At Amanogawa Prefectural High, Hanabi Yasuoka is the perfect honor student everyone admires—but beneath her flawless smile lies a secret she's carried for years: she's in love with her homeroom teacher, Narumi Kanei, the gentle "big brother" who tutored her as a lonely child and promised to wait for her.
Mugi Awaya is the quiet, beautiful boy every girl wants—but the one he truly loves is a teacher who will never look his way.
When these two classmates discover each other's forbidden feelings,
Scum's Wish: The Secret Love That Never Was - The Perfect Honor Student and Three Promises
"Hanabi really is amazing, isn't she."
At the small voice drifting up from the seat behind her, Yasuoka Hanabi gave a tiny shrug—inwardly, where no one could see. Pretending not to hear, she quickly counted the handouts in her hands. Forty-two sheets. Exactly matching the class roster. Good—no mistakes this time.
Class 2-A of Amanogawa Prefectural High School. The air on the first morning of the new term was always restless, buzzing more than usual. No class reshuffling had happened, and yet everyone was fidgety—because the start of a new year makes just about anyone a little giddy.
Hanabi wove between her classmates, greeting the transfer student, passing out materials, confirming the day-duty roster. All of it moved as smoothly as if the procedure had been decided years ago.
"Oh—thank you, Hanabi. You're a lifesaver."
The transfer girl bowed her head apologetically. Hanabi gave her a bright smile.
"Don't mention it. If there's anything you don't understand, just ask me, okay?"
She softened the corners of her eyes and raised her pitch just slightly. Hanabi already knew the angle that put people at ease. Do this, and most people would think, *What a good girl.*
(That's fine. That's good enough.)
Hanabi murmured it in her heart, to no one in particular.
Outside the window, the rows of cherry trees along the Amanooka River were in full bloom. This town—Amanogawa City—was a regional hub of some two hundred eighty thousand people, with the Amanooka River flowing slow and easy through its center. Amanogawa Prefectural High sat on the elevated ground of the west-bank district, and from the classroom windows you could see the riverside cherries perfectly. Every time the wind blew, a few petals stuck to the window glass, then let go as if they'd given up.
For just a moment, Hanabi lost herself in the view.
(A new year starts again today.)
I have to pull myself together. Thinking that, she hugged the stack of handouts closer to her chest.
"Yasuoka, you're as flawless as ever."
The boy at the next desk spoke in a tone somewhere between admiration and exasperation. Hanabi tilted her head.
"Not at all. I'm just a little quicker on my feet than most people."
"No, no—you're plenty amazing."
The boy laughed and went back to his seat. Hanabi returned the smile. When she made a smile, she knew, there was a split second when her eyes didn't smile with it. But no one in this classroom could see through that far.
Which was a little lonely—and yet, so much easier.
After school.
In front of the staff room door, Hanabi took one deep breath. She straightened the collar of her blazer, smoothed the hem of her skirt, checked the position of her ribbon with her fingertips. No mirror, but it was probably fine.
(Okay.)
She gave herself a small pep talk, then knocked on the staff room door.
"Excuse me."
Inside, even at this hour, plenty of teachers remained. A club adviser hurried past with an armful of papers. Somewhere a homeroom teacher was on the phone, scolding a student. The sound of a printer spitting out pages came from somewhere deep in the back.
Hanabi headed without hesitation for the desk by the window, farthest in.
"Kanei-sensei."
At her voice, the man looked up from the Japanese textbook spread open on his desk.
Kanei Narumi. Their homeroom teacher, and a Japanese teacher. Twenty-eight years old this year—supposedly.
"Oh, Hanabi. What is it?"
Narumi narrowed his eyes behind his glasses as he said it. Gentle, warm, kind to everyone without exception. As far as Hanabi knew, she had never once seen this man angry.
"I've collected the career survey forms. I've checked everyone's."
Hanabi pulled the neatly bundled forms from the folder she carried and held them out.
"Ooh, thank you. You're a lifesaver. You really are so dependable, Hanabi."
Narumi laughed innocently as he took the forms. Then, without thinking anything of it, he patted her on the head.
The warmth of his palm spread from the crown of her head, slowly, through her whole body.
(Oh—this is bad.)
Reflexively, Hanabi's mouth began to open.
"Big bro—"
She caught herself and swallowed it. The word snagged in the back of her throat and nearly came out as a strange noise.
"...Kanei-sensei. I'll be going now."
Feigning composure, Hanabi gave a little bow. Narumi looked puzzled for a moment, but then smiled. "Ah—good work today."
She left the staff room.
The instant she was in the hallway, Hanabi braced a hand against the wall and nearly sank to the floor.
(That was close...)
Her heart was racing like an idiot's. Her chest was hot, and she could feel her face burning.
*Big brother.*
A name she could no longer say.
Back in elementary school, she'd said it all the time.
Hanabi let out a long breath and pressed both hands to her flushed cheeks.
The rooftop door was unlocked again today.
The roof of Amanogawa Prefectural High was officially off-limits. And yet, for some reason, this school's rooftop lock was always just a little loose. Hanabi had discovered that in her first year, and since then she'd come up here now and then.
After confirming no one was around, she leaned against the fence.
(Haah...)
Everything she'd held taut at school drained out of her all at once. The honor student's smile peeled away with an almost audible sound.
Hanabi took her smartphone from her skirt pocket. She tapped the lock screen, and it lit up.
On it was a photo of Narumi.
A picture taken a little while ago, at a class get-together. Hanabi had called out, "Let's take a photo," and casually positioned herself next to Narumi. In it, Narumi faced the camera with that gentle smile of his.
Hanabi looked at that photo every day, over and over.
(Big brother.)
Only in her heart did she call him that.
Hanabi had first met Narumi in the third grade. Her parents both worked, and there were many days when she came home to an empty house. Worried about her—a latchkey kid—her mother had asked Narumi, a college student who lived nearby, to tutor her.
Narumi was truly kind.
He didn't just teach her schoolwork—he ate dinner with her. He praised the food she made as "delicious." On lonely nights, he stayed on the phone with her until late.
Before she knew it, Hanabi had fallen for him.
"When I grow up, I'm going to marry you, big brother."
How many times had she said that back then? Narumi would always laugh, looking a little troubled, and answer, "Is that so? Then I'll be waiting."
(Was that a joke, I wonder.)
Even now, Hanabi believed that promise with all her heart.
But Narumi surely didn't remember.
No grown man would take seriously the words of a little girl.
Hanabi stared at the phone screen. Narumi's smile, lit by the setting sun, looked faintly orange.
(I love you.)
If she said it aloud, she felt she might cry.
So she said it only in her heart.
(I love you, big brother.)
The wind blew. Cherry petals from the riverside swirled all the way up to the roof. Hanabi's eyes followed them absently.
Night.
Hanabi was walking through Sanrio Street, a shopping arcade eight minutes on foot from Kagamigawa Station. Step just one street off the main road in front of the station, and the air changed completely. The chain izakayas and drugstores vanished, replaced by old family-run shops. The arcade roof sliced the night sky into a long, narrow strip.
Apparently this arcade had once been far busier. Now about half the shops had their shutters down, and at night the foot traffic was sparse. Even so, Hanabi liked this street. Somehow, time seemed to flow more slowly here.
The shop she was headed for sat halfway down the arcade.
Café Mirpas.
She pushed the wooden door, and a bell jingled. The air—coffee and old sofa mingled together—wrapped softly around her.
"Welcome."
From behind the counter, the owner, Oba Mamoru, poked his head out. A man in his sixties, taciturn and tight-lipped. This place was nicknamed "the graveyard of students' love confessions." Whatever you said here never left the walls. That was why Hanabi had chosen it.
"Good evening. Is the back table free?"
"Ah, it's free."
Hanabi headed for the table by the window, at the back of the shop.
Someone was already there.
Awaya Mugi.
Pale skin, sleek hair. A boy in Hanabi's class with finely chiseled features. He sat by the window, cool-faced, drinking an iced coffee. Even under the shop's dim lighting, Mugi's presence was unmistakable.
"Sorry I'm late."
Hanabi said it as she took the seat across from him.
"It's fine. I just got here myself."
Mugi raised his face and looked at her. His eyes always seemed to be gazing somewhere far off. As if he were looking at Hanabi—and at something beyond her, deeper in.
(He really does have a beautiful face.)
She thought it every time she saw him. The pale skin, the sleek hair, the long lashes—all of it too perfectly put together. No wonder the girls in class couldn't leave him alone.
But Hanabi and Mugi were not what the world thought they were.
At school, they played the part of a close couple. The ideal lovers. Everyone around them said they were "perfect together."
But all of it was fake.
"You remember the three rules, right?"
Hanabi said it, looking straight into Mugi's eyes.
For a moment, Mugi twirled the straw of his iced coffee between his fingers. Then, in a flat voice, he recited them.
"We don't fall for each other. If either of our feelings comes true, this ends. And physical desire—we accept it, whenever it comes."
"Yeah. That's how it is."
"Yeah."
Hanabi felt something strange—a kind of relief, and at the same time a faint chill deep in her chest.
This arrangement had begun so that Hanabi and Mugi could each hide their own pain.
Hanabi had someone she loved: Narumi.
Mugi had someone else he loved.
They each knew about the other. They knew—and still, they carried on this fake couple.
(What are we even doing?)
She'd thought it more times than she could count. But she couldn't stop.
Because being alone was too lonely.
"Speaking of which,"
Mugi said it in an offhand tone.
"I ran into Minagawa-sensei in the hallway today. She was beautiful, as always."
Minagawa Akane.
The school's music teacher—the woman who'd tutored Mugi back in middle school. Mugi's true love.
Reflexively, Hanabi put on a smile.
"I see. That's nice."
"It's not really 'nice' or anything."
Mugi said that and turned his gaze out the window.
In that instant, Hanabi saw it.
Mugi's eyes—just for a moment—looking somewhere far away.
(Ah.)
Something deep in Hanabi's chest gave a small, sharp ache.
(Why?)
This was supposed to be pretend. She knew they each loved someone else.
So why did it stir her up like this, now, of all times?
Hanabi couldn't explain it herself.
"...I think I'll have another iced coffee."
She said it as if to change the subject.
"Suit yourself."
Mugi answered curtly.
Hanabi ordered another iced coffee from Mamoru at the counter.
For the next half hour or so, the two of them talked about nothing in particular. Class, teachers, TV. The same harmless conversation they had at school.
But inside Hanabi's heart, that small, sharp ache remained, like a tiny thorn.
They paid and left the shop.
Once they passed through the Sanrio Street arcade, the night wind stirred Hanabi's bangs. An April night was still a little chilly. Hanabi pulled her cardigan tight.
They walked side by side to the station.
Matching his pace to hers was one of Mugi's few kindnesses.
"See you at school tomorrow."
Hanabi said it in front of the ticket gate and waved.
"Yeah. Good night."
Mugi raised a hand lightly and walked off toward the far side of the station.
(*Good night,* huh.)
Hanabi repeated the words in her heart.
A "good night" from a fake boyfriend.
And yet—why did it warm her chest so much?
(No, I can't.)
Hanabi shook her head and melted into the crowd in front of the station.
On the way home.
Hanabi walked alone along the riverside path by the Amanooka River. Acr
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