As May began and the early summer heat started baking the asphalt of the schoolyard, our Class 1-1 had its first proper physical education lesson since entering elementary school.

"Haa… haa… seriously? I’m already out of breath?"

After finishing two laps around the schoolyard as a warm-up, I stood there with my hands on my knees, gasping for air.

Sweat clung to my forehead, and my small heart pounded like a drum.

'…This body is way too heavy.'

In my previous life, I spent every winter snowboarding in the mountains and even ran full marathons in the summer as part of my training.

At twenty-six, in the prime of my life, I was wrapped in muscle like armor.

Because I still remembered that feeling, the low specs of this "frail six-year-old beautiful girl body" made me sigh in frustration all over again.

'No stamina. No strength. All I’ve got is unnecessarily silky black hair and a ridiculously promising bone structure…'

While I was despairing over my weakness, the teacher called out,

"Take a short break! Make sure you hydrate properly!"

The students all rushed toward the area where their water bottles were placed at the edge of the field.

But among them, there was one person who didn’t move at all.

Flaming red short hair.

The queen of this class—Hojo Anju.

She stood there with her arms crossed under the blazing sun, her gaze wandering slightly, restless.

'…She forgot her water bottle.'

My former corporate-worker skill—"people observation"—kicked in.

For someone as obsessed with perfection as her, her pride probably wouldn’t allow her to admit she forgot something.

But today was unusually hot for May.

For a six-year-old to endure the heat without water was dangerous.

Her face was slightly flushed, and her lips were dry.

‘...Guess I have no choice.’

I grabbed my water bottle filled with sports drink—simple black design, chosen from my previous life’s taste—and walked over to her.

"Hey, redhead."

"...W-what is it? Don’t call people by their hair color."

She flinched, then glared back at me, trying to sound strong.

But her voice was slightly hoarse from thirst.

"You forgot your bottle, didn’t you? Here, drink this."

I opened the spout of my bottle—the kind you drink from directly—and held it out to her.

"Hah!? W-what are you saying!? Drinking from someone else’s bottle—especially one you’ve already used—is unsanitary!"

"Is now really the time to worry about that? Your face is red. If you collapse from heatstroke, that won’t be 'perfect,' will it?"

Using the same logic as before, she fell silent.

"And I’m not sick or anything.”

“Hurry up or break time’s over."

As I held the bottle closer, she gulped.

Her instinctive thirst and rational pride were clearly clashing.

"...F-fine. If you insist that much… I’ll just have a little… just a little."

With trembling hands, she took the bottle, closed her eyes as if bracing herself, and pressed her lips to the spout.

Gulp, gulp.

The sound of her swallowing echoed softly.

The cold drink must have been soaking into her body.

Her tense shoulders gradually relaxed.

And when she pulled the bottle away—there was a clear, moist trace left on the spout.

At that moment, Anju fully realized what she had just done.

An indirect kiss.

And not just with anyone—but with that infuriatingly cheeky yet annoyingly good-looking black-haired girl who had saved her the other day.

Pop!!

Her face turned bright red like a boiled octopus.

"Y-you… How dare you make a daughter of the Hojo family do something so embarrassing!"

"Huh? What are you talking about? I was just helping. You done? There’s still some left."

Completely oblivious, I took back the bottle and wiped the spout—still faintly marked with her lip balm—roughly with my sleeve.

Then, without hesitation, I put my mouth on it and chugged the rest.

"Ahh… that hit the spot."

I let out a breath of relief.

Watching that entire sequence up close, Anju could only open and close her mouth like a goldfish, completely speechless.

'…She drank from it… after I did… even if she wiped it!? T-this tactless barbarian… But…'

Even though the cold drink should have cooled her body, a completely different kind of heat flared up deep in her chest.

* * *

Meanwhile, at another elementary school a few hundred meters away—in Class 1-3, Hoshikawa Aoi suddenly froze mid-drawing with her new friend Mio.

A chilling sensation ran down her spine.

"What’s wrong, Aoi-chan? Does your tummy hurt?"

Mio leaned over, worried.

Aoi clutched her chest tightly, her face slightly pale.

"No… I don’t really know, but… I just got a really bad feeling."

"A bad feeling?"

"Yeah… like… something important to me was touched by someone I don’t know… just a little… it feels… uncomfortable…"

Aoi’s emerald-green eyes narrowed slightly, a dark glint appearing within them.

It was the instinctive alertness of a wild animal sensing its territory being disturbed.

'…Shizuku-chan. There isn’t some bad bug clinging to you, right?'

Ignoring physical distance entirely, a girl’s intuition—no, the high-level sensor of a yandere child—had just faintly but surely detected Anju’s presence.

* * *

"Alright, break’s over! Next, we’re timing your 50-meter dash!"

"Ugh… seriously?"

At the teacher’s merciless announcement, I groaned.

In my previous life, I could confidently run 50 meters in the six-second range, but with this body, I’d be lucky to break ten seconds.

'…Man. How many years until I can snowboard again?'

Dragging my heavy body, I headed toward the starting line.

Behind me, the red-haired queen still stood there, face flushed, watching me with heated eyes—something I, of course, didn’t notice at all.