Volume 2 Episode 03

 I don’t want to do cruel things to people. But I’m doing things to Sendai-san that could be called cruel. What I think and what I do don’t align. I give orders that aren’t exactly good, and Sendai-san accepts them. That’s how it ended up like this.

If she’d just stayed quietly tied up with the tie, that would’ve been fine. But she said something weird, and that’s why it turned out like that. If there’s something she absolutely doesn’t want to do, she should just say no. I don’t know if I’d let her off, though.

Handling her—and handling myself—is difficult.

I let out a small sigh and sit on the bed. Outside the window, the rain is soaking everything in a way that’s almost depressing. It came suddenly, drenching people, cars, and street trees equally, turning everything into a sopping mess. The rainy season hasn’t ended yet, so it’s not surprising that the weather forecast was wrong. Still, I feel sorry for anyone caught outside in this downpour. Maybe that’s why Sendai-san hasn’t shown up yet.

Since becoming third-years, she comes the next day if I call her on a day she has cram school. Otherwise, she’s never failed to show up on the day I summon her.

The rain is getting heavier.

If I’d known it would be this bad, I wouldn’t have called her. But it’s too late to tell her not to come—she’d probably show up anyway. All I can do is wait. I think the rainy season had already ended by this time last year.

In early July, after finals, the rainy season ended early, and I met Sendai-san at the bookstore. But this year is different.

Even now, after finals, the rainy season lingers. And unlike last year, when my finals results were nothing special, this year they were slightly better. Maybe it’s because I studied with Sendai-san, or maybe not. Maybe it’s because my midterm results were so bad—thanks to her—that I studied harder for finals.

Either way, it’s not a good memory.

I lie on the bed and close my eyes.

Memories pile up from doing things with someone. Some get labeled as “special occasions” and filed away.

But when something happens, those labels get ripped off, and everything turns into bad memories. The more fun days you have, the more bad memories you end up with. It’s good that I don’t clearly remember the exact date I met Sendai-san at the bookstore. I don’t want to mark that day on my mental calendar or label my memories with her. Over time, things inevitably change, whether you want them to or not.

Like how my kind mother left me behind— even things that shouldn’t change do. I don’t know why she left or what she was thinking. I never asked my dad.

Maybe one of them said something, but I was a kid, so I don’t remember clearly. In my memory, she just left one day. Now that I’m not a little kid anymore, I can imagine there was a reason. But that doesn’t make my memories of her good. The labels that got torn off stay torn. They don’t get replaced.

It’s the same with Sendai-san. She talks more than I do, but she never says what matters, so I don’t know what she’s thinking. If she suddenly disappeared from my life, I’d probably never know why.

I look out the window. The sky keeps pouring rain relentlessly. I tug at my half-grown bangs. On rainy days, my hair feels a bit heavier. I wonder if Sendai-san feels the same. The thought of her slips into my mind, and I sigh.

I pick up my phone, still lying by my pillow. No messages from her.

She’s late.

Even with the rain, she’s too late.

The sound of rain reaches inside the room, and I think maybe I should tell her not to come today. I hesitate, then pull up her name on my phone. As I debate whether to text or call, the intercom buzzes. The monitor shows Sendai-san, and I quickly unlock the entrance. Soon, the intercom rings again—this time from the front door. I go to open it, and there she is, completely soaked.

[T/N- this monitor part was bit tricky to translate. My guess would be first monitor was of apartment building, and intercom would for her apartment]

Nothing changes.

She’s always the same.

No matter what I do to her, she comes here with that calm face. Even on a rainy day like this, that doesn’t change.

“No umbrella?” I ask.

“You can see I have one, right? Sorry, can you lend me a towel?”

The forecast was sunny, so it’s not surprising she didn’t bring an umbrella. But she clearly didn’t trust the forecast—she’s holding a small one in her right hand.

“Come in. I’ll lend you clothes to change into.”

I call out to her as she drips water from her uniform.

“The hallway will get wet.”

She’s right. Even with an umbrella, she’s drenched. If she walks in like usual, the hallway and room will get wet too.

“It’s fine. If it gets wet, I’ll just wipe it up.”

“No, it’s not fine. Lend me a towel.”

“I’ll bring a towel and clothes. Change here.”

“Here?”

“Yeah, here. No one else is home, and no one’s coming. Wiping with a towel won’t dry your clothes, and if you walk in like that, the hallway and room will get wet.”

Her uniform is too soaked for a towel to fix. If she doesn’t want to wet the house, she needs to dry her clothes. There’s no way to do that without taking them off.

“I’m not into stripping in the entryway,” she says firmly.

It’s a rejection of my kindness, and not a great response.

“If you’re worried about the hallway, change here.”

“Lend me a towel.”

She says it strongly, clearly.

Her wet uniform must feel awful, but she really doesn’t want to change here. It’s either because this is “someone else’s house” or because I’m standing in front of her. Probably the latter. I get it, kind of.

But it’s not amusing. Still, I can’t just leave her soaked.

“Wait here. I’ll get it.”

I head to my room, grab a bath towel from the dresser, and reach for a T-shirt. After a moment’s hesitation, I return to the entryway with just the towel. Sendai-san is unbraiding her wet hair. Her damp hair falls in gentle curves over her shoulders.

I’ve seen her like this a few times after gym class. But not since we were put in different classes. Looking closer, her wet blouse clings to her body, her underwear visible through it. My heart starts racing at the sight, and I shove the towel at her.

“Here.”

“Thanks,” she says shortly, starting to dry her hair.

She doesn’t ask about clothes.

“What about your uniform?”

“I’ll wipe it down. That’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“Miyagi, you’re persistent.”

“I’ll lend you clothes. Change.”

My rejected kindness keeps me from saying, “I’ll go back to my room.”

“You really want me to strip that bad?”

She doesn’t say I’m in the way either. We both hold back things we could say.

“Yeah. You’ll catch a cold like that.”

It’s July, but the human body isn’t so convenient that you can’t catch a cold in summer. Wet clothes make you cold, and you can get sick. So, she should change here. That’s what I thought.

But she’s rejecting my concern.

“Don’t move.”

I grab her hand as she wipes her hair.

“An order?”

“Yeah, an order.”

I look at her wet blouse. The top button is undone, as usual. The second button is still fastened. When I let go of her hand, the towel drops with it. I undo her tie and unfasten the second button for her.

“I don’t have clothes.”

“I’ve been saying I’ll lend you some.”

I remember the day I made her hide an eraser in her uniform and searched for it. She said we should add a rule about not taking off clothes. I’m not sure if that rule was ever formalized. My hands don’t stop, slowly unbuttoning the third button.

She doesn’t resist.

Even when I reach for the fourth, she says nothing. I know I can’t do whatever I want, but the boundaries are blurry. Because she follows every order, I want to test how far she’ll go.

It feels like she’d forgive me even if I chained her to this room like a dog or did things I promised not to do. The rules between us are fading, and I’m about to step into uncharted territory.

If the tie had left clear marks on her wrists, it might’ve replaced the fading line, reminding me to stop myself every time I saw it. But the tie left no marks, and she doesn’t defy me.

No, that’s not it.

This is for her sake.

My kindness may be rejected, but I haven’t abandoned it. This is to keep her from catching a cold—not a test or a betrayal of our promises. My heart’s racing a bit, but it’s just my imagination. When we were in the same class, we changed in the same locker room.

I’ve seen her nearly naked plenty of times.

Taking off her clothes is no big deal.

I unbutton the fourth button and the rest. Grabbing the fabric between the second and third buttons, I open her blouse, revealing her underwear clearly. It’s plain white, nothing special. Just an ordinary design, nothing new. I’m sure she wore flashier ones in the locker room sometimes, but today’s is the kind I’d own too.

Still, my heart is loud.

I’m just undressing her so she won’t catch a cold. There’s no ulterior motive, but right now, I want her to stop me. Wanting that feels like proof I do have an ulterior motive, and it makes my breath catch.

I should stop.

I know, but my hands keep moving. Searching for a reason to justify this, I touch her bra strap.

Her words to stop me are swallowed by the unbuttoned blouse. The thin strap on her shoulder looks fragile, like it could slip off with a slight move.

It’s not complicated.

I shift the strap slightly and look at her. She’s not blatantly rejecting me, but her expression isn’t welcoming either. Still, she doesn’t say stop. I pull my hands away and ask, “You’re not going to resist?”

“You’re the one who ordered me not to move,” she says.

She’d resist if it wasn’t an order. Her voice makes that obvious.

“Then resist if you want.”

“I’ll resist if you break our deal.”

“So this isn’t breaking the rules?”

“If my uniform wasn’t wet, I’d slap you.”

“A special case, then?”

“Yeah. Since you’re saying I’ll catch a cold.”

Undressing her isn’t a violation if there’s a reason. That’s what she means. Our deal isn’t that strict. It’s more flexible than I thought, adaptable.

Convenient, even.

“But I haven’t given you the five thousand yen yet.”

“You planning not to pay?”

“I’ll give it to you later.”

There’s no way I wouldn’t give Sendai-san the five thousand yen. If she weren’t soaked today, I would have already handed it over. If I didn’t, she wouldn’t come here. In exchange, with the condition of “within reason,” she follows most of my orders.

The rules have shifted into a form that suits us now. Deferred payment is allowed, and today, I’ve got the excuse of a “special case.” So, there’s no issue with undressing her like this. But my hands won’t move. I unbuttoned her wet blouse, but I can’t go further.

It feels like I'm undressing her for sake of undressing her, and I hate that. It feels like there’s something shameful in me, and I hate that. I hate that Sendai-san doesn’t even flinch when I’m about to undress her.

She’s always like this—pushing complicated choices onto me and making me decide. Even now, I’m the one who has to decide what happens next. Sendai-san just stands there, acting like it’s none of her business.

Even though she clearly doesn’t want to be undressed. I reach out to her. I place my palm over her chest, where her heart is, and press.

“Sendai-san, you’re cold.”

I can’t tell if her heartbeat is fast. All I know is she’s so cold, it makes my body temperature feel high by comparison.

“Because I’m wet,” she says.

It’s obvious her soaked uniform is stealing her warmth. I touch her cheek—it’s cold. Her lips are just as cold. Everywhere is shockingly cold. When I pull my hand away, she touches my cheek.

“You’re warm, Miyagi,” she says, her cold hand stealing my warmth.

Come to think of it, she touched my cheek that time too. The day we first kissed. Her hand was much warmer then. It was May, and I remember that day clearly, but not the exact date. It’s not the kind of memory you label and file away, so my mental calendar has no mark on it.

But what would happen if I kissed her now? A stupid thought crosses my mind. I grab her hand on my cheek and pull her closer. Not close enough for our lips to touch, but her pretty face is near.

Our eyes meet.

I lean in just a bit more.

But she doesn’t close her eyes.

I don’t mind the memory of kissing her, but I don’t want the memory of trying to kiss her and being rejected by someone who won’t close their eyes. I let go of her hand and step back.

I can’t look at her eyes, so I open the front of her blouse. The white bra I couldn’t unhook catches my eye. My heart starts to react, and I let out a small breath. I press my lips to her chest.

When I suck hard on her cold skin, she grabs my shoulder. But she only holds it—she doesn’t push me away. Instead of marking my calendar, I leave a red mark on her.

I slowly pull back.

Looking at her, I see a faint red mark on her chest. I touch it to confirm. Her damp skin clings to my fingertips, and I press harder. The red spot feels hot, and when I kiss it again, her grip on my shoulder tightens.

“Weren’t you going to undress me?” she says, her voice annoyed.

I look up to see her displeased expression.

“It won’t stay that long,” I say, offering an excuse instead of answering her question.

“It’s fine. It’ll fade soon enough.”

The mark isn’t deep.

It might be gone by tomorrow. I chose a spot no one would see. She has no reason to be mad, and not undressing her isn’t something to get upset about either. Still, I feel uneasy and step away.

“I’ll get you clothes.”

I say it like I’m escaping and head to my room, leaving her behind. I grab some clothes from the closet and hurry back to the entryway, shoving them at her.

“I’ll be in my room. Come when you’re done changing.”

I say this and return to my room without waiting for a reply. Sitting on the bed, I look at my hand. The rain that soaked her has left my palm damp.

I clench my fist tightly. Something’s wrong with me today. I wanted to undress her, even making up reasons to justify it. More than that, I wanted to see her undressed.

This feeling is definitely wrong.

“Miyagi, I’m coming in,” Sendai-san’s voice comes through the door with a knock, which she doesn’t usually do.

“You could just come in like always,” I complain loud enough for her to hear in the hallway.

She walks in, wearing my T-shirt and sweatpants.

Seeing her in my clothes feels fresh compared to her usual uniform. Also, the T-shirt and sweatpants that look like plain loungewear on me seem a bit fancier on her. I don’t want to admit it’s because of our difference in appearance, but that’s probably it.

I don’t like it, but I can’t deny it.

“Sendai-san, give me your uniform.”

I stand up, holding out my hand, still feeling unsettled.

“What for?”

“There’s a bathroom dryer. I’ll dry it.”

“That’d help. I don’t want to go home in a wet uniform.”

She hands me the uniform, and I head to the bathroom. Everything feels off today. It’s probably the rain’s fault.

This is happening because of the rain. I hang her uniform on a hanger above the bathtub. I turn on the dryer and take a deep breath.

“It’s fine. It’s okay now.”

I reassure myself before returning to my room, grabbing the five-thousand-yen bill from the desk.

“Here.”

I hand it to Sendai-san, who’s standing by the bookshelf.

“Thanks,” she says, tucking it into her wallet.

Silence falls over the room.

I sit at the table, and Sendai-san sits next to me with a manga. But instead of reading, she starts her homework. I lean against the bed and open the manga she brought.

Reading or doing homework.

The silence during these moments used to bother me, but now I’m used to it.

Today, though, it’s different.

The silence clings to me, slowly tightening around my neck. Even though we’re doing the same things as always, it feels suffocating, and I want to escape the room.

“So, you always give me a five-thousand-yen bill. Do you go exchange money every time?” Sendai-san asks brightly, as if she feels the same.

“Yeah. Why?” I look up from the manga.

Not every time, exactly. I exchange money in bulk.

Using a ten-thousand-yen bill and getting change from her or giving her five one-thousand-yen bills feels too much like a transaction, so I decided to always use a five-thousand-yen bill.

“It’s kind of cute.”

“Huh?”

“You go out of your way to exchange money just to give it to me. That’s cute.”

Sendai-san, looking unfamiliar in my familiar clothes, laughs.

“Shut up. You don’t have to say that.”

“Loud’s just right,” she says, looking at me like today’s that kind of day.

“By the way, Miyagi, are you going to a summer cram school or anything?”

“Nope.”

“What about studying?”

“I’ll do my homework.”

“That’s the bare minimum. Anything else?”

“Don’t want to.”

I know I should, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to go to cram school either.

“You’re a senior. Study,” she says seriously, poking my leg with her pen.

Summer break is coming soon. Thinking about the long break makes me gloomy.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

The school is buzzing with excitement in the classrooms and hallways, everyone eager for summer break. I can’t blend into that vibe, but there’s no helping it. Few students don’t welcome a long break, and expecting others to match my mood is unrealistic. The minority just has to stay quiet.

Summer break feels too long for me.

I’m alone at home, and I can’t hang out with friends every day. This year, as a senior, it’s especially true. I have a few plans, but fewer than last year. Everyone’s busy with cram school or other commitments. Even if I make more plans, it won’t surpass last year.

It’s boring.

I’m used to being alone, but that doesn’t mean I like it. I hate long breaks.

“Shiori, you’ll get wrinkles.”

Having finished her lunch, Maika reaches across from her diagonal seat and presses her finger into my forehead. Ami, sitting across from us, just laughs, watching without helping.

“My forehead feels gross.”

I don’t want her touching my forehead—it gives me chills. I grab Maika’s hand and put it back on the desk. The noisy, lunch-break classroom feels restless. Maika, like everyone else, laughs and reaches for my forehead again.

“Maika, I said it’s gross.”

I poke her side to escape her finger.

“Shiori, that’s cheating.”

“So is attacking my forehead.”

I say this to Maika, and Ami, watching us, laughs.

“It is gross, right? Why does poking the forehead feel so weird?”

“I don’t know, but it’s gross, so no more forehead poking.”

I rub my still-unsettled forehead and bite into the bread I bought from the school store.

“Sorry, sorry. You’ve been down lately, Shiori. I just wanted to cheer you up,” Maika says, like it’s an afterthought.

I’m not down, just not in a festive mood. But to them, it looks like I’m down, and Ami asks, “Something happen?”

Something did happen, but I can’t say what.

What happens with Sendai-san after school is a secret. Even without that promise, what happened on that rainy day isn’t something I’d tell anyone.

“I stayed up late, so I’m sleepy. If you treated me to something, I’d perk up,” I say. The late night is true, but the sleepiness is a lie. Explaining while hiding the truth is a hassle, so I mix in half-lies, give a plausible answer, and finish the last of my bread.

“Treat you? To what?” Maika looks at me, like she’s actually considering it. Before I can answer, Ami speaks up.

“I want ice cream. Treat us.”

“Why do I have to treat Ami?” Maika says, exasperated, but Ami ignores her and makes plans for after school.

“You don’t have to treat us. Let’s all get ice cream. It’s hot.”

It is hot today.

Maybe the hottest day this year. When I passed Sendai-san in the hallway, she was fanning her face with her hand.

She’s sensitive to heat but only unbuttons one button of her blouse at school, even in summer. Today, too, only one button was undone, the second firmly fastened. So, I couldn’t see the kiss mark from the rainy day.

It’s probably gone by now, anyway, since days have passed. But I really wanted to check.

It’s weird to think like this. I know it’s weird.

But I think this way because I couldn’t check yesterday. After school, I called Sendai-san over as usual, intending to make her unbutton her blouse so I could see the mark I left.

But I couldn’t give the order.

“Kiss marks, huh?”

The words slip out unconsciously, and I instantly regret them. Before I can take them back, Maika jumps on it.

“Kiss marks?” she says, her eyes gleaming as she looks at me.

“Yeah. How long do you think they last?” I ask, giving up and voicing the question that’s been on my mind.

“Wait, what? Shiori, you did something like that?” Maika’s excitement is palpable.

“As if I’d do that without a partner. I just saw a kiss mark on Ibaraki-san’s neck the other day, and it got me thinking.”

I haven’t actually seen Ibaraki-san with a kiss mark. But there’s a reason I brought it up. On the day I left a mark on Sendai-san’s chest, she mentioned that Ibaraki-san had said, “To get rid of a kiss mark, put a sliced lemon on it.” So, it’s not implausible that I’d notice a kiss mark on Ibaraki-san—it fits her image, too. Sorry to her, though.

“Oh, I get it,” Maika says, exactly as I expected, proving the importance of one’s usual behavior. This is how rumors start and spread, fabricated from nothing.

“They probably stick around for a while, right? What do you think, Ami?” Maika teases.

“Why are you asking me? I don’t know,” Ami replies.

“Come on, you haven’t done that with Sugikawa-kun?” Maika’s voice is playful.

Sugikawa-kun is Ami’s new boyfriend from another school. I often hear about them studying together.

“Sugikawa-kun and I have a pure and proper relationship,” Ami says.

If not leaving kiss marks counts as “pure and proper,” then Sendai-san and I are neither. But we’re not dating, so purity or propriety doesn’t apply. And I’m not seeking either.

Still, I don’t know what’s next for us, being neither pure nor proper. I’m at a loss with myself. Lately, I don’t know when to call Sendai-san over.

The rule I had—calling her on bad days—has fallen apart.

So, I can’t figure out the right time to call her. I called her yesterday, so today feels off, and tomorrow seems too soon. Her cram school schedule makes it even harder to judge. Looking out the window, the sky is a vivid blue, like it’s painted with gouache.

The rainy season ended right after Sendai-san showed up soaked at my house, and now it’s annoyingly sunny. Her uniform won’t get wet again, so I won’t have a reason to undress her.

It’s humid and dizzying today.

I wish it were cooler.

I don’t resent the sun, but I glare at the cloudless sky that won’t drop a single raindrop.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

I’m not in high spirits. But the person next to me seems to be. What’s so fun about this?

I glance at Sendai-san, who’s scribbling in a notebook. She’s doing my homework, sitting beside me, and she looks oddly content.

I feel foolish for agonizing over when to call her. I’m the only one stuck in this gloomy mood, and it’s draining. My body feels heavy, like my stomach’s filled with stones, and I have no motivation. Even if the world feels gray, tomorrow always comes, and before I know it, summer break is less than a week away.

Today’s probably the last time I’ll see Sendai-san before the break.

“Sendai-san, grab a novel from the shelf.”

I take the pen from her hand, and she responds in a slightly annoyed tone.

“Get it yourself.”

“It’s an order. Pick any one.”

“Fine, fine.”

She stands up reluctantly and heads to the bookshelf. I said any book, but she doesn’t come back right away. She hums, taking her time to choose a novel, then leisurely returns.

“Here you go,” she says in an exaggeratedly polite tone, handing me the book. I don’t take it, instead rolling the pen I took from her across the table.

“Read it.”

“I figured you’d say that, so I picked a short one.”

She sits beside me and opens the novel.

It’s a thin collection of short stories, and she starts reading from the middle. She’s never done that before—usually, she starts from the beginning—but she’s still following the “read” order.

This feels spiteful. She knows I want her to read from the start, so it’s annoying. Her voice is nice, though. It’s calming, pleasant, and makes me sleepy.

“Miyagi, lower the AC temperature,” she says suddenly, her reading voice shifting to one seeking coolness.

“No way. Keep reading.”

“I’ll read, but it’s hot.”

She grabs my plastic sheet from the table and starts fanning herself. This room is at a comfortable temperature for me. It was the same in winter, and it’s the same in summer. It’s my room, so it’s set for me. But since we won’t see each other for a while, I figure I can indulge her heat sensitivity for once.

“Fine, lower it yourself.”

I point to the remote on the table.

“Stingy,” she says, despite me giving up something important like the room’s temperature.

She quickly adjusts the AC, making it too cool. Satisfied with the cold air, she sips barley tea and flips the novel’s pages. Her clear reading voice makes my eyelids heavy. I slump onto the table.

It’s cool and feels nice. Or rather, it’s cold. I sit up and grab her arm—it’s cool, too.

“Hey, Miyagi, it’s hard to read,” she complains as I pat her arm.

I keep touching it, feeling her upper arm, and she says in a low voice, “Stop touching. Don’t I need to read?”

“You don’t have to read anymore. Raise the AC temperature. It’s cold.”

I let go of her arm and rub my own.

“You’ll get hot if I raise it. If you’re cold, put something on.”

Her voice sounds displeased.

“If you’re hot, take something off.”

“There’s nothing left to take off.”

“You could take off your blouse.”

“Pervert.”

I didn’t mean it seriously, so her comment stings. I raise the AC temperature without asking. Soon, the overly cool room returns to a comfortable level, and Sendai-san sighs, furrowing her brow.

“It’s hot.”

I knew it, but we’re incompatible—here and at school. I tried adjusting to her ideal temperature, but the freezing room was unbearable. In my house, she’s the one who needs to compromise.

“Sendai-san, face me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

I tug her tie, turning her toward me. I undo her tie and unbutton one button of her blouse.

“This should cool you off a bit.”

The third button is sometimes okay to unbutton, sometimes not. Today, she doesn’t protest. I touch her chest, near where I left the kiss mark on that rainy day.

“Did the mark fade quickly?” I ask, finally voicing what I’ve wanted to know.

“It’s gone,” she says quietly.

I press harder on her chest.

But I can’t say, “Show me.”

“Lend me your arm.”

I grab her wrist without waiting for a reply, but she shakes me off, clearly not wanting to obey.

“If you’re doing that, pick a different spot.”

“I just said to lend me your arm, not anything else.”

“You’re going to leave a kiss mark, right? It’d stand out on my arm, so don’t.”

“Then where?”

“Figure it out yourself.”

She glares at me curtly. I have plenty to say, but if it’s an order, she’ll obey. That’s how it works, I guess.

“As long as it’s not visible, right?”

I ask, though I already know the answer.

“Exactly.”

Her matter-of-fact tone makes me look at her. There aren’t many hidden spots—only places covered by her uniform. I grab her blouse, with three buttons undone, and open it. Her chest is exposed, her bra visible. I close my eyes once, then slowly open them and lean toward a spot slightly above where I marked her before. She says, “Miyagi, it’s hot.”

Still, I press my lips to her skin. It’s warm, unlike the cold, rain-soaked day. I suck harder than last time, leaving a mark. When I pull back, a vivid red mark—not permanent, but lasting—stands out. I touch it, stroking gently. My fingers slide to a spot just above it, and as I lean in again, she pushes my forehead.

“You really like dirty stuff, huh?” she says, buttoning her blouse matter-of-factly.

“I’m not doing anything dirty.”

“This is kind of dirty, isn’t it?”

“Thinking it’s dirty is what’s dirty.”

If I had ulterior motives or deep meaning behind it, maybe it’d be dirty, as she says. But today, there’s no ulterior motive or deep meaning, so she’s wrong.

I make excuses to myself, then regret the word “today.”

Careless words tie back to that rainy day. Thinking about it feels like probing my own feelings. Summer break, long and gloomy, might be the perfect chance to reset these feelings. If I can get rid of these unmanageable emotions during the break, things should go back to normal.

I stand and flop face-down on the bed.

I consider telling her to keep reading the novel but hesitate. Then her voice cuts through.

“Miyagi, decided on a university?”

“Somewhere I can get into.”

I answer without looking at her.

“That’s too vague. Summer break’s almost here, and second term’s coming. You need to decide soon, or you’re screwed.”

“Not interested.”

“What are you doing over summer break? Go to cram school or something.”

She starts nagging like a parent, making me want to cover my ears.

My dad doesn’t seem that interested in me. He doesn’t ask about my plans or tell me to study. Even though I might not go to college or get a job, he’s never been pushy since I started high school. He just gives me too much allowance in silence.

“I answered that already.”

It’s a hassle to repeat my summer plans to Sendai-san, who’s nosier than my family. I already told her, so there’s no need to say it again.

“You said no cram school, right? How about hiring a tutor?”

“No way I’d do that. And you’re so annoying. Leave my summer break alone.”

I sit up and throw a pillow at her. She catches it and says lightly, “I know a good person. Want me to introduce you?”

“Stop it. I don’t need an introduction.”

“Three times a week for five thousand yen. Cheap, right?”

“Five thousand per session?”

I don’t know tutor rates, so I’m not sure if that’s high or low.

“No, five thousand for three sessions.”

“What do you mean, ‘for three’?”

I stare at her as she says something strange with a smile.

“Miyagi, hire me. I’ll teach you.”

She’s acting weird. This isn’t the Sendai-san I know. Coming to my house during the break?

She’s never said anything like that before.

“…Isn’t the rule that we don’t meet during breaks?”

When I said I’d buy her after-school time, she said breaks were off-limits, but she’d follow orders for five thousand yen otherwise. That deal has held, and we didn’t meet at all last summer, or during winter or spring breaks, or on weekends.

“To make up for folding your textbook,” she says casually.

I don’t need to dig through memories to know her fold is still in my modern literature textbook.

But that’s old news.

It happened a while ago, not something to bring up now. Besides, I bit her hard between her wrist and elbow, so that should’ve settled it.

“A tutor? That’s already done.”

“You bit me and decided it was settled on your own.”

“You want the five thousand yen that bad?”

When I think about why she’d bend the rules to come here, that’s the only reason that makes sense. It’s weird, though—she seems to get plenty of allowance and shouldn’t need five thousand yen. There’s no other reason.

“Maybe,” she says quietly.

“You’ve got cram school, right? Even during the break?”

“I can adjust my schedule during the break and come here after. Just teaching, no orders. Otherwise, it’s the usual. Let me know by the end of summer break. If you want to study, you can set the schedule.”

“What if I don’t answer?”

“I won’t tutor, and it’ll be like last summer—I won’t come.”

She flips a page in the novel without reading it aloud.