Chapter 45: The Pig Loses It

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Translator: Xre

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The day of the showdown had arrived.

After school, about thirty people gathered in the art room. That included all the art club members, such as Mashiro-senpai and Arata, as well as two outsiders: me and the pig. And then there was Rei Hikami, the pig’s personal bodyguard.

The expressions on the art club members who would serve as judges were stiff. They were being asked to evaluate a portrait of the pig painted by Arata. Say the wrong thing, and they risk souring her mood. So they were probably thinking they had to praise it—praise it, and praise it some more.

On the other hand, a few club members looked disinterested, their faces blank. That was their reaction to me. “There's no way a first-year provisional member could beat Arata in painting.” Even though they knew Arata’s fame came from Mashiro-senpai ghost-painting for him, they still figured he was better than an amateur like me.

“Ready, Kazu!?”

The pig flipped her curly blond hair—like a pig’s tail—and opened that filthy mouth of hers.

“You did finish the painting, didn't you? That ugly girl's portrait!”

“Yeah. Did you bring yours?”

“Of course!”

With a jerk of her chin, Kouji Arata stepped forward, holding a canvas wrapped in cloth. Rumor had it he recently changed his family registry to the Arata surname. Apparently, he even had the Araki family gravestone re-engraved. Poor ancestors.

“Well, I'll give you this—you didn't run away. Good job showing up, freshman.”

He said it all smug, then turned to Mashiro-senpai, who stood beside me.

“Mashiro, you really are hopeless. Because you had to babysit this freshman, now you've made enemies of us.”

“Haha… yeah, guess so…”

Mashiro-senpai gave a forced smile.

But it was wrong.

That smile—wasn’t the real thing.

Neither Arata nor the rest of the art club noticed. That wasn't Mashiro-senpai's true smile.

“Alright, I'll go first! Feast your eyes! This is a portrait of Rua-hime, drawn by the genius of both martial and artistic talent—Kouji Arata-sama!”

He pulled the cloth away and showed the painting to the club members.

It was an oil painting of the pig with a wicked grin. The brushstrokes were bold and confident. It actually looked way better than the real thing. Even as an amateur, I could see Arata had poured genuine skill and passion into it. It was just plain good.

The club members began to praise it in unison.

“Wow, amazing~!”

“He's really good. Araki—no, I mean Arata-kun.”

“He's got talent, but the model's great too!”

“Rua-san is super cute after all!”

It was a chorus of half-genuine, half-performative compliments. Probably rehearsed in advance. Even if Arata’s painting had been trash, they were ready to shower it with praise. You could sense a sort of relief that the painting turned out actually good.

“Well, of course! I'm the model, after all!”

The pig's nose was in the air as she let out a shaa-shaa high-pitched laugh.

“Alright, your turn, Kazu! Show us that ugly chick's portrait!”

I nodded and took out my drawing board from its case.

“Kazu-kun…”

Mashiro-senpai looked at me with anxious eyes. I hadn't shown her the finished painting yet. I kept it from her—the model—because I had a plan in mind.

My goal was to beat the pig.

And one more thing.

To help the sweet and lovely senpai realize her own charm.

I pulled out the watercolor painting from the board and revealed it.

A hush fell over the art room.

“――――――”

No one said a word.

Not Mashiro-senpai, not Arata, not even the pig—they all stared, mouths agape, forgetting to even speak.

Only one person broke the silence.

Rei Hikami.

“Cute.”

She murmured, flatly. As a professional bodyguard, she hadn't even looked at Arata's painting, staying on alert. But now, for the first time since I met her during summer break, this mannequin-like girl spoke words that sounded human.

The rest of the club remained silent.

They just stood there, blankly staring at Mashiro-senpai's true smile, captured in watercolor.

“……Tch, y-yeah well, she's still ugly!!”

Trying to act tough, the pig finally opened her mouth.

“K-Kazu's painting is okay, sure, but the model's a bust! There's no saving it! R-right, everyone!?”

No one nodded.

Even Arata, who had always fawned over her, was frozen, staring at the painting like he was enchanted. I barely caught him whispering, voice cracking:

“…That's the old Mashiro…”

Panicking, the pig glared around at the club members.

“Hey! Say something! Did you forget the plan!? Start tearing down Kazu's painting already! I wired each of you a hundred million yen, remember!? You ungrateful bastards!!”

The mask slipped—no, the pig hoof showed itself.

“Is… this me?”

Mashiro-senpai was touching her cheeks softly.

“This is how I see you… when you smile from the heart.”

“No way. I could never be this cute.”

“You are.”

I looked into her moist eyes.

“It's okay to reset, you know? To leave behind those childhood memories… and start over?”

“!!”

“Restarting from zero is hard. But it can bring new encounters too. It's not so bad, you know. ‘Severing ties.'”

That's when Arata yelled out.

“Don't screw with me!! You made Mashiro paint that, didn't you!? This is cheating!!”

“No. I painted it.”

“Liar! There's no way a guy like you could paint that well! You had her do it, didn't you!? You totally did!!”

His bloodshot eyes were wild—completely unhinged.

“That's funny, Arata-senpai.”

“What is!?”

“From the way you’re talking… sounds like you actually do recognize Mashiro-senpai's talent. Weren't you always mocking her? That's weird.”

“Guh…”

“So who really used her talent? Who was the one relying on her kindness, drowning in greed and fame, taking the easy way out? Huh!? Shame on you!! You worthless b*****d!!”

CRACK! Something shattered.

The pig had smashed her own painting on the floor.

Her whole body shook with rage as she screamed:

“Enough. I'll kill you!! I'll kill everyone except Kazu!!”

Then she raised her hand toward the window.

She was signaling to someone outside.

“Everyone, get down!!”

My shout and the sound of shattering glass came nearly at the same time.

A bullet flew in through the window.

It was aimed precisely at Mashiro-senpai.

If my mentor hadn't warned me in advance, I couldn't have protected her.

But I'd anticipated the pig would lose it and give a signal—and I was barely fast enough. I grabbed her and rolled across the floor to dodge.

“Good reaction.”

Amid the screams and panic, shielding Mashiro-senpai behind me, I said to the pig:

“You figured the only way to beat me was to resort to a sniper, huh? And you were right. —But if I knew you'd try that, there are ways to deal with it.”

If someone were to snipe the art room, there were only three vantage points: the audiovisual room in the first-year building across the way, the adjacent prep room, and the rooftop. Due to the angle, the prep room was the most likely. And if you know where the shot's coming from, you can secure a safe zone.

“Kazu!!”

The pig glared at me, eyes like burning coals.

“You're really saying that ugly chick's cuter than me? You're picking her over me!?”

“…Good grief.”

Seriously. How many times do I have to say this?

“You're the ugly one.”

“!!! KILL THEM!!”

That was her second signal.

Four men in ski masks stormed into the art room. All of them were armed. “Hiiiii!?” Arata fainted on the spot, foaming at the mouth when he saw the black, glinting barrels.

“Everyone, get in that corner and stay down. Don't move.”

As I shielded the club members, I stepped directly in front of the four guns.

“Kill the girl!! But don't kill Kazu!! Just rough him up a little!!”

The four men nodded at her command.

But I heard one of them click his tongue. He probably thought his employer was being a pain. Telling someone to not kill with a gun—that's absurd.

Yes, it's absurd.

Because I'm the one who's afraid I won't be able to hold back.

“Ka-ka-ka-ka-Kazu-kun, wh-what is this!? Is this a movie!? A movie, right!? R-right!?”

Mashiro-senpai clung to my back, trembling in terror.

I spoke to her gently.

“I will protect you. Just stay here.”

Now then.

To protect the smile of the cutest girl in the world—

Time to get serious.