Hitomi came down from a cab and hurried down the front yard and through the front door of her house.

Strands of her were sticking to her tear-damp cheeks, her textbook clutched like a lifeline under in front of her bouncing D-cups , her pastel blouse rumpled from nervous fidgeting.

She'd been crying ever since Renji left her in the art room. Even the cab driver's nice words of encouragement couldn't do anything.

She was too heartbroken to be cheered up.

Inside the house smelled of fresh-cooked rice and miso.

It was a comforting aroma, but it did nothing to lift the weight crushing her chest. She kicked off her shoes haphazardly, one tumbling into the corner, and called out in a wobbly voice, "Mom… I'm home…"

Principal Akemi Suzuki emerged from the living room.

Since it was a Saturday, she didn't look anything like her strict self.

She was instead dressed in casual home clothes that softened her usual authoritative principal aura: a loose gray sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder, revealing a simple tank top beneath, paired with comfy yoga pants that hugged her mature curves without effort.

She had her hair down in soft waves instead of the tight bun, and her feet in fluffy slippers.

She was wiping her hands on a dish towel, ready to welcome her daughter with a warm smile. That was until she saw her face.

"Hitomi? Honey, what's wrong?"

Hitomi didn't answer with words. She hurried forward, dropping her textbook with a thud, and threw her arms around her mother's waist in a tight, desperate hug.

"Hitomi?"

She buried her face in Akemi's sweatshirt as fresh sobs wracked her. Tears soaked the fabric immediately, her plump boobs pressing against Akemi's side, body shaking.

"M-Mom… I'm ugly… I'm so ugly… no one wants me…"

Akemi's eyes widened in alarm.

She immediately dropped the towel and wrapped her arms around Hitomi gently, one hand patting her back in slow, soothing circles, the other stroking her hair.

"Shh, baby. What could ever make you think that? My daughter… ugly? Where is this coming from? You're beautiful, my smart, talented girl."

She guided her to a couch and they sat. Hitomi curled into her side like a child, sobs muffled.

"Come on, tell me what happened."

Hitomi hiccuped before she answered, her face low. "I… I like a boy… but he doesn't even look at me… I asked him today… to be his girlfriend… and…"

She covered her face with her hands. "He rejected me, mom. Why did he do that? Am I not pretty enough? I'm ugly, aren't I?"

Akemi pulled back slightly, cupping Hitomi's wet cheeks, thumbs wiping tears. "Hitomi Suzuki, listen to me. You, my daughter, are stunning. Those big eyes, that smile, and your big brain.

She rubbed her back. "Boys will always be boys. They are blind. And besides, one rejection doesn't define you; boys are like that at your age, clueless and focused on stupid things. You're not ugly just because some idiot doesn't see it yet."

Hitomi grimaced. "He's not an idiot."

Akemi smiled. "Okay. He's not an idiot. But you're not ugly either, okay?"

Hitomi didn't seem convinced. "Then why did he reject me? He says he doesn't have a girlfriend… but he does lovey things with another girl… maybe he doesn't like me because I wouldn't do those kinds of things with him… I'm not… experienced like her…"

Akemi's brow furrowed, suspicion blooming as she went "Mhm?" in a low, thoughtful tone.

What was going on here?

Her mother and principal instincts kicked in.

This sounded like a bad boy type, already entangled in adult activities at eighteen. He sounded like trouble.

"Lovey things… What does that mean?"

Hitomi instantly fell shut, realizing she'd spoken too much already.

Akemi's eyes narrowed. "Hitomi, who is this boy? Tell me his name. I need to know if he's dragging you into something inappropriate."

Hitomi shook her head vehemently, clinging tighter. "I can't tell you, Mom… I like him too much… don't want to get him in trouble… or his… friend… please…"

Akemi pushed gently, voice firm but caring. "Honey, if he's pressuring you or involved in things he shouldn't—"

"No! He's not pressuring me, Mom and I won't say his name!"

Akemi stared at the tears on her daughter's face. She was completely in love with this boy.

A sigh left her and she hugged Hitomi closer while her mind raced.

'Before this mystery boy ruins my daughter, who I've raised to have a bright future, I need to find out who he is…'

-------------

Renji headed home, the afternoon soon bright. One hand held his backpack, and the other was in his pocket with the 15,000 yen crisp inside.

For a while now, he couldn't stop thinking about Hitomi and what she had said.

'I want you to win so you can enjoy the benefits and be proud of yourself.'

'You deserve it.'

Why did that make him feel a certain way?

Why did make him all fuzzy in his chest?

Did Hitomi like him that much, beyond the peeping? And did he… like her?

Renji groaned. This was so difficult.

It just felt odd when he heard her say those words. Like he'd discovered a brand new emotion.

It seemed like the first time someone sounded like they truly wanted him to succeed, not for school glory or ulterior motives, but for him.

He sighed. This really was difficult. And confusing.

But he decided to shake it off for now, he had to focus on the task at hand.

He had decided: his first MILF target would be Miyako Endo, the policewoman.

For now, she seemed most accessible since the Seihou Police department wasn't far.

But before diving in, he had to tighten loose ends from former attempts.

He veered off the main road toward the old skate park.

It was a gritty hangout where skateboarders ollied off ramps, bikers revved modified engines, and delinquents lounged on benches with cigarettes and glares. Graffiti covered the concrete, music thumping from a boombox.

Renji walked straight through the stares, ignoring the muttered challenges, to where Bunji leaned against his chopper.

Bunji was a burly guy in leather, tattoos snaking arms and a grin splitting his bearded face.

He was also the guy Renji had hired to do the fake bike accident.

"You're finally here to give me my money, Renny boy?!" Bunji boomed, laughing as heads turned.

Renji kept cool, stepping close, pulling the wad from his pocket. "Why don't you keep your voice low? Everyone doesn't have to know our business."

Bunji's grin widened, but he lowered to a chuckle. "Alright, you're right, smart kid." He took the cash, thumbing through. "Double? Ah, what did I do to get this lucky?"

Renji glanced around subtly. "I'm buying the bike you used for the deed. That's more than what it's worth, isn't it?."

Bunji whistled low, pocketing the money. "Sweet. Alright then. Come over to my crib tomorrow and it's yours."

Renji nodded. "Okay."

The bike had been itching his gut for days. He had to get rid of it—burn it, ditch it—so no one could match it to the one that almost hit Mrs. Hoshizawa if they ever saw Bunji riding it.

Renji turned and headed out, weaving through the park.

But… unbeknownst to him, in the bushes bordering the lot, a figure crouched low, holding a camera.

Click.

The figure took a picture.

Click.

And another.

The person zoomed the lens, snapping Renji leaving, hand in pocket, his face oblivious.

The figure checked the images, then looked up.

It was a face that was only more recognizable with sunglasses on.

It was Hideo.

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