Volume 2 Episode 02

 Something felt like it was starting to change.

The day the midterms ended, when Miyagi touched my ear, I thought I sensed it—but maybe it was just my imagination.

Since then, I’ve been called over a few times, but nothing major has shifted between us. The sports festival came and went, and we’re back to peaceful, uneventful days. Kissing didn’t make things particularly awkward, and getting my ear licked didn’t stop her from summoning me.

It’s boring.

It’s dull.

It’s so unchanging that it feels uncomfortable. I didn’t expect a kiss to change everything, but deep down, maybe I hoped it would. It’s deflating. There’s no spark.

Miyagi licked my ear. I don’t exactly want her to do it again, but I can’t help wondering what she was thinking when she did it. I never asked about the circumstances that led to it, so her motives remain a mystery. Since then, she hasn’t ordered me to lick her fingers or her feet or anything like that. She hasn’t licked my ear again either. All she does is give me the same old uninspired commands in exchange for five thousand yen. I’m not craving anything thrilling, but I’m tired of homework and reading manga aloud.

Still, there’s been a slight change.

We got a new table, a bit bigger than the last one, making it easier to spread out textbooks. It also means we can study side by side now, and Miyagi is sitting next to me, working on her homework. She doesn’t look particularly happy about it, though. Her mood is as gloomy as the rainy season weather.

“You got this wrong,” I say, pointing at a spot in her notebook with my pen.

She’s not great at English, and there are other mistakes, but I only point out one for now. She glances at me, clearly unamused.

“You don’t have to point out my mistakes when I didn’t ask.”

“So, you’re fine with leaving it wrong?”

“…No, but still.”

Miyagi furrows her brow and starts erasing the text in her notebook. The eraser she’s using isn’t the one I gave back to her in the music prep room—it’s a new one.

She’s petty enough to use a different eraser on purpose. I shift my gaze back to my own notebook.

“What’s the answer?” Miyagi asks, suddenly demanding a quick fix for her mistake despite having been focused on her homework just moments ago.

“Figure it out yourself.”

“I don’t get it.”

“You just don’t want to try. Do it properly.”

“Then I order you: tell me the answer.”

She pushes her textbook and notebook toward me. Looking at her sour expression, I wonder if she hadn’t anticipated me studying next to her. But I’m not moving.

“You mean do it for you, right?”

“Yeah, do it.”

“Fine, fine.”

It feels like déjà vu. Last time, Miyagi gave up on her homework halfway through and left the rest to me while she read manga. I pull her notebook closer and snatch her eraser.

The problems aren’t that hard. If she tried, she could easily finish them herself. But in the face of her orders, that’s irrelevant. I erase her mistakes and write the correct answers on a separate sheet for her to copy.

“It’s almost been a year, hasn’t it?” I ask while fixing her errors and starting on a new problem.

“A year since what?”

“Since I started coming to your room.”

“Has it?”

She sounds uninterested.

“It started in early July, so it’s about a year now.”

Even though we were classmates, I barely spoke to Miyagi before I started coming to her room. I remember the reason clearly. It could’ve been a nice story if I said Miyagi swooped in like a savior to pay for me when I forgot my wallet. But in reality, she forced a five-thousand-yen bill on me at the bookstore counter and told me to throw away the change if I tried to give it back—not exactly a heartwarming tale.

Back then, I thought she was a pain. And honestly, I still do.

“Why did you pay for me that day?”

“I thought I’d help out a struggling classmate.”

“Really?”

“Nah, I just had a five-thousand-yen bill in my wallet.”

“So if it had been a thousand-yen bill, you wouldn’t have paid?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s a lie too, isn’t it? What’s the real reason?”

“I was just in the mood. That’s all.”

I can’t tell if she’s dodging or being honest, but she cuts the conversation short and stands up. She grabs two manga volumes from the shelf and flops onto her bed. I finish her homework quickly and turn to poke her side.

“Scoot over a bit.”

“Why?”

“That’s my spot.”

“This isn’t your spot; it’s my bed. It’s cramped, so don’t come up here.”

Miyagi says this curtly, claiming the center of the bed. She’s right—it’s her bed, not mine. But since I always use it when I’m called over, I figure I deserve at least half of it.

“Come on, just move a little.”

“No way.”

“Stingy.”

I stop poking and start pushing her side to claim some space. But instead of budging, she tells me to stop without touching me.

“Sendai-san, you’re being annoying.”

Lately, Miyagi sometimes has this unsettled look—a subtle shift since the kiss. She’s making that face now. I’m not immune to getting hurt, and I have my sensitive side. That look of hers stings, sometimes deeply. I climb onto the bed, pushing her to make more room. Instead of giving in, she sits up.

“Sendai-san, take off your tie.”

She says it out of nowhere, staring at my tie with a blank expression. This isn’t a good look. When she’s like this, she’s usually up to no good.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

As usual, she doesn’t answer my question, but I know it’s an order without her saying it. I don’t bother resisting and take off my tie.

“Is this fine?”

“Yeah. Now let me borrow it.”

“My tie?”

“Yup.”

Her tone is the same as when we were doing homework, but I have a bad feeling. Still, I hand her the tie.

“Turn around.”

I do as she says, and she grabs my wrist, saying, “Give me your hands.”

I can already tell where this is going. I exhale quietly so she doesn’t hear and put my hands behind my back. Immediately, I feel the fabric of the tie wrapping around my wrists—tightly.

“That hurts!”

I complain as she ties it with what feels like all her strength. If she ties it this tightly, it’ll leave marks. My uniform is short-sleeved now, and marks on my wrists would stand out.

“Miyagi.”

I call her name firmly, and the tie loosens slightly. I feel her tying a knot.

“You pervert. This is straight out of one of those manga, isn’t it?”

Her bookshelf is filled with everything from sappy shoujo manga to action-packed shonen, including some explicit ones. I’m pretty sure there’s a manga where the protagonist gets tied up with a tie by her domineering boyfriend.

“Sendai-san, you want to be treated like someone in those manga?”

“No way.”

“Then just sit there for an hour or so.”

“What? You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

“…So you do want something to happen.”

I hear a spark in her voice from behind me.

“You’re the pervert, Sendai-san.”

Her breath brushes my neck, and the next moment, she bites my shoulder through my blouse.

“Ow!”

Miyagi clearly doesn’t know the meaning of restraint. Even when I cry out, her teeth stay clamped on my shoulder.

“I didn’t ask for this!”

Normally, I’d push her forehead to get away, but with my wrists tied, I can’t. I want to turn around, but I’d lose my balance, so all I can do is raise my voice.

“Miyagi!”

I call her name sharply, and she finally lets go.

“I told you not to leave marks. You can bite, but do it gently.”

“It’s fine; no one will see it there.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then get off the bed and sit on the floor.”

No way.

I could say that, but I know she’d just push me off. She’s capable of it in this mood. Rather than let that happen, I quietly move to the floor. Miyagi takes off her socks.

“Sendai-san, you know what I’m going to say next, don’t you?”

She kicks my shoulder—probably where her bite mark is—and says this while looking down at me.

“Lick your foot, right?”

After spending this much time with her, I can guess what she wants just by thinking back on past patterns.

“If you know, then do it.”

Her voice sounds almost cheerful, better than her earlier gloom, closer to sunny. But I’m not thrilled about it, because I know nothing good comes when she’s in this mood.

I look at her bare foot on the floor.

I don’t mind licking it. I’ve done it plenty of times before.

But doing it with my hands tied is tricky. I can’t hold her foot in place like usual.

“Raise your foot a bit.”

“Nope.”

Her answer is short and clear—she’s not cooperating, which feels pretty mean. It’s clear she expects me to follow her order as is. I touch my tongue to her knee. A knee is technically part of the foot, right?

But she doesn’t seem pleased.

“Lick from the toes.”

Her voice comes from above.

“In this position?”

“Yup, like that. You like following my orders, don’t you, Sendai-san?”

I don’t like following her orders. But saying that is pointless. My only choices are to obey or pay back the five thousand yen and leave this room for good. I look up at her. She doesn’t move. To follow her order, I have to bring myself to her foot.

“Sendai-san.”

She nudges my knee with her foot, urging me on. I slowly look away from her.

The master of this room is selfish and tactless only with me, saying things she wouldn’t say to anyone else. And knowing that, I’m still about to obey her. I must be out of my mind.

This is pretty humiliating, I think, almost like it’s someone else’s problem, as I lower myself to lick the tips of her toes.

“That’s a good look for you, Sendai-san,” she says, her voice so cheerful it’s hard to believe she’s the same person who was studying earlier. It’s kind of infuriating.

It’s not a comfortable position, and it’s tough. Still, I don’t choose to pay back the five thousand yen. Instead, I drag my tongue from her toes to the top of her foot. When I press my lips to her ankle after licking up to it, she pulls her foot back. I follow, touching my tongue to the top of her foot again—but this time, she presses it against me.

She’s clearly enjoying this.

“Miyagi,” I say, calling her name instead of complaining.

Maybe she didn’t like that, because she slips her foot under my chin, lifting my face with the top of her foot.

“What?” she says with a smile, looking down at me.

“Don’t move your foot.”

“Only I get to give orders, not you, Sendai-san.”

She’s not wrong. But why do I have to obey her while in this position? Even though I chose to follow her, part of me feels resentful.

“Keep going,” she orders before I can complain.

Her foot returns to the floor, and I press my lips to it again. Obeying her commands has become so routine that, even though it frustrates me, my body moves on its own.

I lick her toes, brushing my lips against her smooth skin. Tracing the faint outline of bone with my tongue, I softly bite her ankle, and her body shifts slightly. I nibble gently, then run my tongue along her shin.

Licking, biting, pressing my lips.

I can’t help but think what it’d be like if I were touching her lips instead. Like when we kissed, I slowly press my lips to her knee. After a few kisses, I suck harder, and Miyagi says roughly, “That’s enough.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re being lewd.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s gross.”

Her flat tone pisses me off, so I bite her knee hard enough to leave a mark, ignoring the bone pressing against my teeth. When I clamp down, she jerks her foot.

“Sendai-san, that hurts. Stop it,” she says sharply.

I look at her. “I was just making it less lewd.”

“Don’t do things I didn’t order.”

“So, I shouldn’t do anything but lick?”

“Exactly. But we’re done.”

She doesn’t explicitly say the order is over, but her curt tone makes it clear. Still, she doesn’t untie my hands.

“Untie the tie.”

“Just stay like that.”

“I can’t go home like this.”

The five thousand yen doesn’t bind me for a whole day—just a few hours of following her orders. It shouldn’t keep me tied up forever, so my request to be untied is reasonable. She has no grounds to refuse. But she doesn’t loosen the tie.

“You don’t have to go home. Why don’t I just keep you like this? I’ll even feed you,” she says, her tone too serious to be a joke.

“Stop saying stupid things and untie me.”

“Then ask properly.”

She doesn’t seem amused, but she won’t retract her silly joke easily. She lightly kicks my knee, as if to say, Hurry up. Her unreadable eyes look down at me. I could bow my head and beg her to untie me right now, but I don’t want to. Her attitude is annoying—more than a little, actually.

“You want to stay like that?”

She grabs my blouse collar, as if she won’t untie me until I beg. It’s not forceful, but she pulls just enough that my body is drawn toward her. I glare at her for being a bit too rough.

“Let go. This is going too far.”

When I protest firmly, she releases me like she’s lost interest, and I lose my balance. I don’t fall, but her careless treatment makes me want to complain again. Before I can, she asks, “What do you want me to do to you, Sendai-san?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I thought maybe you had some orders you wanted.”

“As if I’d have any.”

I’m not here because I want to be ordered around. I don’t want the five thousand yen either, and I don’t have anything specific I want her to do.

“Then how far will you let me go?”

She doesn’t say it outright, but I know she’s asking about the “limits” of her orders.

After all this, you’re asking now?

I don’t know what prompted her to ask after nearly a year, but it feels like something she should’ve asked sooner.

“Stick to common sense with your orders.”

“Was today’s order within common sense?”

Tied up, licking her foot like I’m licking the floor.

Still tied up now.

I may have gone along with it, but that’s not my idea of common sense.

“Since you didn’t refuse, it must be, right?” she says.

I did it because she told me to. That’s all. It’s not about common sense. I wouldn’t do it for anyone else, and I wouldn’t even entertain someone who’d ask.

But I don’t want to tell her that.

“That’s a mean way to ask.”

“You ask mean questions all the time, Sendai-san,” she says, unusually sulky.

I don’t deny it. I do it on purpose, enjoying how it flusters her. It’s fine when I do it, but when she does it, it pisses me off. That’s what it comes down to. Teasing her with tricky questions is my thing. She’s supposed to be the one flustered. So I turn it back on her.

“What do you want to do to me, Miyagi?”

“…I don’t have to tell you.”

She won’t answer, but it’s clear she has something in mind. I want to know, but it’s not worth pressing her or diving deeper into the topic.

“Okay,” I say, a meaningless response, and look at her. I wiggle my tied wrists, hoping to free myself, but the tie only digs in, hurting. I told her not to leave marks, and she loosened it slightly, but it’s still tight enough that marks wouldn’t be surprising.

“Stand up,” she says brusquely.

“Huh?”

“You want the tie off, right?”

“It’s kind of hard to stand with my hands tied.”

Arms help with balance, apparently, and being tied makes simple movements like standing or sitting feel tricky. I could stand, but I might stumble, which is a bit scary.

“Then don’t move.”

She hops off the bed with a thud and moves behind me. Soon, the fabric pressing my wrists is gone, and I’m free. My arms don’t move as easily as I’d like, so I shake them out. The blood flow feels slightly better, and I stand, sitting on the bed. Miyagi sits next to me and grabs my arm.

“Let me see.”

Before I can respond, she inspects my wrists like a detective looking for evidence.

“No marks,” she mutters, touching the spot where the tie was. Her fingers glide softly over my skin, as if there were marks. They move slowly toward my palm, and as sensation returns, her touch becomes sharper. I shake her hand off.

“You were trying to leave marks.”

“I said it’s good that there aren’t any.”

That’s not how it sounds. Her touch and tone make it seem like she wanted marks.

“Or did you want me to leave them?”

“As if. Marks on my wrists would be a problem at school.”

“That’s why I didn’t leave any.”

She says it carelessly, kicking my leg. Like she has more to say, she nudges me a few times before reaching for the manga left on the bed. I snatch it before she can and speak.

“One question.”

“What?” she answered glaring at the manga in her hand.

“If I gave you orders like that, would you follow them?”

“No way.”

“Thought so.”

I knew it. I asked knowing she’d never do it.

Even if I paid her and gave orders, she wouldn’t lick someone’s foot. I can tell she finds meaning in making me do things she wouldn’t. It’s not fun for me, but I agreed to follow her orders, so there’s no helping it.

“I’m not a pervert like you, Sendai-san.”

“You’re the pervert, Miyagi. You enjoy giving those orders.”

“I’m not enjoying it.”

But she was amused. She sounded happy watching me obey while complaining. I didn’t mean to lick suggestively, but it must’ve been entertaining for her.

“Oh, you’re staying for dinner, right?”

She grabs the manga from me, twisting the conversation to change the subject.

“Yeah.”

Talking about dinner is more productive than arguing over who’s the pervert, but I’m annoyed she ended the topic on her own. Still, she gets up, puts the manga back on the shelf, and walks out of the room without a word.

Not even a goodbye?

Whatever. I stand and follow her. In the living room, where she’d usually be pulling out instant food or takeout from the kitchen, she’s sitting at the table.

“Sendai-san, make something.”

I can’t believe my ears.

I made karaage once before. We’ve eaten dinner together many times since, and while she’s refused my offers to cook, she’s never asked me to make anything.

“Is there rice?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything in the fridge?”

I have more to say, but if I say too much, she’ll retract her request. So I keep quiet and head to the fridge.

“Eggs,” she says.

I open the fridge, and sure enough, there are eggs. Nothing else noteworthy.

Fried eggs, tamagoyaki, omelets.

I’m not a chef, so those are the recipes that come to mind. I decide to make sweet tamagoyaki, even though Miyagi might prefer it savory. I didn’t ask. There’s no tamagoyaki pan, so I heat a round frying pan and pour in the egg mixture. It doesn’t take long to finish, though it’s misshapen and slightly burnt from the round pan. Still, it looks tasty.

“Done.”

I set the tamagoyaki and rice in front of her. It’s a meager dinner, but it’s all we have.

“Itadakimasu,” she says politely, clasping her hands before picking up her chopsticks.

Eating dinner together like nothing happened is normal, even after the awful things she put me through today. I sit beside her and dig into the tamagoyaki.

This is messed up.

Miyagi, who tied me up and kicked me, is quietly eating tamagoyaki. And I, who followed her stupid orders, am eating it too.

Maybe she thinks she can do anything to me and be forgiven because of our deal and its rules. Today’s orders went too far, but here I am, eating with her anyway.

“Say something about the food.”

“You can make it again sometime.”

Unlike with the karaage, when she said it w

as delicious, she’s not being straightforward today. Or maybe saying I can make it again is her being honest.

“If I feel like it.”

I try to sound as curt as possible before popping a piece of sweet tamagoyaki into my mouth.