The Fragrant Flower Blooms With Dignity — Chapter 90

Ayato Yorita has always been the sunshine shield of the Chidori group, the guy who cracks jokes while quietly taking hits for his friends, so Chapter 90 feels like the moment the mask finally slips in the best way possible. What started as a painful misunderstanding, with the boys overhearing Ayato seemingly brushing off their friendship, unfolds into something far more vulnerable. He was not pushing them away out of arrogance, but out of shame. Behind that easy grin is a boy who desperately wants to become a police officer and is convinced that dream is out of reach. That revelation lands so beautifully because it recontextualizes everything we thought we knew about him. His freakish strength, his calm in a fight, his throwaway line about standing for peace, it was never delinquent posturing. It was a moral compass pointing toward justice. The fan jokes about him being a secret yakuza boss suddenly feel bittersweet, because Ayato has been fighting so hard to be the opposite of that image while believing his background disqualifies him. The emotional core here is why he hid it. The chapter delicately weaves in two heavy weights, the quiet pressure of financial hardship that makes an expensive, exam-heavy career feel selfish to pursue, and the shadow of his older brother, whose own disillusionment with the police left a wound Ayato is afraid to reopen. He is not just scared of failing, he is scared of hoping. What makes this series special shines through in the reaction. There is no forced drama or betrayal arc. Rintaro, Saku and the others meet his confession with immediate, grounded empathy, reminding him that found family means carrying those burdens together. Mikami Saka lets the art do so much talking, with tight close-ups on Ayato's trembling eyes giving way to softer, open panels as his friends close the distance. It is a quiet, mature pivot for his character, from protector who suffers alone to a young man finally allowing himself to be protected.