up helpfully:

“He’s that actor who made a terrible mystery drama, right? The one whose entire crew bought Hojou-sensei’s novels just to take photos for clout. His name’s kinda funny too.”

“Oh, that guy,” Kyousuke said, pretending to suddenly remember.

Of course, he had no clue who Kusaka was.

Usually, all the publicity work was handled by Kisaki Tetta, unless it’s something that required himself to do, he rarely paid attention.

Still, seeing Kusaka’s over-the-top enthusiasm, he gestured for him to come closer.

“I must be dreaming! To meet Hojou-sensei here of all places, are you out for a stroll?” Kusaka gushed, bowing at a perfect ninety degrees before launching into nonstop chatter.

“Wait, I get it! The press and publishers must’ve found out you’re winning the big award tomorrow, so you came to Kyoto to hide from all the chaos, right?”

The fans in line glanced between Kusaka and his camera crew with odd looks.

“No, no, that’s too shallow! Of course it’s not about avoiding fame. It’s because you, Hojou-sensei, are above all that! You’ve come to Kyoto to reflect by the Kamo River to find peace away from worldly desires!”

Hearing that, even the Kyoto University students who knew Hojou was just out walking with his girlfriend suddenly felt a twinge of doubt.

Wait… is that really the reason he’s here?

If this minor celebrity could “see the truth,” how could they not?

“Ah, truly remarkable, Hojou-sensei! Your level of enlightenment is something I can only dream of reaching. I mean, look at me, just getting invited to a TV show makes me so happy I could jump for joy!”

At least you’re self-aware, everyone thought in unison, stunned by how far gone this guy was.

The director, on the other hand, had already made up his mind: Kusaka was getting a regular spot on the show.

He was wasted on dramas, his talent belonged in variety TV.

Kyousuke sighed, pulled a photo from Sakura’s hand, signed it quickly, and handed it to Kusaka, hoping the man would take the hint and leave.

Until now, he hadn’t really minded the media attention, but this… this was a new level of chaos.

“Whoa! It’s amazing! Were all these people defeated by Hojou-sensei? Incredible! So cool!” Kusaka squealed, clutching the autographed photo to his chest like a treasure.

Kyousuke blinked—then realized the photo was the same one Sakura had set aside earlier as a “lucky prize.”

‘Huh. Guess the guy really does have luck on his side.’

First he’d won big during the online event, now he’d scored a direct autograph from him in person.

Thinking that, Kyousuke asked with a faint smile, “Kusaka-san, are you free to attend the award ceremony tomorrow?”

“Of course! I already applied for a ticket!” Kusaka answered instantly.

“I see. I was just thinking—if you didn’t have one, I could spare a few extras,” Hojou said casually.

“Please sell me one, Hojou-sensei!” shouted several fans in line, instantly seizing the opportunity.

So, ever the generous author, Kyousuke pulled out a few more signed photos, marked them with a pen, and gave them away as “special lucky prizes.”

Meanwhile, Kusaka stood guard at his side like a loyal bodyguard, even shooing away a few overly persistent fans trying to invite Hojou out to dinner.

“Are you sure you don’t want to grab a drink later, Hojou-sensei? I know this amazing kaiseki place—the owner’s hosted tons of celebrities and he’s super discreet!” Kusaka offered eagerly.

Hearing that made Sakura nearly burst out laughing.

This fan was way too cute, did he not realize that inviting a celebrity to drink with a minor was a potential career-ending scandal?

“Maybe next time. There’ll be plenty of chances back in Tokyo,” Kyousuke said with an amused smile.

“Alright then,” Kusaka said earnestly. “I actually heard about that restaurant from one of my seniors. If it were for treating you, I’d gladly borrow money to make it happen!

But if it’s just me, forget it. Next time, please, give me the chance. After all, it’s thanks to you that I’ve come this far.”

He bowed deeply once again, a perfect ninety degrees.

Kyousuke’s lips twitched, he was half exasperated, half amused.

Finally, he just smiled and thanked the man for his kind words.

As the last bit of commotion faded, Kyousuke and Sakura strolled quietly along the riverside, the sunset painting the sky in shades of crimson and gold.

“By the way,” Sakura said softly, “didn’t that guy, Hikaru Kamiki or whatever his name was, say bad things about you before? Don’t worry, even if he’s a big-shot senior, I won’t forgive him. You can look forward to my revenge!”

She bowed dramatically like a stage actress finishing a performance.

“…Then I’ll be counting on you,” Kyousuke replied with a faint smile, politely returning the gesture.

He took her small, warm, impossibly soft hand and together they walked along the Kamo River, bathed in the fading glow of the setting sun.

The evening light spread across the sky like a dyed silk cloth, the moon hiding shyly behind it, dressing itself for the night.

With the crowd dispersed, peace finally returned. Sakura, too, lost her desire to bother anyone else.

The Kamo riverside wasn’t paved with stone or rubber like the walking paths near Chidorigafuchi.

Instead, it was compacted dirt, they were soft, yet firm underfoot.

Every step felt like the fatigue of the day was being drawn into the soil, replaced by a quiet calm that wrapped around them.

Kyousuke didn’t need to turn his head to see her; just the warmth of her hand told him everything.

They walked in silence, like the middle-aged couples ahead of them—content, unhurried, perfectly in sync.

When the shop lights along the riverbank finally flickered on, their golden reflections rippled across the darkening water.

For a moment, the whole place felt like it had slipped back into the Heian era, and Kyoto was once again Heian-kyō.

Kyousuke turned his head not toward the shops or the picturesque lights that tourists were photographing but toward his own view of the world.

And she was looking back at him.

The warm lamplight from the riverside bathed Sakura in gold, tracing every strand of her hair.

Her face, however, was half-hidden in the shadow, and her smile carried a quiet, teasing mystery.

“Everyone calls you Hojou-sensei~,” she said playfully, tilting her head.

Kyousuke chuckled lightly, and about to respond but Sakura beat him.

When her expression softened.

“Why do so many people like you?”

Hearing that made his hand stiffened for just a moment.

He swallowed, but even that simple action felt difficult.

He looked into her amber eyes—and saw not the reflection of the river, but of himself.

In her gaze, the man named Hojou Kyousuke wasn’t just an author—he was brilliant, dazzling, one of a kind, even in this ancient city of Kyoto.

But… what about him?

Her words—“Why do so many people like you?”—weren’t really about his fans or that overenthusiastic actor from earlier.

They were about them.

And she knew that he knew.

Yes, come to think of it, they had never actually talked about it.

Sakura already knew about Mitsuha, Utaha, and Shouko… yet the topic had never come up between them directly.

That wasn’t normal.

They had always shared everything since childhood—even the time Sakura borrowed an R-rated movie from a classmate, she’d insisted Kyousuke watch it with her.

Of course, she immediately stopped him from “trying anything,” declaring that while he was a pervert, he was still too young for that.

They never hid anything from each other.

So why… had this been the one thing they never talked about?

Every time he thought about bringing it up, the thought would just fade away—as if he’d already told her.

It wasn’t mere intuition. It was almost telepathy.

Sakura always seemed to know what was in his heart—and accepted it all without complaint.

After a long silence, Kyousuke lowered his head.

“I’m sorry, Sakura, I—”

It wasn’t fair to her. It was cruel. It was his fault.

“Sorry? What for?” Sakura interrupted.

She raised her hands, cupped his chin gently, and lifted his head so he had no choice but to meet her eyes.

“Don’t look down. Why would my Kyousuke ever apologize? Seeing you lower your head just makes me mad.”

She stood on tiptoe and pressed a loud, playful kiss to his lips.

“Did you really think I was jealous?”

“I…”

“Of course not. I’m not jealous.”

Her hands fell to her sides as she spun lightly on her heels, the shop lights painting her delicate face in gold.

“Hey, Kyousuke.”

“I’m here.”

Her amber eyes shimmered brighter than Jupiter above the horizon.

“You know it, right? I’m not like them. I’m special.”

She wasn’t asking for confirmation. She was stating a truth.

Kyousuke felt a strange sting behind his eyes. He nodded firmly.

“Yeah. Yamauchi Sakura… you’re special.”

He reached out and took her hand—tight, certain.

Of course she was special.

She was the first girl he ever set his heart on.

In this life, the next, and the one after that, he’d still be the one dragging her out of bed every morning, luring her with promises of papaya milk pudding.

And of course, she smiled—as if she’d heard the thought itself.

That was the unspoken bond between Hojou Kyousuke and Yamauchi Sakura.

“Hehe~”

Hearing him say it so seriously made her blush a little, despite her earlier confidence.

To hide it, she looked down and spotted a tiny pebble by her foot.

“You,” she declared, pointing at it, “are special too!”

Then she kicked it down the path and took off running, dragging Kyousuke by the hand to chase after it.

Each time she caught up, she kicked it again—run, kick, laugh, repeat.

Eventually, she grew tired, stopped, and leaned forward with her hands on her knees, breathing hard.

“Go on ahead, I’ll catch up!” she said between gasps.

So Kyousuke kept walking, slow and steady.

Moments later, Sakura jogged up again, slipped her fingers through his—and after a few steps, let go.

Maybe she was looking for another “special” stone.

But each time, just like before, she would run back, and their hands would find each other again.