Kaguya-sama Wants My Surrender!

The class was over. 

"Get up." Amamiya straightened his posture. "It seems the narrator isn't going to show up." 

Sajuna clutched her backside with both hands, her eyes brimming with tears. 

"You… you actually hit me…" 

---

Too much! 

It was one thing if it happened once, but three, four, five, six times? This was outrageous! 

'I won't let you get away with this!' 

---

"Of course, it had to be convincing." Amamiya spoke with complete confidence. "If I didn't back it up with action, just talking wouldn't have drawn the narrator out." 

He folded his arms and added nonchalantly, "To 'summon' Narrator-kun, sacrifices must be made." 

Sajuna sniffled, glaring at him with lingering indignation. "Then why couldn't you make the sacrifice yourself?" 

"I could," Amamiya shrugged. "But let's be real—if a petite girl like you tried to knock me over, the narrator wouldn't buy it." 

---

Sajuna stared at him silently, unwilling to dignify his reasoning with a response. 

Amamiya's expression turned serious. He stepped back and began explaining his actions. 

"If there's conflict or a misunderstanding with teammates, it's important to clear it up right away," he said firmly. "No one likes a riddler. People who leave things vague and unresolved are the worst—they deserve to be hung out to dry." 

Sajuna blinked, startled. "Wait… so that's what this was about?" 

Her anger softened. 'If it was for Fujiwara-san… maybe it's not unforgivable.' 

---

"You'll know the truth when we find Chika," Amamiya replied, turning to her. "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Come on, take your revenge." 

Sajuna's gaze flickered briefly before she turned her head away, pouting. "Who would want to hit you?" 

"Not mad anymore?" 

"Hmph!" 

Amamiya sighed dramatically. "Girls are so much trouble." 

Sajuna's cheeks puffed up in indignation, and she shot him a glare. 

"Let's move," Amamiya said, pulling out the origami airplane and focusing on the task. "It's time to act." 

"Mm," Sajuna murmured, nodding.

---

Amamiya threw the paper plane into the evening breeze. It drifted upward before gliding steadily into the distance, moving against the wind at a relaxed pace, no faster than a person running. 

The two of them jogged to keep up. 

---

Two minutes later: 

"W-wait…" Sajuna gasped. Her face was flushed, and she was panting hard. Sweat trickled down her forehead, and her arms trembled like jelly. She looked on the verge of collapse. 

"I… I can't… keep going…" 

---

'Seriously?' 

Amamiya raised a brow. 'You're completely out of energy after just two minutes? Even Ultraman lasts longer than you!' 

"What do you even do during gym class?" he asked, exasperated. 

"We're sophomores now!" Sajuna snapped, turning her head away while still gasping for air. "Of course, we prioritize studying over everything else… The paper plane is flying too far. You… you go ahead. I'll rest here." 

Amamiya arched an eyebrow. "Are you really fine staying here alone to rest?" 

Sajuna froze. 

Not at all. 

She glanced around nervously. The dim light of the setting sun painted the empty streets in shadow. The only sound was the eerie howling of the wind. There wasn't a soul in sight. 

The idea of being left behind terrified her. But she truly couldn't run anymore. Her legs felt like they were made of lead, and her stomach throbbed with each breath. 

"I…" Sajuna's lips trembled, her voice filled with reluctance and frustration. 

Before she could finish, Amamiya stepped forward and scooped her up without hesitation. 

"W-what are you doing?!" Sajuna exclaimed, startled. She quickly grabbed Amamiya's shoulders for balance as her small frame rested against him. 

She sat perched in his arms, her weight shifting as she instinctively adjusted herself for comfort. 

This position—supporting her by the waist and legs—was easier than a princess carry or piggybacking her.

Amamiya, steady and focused, moved forward with Sajuna securely in his arms, while she begrudgingly clung to him, her indignation temporarily overshadowed by exhaustion. 

"Sit still and don't move," Amamiya said as he adjusted his grip on the small figure in his arms, taking a step forward to chase after the paper plane. "With stamina that low, I'll have to give you some extra lessons when we get back." 

---

'Leaving her behind isn't an option.' 

The ghost stories in this strange town were far too numerous, and losing track of Sajuna now would make finding her later nearly impossible. 

Luckily, Sajuna's petite frame—short legs and flat chest—made carrying her relatively easy. If it were Umi-chan or Chika instead... well, carrying them would be doable, but it would severely drain his endurance. 

---

As he ran, the paper plane maintained its steady flight path, weaving through the air in a straight line. However, Amamiya couldn't follow as directly. The buildings and obstacles along the way forced him to zigzag through alleys and take detours. 

Even with his fitness level, he started to feel the strain. Sweat began forming on his forehead as he pushed forward. 

---

To steady herself against the constant motion, Sajuna instinctively wrapped her arms around Amamiya's neck. His body radiated heat from exertion, and she unconsciously pressed closer, letting the warmth shield her from the cold evening breeze. 

Hearing Amamiya's breathing grow heavier, Sajuna hesitated before softly murmuring: 

"...Put me down. I've rested enough. I can run on my own now." 

---

"Next time, tell me sooner," Amamiya replied with a slightly breathless chuckle as he slowed to a stop. He looked up ahead. "We're here." 

"Huh?" 

Sajuna turned her gaze to follow his line of sight, catching the fluttering paper plane just as it descended into a food stall nestled at the corner of the street.

Under the faint glow of the setting sun, the plane vanished into the stall's shadowy confines, confirming what Amamiya had suspected. 

"Chika is definitely inside," he remarked. 

Carefully, Amamiya set Sajuna down. She staggered briefly before steadying herself and checked the ghost story videotape in her hand. 

"Has it been ten minutes?" he asked. 

"Let me check…" Sajuna glanced at the tape and quickly calculated. Her eyes lit up. "The time requirement is met!" 

She looked up at him, her voice rising with excitement. "Does that mean I can submit it now?" 

Amamiya nodded. "Go ahead."

Moments earlier, during the "lesson," Amamiya had intentionally avoided touching the tape, ensuring that the submission progress remained uninterrupted. 

"Submission successful," Sajuna announced as the videotape disappeared from her hands. She exhaled with relief and added, "The system notified me—the main quest is complete. Now I just have to survive forty-eight hours to escape the dungeon!" 

"Good job," Amamiya said with a faint smile. "Saving the world is in your hands now."

The two walked toward the small restaurant while continuing their conversation. 

The evening breeze picked up, causing the white lanterns hanging under the eaves to sway gently. 

The town's buildings, aged and decrepit, added to its eerie atmosphere. The restaurant ahead was no exception—its entrance obscured by a tattered curtain. A faint, flickering light from inside added to its nondescript appearance. 

---

Amamiya paused at the entrance, observing quietly for a moment before pulling the curtain aside and stepping in. Sajuna, her curiosity piqued, hurried after him in small, tentative steps. 

"Welcome." 

A low, gentle voice greeted them as they entered. 

Amamiya kept his composure, his eyes quickly scanning the establishment. 

The interior was small and modest, with a wooden bar running along the center and several dining tables arranged in the corners. The dim lighting and traditional decor gave the space the feel of an old izakaya. 

Behind the bar stood an elderly man with gray hair, dressed in a pristine white chef's uniform. He moved with quiet efficiency, tending to a sizzling iron plate that emitted a rich, savory aroma. 

The room's patrons were few, mostly elderly individuals with heads of silver hair, their frailty a testament to time's relentless passage. 

In the far corner, however, sat someone distinctly different—a woman dressed in a bathrobe. Her presence seemed to stand out against the muted, aged backdrop.