Just as the final words fell from his lips, a familiar presence stepped through the doorway.
"Rita!"
Shiina Mashiro's soft voice rang out as her eyes lit up. The mont she saw the figure at the entrance, she didn't hesitate. She stepped forward—fast, certain—and wrapped her arms around the blonde girl standing by the door.
The embrace was warm. Two soft figures pressing together under the dim glow of the hallway light, a picture of tender reunion that felt both harmonious and eye-catching.
"...Mashiro!"
Rita's eyes widened in surprise before they sparkled with joy. Her lips curved into a genuine smile as she hugged back tightly, clearly moved by how much Mashiro had missed her.
Their heartfelt mont didn't go unnoticed.
"Huh? It's little Rita?" a drowsy voice chid in. Chihiro-sensei poked her head out from the common room, a can of beer still in hand.
"Chihiro-nee, it's been a while." Rita greeted her with the polite smile of a well-raised foreign guest.
Chihiro chuckled lazily, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Long ti no see indeed. But what's a British rose like you doing in Tokyo? Thought you were still in England?"
"I'm here to take Mashiro back," Rita said, her tone polite but firm. "Back to England, to continue her painting."
Mashiro blinked. The warmth in her eyes from just monts ago began to fade.
"I won't go back."
Her response was as calm as always, but Nozomi—watching silently from the side—could feel the subtle tension in her posture. She had anticipated this. Rita's arrival wasn't a surprise—but hearing it from her lips still stung.
"Mashiro, you're being unreasonable." Rita took a step forward, voice edged with frustration. "You have a gift—a real, once-in-a-generation talent! Are you just going to throw it away and beco a Mangaka?"
"I'm not going back." Mashiro repeated, unwavering.
"Mashiro!"
"Okay, okay—pause." Nozomi stepped in like a referee between two clashing heroines. "Ms. Rita, why don't you co in first? Let's not have a dramatic scene at the front door. It's almost dinner anyway."
He gently patted Mashiro's head, giving her a small look. She pouted slightly but followed him inside without a word.
Watching from behind, Rita froze montarily. The way Mashiro reacted to Nozomi, so naturally and gently—it didn't sit quite right with her. Still, she took a deep breath, smoothed her skirt, and followed them in.
"You arrived at a perfect ti," Nozomi offered as he set the table. "Stay and eat with us. It's a full house tonight."
"Thank you," Rita said with a polite nod.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
At the dinner table, the mood ward slightly.
"Hello everyone," Rita said in a bright, graceful voice. "I'm Rita Ainsworth. I used to be Mashiro's roommate when she was studying in the UK."
The other residents introduced themselves with varying degrees of excitent. The only male among them—Nozomi—was clearly the odd one out in a house full of beautiful and quirky girls.
But Rita's thoughts were elsewhere.
"I ca here today," she said after the al, folding her hands elegantly, "because I want to bring Mashiro back with . I believe you all understand how extraordinary her talent is. The world has expectations for her, hopes."
Mashiro, calm as ever, simply replied, "Rita used to support ."
That made Rita pause.
She frowned. "I only taught you digital drawing—I never said I supported you becoming a manga artist!"
"Rita, I won't go back!"
"Mashiro, why are you being so stubborn!?"
But Mashiro had had enough. She pushed Rita gently but firmly out of the room, walked her to the door, and closed it without another word.
"If Rita wants to go back, she can go. But Mashiro… Mashiro will stay and draw manga."
It was the most emotion she had shown all evening.
Poor Rita.
She stood outside the door, having been gently—yet undeniably—pushed out by Mashiro. She had knocked a few tis, called out more than once, but no answer ca back. The silence behind the door felt heavier than rejection.
Mashiro was truly angry.
But despite the drama at the entrance, the rest of the Sakurasou residents weren't panicked. With Nozomi there, they knew things wouldn't spiral out of control. One by one, they exchanged silent glances and retreated to their rooms, leaving the aftermath in the capable hands of the only boy in the dorm.
Inside, Nozomi led Mashiro to the living room and gently guided her onto the soft couch. He sat beside her, brushing a hand gently through her snowy hair, untangling the knots of frustration that clung to her mood.
"Are you really okay with kicking Rita out like that?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with concern. "She didn't even bring luggage—just a small bag. What if she gets lost or ends up in trouble out there?"
Mashiro pouted slightly, staring at her knees. "...Mashiro is worried too."
"But Mashiro doesn't want to go back. If I don't make it clear, Rita will just keep trying to take away."
Nozomi nodded. "She's definitely persistent."
"That's why..." Mashiro looked up, her amber eyes firm. "We have to help her understand how Mashiro feels."
"We agreed, didn't we?" Nozomi smiled. "We'd find a way to keep Rita here."
Hearing this, Mashiro's eyes softened a little.
"Then... Nozomi, can you go and tell her?" she asked, her voice quiet but full of trust. "Mashiro doesn't want to return to England. Mashiro just wants to stay in Sakurasou... and keep drawing manga."
"We'll take it one step at a ti," Nozomi said, ruffling her hair gently again. "But first, let's at least bring her inside, okay?"
"Okay. Mashiro will go draw now."
With that, the girl stood and retreated to her room, her expression calm but her steps a little heavier than usual.
Nozomi walked to the door and slowly opened it.
There, under the cool evening sky, sat Rita—knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Her golden hair shimred faintly under the light, like a lonely fairytale heroine after a failed confession.
When she noticed him, she lifted her head and gave him a smile—sweet, but unmistakably fake.
"Knew you'd co."
"Oh?" Nozomi raised a brow, intrigued. "What gave away?"
Rita stood up, brushing off her skirt. Despite the dust and the chill, her beauty remained striking—long golden waves, a slender figure, and a well-proportioned fra that would catch the attention of any guy... except Nozomi.
Her charm was undeniable, but to him, it was a closed book.
"I an, isn't this how these things usually go?" she said with a teasing tone. "In fairy tales, the princess gets rescued by a handso prince."
"So you think you're the princess?"
"Why? My looks don't qualify ?" She flipped her hair over one shoulder, releasing a faint, pleasant fragrance that carried in the wind.
Nozomi smirked, unimpressed. "You're beautiful, sure. But squatting at the door of Sakurasou doesn't exactly scream royal elegance."
Rita laughed, but there was a tremble in it. "I didn't bring any luggage, you know. I was planning to leave right after seeing Mashiro... didn't think she'd shut out."
"So now you're a holess foreign beauty," Nozomi replied, arms crossed. "Need a place to stay?"
"Exactly. What do you say, Nozomi? Want to take in?"
He shrugged. "You're Mashiro's precious friend. Of course I'll help. She's just angry right now because she feels like you're not supporting her."
"Thanks, Mr. Nozomi," she said playfully. Then, with a wink, "So, will you take to your room?"
Her tone was light, teasing, but her body language betrayed a hint of nervousness. Rita was bold—but not careless. For a girl traveling alone, a guy's room was still dangerous territory.
Nozomi sighed and rolled his eyes. "You think too much. I already have a girlfriend. I'm not letting so 'holess princess' sleep in my bed."
"Geez, cold much?"
"There are plenty of empty rooms on the third floor. Go ahead and pick one."
Rita gave him a pout, then smiled again—this ti, a little more genuine.
"Got it. Thanks, Prince Nozomi."
But as she turned to walk in, her smile faltered just a little.
His complete lack of reaction… made her quietly question whether her charm had any effect at all.
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