All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

”That’s enough, Kiriko. Stop it. I think the two of us need to calm down. You’ve got class soon, so go back to your classroom for now. Let’s take a breather and talk things through when I get home.”

”I’m not making a scene, Sis... I just want to ask: what’s with that photo you had tucked inside your notebook? Why is it her again? Didn’t you promise me before that you’d erase every trace of her from your life? You lied to me.”

”Kiriko, you shouldn’t be going through other people’s notebooks.”

”I found that notebook under your mattress. I was just trying to straighten the bedding, and then boom—I got a little surprise from you and her. Hah! Keeping her photo inside your notebook wasn’t enough? You had to hide it under your mattress too? How afraid were you of me finding out?”

”It’s not what you think. I just can’t explain it properly right now since I’m not home. Kiriko... can you give me some time? I’ll explain everything the moment I’m back. I love you. I really do. Please stop worrying that she’ll take me away from you, okay? You can treat anyone else like a rival—but not her! Because she’s already—”

Hibiki Naegi stopped mid-sentence.

She couldn’t say it.

It was a thorn in her heart that she couldn’t bring herself to touch.

”Because she’s already dead.”

Kiriko Kirigiri ”helpfully” completed the sentence for her. And those words cut through Hibiki’s hesitation like a blade.

Every time this subject came up, it felt like tearing open a wound that had just barely scabbed over. But if it was never brought up, her sister would never truly confront it. For the sake of their future together, Kiriko was willing to let this truth tear Hibiki apart.

Hibiki’s face instantly turned pale, as if her entire being had been dragged back to that night.

The night the girl fell from the hospital rooftop.

Her once-beautiful face, now marred and twisted by a knife wound, seemed to glance toward Hibiki in the split second before hitting the ground—smiling.

That smile, whose meaning was lost to time, had become a curse Hibiki could never forget.

She had been so close—close enough that the blood from the girl’s shattered body had splattered onto her own face.

The vivid memory of that traumatic night surged back. Hibiki’s legs weakened beneath her, and she nearly collapsed.

”Enough, Kiriko. Don’t bring that up again.”

With lifeless eyes, Hibiki hung up and shut off her phone completely. At this point, she had no idea what kind of emotions she was supposed to feel toward Kiriko anymore.

Dragging her exhausted limbs, Hibiki slowly walked into the National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto.

In front of the dedicated hall for the first exhibition, she slapped her cheeks, took a deep breath, and tried to steady herself. She couldn’t let the two underclassmen see her looking so defeated.

Pushing open the door to the exhibition, she was met by framed paintings hanging on the walls. The more she looked, the more pressure she felt.

Even putting aside the monstrous talents of Kotomi and Mashiro, there were many other high school students with exceptional skill.

Several of the pieces displayed in this hall had such powerful imagery and depth that they struck Hibiki at her core—leaving her stunned, unable to understand their meaning. She could only scrape together one shallow reaction from her entire mind:

It looks really good.

That was all.

A normal thought. A normal response.

But for someone like Hibiki, who aspired to go further on the path of art—to become a true artist—realizing that her reaction was so ordinary filled her heart with a suffocating, soul-crushing despair...

Kotomi had just been admiring one of the paintings and was about to call Mashiro over to view hers when she turned around—and spotted Hibiki not far away, looking a little pale.

”Naegi-senpai,” Kotomi called, waving when she noticed Hibiki hadn’t seen them.

Hibiki lifted her head stiffly at the sound of Kotomi’s voice and forced a smile.

Kotomi pretended not to notice how off Hibiki looked. She was confident now—Naegi-senpai had definitely fought with her girlfriend.

”Sorry I’m a little late. I also spent half the time trying to find this gallery,” Hibiki said, walking over with a casual laugh. ”Haha, this place is really hard to find.”

Sure, sure—whatever you say... Kotomi smiled flawlessly. The gallery for the first exhibition was clearly on the second floor of the museum, with signs marking the way the entire time.

Hibiki was just saying too much. The more she talked, the more obvious it was.

Even Mashiro Shiina noticed something was off. As the three of them walked together, she deliberately slowed her pace to move beside Kotomi and whispered:

”Kotomi, Naegi-senpai seems a bit off.”

”Just act like you didn’t notice,” Kotomi replied quietly.

Naegi’s relationship issues weren’t their business. Unless Hibiki chose to open up, the best thing to do was pretend they knew nothing.

Trying to comfort someone when you don’t understand the situation—and when they haven’t asked for support—often just makes things worse.

Soon, they arrived in front of Kotomi’s piece: Twilight Sky · Sunset.

In the painting, Mashiro stood bathed in the golden glow of twilight—the symbolic end of a day.

The golden hues of the sunset mirrored and contrasted with Mashiro’s blonde hair, creating a scene of harmony and distinct beauty.

Everything from the color palette to the brushstrokes reflected Kotomi’s characteristic gentleness and precision. Just one look at the painting evoked the feeling of a spring evening breeze brushing softly past the ears, bringing warmth and calm to the heart.

”What a beautiful painting.”

”Seeing this here is both a blessing and a curse. I mean, how lucky are we to witness something so stunning—Kotomi Izumi’s skill is truly rare, even among the National Art Exhibition’s top selections. But at the same time, it means the bar for round two just got raised again. And now, some ’average’ pieces won’t even stand a chance... not even to be acknowledged.”

”Ugh... my pride just got crushed. Honestly, at this point, I’ll be happy if I can just make it to the second round.”

”I’ve been standing here ever since I saw this painting—my feet feel nailed to the floor. Is this painter a witch or something? How can a painting have this kind of magic?!”

”Oh my god...”

The crowd gathered in front of Twilight Sky · Sunset buzzed with overlapping chatter—praise, awe, quiet despair.

Whatever their reaction, it meant only one thing:

Kotomi’s work had silently crushed a large portion of her competition.

Kotomi stood amid the crowd, hands on her hips, listening to the flood of compliments aimed at her piece. No one had recognized her yet, but that didn’t stop her from thoroughly enjoying it.

Her pretty face only wore a subtle smile, but if she had wings, Kotomi might have flown straight to the moon and asked Princess Kaguya:

”Miss, do you like green peppers?”

”With your skills, Kotomi, I think you’ll have no problem advancing to the second round of the exhibition,” Hibiki said sincerely as she watched the crowd admiring Kotomi’s painting and listening to their every word of praise.

Even though Hibiki herself wasn’t sure whether she would make it to the second round, as the president of the Sobu High School art club, she genuinely hoped that at least one of the two—Kotomi or Mashiro—could keep advancing and eventually win the National Art Award.

Even if she ended up being eliminated, Hibiki still wanted to see someone from Sobu High School’s art club take the top prize.

Since the founding of the art club at Sobu High School, not a single student had ever won the National Art Award, which carried significant prestige.

Though the school didn’t have anything like KPIs or performance evaluations for clubs—no one was going to disband the club just because it hadn’t produced any notable results—Sobu High School was, after all, a high school. Clubs existed more for their purpose than their outcomes.

High school clubs were mostly established so students could find a healthy way to relax under academic pressure. Besides, clubs were officially sponsored by the school. As long as they were run properly, no one expected them to produce anything astounding, and there were no annual achievement requirements either.

Students in high school were supposed to focus on academics. Everyone knew how important studying was; repeating that fact only made it more irritating.

By high school, teachers should stop preaching empty motivational phrases and start talking about the realities. Just lay out the harsh competition of college entrance exams—those who understood would naturally shift their focus to studying.

That’s what high school was for: helping students succeed in the college entrance exams.

Under this premise, if clubs—meant to help students relax—were held to achievement standards, wouldn’t that be missing the point?

You can’t focus on two things at once. Sobu High School’s teachers weren’t dumb enough to demand both stellar academic results and stellar club performance.

Want students to develop their personal skills through club activities? That’s something they can think about once they get to college and join university clubs.

Still, even with the school being lenient, what club president didn’t secretly hope to lead their members to a little glory during their term?

If it had been a few years ago, Hibiki probably wouldn’t have cared so much about getting results. She understood that clubs in high school were just a side dish—academics came first.

But now, the National Art Award presented a real chance to put the art club on the map.

If it were just her and the two other regular members attending, she wouldn’t expect much. But this time, the two members accompanying her were so terrifyingly talented it almost defied logic.

Take Mashiro—recognized as a world-class prodigy. When she was painting, barely anyone in the art club dared to watch. Not because she turned into a demon while painting, but because the sight of her work in progress was so awe-inspiring, it made people question whether they should even continue painting.

And Kotomi?

She was the kind of person who could drive you crazy with envy.

Always saying things like, ”I just started learning to draw,” or ”I’m not really good at this,” or ”I’m a total newbie,” but the moment she picked up a brush, it was like she transformed into someone else entirely. Every stroke she made was precise and decisive, as if she had already planned the entire composition from the beginning.

The moment Kotomi stepped into the art club, she became the embodiment of humble-bragging royalty.

With these two geniuses in this year’s art club... the chances of winning the National Art Award had silently multiplied.

Between Kotomi and Mashiro... which of them was more likely to make it into the third round and take home the award?

Hibiki leaned toward Mashiro.

A world-class genius entering a competition for middle and high school students? That was practically a dimensional crush.

If Kotomi hadn’t been here, this year’s National Art Exhibition might really have become a solo domination by Mashiro.

Kotomi glanced at the crowd in front of her painting and let out a soft sigh.

”Don’t you enjoy being praised like this?” Hibiki asked with a small chuckle after noticing Kotomi’s reaction. ”I’ve always dreamed of becoming a great artist—earning applause and admiration with every exhibition, and making loads of money from my art.”

...And then drawing a portrait of Kiriko in a wedding dress.

That last part, Hibiki didn’t say out loud.

Kotomi quickly shook her head. ”Naegi-senpai, you’re overthinking it. I was just sighing because I regret not sneaking my phone in. I really wanted to record all these people standing in front of my painting, full of admiration and anxiety. I’d replay it every night before bed—like thirty times in a row.”

”...Okay, I was definitely overthinking it,” Hibiki laughed awkwardly. She’d forgotten that Kotomi, the cheeky little witch, had absolutely no sense of modesty in moments like this.

The three of them strolled through the exhibition, chatting and laughing—though they still hadn’t found where Mashiro’s painting was displayed.

”By the way, Mashiro, what was the theme of your piece again?” Kotomi asked.

She hadn’t asked earlier, but now that they were at the exhibit, there was no reason not to.

Mashiro hesitated for a moment, glanced at Kotomi, and then slowly replied:

”Eggshell... an egg... more accurately, a broken eggshell.”

For some reason, Mashiro became a bit tongue-tied while describing her artwork for the first round. She was less fluent than when they casually discussed how to draw manga together.

”An egg?” Kotomi tilted her head curiously.

Did Mashiro seriously just draw... a chicken egg?

”Eggshell? Hmm, interesting. Well, technically, the egg itself is what’s fascinating. An egg—the symbol of birth and creation. Countless scholars still argue that the first life form in the universe hatched from an egg. It’s even said to symbolize the resurrection of Jesus.”

A familiar male voice interjected. Kotomi immediately recognized it and looked up toward the source.

Disheveled hair, a deep gray trench coat, and the look of someone who had just gotten a short break from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police—Officer Yukki.

From their rather comical first encounter during the Enoshima case to the serious events of the Yuuha Isshiki incident, Officer Yukki and his partner Officer Hidari had provided a lot of help.

Without their support, the aftermath of the Yuuha Isshiki case would’ve dragged on much longer.

”Officer Yukki? What are you doing here? This isn’t Kanagawa... Though if you’re here, then that means...” Kotomi was clearly surprised.

This was Kyoto—not Kanagawa.

Why did they always run into Officers Yukki and Hidari outside of Kanagawa?

Officer Yukki shrugged. ”Yeah, Hidari came with me too. She’s on a call right now—I came ahead to wait for her at the entrance.

”And hey, what’s with that anxious look? Don’t treat us like harbingers of doom! We’re not here because of some murder. There’s a big meeting tomorrow, and we’re representing the Kanagawa Prefectural Police. We came to Kyoto a few days early to make sure we weren’t late.”

”Since we had nothing to do today, we figured we’d take a break. I have a friend who works at this museum, so I asked her to get us two premium member tickets. Thought I’d bring Hidari here for a look around.”

”Not that either of us has a shred of artistic sense—we can’t understand a thing we’re seeing on these walls.”

Given that Officer Yukki and Officer Hidari had premium member tickets, their presence in the closed-off first exhibition gallery made sense.

The premium member pass was the highest-tier ticket at the National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto, allowing unrestricted access to every exhibition hall.

And the first exhibition hall was no exception.

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