VOLUME TWO
Chapter 6: Gyaru Ambush
I thought I was safe after the Takahashi mansion incident. I really did. Monday morning, I was just trying to survive the crowded hallway between classes when three explosions of color and perfume hit me like a glitter bomb.
“Tanaka-kun~!”
Mika Hoshino led the charge, long, wavy honey-blonde hair flipped dramatically over one shoulder, fake lashes batting like they were trying to generate wind power. She wore the school uniform like it was her own personal fashion statement — skirt shortened just enough to be rule-breaking but not quite detention-worthy, blouse tied in a perfect knot that somehow made the whole thing look like a runway look.
Flanking her were Kana Fujiwara (purple twin-tails, phone already recording) and Sora Nakamura (bubblegum-pink streaks, bouncing on her toes like she ran on pure sugar and bad decisions).
Mika struck a pose, one hand on her hip. “We have an emergency fashion crisis. Since you’re harmless, low-profile famous, and available, you’re helping. And we don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
I blinked. “I… what?”
“Hilarious.” Kana lifted her phone higher, zooming in on my face. “Subject exhibits classic ‘deer in headlights’ expression. Timestamped for analysis. This is going in the data folder.”
Sora clapped her hands excitedly. “He’s perfect! Look at that pure, unfiltered panic! Zero try-hard energy. We need that vibe!”
Before I could protest, Mika had already looped her arm through mine and started marching me toward the emergency stairwell. “We’re doing trend-proof confidence training. The three of us keep getting called ‘scary hot’ or ‘too much’ by guys. But we want to be ‘fun approachable hot.’ We’re going to use social media to reset our reputations! And you’re going to judge our new dance challenges and outfit combos until we nail the balance.”
Kana nodded seriously, still filming. “Scientific approach only. I’ve prepared a scoring rubric on my tablet: 40% approachability, 30% chaos control, 20% sparkle factor, 10% accidental viral potential.”
Sora bounced ahead and threw open the stairwell door like she was revealing a surprise party. “First test! Outfit rating round!”
She struck a ridiculous pose — hands on cheeks, eyes wide, doing the classic gyaru peace sign while somehow making it look like she was about to start a flash mob. “Rate this! Too much? Not enough? Be honest, Onii-chan!”
I rubbed my temple. I was already suffering from PTSD from flashbacks of Riko-chan. “Sora-chan, you’re wearing three different shades of pink at once and your socks have little hearts that say ‘notice me.’ I’m not sure ‘approachable’ is the word I’d use. You look like a cotton candy machine exploded on a sugar rush.”
Sora gasped theatrically and clutched her chest. “Harsh! But fair. Noted for the data.”
Mika spun in a slow circle, showing off her latest skirt flip technique. “What about me? I toned it down today. See? Only two accessories instead of five.”
“Uh-huh. But between your looks and your demeanor, you still look like you’re about to walk a Paris runway and judge the audience for breathing wrong,” I said dryly, unable to stop the gentle sarcasm. “Guys probably think if they talk to you, you’ll rate their entire existence from one to ten.”
Mika actually laughed — a bright, surprised sound. “Okay, that one stung. But you’re right. I do have resting supermodel face.”
Kana’s eyes lit up behind her phone. “Subject Kenji delivers deadpan critique with 87% accuracy. Mika’s laugh registered at 94% genuine. Excellent data.”
The next twenty minutes were pure chaos. They dragged me through three different “dance challenges” in the stairwell. Sora kept adding random dramatic spins that nearly took out a railing. Mika insisted on perfect hair flips that sent glitter (where did the glitter even come from?) everywhere. Kana kept pausing to analyze the footage frame-by-frame and muttering things like “dramatic pause duration optimal at 1.3 seconds for maximum cute aggression.”
At one point Sora tried to teach me a dance so I could “demonstrate proper approachable energy.” I lasted about four seconds before tripping over my own feet and nearly face-planting into the wall.
“See?” I said, brushing dust off my blazer. “This is why I stick to books. My approachable energy is apparently ‘awkward library patron who forgot how legs work.’”
Mika wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. “Oh my god, that was adorable. You’re like a baby deer learning to walk. We need more of that energy!”
Kana’s eyes lit up. “New category added: ‘Relatable Fail Energy.’ Tanaka-kun scores 10/10.”
By the time the bell rang for next period, the three of them were laughing so hard they were leaning on each other. Sora had somehow lost one of her hair clips. Mika’s perfect hair flip had turned into a bird’s nest. Kana’s phone was covered in glitter.
Mika finally straightened up, still grinning. “You know, Tanaka-kun… you’re weirdly good at this. Most guys either stare or run away. You just… roast us gently and make it funny.”
I shrugged, offering a small smile. “I’m not trying to impress anyone. Just telling the truth. You three are already plenty fun. Maybe dial the ‘intimidating goddess’ setting down from eleven to a solid seven and see what happens.”
Sora threw her arms around me in a surprise hug. “You’re hired as our official chaos consultant! Regular sessions mandatory!”
Kana nodded solemnly. “Data supports continued exposure. Your sarcasm has a 92% de-escalation rate on our pick-me tendencies.”
Mika gave me a surprisingly soft look. “Thanks, Kenji-kun. For not making us feel like we’re too much.”
As they finally let me escape to class, I heard Sora whisper loudly behind me, “He called us fun. I’m posting this in the group chat.”
I sighed, but I couldn’t quite stop the small grin.
As exhausting as they were, the walking, dancing glitter crew had somehow made even me feel a little more alive.
