Volume 2 Episode 04

I want to see Miyagi during the break. I’m not sure if I really feel that way, but I brought up the tutor thing as if I did. I don’t regret it, but I do wonder why I said something like that.

To Miyagi, who licked my ear.

To Miyagi, who tied me up with a tie.

To Miyagi, who tried to undress me.

To Miyagi, who’s done some pretty awful things to me without much thought.

I told her to hire me.

I must be out of my mind. And anyway, it’s presumptuous to act like a tutor to a classmate. It makes me seem like a jerk, like I’m just after money.

I soak in the bath, feeling like I’m drowning.

“Stupid Miyagi!” I shout, my voice echoing in the bathroom, half out of frustration.

Summer break starts tomorrow, but I haven’t heard from Miyagi. I knew she’d probably say no to the tutor thing—it was within expectations. The rule is we don’t meet during breaks, so her rejecting it wouldn’t be surprising. Still, I’m curious what she thought of me suddenly suggesting I tutor her.

Miyagi’s done awful things, so it shouldn’t matter if I seem like a jerk, but it does. I’d rather be a good person than a bad one, and I’d rather be liked than disliked.

My actions are driven by simple, straightforward motives—that’s who Sendai Hazuki is. It’s the same with Miyagi. I’m not exactly a saint in her eyes, but I don’t want her to think I’m a jerk over this.

It’s a relationship based on money.

I know and accept that it’s nothing more or less with Miyagi, but sometimes it bothers me deeply that I’m taking money from a classmate. It’s not like I welcome the five thousand yen. The closer I get to Miyagi, the heavier that five thousand yen feels.

Still, I’ve grown so used to seeing her once or twice a week that I feel unsettled when I don’t. If there’s no contact, I start wondering what’s going on with her.

I probably shouldn’t see her during the break. Lately, I’ve been too swayed by my emotions.

Taking time apart is important—it gives you a chance to pull your rationality back from wherever it’s been pushed and regain your composure.

Well, she seems to think it’s better not to meet, and there’s no contact, so whatever.

I glance down.

A small mark is visible on my chest. She didn’t have the guts to fully undress me, but she had the nerve to leave a kiss mark.

What a weird person.

Miyagi does such strange things.

I should’ve stopped her from leaving this mark. Seeing her trace like this forces me to think of her and dwell on the past. It makes me obsess over her lack of contact, keeping me from getting out of the bath.

I wish it’d fade already. I’ve got cram school, plans with Umina and Mariko. Summer break is starting. There’s more to do than last year, so I can’t keep thinking about Miyagi.

“Ugh, it’s too hot.”

I get out of the bath, dry off in the changing room, and put on loungewear. After drying my hair, I head to the dark kitchen, grab a sports drink from the fridge, and return to my room. My phone on the desk has a blinking notification light.

What a hassle.

The clock shows it’s past midnight. At this hour, it’s always Umina or Mariko.

Something about karaoke or a group date.

They went on about tomorrow’s plans at school today, so it’s probably about that. Umina said her parents are forcing her to go to cram school this summer, but she’s also getting a part-time job. Mariko’s going to cram school too, but she insists karaoke and group dates are non-negotiable.

Hanging out with the usual crew is fun, but I’m not thrilled about group dates. The guys they bring are always good-looking but empty inside. I pick up my phone and sit on the bed. As expected, the screen shows messages from Umina and Mariko, just as I thought.

Maybe I’ll skip some plans this summer, using prep school as an excuse. As I think this, I notice Miyagi’s name on the screen.

“Mon, Wed, Fri, three times a week. Let me know what time works. Also, contact me before you come.”

The message is curt, but it’s about the tutoring. It was sent just before midnight, so she kept her promise to reply by the end of the break. She’s so dutiful. I send a quick “Got it” to Miyagi before replying to Umina or Mariko.

Seeing Miyagi three times a week.

It’s not a big addition to the long break, but it feels strange to meet more often than before. Compared to a break filled only with cram school and hanging out with Umina or Mariko, it seems less boring.

Prep school isn’t exactly fun.

The teachers are serious and clear, and my grades have improved. Solving problems I couldn’t before and seeing better test scores is satisfying. I like those tangible results.

But I’ve realized no matter how much I go to prep school, I won’t reach the grades for the university my parents want. Yet, I can’t choose to stop going and keep attending the prep school they picked, which makes it dull.

I have the grades for a “good” university by some standards, but it doesn’t mean much to me. I reply to Umina and Mariko. As the agreeable Sendai Hazuki, I add some flair to my “Okay” and hit send. I agree to everything except the group date, which I put on hold.

Since getting involved with Miyagi, I’ve realized I care more about others’ feelings than I thought, and it’s annoying. Being with Miyagi is probably the easiest. It’s better than being with anyone else, more comfortable than anywhere else.

“When does tutoring start?”

I check my phone’s calendar. Based on her schedule, it starts Wednesday. Since it’s past midnight, that’s today.

Prep school in the morning, then Miyagi’s place in the afternoon. Just studying, but I wish morning would come faster.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

After prep school, I eat lunch and text Miyagi. Instead of going to her place from school, I head there from home. The afternoon city is too hot for me, so I stick to the shade. The sky, once pouring rain during the rainy season, now blazes with sunlight.

It’s a fifteen- or twenty-minute walk. The heat makes even that short distance feel endless.

A year ago, I’d have wanted to turn back, but today, I just grumble about the sky and reach Miyagi’s apartment building. She unlocks the entrance, I take the elevator to the sixth floor, and press the intercom at her door. It opens right away.

“First time seeing this,” I blurt out upon entering her place during the break.

“What?” she asks.

“Your casual clothes.”

Denim and a T-shirt.

Miyagi isn’t dressed up, just in typical, relaxed clothes perfect for lounging at home. There’s nothing odd about it, but it’s not her uniform. It’s obvious, yet not, and I take a small breath. Miyagi in casual clothes looks different from the Miyagi I know.

“You’re in casual clothes too, Sendai-san.”

“True.”

Today’s plans are just cram school and tutoring Miyagi—nothing special to dress up for. I’m in shorts and a blouse—pretty standard.

“Long legs,” Miyagi says, staring at me.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

“I wasn’t flattering. Just stating what I see.”

She says it curtly and heads to her room. I follow, as usual, feeling the unfamiliarity of her casual look, and enter her room. She hands me a five-thousand-yen bill.

“This is for Wednesday and Friday.”

“You can pay after the three sessions.”

“It’s confusing to pay for three. Let’s just do five thousand at the start of the week. So, this is for this week.”

Tutoring three times a week. I’d prefer payment after, as it feels less heavy. Getting paid after three sessions would be easier on me. But Miyagi wants to pay upfront—and not for three sessions, but for the week—so we don’t see eye to eye.

“There was no Monday, so five thousand for the week is too much.”

“It’s a hassle, so five thousand is fine, right?”

She speaks carelessly, like she’s lost interest in the money she’s handed over, and sits at the table, opening her textbook.

“Got it. Thanks.”

I’ve learned arguing with her stubbornness just drains me for no gain. I put the five-thousand-yen bill in my wallet and sit next to her.

“So, Teach, what’s the plan today?” she says formally, her face clearly lacking enthusiasm.

On the table are her open textbook, worksheets, and problem sets assigned for summer break—all for subjects she struggles with. She’s planning to make me do her homework.

Even though we’re in different classes, the summer homework is the same. It’d be faster if I did the worksheets and problem sets, but that defeats the purpose. I’m not dying to be a tutor, but since I’m getting paid, I should teach her what she doesn’t understand and make her do it herself.

“We’re studying, obviously. And stop calling me Teach.”

“It’s fine. Professor Sendai.”

“You don’t even think of me as a teacher. You don’t want to study, do you?”

“Nobody wants to study.”

Then why did you agree to the tutor thing?

I almost say it but swallow the words. I’m curious, but I feel like it’s something I shouldn’t say. If I do, she might change her mind, and I’d be stumped if she asked why I suggested tutoring in the first place.

“Let’s start with the homework.”

I pick up a worksheet and place it in front of her.

“You’re doing it for me, right?”

“Nope. You’re doing it. I’ll explain what you don’t get.”

“Fine, fine.”

She says my usual line with a reluctant tone, looking down at the worksheet. I spread out my own homework and start filling in answers.

In the quiet room, I glance at her. Despite her complaints, she’s working on the problems seriously. I notice a few mistakes on her worksheet but decide to explain them later and focus on my own work.

It’s my first time coming to this room on a day without school, but it doesn’t feel much different. Miyagi hands me the five-thousand-yen bill just like on school days, and she’s sitting next to me.

But I don’t think things will stay the same forever.

Meeting during the long break means Miyagi will become more involved in my life than before. Since spring will come, we’ll graduate, and likely never see each other again, there’s no point in getting closer. Yet here I am, at her house during summer break. I tell myself it’s because I like her or because her room is comfortable, but I don’t know where I’m headed, and that makes me anxious.

Still, I chose to come here.

I’m here even during summer break, when I didn’t have to be. I don’t like this version of myself. It feels like I’m trying to solve an unsolvable problem, and it gives me a headache.

“Miyagi, what’re you doing tomorrow?” I ask, trying to escape the gloomy mood unfit for summer break.

“What?” she says.

“Your plans for tomorrow.”

“Do I have to tell you?” She looks up from her worksheet, staring at me.

“You don’t have to, but we can chat a bit, right?”

“…I’m meeting Maika and them,” she says. By “them,” she must mean Shirakawa, the girl she’s been hanging out with since we became third-years.

“Where’re you going?”

“Does it matter? You sound like a nosy parent.”

“I don’t think I’m that nosy.”

I don’t really care about pinning down her plans. I was just curious because she seemed bored before the break, and I wondered what she was up to. It’s just small talk, but her calling it nosy isn’t fun. If anything, her complaining about a simple question feels nosier. But she shuts me down.

“I think you’re nosy,” she says.

“It’s fine to talk a little, isn’t it?”

I poke her arm with my pen.

“Do your homework and don’t bother me,” she says, returning to her worksheet.

But less than ten minutes later, she tosses her pen aside.

“I don’t want to study. You do it, Sendai-san.”

“Do it yourself. It’s not even been an hour.”

“I’ll try harder next time.”

“Fine. Fix your mistakes, and I’ll do the rest.”

“Where am I wrong?”

“Here and here, for starters. There’s more.”

I point out the errors with my pen. She makes a face but, maybe because the deal’s appealing, she erases her wrong answers. I give her hints to find the right ones, and she corrects them all.

“I’ll do the rest. Work on something you’re good at until I’m done. You can copy it after.”

“…So I’m still doing homework,” she grumbles.

“Obviously.”

I won’t let her just copy the worksheets I’m about to fill out. I don’t say it now, but I’ll make her do some herself. She seems surprised I’m actually acting like a tutor, reluctantly working on a new problem set with a sour expression.

The homework’s substantial—it won’t be done in a day.

As we steadily fill in worksheets and problem sets, a good amount of time passes.

“Staying for dinner?” Miyagi asks, reviewing some finished worksheets.

I’m a bit surprised she’d offer dinner during summer break, just like after school. I can guess what’s on the menu. Probably takeout or instant food. It’ll be the same as always, but eating here is way better than at home.

“I’ll stay.”

I give the obvious answer, and Miyagi heads to the kitchen. I follow her out of the room and sit at the counter table. Watching her silently in the kitchen, I see her toss a silver packet into boiling water. It turns into curry and is brought to the table.

We say “Itadakimasu” together and take a bite.

“It’s good for instant, but you should cook sometimes,” I say, swallowing the surprisingly fancy-tasting curry.

“Instant’s fine for curry. Cooking’s a hassle.”

“You mean you can’t cook.”

“If you’re gonna say that, you cook.”

“Then get some ingredients.”

I don’t mind offering my labor since she’s always feeding me. Whether she thinks it’s tasty or not, I can whip up something simple. But the one who told me to cook brushes it off.

“If I feel like it,” she says.

Sounds like she won’t be getting ingredients. I sigh internally at her unmotivated reply and keep eating. Even with some conversation, dinner’s over quickly. I help clean up, sip barley tea, and look out the window. With no school, I came to Miyagi’s earlier than usual, so we ate earlier too. Still, the sky beyond the lace curtains is starting to darken.

“Guess I should head home.”

No one at home cares if I’m late, but I can’t stay here forever. I grab my bag from Miyagi’s room and head to the entrance. As I put on my shoes, she speaks.

“Sendai-san, you’ve got prep school tomorrow too?”

Her flat tone reminds me of her plans from our earlier conversation.

“Not just tomorrow,” I say.

While I’m at prep school, Miyagi’s out with friends. We’re seniors, but that doesn’t mean we have to study every day. It shouldn’t bother me that she’s hanging out, but it does.

I reach for the door but stop. Turning back, I grab her wrist.

“What?” she asks, looking suspicious.

I pull her closer and press my lips to her neck. We’ve kissed before, but my heart beats a little faster. She pushes my shoulder.

But I can’t stop myself. I didn’t plan this, but I press my lips harder, sucking just enough not to leave a mark. Her soft skin brushes against my lips. The scent of her shampoo mixed with her sweat tickles my nose. I pull back, touch her neck lightly again, then slowly lift my face, exhaling at the pointlessness of my action.

The entryway, without AC, is hot, and my hand holding her wrist is damp.

“Don’t do weird stuff,” she says sharply, shaking off my hand.

“I just touched you a bit. No mark, so it’s not that weird, right?”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I taught you today and did your homework, so it’s fair.”

I make up a flimsy excuse.

“I didn’t hear about that system,” she says.

“Because I didn’t say.”

“Don’t make up rules after the fact. And I did a lot of the worksheets myself.”

“But you copied some, didn’t you?”

I double down on my made-up excuse and open the door. Stepping into the apartment hallway, Miyagi follows, grumbling, and we ride the elevator together. We walk to the entrance on the first floor.

Before stepping outside, I say, “See you,” and she replies, “Bye,” sounding annoyed.

Unlike before, this goodbye carries a “next time.”

“See you” means Friday, and I don’t need her to contact me. We didn’t make a promise, but the day after tomorrow is set.

✧✧✧✧✧✧

It’s probably this every-other-day schedule that’s the problem. Thinking about yesterday gives me room to wonder what she’s doing today.

The more I think about it, the stronger the memory sticks. It’s like studying. On the way to prep school, back home, in the bath, or in bed before sleep—there’s endless space for Miyagi to slip in. So, today, Friday, I’m still wondering what she was doing yesterday.

High schoolers’ summer break activities are limited, so I can guess where she went. Karaoke, shopping, movies, or an amusement park. That’s about it—nothing too unusual.

I could ask her now where she went yesterday, but she didn’t answer on Wednesday, so I doubt she’d tell me today.

“Sendai-san, I don’t get this.”

Miyagi, sitting next to me, points to a problem in her workbook with her pen.

“Oh, that’s—”

I explain the formula for the problem filled with numbers.

Pulling the right information from memory and explaining it isn’t hard. I know this isn’t real tutoring, and it’s not worth getting paid for, but I couldn’t come to her house during the break without a reason, so I made one.

I bet Miyagi’s noticed that too. The kiss on her neck Wednesday was just an excuse I made up. She had every right to be mad about it. So why didn’t she get seriously angry?

I want to ask, but I doubt she’d answer. The more things I can’t say pile up, the more I feel like I’ll suffocate.

“…Where’d you go yesterday?”

I pick the easier of the two questions I’ve been holding back.

“Do my homework, and I’ll tell you,” she says casually, placing the workbook in front of me.

Yeah, figured. She probably thinks I won’t do it, so she’s not planning to answer.

“Let’s call it a day.”

I close her workbook and lean against the bed behind me.

“Already?” she says.

It’s only been an hour since we started, so it’s early. It’s not time to quit, so I make a suggestion.

“Since it’s early, you can give me an order.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s not time to stop studying, and I didn’t teach on Monday, so you can give me an order to make up for it.”

I don’t say that this isn’t real tutoring.

“Stop making up new rules on your own.”

“There’s a handy phrase called ‘playing it by ear.’ It’s fine, right?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Then you decide what we do next. Suggest something other than an order.”

If we’re cutting tutoring short, I don’t care what I do instead. I’m not hung up on orders, so I toss the decision to her. With no other ideas, she flips her stance.

“…Fine, I’ll give an order.”

“Okay, what do I do?”

“Take me to your house.”

“Huh?”

“It’s always my place. Isn’t it fine to go to yours for once?”

Why would she order that? I want to crack open her head and see what’s inside.

Since starting high school, I’ve never invited friends over. Some have asked to come, but I’ve always refused. My parents wouldn’t come out to greet anyone, but there’s a chance we’d run into them.

That would definitely be a hassle. I don’t want to advertise my strained family dynamic, and I don’t want people in my personal space.

“Just kidding,” Miyagi says, sounding bored, and opens the workbook I closed.

“I didn’t even say anything yet.”

“You’re gonna say no, right?”

“No way to know that.”

I lightly tap Miyagi’s thigh, clad in shorts, and she swats my hand away. She’s probably in a bad mood. I take a deep breath and stand up quickly.

“Miyagi, let’s go.”

“Huh?” Her voice sounds dumbfounded.

“Not ‘huh.’ You’re the one who said to take you to my house.”

“I did, but…”

“If you’re not going, I’m sitting back down.”

I’m not thrilled about it, but I’m okay with letting Miyagi into my room. If she’s the one who suggested it but doesn’t want to go, there’s no need to force it.

“I’ll go. But are we going together?” she asks, standing up before I sit, saying something odd.

“You said ‘take you,’ so that means together, right? You don’t know where my house is, do you?”

“I don’t.”

Obviously.

She’s never asked where I live, and I’ve never told her. She can’t go to a place she doesn’t know alone, so we have to go together. But Miyagi stands there, not moving.

“What’s up, Miyagi? Not going?”

“…What if someone sees us walking together?”

Her words explain why she’s hesitating. We don’t talk about what happens after school, and we don’t speak at school.

That’s the deal, so no one knows I’m meeting Miyagi. It’s been our secret, and it’ll stay that way. She might be saying she doesn’t want to walk together, but running into a former classmate while walking together happens. Going separately to the same place is just a hassle.

“It’s fine,” I say shortly.

“If you tell me where, I’ll go alone. That’s better, right?” she persists.

I don’t know if she’s being considerate or just doesn’t want her friends to see us together, but she’s digging in her heels about not going together.

“It’s a hassle. Let’s just go together. It’d be trouble if you got lost.”

“I won’t get lost with a map. I’ll use my phone. I’m not that bad with directions.”

“Even so, we’re going together. It’s not far, and we won’t run into anyone, right?”

The only familiar face I’ve ever seen near my house is Miyagi. We probably won’t run into her friends either. I tidy up the table, grab her wrist, and drag her out of the room.

“It’s about a twenty-minute walk. That okay?” I ask while putting on my shoes at the entrance.

“That’s far.”

“It’s close.”

It’s only fifteen minutes if we walk fast—not far at all. We take the elevator to the entrance and step out of the apartment building. As we start walking slowly, Miyagi trails behind. I stop to wait for her.

“Can we stop at a convenience store on the way?” I ask as she catches up.

“Sure.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

I match her pace so I don’t leave her behind and head toward my house. Walking a familiar path with someone else feels fresh, but not fun. The destination’s the problem, obviously. My house during summer break is even less appealing than usual.

We walk steadily, without rushing.

We stop at a convenience store five minutes from my house and buy a bottle of tea and a cider.

The reason is simple. I don’t want my family to know I brought someone over. I don’t want them to see me with two glasses. But after walking through a city with little shade, I can’t offer Miyagi nothing. That’s the only reason I’m carrying a convenience store bag.

“Here,” I say, stopping in front of my house, my sweat-soaked T-shirt sticking uncomfortably to my back.

Miyagi looks at the ordinary house like it’s something rare, saying nothing. I take my keys out of my bag. But before I can use them, the door opens.

Bad timing.

Bad luck.

Bad day.

I don’t know which it is, but my aloof mother steps out from the entrance. This house was never a fun destination.

“Hello,” Miyagi says in a stiff, polite voice, bowing slightly.

A normal mother would say hello back or invite her to stay. But she just nods curtly at Miyagi and walks past us. I feel bad for Miyagi, who bothered to greet her, but there’s nothing I can do.

“Sorry. Don’t worry about it,” I say, watching my mother’s back as she leaves.

Miyagi nods with a troubled expression.

I knew there was a chance of running into my parents, but I didn’t think it’d actually happen. I want to complain to Miyagi for suggesting this, but that’d just be taking it out on her. I decided to bring her, so I turn on the AC, take the bottles from the bag, and place them on the table. I tuck my piggy bank into the closet, glance around the room, and let Miyagi in.

“Sit wherever.”

“It’s big,” she says, sitting on the bed as soon as she enters.

“Your room’s big too.”

My room’s decently sized, but hers is probably bigger.

“Was that your mom earlier?” she asks, looking at the room instead of me.

“Yeah.”

“So, no one else is home?”

What a hassle.

I knew bringing someone into my space would come with annoyances, and it is. I don’t ask her stuff like this, so it’s irritating.

That’s why I hate this.

This version of myself is a hassle too. I ignore her question and reach for the table, handing her the cider bottle before sitting on the floor with my back against the bed. I open my tea bottle, and Miyagi prompts, “Sendai-san.”

“They’re probably here,” I answer without looking at her, giving up on her dropping it.

“Who’s here?” she asks, sitting on my bed like it’s hers but fidgeting her feet nervously.

“My perfect older sister.”

She’s in college and came back as soon as summer break started. I haven’t seen her today, but she’s probably in her room.

“Next door?”

“Yeah.”

“How much older?”

I know Miyagi doesn’t mean anything by it. She’s just asking to fill the silence, not because she’s curious. But it’s not a great question.

“You’re nosy,” I say, taking a sip of tea and putting the bottle back on the table.

I turn toward her, grab her swaying right foot, and press my lips to her knee. Then I slide my tongue along it.

“I didn’t tell you to do that,” she says.

I pretend not to hear and take off her sock.

The AC hasn’t kicked in yet. Maybe it’s the heat, or maybe it’s because she didn’t order it, but I can do this so easily. I run my tongue from the top of her foot to her ankle, her soft skin damp with a faint taste of sweat.

“Stop it,” she says sharply, pushing my head with the bottle.

I snatch the cold bottle and set it on the floor. I stroke her calf, softly kiss her shin, and more complaints rain down.

“I didn’t order you to lick my foot.”

“You’re gonna, right?”

“No. Let go of my foot.”

“I won’t.”

She could’ve added “that’s an order,” but she just says “let go” like a request. It’s not enough to stop me. I grip her ankle tightly and bite her thumb.

“Sendai-san, that hurts,” she says.

She’s as noisy as ever but doesn’t ask unnecessary questions. She doesn’t kick or order me to stop. Doing this makes it feel like we both want it.

It’s better than being interrogated about pointless things. But what started as a simple act feels like it’s turning into something else, and I bite her thumb harder.

“It hurts!” she says, louder than I expected, making me pull my mouth away.

“Don’t make so much noise. It’ll carry next door.”

The walls aren’t that thin, and her voice isn’t that loud, but it’s something I’d rather not have overheard, so I warn her.

“It’s your fault. Stop, and I won’t make noise,” she says.

“Then give me an order.”

I look at her, and she glares back, displeased. But she says nothing, so I lick the bite mark and press my lips to the top of her foot a few times. I stroke her ankle, licking from there up the bone. No complaints come. Feeling the hardness beneath her skin, I kiss below her knee, and she pulls her foot away.

“Come here,” she says softly.

“Is that an order?”

“Yeah.”

I sit next to her as told and look at her. Her fingertip touches my lips, tracing their outline, but pulls away quickly. I grab her hand. I don’t know why she hesitates to touch me, but I don’t like this Miyagi.

“You’ve got another order, right? Say it properly.”

“I’ll say it if you let go.”

“Fine.”

I release her hand, and she pulls it back. After a moment’s hesitation, her index finger touches my lips again.

“…Lick it.”

It’s probably not what she really wants to order. But without asking, I touch my tongue to her fingertip. She pushes her finger into my mouth, brushing my tongue. I lightly bite near the second joint. As I entwine my tongue with her exploring finger, it stops moving. I press my tongue softly, sliding it along. It’s not delicious or bad—just neutral. As I keep licking, she pulls her finger out.

The “lick it” order hasn’t been revoked.

I chase her finger, licking the tip and pressing my tongue to the base. I kiss the back of her hand, softly licking from her wrist upward.

“That licking’s gross,” she says, trying to pull her hand away, but I press my lips harder, pushing my tongue firmly.

“Sendai-san!” she says, yanking her arm back forcefully.

“Didn’t I tell you not to make noise?” I ask.

“I’m not,” she replies, sounding annoyed, and tries to stand. I push her arm down. If I let my guard down, she’ll escape. Catching her is my role. That doesn’t change today. I pin her to the bed so she can’t go anywhere.

“Get off,” she says, predictably angry.

“I won’t.”

“If you won’t, grab some tissues. I want to wipe my finger.”

“Just be quiet for a bit.”

The stupid idea of silencing her with a kiss pops up, but I dismiss it. I’ve been poisoned by too many of her manga. But that’s proof I’ve been to her house and read her books so many times, and it makes me want to sigh. A year ago, I’d never have thought this or pinned her down. Usually, she’s the one pinning me, not the other way around.

“Isn’t this against the rules?” she complains again.

Before she can say more, I bite her neck. I sink my teeth in hard, and she goes quiet, mid-complaint. But it’s only for a moment before she starts up again.

“Sendai-san, that hurts.”

She pushes my shoulder in protest, but I don’t stop.

“I said it hurts. Stop it.”

“You do this kind of thing too.”

I lift my face and look at her neck. The bite mark is red, and I feel bad, but she’s no saint either. She’s done similar things to me, in different places, multiple times. I’ve done it too, but she doesn’t hold back, so she’s worse.

Every time a mark or pain is added, I think about her more. I wish she’d understand how I feel, even a little.

“…I guess,” she says hesitantly, pressing her neck.

It must still hurt, as she rubs it. I lie next to her on the bed. The two of us on my bed. It’s happened before, but that was at her place. Having her on my bed feels strange.

“Sendai-san, it’s cramped,” she says, pushing me with a voice full of complaints.

“It’s my bed. Stop pushing—it hurts.”

“I’m the one who hurts more.”

She stands up and kicks my leg.

“I know.”

I’ve been marked and bitten by her plenty of times. I know exactly how much it hurts.

I do regret it, sort of.

I didn’t bring her here to do this, but it happened. If I later recall her being on this bed, I’ll probably curse myself.

“Let’s study seriously starting next week,” I say, trying to fix the emotions veering off course.

“I think that’s better,” she replies quietly..