True heroes of the world are as countless as fish swimming across the river.

Tsukasa Harano turned his face to look at her.
Orihime Kurosaki gave him a faint, ambiguous smile.
Their gazes met.
The atmosphere instantly stiffened; the hint of intimacy vanished in an instant, and even the surrounding air seemed to thicken.
Then, in the next moment,
a hand was raised.
It was Orihime Kurosaki’s hand.
Her slender, fair palm looked like a work of art, and at that moment, it covered the unfathomable depths of his gaze, concealing the deliberately revealed snowy white sight, while simultaneously creating distance between them.
There was no shouting as one might have imagined, nor any insults following suit—only a playful look filled her eyes.
Orihime pressed her lightly tinted lips together, her eyes narrowing into crescent shapes, her long, glistening eyelashes tilting slightly upwards, quietly as if waiting to see how he would respond.
“A test?”
Tsukasa Harano withdrew his gaze from the area she had just concealed and asked in response to her words.
“Yes.”
Orihime Kurosaki smiled, acknowledging without denial.
Harano’s expression remained unchanged, as if he hadn’t quite understood her meaning. He turned his face slightly and took a sip of the now lukewarm tea. “What kind of test?”
“As a friend of Sayaka’s, even if I lack a sense of propriety myself, Harano-kun should maintain an appropriate safe distance from me, especially when we’re alone, shouldn’t he?” Orihime rested her right arm on the tea table, her pale fingers stroking her lightly reddened lips.
“Miss Kurosaki knows she lacks propriety?”
“Or do you want to argue the opposite?”
“No, what would I argue about?”
Harano put down his teacup and asked with a strange look, “I’m a man; isn’t it normal to be a little lecherous?”
“Is it normal?” Orihime’s beautiful eyes narrowed slightly.
“Is it abnormal?” This time, Harano gave her a bolder look, scanning the woman sitting just several dozen centimeters away once more, carefully admiring her delicate toes that peeked from beneath her black long skirt, like exquisite white jade. With a serious tone, he asked, “Or do you think Miss Kurosaki’s figure and appearance aren’t quite enough to warrant me being lecherous?”
“How interesting.” Orihime fell silent for a moment.
“What do you find interesting, then?”
“Nothing is interesting.” Orihime reined in her smile. “Arguing any further is just a waste of time. I will truthfully tell Sayaka what happened today.”
“Please do.” Harano’s face remained calm.
Orihime made no move but met his gaze quietly, as if trying to read something from his face. After a long silence, she suddenly smiled again and said, “So you don’t like Sayaka after all.”
“I like her.”
“You’re lying,” irritation flickered in Orihime’s eyes. “If you really liked her, you wouldn’t have kept staring at my chest just now, then tried to deny it after being caught, and even now, when you hear I’m going to tell her, you still act indifferent.”
“So, Miss Kurosaki came here just to test my loyalty to Section Chief Suzumiya?”
Harano pondered for a moment before asking.
“Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
Hearing that phrase, Harano murmured to himself.
Seeming to think of something, he chuckled and continued, “I just wonder how Section Chief Suzumiya would feel knowing that Miss Kurosaki took it upon herself to test me like this.”
Without giving her a chance to speak, Harano rubbed his chin and murmured, “Maybe she’d be grateful?”

“What do you mean?”
A bad feeling rose in Orihime’s heart.
Her irritation began to fade.
Listening to these strange words, the anger that had disrupted her rhythm subsided significantly, and her mind regained clarity.
Yet, Harano did not intend to give her much time to think; he smoothly pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket, unlocking the screen as he said, “Since Miss Kurosaki intends to tell Section Chief Suzumiya what happened today, why not tell her now?”
“You’re going to call Sayaka?”
Orihime was stunned for a moment but quickly recovered and clenched the fingers resting on her thigh.
“Yes.”
Harano kept his head lowered as he replied.
“Fine.”
Orihime fell silent, her fair face expressionless now, completely devoid of the composure she had just displayed, yet still unconvinced that he would truly make the call.
But the man before her seemed to defy her expectations from the very start, playing by his own rules.
She watched as Harano unlocked his phone and placed it flat on the tea table, scrolling through the contacts until finally stopping at Sayaka Suzumiya’s name. Without hesitation, he dialed.
He even switched on the speakerphone.
The beep of the ringing echoed, each echo striking at Orihime’s heart like a sharp knock.
Yet she forced herself to remain calm.
In Orihime’s view, if Harano really made that call and explained the truth to Sayaka Suzumiya, it would be a move that harms both sides—no one would benefit.
Although their time together was brief, she sensed there was something unusually tenacious about this man, a depth beneath his surface that did not align with his appearance.
At least, his choice to go all in with such a reckless approach made Orihime certain that Harano was no ordinary man. She even felt a trace of regret for having come so boldly for a fish she knew little about, and for resorting to such extreme measures.
“Hello…”
As Orihime’s mind swirled with thoughts, the long-ringing call was finally answered.
“Suzu…”
Harano was about to speak when a familiar slender hand suddenly appeared, swiftly pressing the screen’s hang-up button.
He looked up in the direction of the hand.
His gaze met Orihime’s face, now expressionless compared to before.
“Miss Kurosaki?”
“Let’s pretend I never came today.”
Orihime locked eyes with him, slowly withdrawing the hand that had hung up the call to Sayaka Suzumiya. Her red lips parted as she spoke each word deliberately.
Then without another word, she suddenly stood and made as if to leave.
But Harano stopped her with a single sentence.
“Are you planning to leave just like that?”
Orihime paused, turned sideways, and glanced at him sitting cross-legged by the tea table. After a moment, she asked, “Harano-kun, are you inviting me to dinner?”
“Not quite. But after your reminder earlier, I realized something.”
“I’m all ears.”
Orihime stared at his face.
“Section Chief Suzumiya’s experience is indeed somewhat lacking.”
Harano’s phone screen lit up again—it was an incoming call from Sayaka Suzumiya. He glanced at it, then hung up and continued, “If I’m not mistaken, Miss Kurosaki has been observing my home since the moment she walked in, and from her words and actions, she’s been probing into my financial situation. I’m not sure if it’s truly out of concern for Section Chief Suzumiya or if there are other intentions...”
“What other intentions?” Orihime stood barefoot on the polished mahogany floor, her bag slung over her shoulder.
Harano didn’t answer but instead asked back, “What about your family background, Miss Kurosaki?”
“A working-class family.”
Orihime’s face remained impassive.
“That explains it.”
Looking at the incoming call again, Harano muted it. “Although I don’t know much about Section Chief Suzumiya, through other colleagues I’ve heard she comes from a wealthy family. Generally, people tend to associate with those of similar backgrounds, and friends from different economic conditions can indeed feel a sense of disparity, which sometimes breeds strange feelings.”
Orihime was silent for a moment, her pale, delicate face betraying no emotion. “Please elaborate.”
“For example, jealousy—wanting to prove oneself superior to friends, foolishly hoping that someone who likes a friend might like oneself instead, to satisfy a fragile ego.”
“Or, approaching thirty and still choosing a partner, with no suitable candidate because of insufficient conditions, while wealthier friends have better prospects nearby—perhaps one might find a good match through these connections?”
Harano’s voice wasn’t a question but sounded like reciting textbook answers. Though quiet, his words struck Orihime like a cold, methodical dissection of her inner self.
If Orihime weren’t a steadfast materialist, she might have believed Harano possessed mind-reading abilities. Even so, her pupils involuntarily contracted upon hearing those words; it felt as if he were an expert in psychology or microexpressions—otherwise, he couldn’t have guessed her so precisely.
Only now did she realize that coming here on her own initiative had been a grave mistake.
The man before her, younger by several years, was neither a fool easily swayed by a few words nor some shy fellow who had quietly admired a female superior for two years before confessing.
To such a person, Orihime felt a strong sense of kinship—but precisely because of this, the longer she stayed, the more uneasy she became.
She lowered her head slightly, her long, raven-black lashes fluttering intermittently, revealing the unrest within. After nearly half a minute of silence, she suddenly raised her head, revealing her pale, delicate face. Without the expected anger or retort, she smiled wryly and said,
“Harano-kun, from today onward, let’s say we’ve only met twice—do you really think so poorly of me?”
Heroes abound in the world like fish crossing a river,
Harano thought to himself.
With such control over emotions after having all pretenses stripped away, and still mounting a counterattack despite nearly tearing off the mask, Orihime was already a master!
“Of course not. Those were examples you asked me to list just now. I didn’t say you. I just believe human nature’s darkness has no bounds, so I often overthink.” Harano was careful not to be too direct.
“That must be quite troublesome, right?”
“Not too bad.”
“Anything else?”
“How about dinner together?” Harano propped himself up on the tea table and stood, extending the invitation. “My treat.”
Orihime clearly didn’t feel like it, but she maintained her impeccable composure. Barefoot, she walked to the entrance to change her shoes and said,
“No need. I might have a consultation tonight and need to be on duty.”
“Then shall we exchange contact info?”
Harano watched as the moisture marks left by Orihime’s bare feet on the floor gradually vanished before his eyes.
Orihime hesitated for a few seconds, then finally reached into her bag, searching briefly before pulling out a plain white business card and placing it on the shoe cabinet by the entrance.
“This is my card.”
“So polite. Aren’t you tired of that?”
Harano asked suddenly.
Orihime turned her cheek, restoring the graceful beauty she had when they first met. She chuckled softly and said,
“In the adult world, you can’t just be carried around to rest whenever you get tired like a child.”