Volume 1 Episode 09

I knew there was nothing in the fridge. I sigh in the kitchen. Without Sendai-san buying ingredients, I can’t make fried chicken.

Not that I could make it even if I had them.

“What should I eat?” I mutter, as if I have options, but there’s only one thing in this house that’s quick to eat. I close the fridge, grab two instant ramen cups from the kitchen shelf, and peel the film off one to open it. I start to peel the other, then realize it’s unnecessary.

“Ugh, come on.”

After impulsively starting the eraser hunt, things got awkward, and I sent Sendai-san home. Yet I still prepared two cups—a habit from eating dinner together whenever she came over. It’s a reflex my body has picked up without me noticing.

I put the extra cup back, place the ramen on the counter, and pour hot water from the kettle. Setting the kitchen timer, I wait three minutes. The overly spacious kitchen and living room feel like something’s lurking, making me uneasy alone. Even in my own home, every room but mine feels like someone else’s.

I glance back at the TV no one watches and the table no one uses. When was the last time I ate with Dad here? I try to recall, but I can’t. As I sigh over unsearchable memories, the timer’s shrill beep makes me jump.

“That scared me.”

It’s bad for my heart. As bad as the things Sendai-san does. Today, when she called me “Shiori,” my heart nearly stopped. Only Maika and Ami call me that—Sendai-san never has. The unexpected name threw my breathing off. I couldn’t turn around right away, and that’s only natural. I peel the ramen lid and bring the noodles to my mouth.

“Not that tasty.”

Instant ramen isn’t gourmet, but it’s better with company. Even Sendai-san’s presence would help. But because she acted differently today, I’m eating alone.

“What was that today?”

Sendai-san’s always been overly familiar, but she’s gotten worse. Her sense of distance is off—she licked my finger without being told, called me Shiori, and touched me like she was inviting me to get closer. It made me want to touch her back. That’s what led to the eraser hunt.

Sendai-san’s weird.

She’s unhinged.

If she were normal, I wouldn’t be eating alone. What happened to make things like this?

I have a guess—

I grab some barley tea, setting the glass on the table. Tracing my neck with my fingers, my hand feels oddly cold.

Sendai-san probably noticed what I did.

The day she creased my textbook cover, I touched her neck. That’s when she started acting mean. She used to be mostly obedient, but lately, she’s defiant—doing unnecessary things. I don’t want her calling my name or doing unprompted stuff.

There are rules here. If I follow them, Sendai-san obeys any command. I can order anything within those rules—touch her if I want, make her stop being defiant, even tell her to “forget” something if I feel like it. So it doesn’t matter if she noticed what I did. No problem at all.

Yet today felt like I did something wrong, and it got awkward. I eat the stretched-out ramen and sip the tea. It’s really not tasty. It’s not worth savoring, so I shove the rest down and stand. I clean up the trash and turn off the light. The darkened living room blurs even my own outline.

I hold up the finger Sendai-san’s tongue touched to the vanished light. Seeing nothing, I touch it to my lips to confirm. No taste, obviously. I return to my room.

“Oh, the eraser.”

My open bag reminds me—Sendai-san didn’t return it.

“Give it back properly.”

I can’t do homework without it. I wasn’t exactly eager, but I meant to try. Thanks to her, I can’t. I should’ve made her do it. But she’s gone home, and complaining won’t bring it back or magically finish my homework.

Maybe I’ll borrow Maika’s.

I’ll leave it to tomorrow’s Maika and sleep early. In the end, I bought an eraser at a convenience store before school.

Sendai-san’s in the next class but doesn’t come to return it. Even when passing her, she doesn’t mention it. We don’t talk at school—that’s the deal. I’m not upset at all. I’ll ask about it next time I call her. I have a new eraser, so I’m fine, and if it’s lost, it’s cheap anyway.

After that, nothing bad enough to call her over happened. I figured I’d endure small annoyances, and somehow, calling her felt hard. But after a week, I couldn’t not call her.

It’d be weird to suddenly stop.

For the first time, I message her without a reason.

“Come over today.”

She replies that she has cram school but comes to my room the next day.

✧✧✧✧✧

It hasn’t been that long. Still, her uniform’s changed to the lighter one, making her feel different. It makes my room feel slightly unsettling.

“Miyagi, something up?” Sendai-san says, unbuttoning her blouse.

“Why?”

“You didn’t call for a while.”

“Just busy.”

“Hmm.”

She doesn’t ask why. I wouldn’t have answered anyway—I wasn’t actually busy, so I’d have nothing to say. I bring barley tea and cider, handing her 5,000 yen.

“Thanks,” she says, taking it and sitting on the bed.

Seeing her accept the money as usual reassures me. Aside from switching from a blazer to a knit vest, she’s the same—two blouse buttons undone, tie loosened.

“Not taking that off?” I point at her vest, sitting across from her.

Her teasing voice replies, “Miyagi’s always trying to undress people.”

“Not like that. You often take off your blazer.”

“I know. So, what’s today?”

“You’re eager.”

I called her without a bad day to prompt it, so I can’t think of orders right away.

“Let’s do homework for now.”

I don’t want to study, but it’s the only way to quiet her. I could make her do it, but then I’d have nothing to do. I’m scared of doing something unnecessary if I don’t keep busy.

“Lend me yours,” she says, standing and sitting beside me.

“I’ll do it myself. You do whatever.”

I move across from her, pulling out my math textbook and notebook.

“You’re doing it yourself?” she says, exaggeratedly shocked.

“Yeah.”

“No ‘do my homework’ order today?”

“Nope.”

“Miyagi’s suddenly studious.”

“I’ve always been studious.”

“Then maybe I’ll do mine too,” she says lazily, pulling out her English textbook, notebook, and some worksheets.

Her pen scratches across the paper. I stare at my math textbook. Numbers, letters, and symbols swirl, making me dizzy. Some find beauty in equations, but to me, it’s an unsolvable code. Still, I need to solve problems to finish. I search for formulas, but they’re hard to recall.

Glancing at Sendai-san, she’s writing neat letters fluidly, like no problem stumps her. I’m jealous. I resume my slow struggle with the equations. The homework barely progresses. In the quiet room, only time passes. My eyes strain, and I sigh. A pen rolls from across the table. Looking up, Sendai-san’s watching me.

“Done?”

“Not even close.”

I curtly return her pen and focus on the textbook. She pokes my head.

“Ow. Don’t bother me.”

“Want help?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

Before I can refuse, she moves beside me.

“I don’t need help.”

“I’m bored,” she says, peering at my notebook.

I push her shoulder to keep distance. “Read manga like usual.”

“Read most of them.”

“I bought new ones. Read those.”

I got two manga during the week—enough to keep her busy. But she grabs my notebook, pointing to the middle. “This is wrong.”

“Huh?”

“Here’s a calculation error. And here.”

She takes her pen, correcting spots and explaining. Her explanations are clear, tailored so I understand. But her closeness is off.

“Sendai-san, you’re too close.”

I’d pushed her away, but her uniform’s brushing mine.

“Am I?”

“You’ve been too familiar lately. It’s annoying—back off.”

I push her arm, moving her to the table’s edge.

“Isn’t ‘annoying’ harsh?”

“Not harsh. And it’s hot when you’re close.”

It’s only mid-May, but it’s been summer-hot. I wouldn’t want anyone close, not just her.

“Is that the only reason you don’t want me near?”

“That’s it. I’ll do this myself, so go over there.”

I point to the bookshelf.

While I’m at it, I mention the titles of the manga I bought and take back the textbooks and notebooks that had somehow ended up on Sendai-san’s side. But no matter how long I wait, she doesn’t go to get the books. Instead, she closes the distance I had tried to put between us, pulling the textbooks and notebooks back toward herself.

“It’s hot, you know,” 

“I’m not hot.”

“That’s such a lie. You’re sensitive to heat, Sendai-san.”

During the winter, because the fan heater was always set to a high temperature, Sendai-san would often take off her blazer. My “just right” and her “just right” are different.

There’s no way Sendai-san isn’t hot in a room where even I, someone who’s sensitive to cold, feel warm.

“This should cool you off, right?”

Sendai-san grabs the air conditioner remote from the edge of the table and turns it on.

“Don’t just turn it on like that!”

I snatch the remote and turn it off. What is her deal, seriously? Sendai-san is being even more clingy than usual.

“Hey, Miyagi.”

I can’t deal with her right now.

Ignoring her, I focus on my textbook. I pick up a pen to work on an unfinished problem, but Sendai-san disregards my intention to continue my homework. “Here,” she says, her fingertip brushing my neck. I look up instinctively, and her hand presses against my neck.

“You know why I’m touching you, right?”

Sendai-san says quietly, continuing her words.

“When I was sleeping, why did you kiss my neck?”

Her hand brushes my neck again.

“If you noticed, you could’ve asked me right then. Why bring it up now?”

“Answer my question before you ask one.”

She’s not angry, but her tone isn’t exactly gentle either. I think Sendai-san has the right to ask. And considering what I did, I should probably answer her question. But even if she asks “Why?” I don’t have an answer. I want to know why I did it more than she does.

“Miyagi, answer me.”

Urged quietly, I peel her hand off my neck.

“My lips just brushed against you. It wasn’t a kiss.”

“If you were acting normally, your lips wouldn’t just brush against a place like that.”

“You already know the answer. I wasn’t acting normally.”

Sendai-san is right. If I had been acting normally, my lips wouldn’t have touched her neck while she was sleeping. I deliberately touched her there.

I have a clear memory of it. But I can’t explain my actions. It wasn’t something I did for a specific reason, and even if there was a reason, it’s buried somewhere in my subconscious.

I close my textbook to avoid Sendai-san’s gaze. If I ordered her to “stop asking” right now, I could forcibly end this awkward moment. But if I did that, she’d probably bring it up every chance she got. That would be a hassle.

“It’s not like I did anything more than that, so it’s fine, right? Are you satisfied?”

I add, sounding like I’m making an excuse to a teacher, avoiding her gaze. Then my blouse sleeve is tugged. I don’t want to look at her, but when I do, Sendai-san is staring at me with an unusually serious expression.

“Do you want to touch me now?”

I can’t comprehend why she’d ask something like that. And I still don’t know if she’s satisfied with my earlier answer.

As always, her sense of personal space is off, and she’s standing close to me, still gripping my blouse sleeve. I want her to back off a bit, but the atmosphere suggests she won’t let go until I answer.

“Is that an order to answer?”

“You’re the one who gives orders, Miyagi. I’m just asking a question.”

“If I said I wanted to touch you, would you let me?”

“Where would you want to touch?”

“Who was it that said to answer a question before asking one?”

“It depends on Miyagi’s answer.”

Her quiet voice echoes in my ears. She’s saying she might let me touch her, depending on the place.

But why?

These aren’t things the usual Sendai-san would say, and it’s making it hard to think straight.

What if I said “anywhere”?

She might just be teasing me. To begin with, do I even want to touch Sendai-san right now? Thoughts bubble up in my mind and pop like soda fizz. Fragments of memories burst too, and I recall Sendai-san sleeping on the bed.

That day, I touched her lips too. Before my lips brushed her neck, my fingertips traced her lips, soft like marshmallows.

If I could touch anywhere, I’d want to touch there. I reach out toward Sendai-san. I haven’t answered her question, but she doesn’t pull away, as if she understands my intention. My blouse sleeve is released, and my fingertips touch her lips without any resistance.

They’re soft, as expected.

When I press lightly, Sendai-san licks my finger, and I hurriedly pull my hand back.

“Give me an order,” she says in a slightly lower voice.

But it’s up to me to decide when and what to order. Not Sendai-san.

“Miyagi.”

Her firm voice urges me to give an order. It’s infuriating to be prompted like this, and it’s ridiculous to be ordered to give an order. But I can’t help myself.

“…Close your eyes.”

“Okay.”

Sendai-san is mistaken.

If she understood the meaning of my order, she’d complain. But she closes her eyes. There’s no way she doesn’t know what’s about to happen, yet she obeys.

I touch her cheek with my fingertips. She has a nose, eyes, and a mouth. Sendai-san’s features are just a bit better arranged than most people’s—not model or idol-level, but well-proportioned. You could call her beautiful.

Until I handed her five thousand yen at the bookstore, we had no connection. Normally, Sendai-san would never come to my house or follow my orders. If we ended up in different classes, she’d probably forget me entirely, and I wouldn’t even linger in her memory.

So, something like this shouldn’t be happening. I can’t understand why Sendai-san closed her eyes. If I got closer, she might open her eyes and laugh, saying, “Did you take it seriously?” I don’t think she’s that kind of person, but my mind can’t keep up with this impossible situation. Yet my body moves closer to her. Before I realize it, the distance between our lips is less than five centimeters. 

My heart aches.

I can’t breathe properly.

I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

My thumb brushes the corner of her lips.

Sendai-san doesn’t move.

I lean in a little closer and close my eyes.

It’s simple.

She won’t disobey my order. A distance of less than five centimeters can be closed in an instant, and if I can’t keep my eyes closed, I don’t have to.

I tilt my face slightly.

But I lose confidence about whether I’m really allowed to touch her. The thought that kissing her might make her stop coming to this room crosses my mind, and I push her shoulder.

“Sorry. Go home for today.”

“What?”

Sendai-san opens her eyes.

“Miyagi?”

I pull her up by her hand, startled by her surprised voice, gather her things, and hand her her bag. I open the room’s door and push her out.

I don’t know what the right thing to do is, and I can’t think straight. There’s probably a better way than sending her away, but I don’t have the capacity to figure it out right now. Besides, I don’t want her to see my face.

Please don’t turn around. Just go home.

“Hey!” Sendai-san, who clearly has no intention of leaving quietly, tries to turn back, but I drag her from the room to the front door. “Sorry. I’ll contact you later.”

She’s saying things like “Why?” and “We need to talk,” but the words don’t register. I just make her put on her shoes and push her out the door.

“Miyagi, open the door!”

I hear her knocking. I’m not going to open it. If I do, she’ll definitely be mad. Normally, I’d walk her downstairs, but today I can’t.

“Miyagi!”

Sendai-san’s voice calls from the other side of the door. 

Why did I try to kiss her?

Why didn’t I kiss her?

I don’t know anymore, and I slump against the door.

The heavy knocking reverberates against my back. Oh, right—I forgot to ask about the eraser.

That’s what I think of, of all things, now.