Volume 2 Episode 05

“I will Send you halfway.”

That’s what Sendai-san said when I mentioned I was going home, but I refused. It was still light out, and I knew the way, so there was no reason for her to walk me. Besides, we’d have nothing to talk about even if we went together.

We’d barely spoken on the way to her house, either.

It’s easier to just go home alone.

And besides, thinking about what happened today only makes things awkward.

I told her more than once I’d go by myself, yet somehow I’m walking home with her anyway, dragging this silence along with us—despite the heat she hates so much.

At some point, I must have lost the right to give orders. She ignored my words—words I’d meant as a command—and decided to leave the house with me.

I let out a small sigh, quiet enough that she wouldn’t hear.

The reason I told her to take me to her place in the first place was because she was being selfish.

During summer break, it’s like she thinks she can do whatever she wants—making rules without asking and acting however she pleases. So I thought, if she can do that, I should be allowed to make unreasonable demands too. That’s why I told her to take me to her room, a place I’d never seen.

I was a little curious about the kind of room she lived in.

Just a little.

I assumed she’d refuse anyway.

But now I regret giving that order so casually.

Among the things I saw today, there was something she clearly hadn’t wanted me to see. Something she’d been hiding all along—something she’d probably keep hiding forever.

I’d imagined her as someone loved by her family.

But that image existed only in my head. When I ran into her mother at the door, she left without even looking at her daughter, and the subtle expression on Sendai-san’s face told me plenty.

The atmosphere between them made it obvious their relationship wasn’t good.

There was something unspoken there.

I messed up.

Even if I’d been trying to avoid silence, I think I talked too much today. And that’s what led to this—her quietness now.

I’m quiet too, as if to make up for it.

Apologizing might ease my own conscience, but I know it would only make her angry. So I walk silently beside her.

Even walking together, the silence makes it feel no different from walking alone.

I can’t bring myself to look at her, so I stare at the ground.

The shadows from the setting sun stretch across the sidewalk.

We walk slowly, and the scenery drifts by just as slowly.

“Miyagi, what’s your impression?”

Her voice—unchanged from usual—breaks the silence.

“Impression?”

Not understanding, I glance at her.

“You wanted to see my room, didn’t you?”

She’s using a bright tone, as if she’s decided to forget about earlier.

“Not really. I just wanted a change of pace.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. But at least tell me what you thought of it.”

Her room wasn’t overly decorated, nor so bare that it felt empty. The best word for it was ordinary—not much different from mine.

But her bookshelf stood out.

Most of the books were study guides and reference materials. There weren’t any of the fashion magazines I sometimes see her reading—the kind Ibaraki-san might like. But saying that felt wrong, so I kept it silent.

“It felt like a normal room.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? What kind of room were you expecting?”

“Something more… high-school-girl-ish?”

“Oh, I see—that kind of image.”

“At school, that’s the impression you give.”

She isn’t flashy, but she stands out—she has that subtle, sparkling presence. I wouldn’t have been surprised if her room were filled with cute or stylish things.

“If not about the room, don’t you have anything else to say?”

Dissatisfied with my answer, she prodded further.

After that, I’d passed the time reading one of her books. I hadn’t brought any worksheets or assignments, and there wasn’t much else to do, so it was my only option. She was reading too.

In other words, we spent the time as we usually do—nothing out of the ordinary.

“There’s nothing worth commenting on.”

“Well, fair enough,” she said lightly, then stopped walking.

I stopped too. Her index finger reached toward my neck, pausing just before touching it.

“Here, you okay? It’s still a little red.”

When she pushed me down earlier, she hadn’t held back.

Her teeth had sunk into my neck so hard I’d thought it might bleed. She’s bitten me before, but this was the worst.

“It hurt—and it still does.”

As I spoke, her fingers brushed the spot that was probably still red.

Truthfully, it didn’t hurt anymore.

But it still felt like it was throbbing.

“I bet. I made sure it would hurt,” she said, wearing an unusually serious expression.

I almost told her not to do things like that to me, but stopped myself. I was reminded of the awful things I’ve done to her, and let out a quiet breath.

I brushed her hand away.

It’s fine.

This is nothing.

It might still be red, but it won’t leave a mark. It’ll fade soon enough.

“You’re such a pervert, Sendai-san.”

“Maybe I am.”

Normally she would deny it, but this time she agreed.

Ever since summer break began, something has felt off.

The Sendai-san I knew was careful, never someone who pushed people down, and even when she broke the rules, it was never with much weight behind it.

Touching skin with her tongue—

Licking is just that: an act. But back then, it had felt like she was trying to give it more meaning.

—Or maybe I was imagining it.

In the end, it was trivial. The kind of thing I’ll forget by tomorrow. Going to her house, what happened there—it’ll all sink into the sea of memory, leaving nothing behind. Maybe I’m just overthinking it.

“Let’s go.”

Her voice, nearly lost in the noise of the city, prompted her to start walking again.

Like when we went to her house, I couldn’t match her pace.

With most girls, the rhythm of our steps would naturally align, but with her, it never did.

Should I walk right beside her, or keep a little distance?

I hesitated, my feet reluctant to move, but she stayed beside me.

From the moment we’d left her house, we’d been walking through the city together.

The same on the way there, and now back.

Our pace never changed.

I moved without knowing whether I was matching her stride or she was matching mine.

But slowly, the scenery shifted.

I thought about picking up the pace.

But then I thought—this might be the last time we walk through the city like this. And that made me unwilling to speed up and change the pace of the view.

✧✧✧✧✧

July ended, and August began.

Since then, Sendai-san has been diligently tutoring me. I’ve been studying seriously too, so most of my homework is already done. Studying with her isn’t exactly fun, but it’s not bad either. Still, I think it’s fine to slow down now.

There’s no need to rush through the rest.

I’m tired of solving problems and writing reports.

But she keeps teaching me without cutting corners. Proof of it lies across the table—textbooks and reference books spread out, along with the workbooks she brought to fulfill her role as my tutor.

The reason she comes here is probably something to do with her house.

That day at her place, what I saw was probably the answer.

And that’s fine. Whatever her reasons, as long as she comes here and keeps her promises, it’s enough. But I still wonder why she, who once made a rule not to meet on days off, changed that rule to visit during summer break.

Even if something’s going on at home, I can’t imagine her wanting to spend her days off here.

She’d always said as much.

That’s why she never came last summer.

Nor during winter or spring break—she never tried to change the rule.

So why now?

The question lingers, unresolved.

Maybe there’s something at her house that makes her want to come here badly enough to break her own rules. Or maybe it’s something else entirely. I wonder—if we’d kept walking together on the way back from her house—whether I might have learned something I didn’t know.

But roads don’t stretch on forever. They all end somewhere. I can’t walk beside Sendai-san forever.

“Miyagi, your hand’s stopped.”

Her hair, unusually neither braided nor tied, frames her face as she pokes my arm with her pen.

“I’m just taking a break.”

I glance at the air conditioner remote, then take a sip of cider. The ice has long since melted in the hours we’ve spent studying, leaving it watery. The soda slides down my throat and settles in my stomach—not refreshing, but fitting enough for now.

“This room’s cold for you, isn’t it?” she says, resting her chin on her hand as she studies me.

“Not right now.”

“Because you’re wearing long sleeves?”

She’s in a short-sleeved blouse and shorts, looking cool and comfortable.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So it was cold.”

Her slightly lower voice lingers in the room before fading.

I’d exposed something she wanted to keep hidden, and now I’m trying to dilute my guilt—like the melted ice in my cider—by setting the room’s temperature to suit her. To offset the chill I feel from doing so, I’ve put on a long-sleeved blouse over my T-shirt. It isn’t cold enough to complain about now.

“It pisses me off when you act considerate,” she says, tugging at my sleeve.

She’s probably figured out exactly what this blouse means.

“Why I am the one being considerate?”

“…”

No answer.

To explain the temperature setting would mean bringing up what happened at her house. She won’t answer if it risks unnecessary questions.

We both carry things we don’t want to say, and we spend our time together with those burdens in hand.

I think she knows better than to pry into what I want to keep hidden—just as she’s never asked why there’s never anyone at my house, or how I can keep handing over five thousand yen.

And so I haven’t pried too deeply into her life either.

—Though I ruined that the other day.

I should regret asking about things she didn’t want to share, and so I don’t push now when she falls silent.

“It’s fine if it’s a little warm. Why not turn up the temperature?” she says, nodding toward the remote.

“I’m keeping it at a temperature that suits you, so just appreciate it.”

“So you are being considerate.”

“It’s not like that.”

I answer curtly, eyes dropping back to my workbook.

Then she raises the air conditioner’s temperature.

“It’ll get hot if you turn it up today,” I point out.

“Then take it off.”

I glance at her, struck by déjà vu.

We had a similar exchange before summer break—about this very air conditioner. Back then, I’d raised the temperature after she lowered it.

“Fine, I will.”

The thin blouse is just for temperature control, so I slip it off without hesitation, revealing the T-shirt underneath.

“So, what about you?”

“It’s not hot enough for me to do anything about it.”

“Liar.”

“I’m fine. I’m matching you.”

Saying this, she raises the temperature again.

“I don’t mind, but it’s hot for you, isn’t it?”

“Not really.”

That can’t be true. The temperature that’s neutral for me should be too warm for her. Normally, she’d already be complaining to turn the air conditioner down. But she’s steering this conversation toward a destination she’s chosen, and unless I say the lines she’s set up, neither the temperature nor the conversation will change.

Since summer break began, she’s been in control.

I don’t like it.

And not knowing what she’s aiming for bothers me even more.

I can’t handle this.

I turn back to my workbook, filling in the blanks.

“Miyagi.”

The one who insisted we study seriously reaches over and closes it.

I don’t want to play along, but if I ignore her, she’ll just escalate until it’s even more annoying.

“You’re hot, aren’t you, Sendai-san? You’d cool off if you took it off.”

I give her the line she’s been pushing me toward.

“If you want me to take it off, either do it yourself or order me to.”

“I don’t have the right to give orders.”

I reject the next line she wants me to say.

“Since you set the room temperature for me, I’ll give you the right.”

She’s been overbearing all summer, acting like the ruler of this room, deciding everything unilaterally. Saying she’ll give me the right is just as high-handed. And it’s not even the right I want.

What I paid five thousand yen for is a tutor.

Summer break is special—she teaches me. That’s the only arrangement, different from our usual after-school deal.

If I naively accept the right she’s offering, she’ll just twist it into a game.

It wouldn’t surprise me.

“Not going to give an order?” she asks, waiting for my scripted reply.

She’s close enough that I could touch her without effort. Like that rainy day, I could have unbuttoned her blouse if I wanted.

I start to reach out, then stop.

My palm feels damp, like rainwater clinging to skin, and I stare at her.

“…If I order you, will you take it off?”

“Try it and see.”

She smiles.

But it’s a flimsy smile—like a flyer destined for the trash—and I can’t read her thoughts. Her words are a maze: plenty of apparent paths, but only one real exit.

Reluctantly, I say the line she’s prepared.

“Fine. I order you—take it off.”

Wearing an outfit like the one she had on the first day she came here during summer break, she unbuttons her blouse without hesitation.

One, two, three.

She starts on the rest.

“Wait. Hold on.”

Instinctively, I grab the blouse as it slips off her shoulder.

“Miyagi, don’t pull my hair. That hurts.”

Her voice and expression remain calm.

True, I’m holding her hair along with the fabric. But that’s minor compared to the real question.

“Why are you actually taking it off?”

“Because you ordered me to.”

“Yeah, but you forced me into giving that order.”

“Even so, an order’s an order.”

She shakes off my hand and moves to continue.

I did say it.

But it was only the line she set up—I never expected her to follow through. I don’t want to undress her or see her naked. I wasn’t thinking that at all. And yet my heartbeat spikes, loud enough to feel in my ears, and I turn my face away.

The Sendai-san who matched my walking pace earlier is gone.

She looks like she’s running full speed.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Even when she asks, I keep my gaze elsewhere.

“Because normal people don’t stare while someone’s undressing.”

“Have you ever been normal, Miyagi?”

“What, are you saying I should look?”

“Not exactly. But it pisses me off when you suddenly look away. Just turn this way.”

Her words aren’t an order. I could ignore them easily. If I do, she’ll eventually stop this nonsense and go back to normal.

Yet even though I tell myself there’s no need to look at Sendai-san, my gaze inevitably drifts toward her.

“It’s hard to get changed when you’re staring like that.”

“I’m not staring.”

“You are. You’re totally staring.”

“You never run out of complaints, Sendai-san.”

She laughs, admitting, “Yeah, I guess,” and slips off her fully unbuttoned blouse.

Her shoulders emerge slowly into view.

In my line of sight, the only thing covering her upper body now is her underwear.

I don’t intend to stare, yet my eyes refuse to move away.

What’s the air conditioner set to?

The room feels a little warm, and random thoughts start to float through my head.

Sendai-san lets the blouse fall to the floor and sweeps her hair back in an impatient gesture.

For a brief moment, the thought she’s beautiful flashes through my mind, and I clench my damp hands.

It’s been over thirty degrees since morning—an oppressive summer day. Opening the window would only let in suffocating heat, yet setting the air conditioner too low makes it too cold for me. I’ve been keeping it at a temperature comfortable for Sendai-san. Even with the setting raised, it’s hardly warm enough to justify stripping down to her underwear. And yet, here she is.

The only explanation is that the heat fried her brain on the way over, melting whatever sense she had and making her act unreasonably. She’s been strange ever since summer break started, but today she’s stranger than ever.

It’s so baffling it’s making me feel unsteady—and I hate that.

My thoughts swirl, dizzy with confusion.

Why is Sendai-san doing this?

I want to know, yet something tells me I shouldn’t.

I should probably say something, but no words come.

My eyes remain fixed on her.

Her underwear is a pale blue—bluer than “light blue” would suggest.

It’s different from the plain white set I’ve seen before.

Delicate lace trims the fabric—cute, almost at odds with her usual image, but it suits her perfectly.

Her chest isn’t large, but still fuller than mine. My eyes wander lower—her stomach is flat and toned, her waist gently curved.

I’m not staring.

But I still can’t look away.

I want to believe my heartbeat isn’t really loud enough for her to hear, because if it is… then I’m the strange one here.

“So, your turn, Miyagi.”

“…Huh?”

Her sudden use of my name snaps my gaze up to her face.

“Take yours off too. It’s hot, right?”

I understand the words, but my brain refuses to process them. They sound like meaningless noise from another world.

“Miyagi.”

She says my name again, stepping closer.

Parts of her usually hidden by clothing are now plainly in sight. Instinctively, I push her shoulder, but she stays close, catching the hem of my T-shirt. Her fingers graze my side, and the fog in my head clears enough for the words to register.

“I’m not hot, and I’m not taking anything off.”

I push her hand away firmly.

She can undress if she wants, but don’t drag me into it.

“You are hot. Come on, hurry up.”

Stubborn as always, she grabs my T-shirt again, tugging it upward.

“Hey—wait, Sendai-san!”

I try to pry her hands away, but she’s immovable. The shirt rides up, exposing half my stomach.

I did not see this coming.

I’ve made her take her clothes off before, but I never imagined I’d be on the receiving end. The command was always “take it off,” not “undress me.”

I grab a tissue box and bop her lightly on the head. The alligator cover swings, and she lets out an exaggerated “Ouch.”

“Taking off clothes isn’t a big deal. We change at school all the time,” she says, rubbing her head and brushing her hair back.

“This isn’t changing. Being undressed and getting changed are two different things.”

“You’re too particular, Miyagi.”

“I’m not particular—you’re careless.”

“Be too uptight and you’ll go bald,” she teases, tugging my bangs before seizing my shirt hem again.

“I said no!”

I smack the back of her hand.

“If you don’t want me to undress you, then take it off yourself,” she says.

“I honestly don’t know how we got here.”

Sendai-san has always done unpredictable things—turning up unannounced at my house or classroom, catching me off guard.

But since summer started, it’s been worse.

She keeps doing inexplicable things without the slightest regard for my feelings.

“If I told you I took off my clothes so I could undress you, would that make sense?” she says casually.

“…You’re joking, right?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

It should be a joke.

Undressing me gains her nothing. I don’t have an impressive figure, and there’s nothing about it that should interest her.

But she doesn’t look like she’s joking.

“Anyway, if you won’t take it off, I’ll just do it for you.”

Before I can speak, she pulls at my shirt again.

“I’d rather take it off myself than be undressed,” I snap, catching her wrist.

It’s obvious she won’t give up. Faced with the choice between undressing myself or being undressed, I have to choose the former.

“Fine,” she says simply, releasing my shirt.

I drop my gaze and exhale softly.

When I lift my eyes again, she’s still there—standing before me in nothing but her underwear.

And I’m about to strip too.

The whole scene feels unreal, like my head is spinning.

Absurd—there’s no other word for it.

I don’t have to go along with this. I could stand, claim I need something from the kitchen, and walk out.

“Miyagi, should I just undress you instead?”

Sensing my hesitation, she grips my arm firmly.

She’s smiling, but there’s no warmth in it—only the intent to keep me from escaping.

“I’ll do it myself. Just look away.”

“Why? You looked at me, didn’t you?”

“That’s because you told me to.”

“You still looked, so I have the right to look too.”

“There’s no such right. Look somewhere else.”

I peel her hand from my arm and push her toward the bed, but she spins back immediately.

“You’re too self-conscious, Miyagi.”

Her teasing tone, and the implication behind it, make me rip off my T-shirt in one swift motion.

On a midsummer afternoon, in my own room, I’m standing there in just my underwear.

It sounds ordinary—but it isn’t. Not when Sendai-san, also in her underwear, is right here with me.

Her gaze stings.

I’m not naked, but I feel exposed.

I want to cover myself, but that would only encourage more teasing.

If I’d known this was coming, I would’ve worn something cuter. Instead, I’m stuck in plain white underwear—obviously not chosen for being seen.

“I took it off… So now what?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

Sendai-san frowns slightly, as though unsure, then smiles and brushes her fingers lightly along my side.

“Sendai-san, don’t do that.”

Her bare-handed touch against my skin tickles, and I reach for her arm—but she beats me to it, pinching my side.

“Hey! Sendai-san!”

I swat Sendai-san’s hand away and cover my side.

“Soft and nice.”

“That’s annoying.”

“It’s fine. Just a little touch.”

“It’s not fine. Don’t touch me.”

“Then is it okay if I just look?”

I don’t even know what she means by then, but she fixes me with an unabashed stare.

“That’s not okay either.”

It’s fine for me to look at her, but being looked at is different.

If this keeps up, I’ll be stuck dancing to her tune forever.

“Miyagi, your face is a little red.”

Her hand brushes my cheek, palm pressing lightly against it as if to steal my warmth. That small gesture sends my heartbeat thudding in my ears and almost robs me of breath. I quickly pull her hand away.

“If my face is red, it’s because I’m embarrassed. I’m not as good-looking as you, Sendai-san.”

“Girls are cuter with a bit of softness.”

“I really hate that about you.”

“So there is something you like about me?”

“Nothing.”

I answer instantly and turn away.

Hugging her knees, Sendai-san gives my arm a light smack.

“Think about it for a second. That hurt, you know.”

Her voice is far lighter than her words, carrying no real complaint.

But since I’m not looking at her, I can’t tell what expression she’s wearing.

“I actually like you quite a bit, Miyagi.”

Her voice—bright to the point of exaggeration—comes from beside me.

“Your brain’s fried from the heat, isn’t it, Sendai-san?”

“Maybe. Take care of me, Miyagi.”

“No way. And stop leaning on me.”

Without warning, she bumps her shoulder into mine. I scowl.

I never said she could close the distance to zero.

There should be space between us—this is far too close—but she doesn’t move away.

Our shoulders stay pressed together, her long hair brushing against my arm.

“My head’s fried, so I can’t move.”

“That joke isn’t funny.”

When I glance at her, she’s wearing a bored expression.

“Laugh a little, will you?”

“Sendai-san, it’s hot. And you’re heavy.”

Her body, not mine.

Her warmth seeps into me through our connected shoulders, more than warm—hot.

I’ve never had anyone this close, dressed down to their underwear, our body heat mingling. I don’t know if other people run this warm, but since she’s the only one I’ve experienced this with, I can’t tell if this is just her.

“Calling me heavy is rude, you know.”

“It’s not rude. Put your clothes back on and get off.”

I push at her shoulder, but she grabs my arm, only increasing the contact between us.

“Sendai-san, that’s an order. Listen to me.”

“Today’s order was ‘take it off,’ and I did.”

“Why do you get to make the rules?”

“It’s summer break. Let’s have a little freedom. It’s more fun that way, isn’t it?”

“I hate summer break, and this isn’t fun.”

“It’s fine. One day like this won’t hurt.”

Our arms are tangled, and I can’t get away.

Her arm rests against my side—places that never usually touch now pressed together. It feels so wrong. Even with Maika and the others, I’ve never been this close.

Yet the shared warmth doesn’t feel entirely unpleasant.

“Oh, Miyagi. Got any plans for Obon next week?”

“Nope.”

No need to tell the truth.

Dad will be home for one day during Obon, and I already have plans with Maika and the others. She probably wouldn’t push for study sessions during the holiday, so I just keep quiet.

“Then we’ll study during Obon too.”

With that, she leans into me, as though resting her entire weight on my shoulder.

“Sendai-san, I said it’s hot.”

I’d assumed we wouldn’t study over Obon, but I’ve already made plans. I should tell her—but her warmth clouds my priorities.

I could always move my plans with Maika earlier. They’re probably free this weekend.

“It’s fine. I’m hot too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe it’s just the summer,” she says, which doesn’t answer anything.

A heartbeat drums louder than usual, though I can’t tell if it’s mine or hers.