Several months had passed since my reincarnation.

At first, I trembled at the lack of what used to be between my legs and almost got a nosebleed seeing my beautiful-girl self in the mirror, but before I knew it, I had celebrated my first birthday since reincarnating, and now I had completely adjusted to life as Nanase Shizuku '6 years old, mentally 26'.

However, peaceful days tend to come to an abrupt end.

* * *

"Shizuku-chan, look! I folded a flower really well!"

In the kindergarten hall.

Next to me, as we made paper flowers to decorate the graduation ceremony, Aoi waved her hands excitedly and showed me a pink paper flower.

Until a few months ago, she used to nervously read the room, but after constantly following me around, she had gradually gained confidence.

Recently, she could even chat cheerfully with the other girls—as long as she could stay right next to me.

"Nice, that’s really well done. You’re good with your hands, Aoi. That fold is perfect—like a craftsman’s work."

‘Hehe, Shizuku-chan praised me…’

When I naturally patted her blonde head, Aoi narrowed her eyes with a melting smile.

From a short distance away, Hiroto—surrounded by 15 girls and whining, "The paper hurts my fingers. I don’t wanna do this anymore, someone fold it for me"—glared at us with clear irritation.

But I brushed it off like wind through willow branches.

My mental age isn’t low enough to care about the jealousy of a spoiled brat like that.

However, that calm atmosphere froze over when Misaki-sensei handed out a single sheet of paper.

"Alright, everyone. Today I’m handing out materials about preparing for elementary school. Ah, Aoi-chan, Shizuku-chan. Your homes are close, but you’re right on the boundary of different school districts, so you’ll be going to different elementary schools. It’s sad, but let’s all get along until it’s time to say goodbye, okay?"

Those words, casually spoken by Misaki-sensei—how much impact they had on Aoi.

"...Huh?"

The pink flower slipped from Aoi’s hand and fluttered to the floor.

The color drained from her face instantly.

"...Different? I won’t be with Shizuku-chan?"

"Aoi? Hey, are you okay?"

I called out to her, but it didn’t seem to reach her.

Large tears quickly filled her emerald-green eyes.

"No… no! I want to stay with Shizuku-chan! I don’t want to be separated, I absolutely don’t want that!!"

Aoi grabbed my sleeve with such force it felt like it might tear, crying out loudly.

Her wailing echoed through the quiet hall, drawing the attention of all the other children and teachers.

'...Ah, I see. So it’s neighboring districts…'

From my perspective with memories of my previous life, the neighboring elementary school was only about a 10-minute bike ride or a 30-minute walk away.

We could easily meet after school.

But for a six-year-old, "going to different schools" was equivalent to being torn apart to opposite ends of the world.

Especially in this abnormal 1:15 gender-ratio savannah.

Losing the "knight" who treated her as an equal person and escorted her kindly—the fear of that loss.

For a girl in this world, where fathers are rare, it was a despair equivalent to death.

"Aoi, calm down. Don’t cry. Your face is a mess."

"Waaah… Shizuku-chan, Shizuku-chan!"

As Aoi sobbed and started hyperventilating, I pulled her into an embrace without hesitation.

Misaki-sensei rushed over in panic, saying, "Ah, um, you two…" but I raised a hand to stop her.

Calming this girl down came first.

"It’s fine, sensei. Aoi, look at me."

I knelt down to meet her eye level and firmly held her trembling shoulders.

Then, like when I calmed down subordinates panicking during major trouble in my previous life, I spoke in a low, deep, reassuring husky voice.

"Even if we go to different schools, it doesn’t mean we’ll never see each other again, right? My house and yours are close. After school, on Saturdays—I’ll come pick you up myself. It’s a promise."

"B-but… there’ll be lots of boys like Hiroto-kun at school… everyone will end up liking you, Shizuku-chan…"

Ah, so that’s it.

What Aoi feared wasn’t the physical distance, but being taken away by other "female predators" in a new environment.

"Not happening. I’ve got zero interest in getting along with those weak guys, and I’ve got no plans to hang out with anyone but you."

"...Really?"

"Yeah. Even in elementary school, the seat next to me is reserved for you. Alright?"

Saying that, I gently wiped away Aoi’s tears with my thumb and rested my forehead lightly against hers.

For girls in this world—and even for adult women like Misaki-sensei—this was a straightforward and sincere vow of affection they had never received, not even from men.

"…Shizuku-chan…"

Aoi’s sobbing stopped instantly.

Her face, still marked with tear streaks, flushed red like a ripe apple.

In her eyes, the despair from before was gone, replaced by something deeper, heavier—a thick, almost obsessive heat.

"...You promised.”

‘Shizuku-chan said the seat next to you is mine…’

Aoi wrapped her arms around my neck and clung tightly to me, even hooking her legs around my waist.

Her grip was surprisingly strong for a six-year-old, filled with an intensity that allowed no rejection.

'...Then it’s fine. Even if we go to different schools, as long as Shizuku-chan is mine… I’ll never let anyone else have you…'

* * *

Meanwhile, watching the scene—which had gone beyond a touching reunion and now resembled a married couple or a movie love scene—Misaki-sensei held her nose with trembling hands to stop a nosebleed.

'W-what was that just now? That’s not something a six-year-old says… And that forehead touch… I want every man I met at those matchmaking parties to boil down Shizuku-chan’s nail dirt and drink it!'

As for me, completely unaware of Misaki-sensei’s reaction, I simply thought, ‘Well, at least she stopped crying. Good grief, girls are so much trouble,’ while continuing to gently pat Aoi’s back.

Graduation was just around the corner.

At the new stage called elementary school, my "unintentional deadly poison" would spread even further—but at that time, I had no way of knowing it.