All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

It happened to be the changing of seasons—a time when people on the streets were split between two completely different styles of dress.

Some still wore thin shirts or short sleeves, maybe with a light jacket over them, while others had already dressed as if winter had arrived, bundled in thick coats.

It was that awkward period of transition—some shivering from wearing too little, others sweating from wearing too much.

Kotomi Izumi hadn’t expected the temperature to drop so suddenly tonight. Having stayed in the second music room for rehearsal, she hadn’t noticed the chill as night fell.

But the moment she stepped out of the school building, the cold hit her instantly. She was wearing only her school uniform’s long-sleeved shirt, having left her blazer draped over a chair in the music room. She’d thought it wouldn’t be too cold and decided not to put it on before leaving.

Of course, she wasn’t the only one feeling chilly. Walking beside her, Ruriya Hojo also had her shoulders hunched, taking small steps. Was she naturally sensitive to the cold? Even though she wore a thick, warm-looking coat, she still seemed to be trembling from the chill.

”So cold… it’s still October, but it already feels like winter,” Ruriya said with a shiver.

”Are you that afraid of the cold?” Kotomi asked.

”Super, ultra, cosmic-level afraid of the cold! That’s why I never dare to go to Hokkaido in winter—I’m scared I’ll never make it back alive!”

To prove her point, Ruriya strung together three exaggerated modifiers in a single breath.

”Hokkaido in winter isn’t that bad…” Kotomi replied with a faint smile. She subtly leaned a little closer to Ruriya, though she kept a polite distance. She felt that she and Ruriya weren’t quite close enough yet for her to suddenly pull the girl into her arms and say something like, ’Let my warmth chase away your cold.’

Besides, Kotomi prided herself on being a loyal, straightforward woman—how could she say such a flirtatious line so casually to another girl?

That kind of behavior was exactly what she despised most—what she called ’the scum of women.’

Even so, her small, gentlemanly movement didn’t go unnoticed. Ruriya immediately sensed Kotomi’s subtle gesture. She didn’t say anything, but the corners of her lips curved into a gentle, almost imperceptible smile—one that slowly deepened as warmth filled her chest. She silently savored this little moment of care, cherishing the attention Kotomi had shown her.

Ruriya Hojo was a confident, radiant young woman—but even she had her insecurities. Deep down, she feared that Kotomi’s care, the kindness she felt now, might someday shift to another girl instead.

She didn’t want that to happen…

”I really have to thank you again for the dinner you brought tonight,” Kotomi said sincerely. ”We were just stressing over what to eat when you showed up. You have no idea—you were our savior in that moment~ And the food was great! Really delicious! After eating, I felt completely recharged—like a video game character who suddenly restores all their HP after finding a random power-up, ready to take on the next adventure!”

She added a lighthearted joke at the end, easing the air between them.

Ruriya couldn’t help laughing softly. ”Haha… honestly, Kotomi, you always exaggerate so much. I just brought dinner, and somehow that makes me a savior?”

”But I’m glad you liked it. That’s the best thanks I could ask for. Actually… back in the music room, I didn’t tell the full truth. I said my mom helped me cook it, but in reality, I made the entire dinner myself. Do you believe me?”

”Of course I do,” Kotomi said with a knowing smile. ”I could tell from the first bite.”

Ruriya blinked in surprise, then asked curiously,

”Eh—you could tell? How did you figure it out? I mean, I don’t cook that often, but my cooking skills all came from my mom. I even followed her exact recipes and seasoning methods. The taste shouldn’t be that different.”

”I’ve eaten your family’s food plenty of times,” Kotomi said. ”Even if I wasn’t consciously analyzing it, after eating there so many times, my taste buds have memorized the details. So when I took a bite tonight, I immediately noticed a few small differences in flavor—and that’s how I knew you cooked this meal yourself.”

Then she added softly, ”Everyone’s cooking has its own flavor. Even if the ingredients and seasonings are identical, the tiniest differences always show through.”

”I see… then, Kotomi, do you like my cooking style?”

Ruriya Hojo looked at her with eyes full of words she hadn’t yet dared to speak aloud. As she leaned slightly closer, Kotomi could feel the faint tremor in Ruriya’s fingers as she asked the question.

Kotomi met her gaze for just a moment before looking away with a gentle, composed smile. Keeping her tone light and casual, she said as if chatting idly,

”Tomorrow’s the culture festival… I’m starting to feel nervous about performing on stage.”

Ruriya froze in place for a few seconds, her confidence faltering for the first time. Then she gave a faint, bittersweet smile.

”I… I’ll be cheering for you. After all, I was the cheer captain back in middle school.”

”Thanks,” Kotomi said warmly, nodding. Then she stopped walking—they had reached the school gate. ”Should I walk you home?”

”No need.” Ruriya shook her head. ”I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m in high school—if I still couldn’t walk home alone, I’d die of embarrassment! You should head back quickly, Kotomi. The culture festival’s tomorrow—don’t catch a cold, alright? Remember to bring your jacket next time you go out at night.”

”Got it,” Kotomi replied with a small laugh. She waved goodbye, turned, and started back toward the school building.

Ruriya Hojo stood still, watching Kotomi’s silhouette gradually fade into the distance. Her heart felt as though it were being gently, painfully squeezed.

Then, mustering all her courage, she shouted loudly into the cool night air—

”Kotomi! No matter how nervous you get on stage, don’t give up! Because I—I won’t give up either!!!”

Her voice echoed through the night.

As Kotomi turned back slightly, Ruriya quickly faced away and broke into a run. But before she disappeared down the road, Kotomi saw it—

the faint shimmer of tears glistening at the corner of Ruriya Hojo’s eyes, like tiny drops of starlight.

What kind of girl was Ruriya Hojo?

Beautiful, optimistic, cheerful, confident—and having once been a cheerleading captain, her figure was far superior to that of most girls her age. Even if she wasn’t the school’s top beauty, she could easily be considered one of the most attractive girls in her class at Sobu High.

Thinking back to Ruriya’s expression and the words she’d said before leaving, Kotomi stood still for a moment and let out a soft, helpless laugh. When exactly had she managed to attract this confident little beauty?

”Haa…”

Kotomi exhaled lightly, and in the chilly evening air, her breath formed a faint white mist. She remembered how, as a child, she used to blow out long breaths just to watch the mist form—pretending it was Godzilla’s atomic breath.

Even now, she sometimes still did it, imagining herself as a mighty kaiju unleashing destruction upon the world.

For most people, the habit of indulging in childish fantasies faded with age.

But not for Kotomi. Even now, she still had her chūni moments—imagining herself as a demon lord powerful enough to destroy the world, surrounded by a harem of adorable female demons that perfectly fit her odd little ”XP system.”

”Auu~”

Kotomi let out a cute ”Kotomi-style atomic breath,” watching the mist puff out in front of her face with great satisfaction.

Even though pretending to breathe frost like a monster was something even preschoolers might find childish, first-year high schooler Kotomi still found endless joy in it.

A kindergarten kid might find it silly—but for little Kotomi, it was just right.

She didn’t play for long—only ten minutes or so. Whether she was satisfied or simply too cold, the little penguin-like Kotomi shrank her neck, took a few quick, short steps, and hurried back into the school building.

After eating the dinner Ruriya brought, the fullness gave her an instant surge of energy, her stamina shooting back to one hundred percent.

After a brief rest, Kotomi and her two partners went right back into rehearsal, practicing non-stop for another full hour.

When they finished playing Re:TrymenT, Yukino Yukinoshita glanced at Kotomi—more precisely, at the guitar in her hands. Her brow furrowed slightly as if in thought.

After a moment, realization flashed across her face. She turned to Kotomi and said,

”Kotomi, since you bought your guitar, have you ever changed the strings?”

Still hugging her beloved guitar, Kotomi thought for a moment. Come to think of it, she hadn’t. From the day she bought it, she’d never changed the strings once. Her musical skill level had been high enough that she could play it straight away without issue.

”No, I haven’t changed them yet. Why? I’ve only had this guitar for, what, less than two weeks? It shouldn’t need new strings already, right?”

Kotomi tilted her head, puzzled. She knew guitars needed regular string changes, but hers was practically new—surely it wasn’t time yet?

Yukino stepped closer and held out her hand.

”Let me see your guitar for a moment.”

”Sure.”

Kotomi carefully handed over her beloved Yui Hirasawa-model guitar. Before taking it, Yukino adjusted her grip, then received it with both hands.

After all, Kotomi’s guitar was a Gibson Les Paul Standard Plain Top.

Compared to regular guitars, it was noticeably heavier. For girls with less arm strength—or beginners—it could be difficult to hold for long.

This model was considered a classic not only because of its iconic, beautiful finish and design but also because of its distinctive weight distribution. Many guitar veterans owned one, but few actually used it for live playing.

Most of the time, they kept it safely stored away—as a collector’s piece rather than a performance instrument.

After carefully adjusting her grip, Yukino Yukinoshita began to strum a few guitar chords—melodies she still vaguely remembered. Compared to her mastery of the piano, her skill with the guitar was noticeably raw and hesitant.

Of course, Yukino wasn’t planning to actually perform with it. She was simply checking whether Kotomi’s guitar truly needed its strings replaced.

During their earlier rehearsal, when they had been playing Re:TrymenT, the guitar’s sound had suddenly shifted ever so slightly during the chorus.

The difference was minuscule—something an untrained ear would never notice. But for someone who had studied music since childhood, even the faintest tonal change stood out instantly. To such ears, the sound didn’t even need to fade completely before the difference was detected.

That was why Yukino had immediately realized that something was off with Kotomi’s guitar.

She stopped playing, her fingers pausing over the strings. The cause of the change was clear—it was time to replace the strings.

”As I thought, the strings do need to be changed,” Yukino said, handing the guitar back to Kotomi. ”Good thing I caught it now. If the sound changed even more noticeably during your stage performance, people in the audience might realize something’s off, and it could hurt our overall presentation.”

Kotomi took the guitar back, nodding with curiosity. ”So it really does need new strings, huh? I knew they had to be replaced periodically, but I’ve only had this guitar for about two weeks. I didn’t think it’d be that soon.”

Yukino shook her head slightly. ”Instruments aren’t cold, lifeless tools. They’re more like silent living beings—you need to always pay attention to their condition and plan regular maintenance for them. Theoretically, if you only play for about two hours a day, replacing the strings once a month should be enough. But that’s only theory. In reality, it depends entirely on how the instrument is used.”

Then she added pointedly, ”It’s like what you said earlier when you complimented Ruriya Hojo’s cooking—you mentioned that everyone has their own unique cooking style, right? The same goes for instruments. Everyone’s playing habits are different. Some people buy a guitar on a whim, play it a few times, then leave it collecting dust. Others play for hours every single day.”

She paused for emphasis. ”The difference between those two kinds of players is huge. The first might not need to change strings for a year because they hardly play at all—the guitar just sits there, forgotten in a corner. But for the second type, new strings might be needed in less than a month.”

”So that means I’m the second type—the one who needs to change strings every few weeks?” Kotomi asked.

”Exactly,” Yukino confirmed with a small nod.

Kotomi understood perfectly. But as she listened, she couldn’t help feeling that something about Yukino’s explanation had a faint, unexpected flavor to it.

It might’ve just been her imagination… but when Yukino had mentioned her complimenting Ruriya’s cooking, the air suddenly seemed to thicken with a distinct hint of jealousy.

Even without paying close attention, Kotomi could swear—the ”vinegar” in the air had just gotten a lot stronger.

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