Volume 2 Episode 07

Sendai-san doesn’t kiss in a way that can be brushed off as a joke.

It was the same when we kissed for the first time.

If it were just a light touch of the lips, you could make an excuse and say it was only fooling around. But she always tries to kiss in a way that doesn’t allow excuses. A kiss that ends with lips merely brushing is fine. But she always seeks something more than that.

“Miyagi, that hurts.”

Instead of using her voice to order me around in making French toast, Sendai-san complained about the kiss. But I didn’t move my finger away from her lips. I didn’t think there was any need to.

When her tongue touched my lips, a restless shiver crawled through me.

Her body heat seeped into me, and the back of my head grew hot.

That’s why I couldn’t accept that kind of kiss, one that we shouldn’t be doing—so I bit her lips. The kind of kiss that can’t be passed off as a joke is something that stirs up feelings I’d locked away in a box with a key, and I can’t let those feelings surface.

The wound on her lips turned out deeper than I expected, but she brought it on herself.

I pressed my finger harder against the cut.

Her face twisted, and she glared at me, no longer just enduring the pain.

It felt like it had been a while since I last saw Sendai-san’s defiant eyes.

Seeing this expression she only makes here, in this house, lets me bask in something like the pride of possessing a rare treasure. And the fact that only I can make her show that face stirs my emotions.

――――― At least, it used to.

But now, somewhere inside me, there’s a part that doesn’t want her to look at me like this. It doesn’t make sense.

She’s the one at fault, for trying to kiss me in a way that went too far. I should be justified in giving her a little payback. Whatever expression she makes shouldn’t matter.

I dug my nails into the wound.

My fingertips grew slick with warm blood, and Sendai-san grabbed my wrist.

“I told you it hurts.”

With those words, she tore my hand roughly away from her lips.

When I looked, my finger was smeared with her blood, and her lips were the same. I licked my fingertip, and it tasted just like when I licked her lips earlier—bad.

“Don’t lick it. Go wash your hands.”

She reached to turn on the sink, but I stopped her, grabbing her arm.

“I’ll wash them later.”

“Then what are you going to do now?”

This summer, Sendai-san has been getting carried away.

Even though I was the one who tried to kiss her, she kissed me like it was only natural for her to do so. I don’t mind kissing, but letting her do whatever she wants isn’t fair.

This is my house, and the three orders have already been carried out. So I should be allowed to do as I please, just like her.

“Kiss.”

I had no intention of waiting for her reply.

I stepped closer and leaned in on my own.

I didn’t close my eyes.

As her face filled my vision, she gave up first, shutting her eyes. Slowly, I pressed my lips to hers.

With her warmth came the smear of blood across my lips.

The sticky sensation was unpleasant, but the contact itself felt good. It was no different from when she kissed me—it felt good enough that I pressed harder. Sendai-san flinched back, the wound hurting her.

Wherever you press lips to skin, the softness might vary, but when it’s lips against lips, my heart pounds and my body burns.

I don’t know if this feeling would be the same with anyone else.

And I don’t want to know.

But I’ve already learned what happens when I kiss Sendai-san.

I clutched her T-shirt and pressed harder. More blood smeared, and her lips—the softest of all—stuck firmly to mine. But right away, she pulled back.

“Be a little gentler. My lips hurt. And let go—you’re stretching my shirt.”

As she said that, she slapped the back of my hand.

I gave no reply. I just washed my hands and went back to stirring the egg mixture. Without reproaching me for my silence, Sendai-san began slicing the bread. The only sound in the kitchen was the clatter of chopsticks against the bowl. My heart was still beating faster than normal.

I kept my eyes fixed only on the yellow liquid. But I couldn’t stay silent forever.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

Not knowing what the finished mixture was supposed to look like, I asked her without raising my head.

“It’s fine. Just soak the bread and fry it. You can go wait in the living room.”

She had called me from the living room to help, but now she was chasing me away from the kitchen.

Too irresponsible.

It annoyed me, being dismissed after I came to help. But staying here felt awkward, too. And even if she told me to fry the bread, I wouldn’t know how.

So I obediently did as she said and left the kitchen.

From the counter, I could hear the sizzling of the bread and smell its sweetness. My stomach, not very hungry before, now rumbled as I leaned forward to peek at the browning bread. After making me wait longer than I expected, Sendai-san finally brought the French toast over.

“Since someone didn’t listen to me, I don’t know if it turned out well. Just try it.”

She placed a knife and fork in front of me and sat down beside me. Without meaning to, we both said itadakimasu at the same time, and for a brief moment, our eyes met.

I cut a small piece of the egg-soaked bread and put it in my mouth. The golden bite brought a nostalgic taste of egg and butter, the crispy outside and fluffy inside together.

“So? How’s your first French toast?”

She looked at me.

“It’s sweeter than I expected.”

“That’s your fault. You dumped in sugar like an idiot.”

She sounded dissatisfied.

“Well… still, I think it’s pretty good.”

That wasn’t a lie.

It might have been a little too sweet, but I could put this first French toast into the category of foods I liked.

Like the fried chicken.

Like the tamagoyaki.

Everything Sendai-san made tasted good. Maybe she could even make food I normally hated taste delicious.

“Well, I’m glad.”

Her voice, relieved, came from beside me.

Whenever I told her her cooking was good, she always made that sound. She shouldn’t need to care what I thought, but apparently she did, just a little.

I took another bite of the fluffy bread. As I chewed and swallowed, I heard the clink of cutlery against a plate. Turning my head, I saw her covering her mouth.

“You okay?”

I didn’t have to ask to know why.

The French toast had touched her wound.

That must have been it. And since the wound was her own fault, I shouldn’t have had to worry.

But she looked in so much pain that the words slipped out before I could stop them.

“Don’t bite me hard enough to make me bleed.”

She glared at me, a crease between her brows.

“You’re the one who makes me want to.”

“You don’t even hate kissing.”

“It’s not like I like it either.”

“Really.”

Her voice and gaze carried suspicion.

To escape them, I shoved another bite of French toast into my mouth. After slowly chewing and letting the buttery taste fade, I finally said one of the things I wanted to say.

“Starting the day after tomorrow, let’s be a little more normal.”

“What do you mean, normal?”

“No more weird stuff.”

It was true, like she said—I didn’t dislike kissing. And I didn’t mind if it was with her.

But I didn’t think it was something we should keep doing again and again.

We weren’t in that kind of relationship, and we weren’t going to be. This summer was just an irregularity. Once the second term started, life would go back to how it had been in the first.

And if this kept happening, I might lose control. Since I didn’t dislike it, I wasn’t confident I could stay “normal.” If we kept letting it go on, something bad would happen.

“What do you mean by weird stuff?”

She stabbed the French toast with her fork.

“Weird stuff is just weird stuff.”

“Say it clearly. You mean no more kissing, right?”

“If you already know, then let’s stop this.”

“If you’re going to do something, then study, chat, or whatever. If you don’t like that, there are books and games—you can kill time somehow, right?”

I snapped, then stole a piece of French toast from Sendai-san’s plate and popped it into my mouth.

She smiled softly and said,

“Miyagi, you know what people call it when they do those kinds of things together? Friends.”

[T/N - Sendai meant study , chat , games etc by things! Not kiss friend don't kiss . Well lots of do in western countries heck in japan too probably but it's not widely accepted, wtf I am talking about.]

Her voice rang out in the living room, deliberately bright, and then she stood up, saying, “I’ll grab us some drinks.”

Her voice drifted in from the kitchen, a little farther away.

“But if you want to do that kind of ‘friend’ stuff, we can start the day after tomorrow.”

She quickly returned and set two glasses on the table.

“It’s not like I want to do friend-like things.”

“Really? If you just want normal, then a game of pretend-friends is fine. How about we even go see a movie together, just the two of us?”

She flashed the kind of smile I often see at school and took a sip of barley tea.

I could tell from her tone she wasn’t serious.

As if I’d actually go.

She thought I’d refuse—that much was clear.

So I absolutely wouldn’t say it.

“…Fine. Let’s go.”

“A movie?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow or Thursday.”

I had tried treating Sendai-san like a friend once before.

We chatted idly, played games together—things friends normally do.

But in the end, she never became my friend.

This time, though, it might be different. Back then, it was only me trying. Now, Sendai-san herself is willing to play this little “pretend-friends” game. I don’t want to be her friend, but maybe this could be the chance to set our twisted relationship back on track.

“Why tomorrow or Thursday?” she asked, probing.

“Because if it’s pretend-friends, it’s better not on a tutoring day.”

“True enough. Okay, Thursday then.”

Sendai-san smiled, more warmly than I’d ever seen in this house.

✧✧✧✧✧

Not this one, not that one. I kept laying clothes out on the bed, groaning, and putting them back in the closet. Half an hour went by, and still, I couldn’t decide what to wear.

I knew it was ridiculous to spend this much time on something as trivial as clothes.

When Sendai-san came for tutoring yesterday, we hadn’t decided which movie to see, but we had decided on a destination.

A place we normally wouldn’t go. Somewhere our classmates wouldn’t show up.

The meeting spot was chosen quickly: a place far enough that we’d need to take the train. No one knew we spent time together after school, and the fact that we were meeting during summer vacation was also a secret. So I had picked somewhere distant, where we wouldn’t risk running into anyone we knew.

Go to the station, take the train.

For just a movie, the trip was longer than necessary. But since we were meeting in the afternoon, there was still plenty of time.

“…This’ll do.”

A blouse and denim pants—the same outfit I’d worn last time I went out with Maika and the others.

There was no need to dress up just for Sendai-san.

I should’ve just decided sooner instead of wasting time fussing. I changed quickly, put away the clothes I’d dragged out, debated tying my hair, and opened the curtains. Sunlight poured in, blindingly bright.

It looked scorching outside.

My neck would burn if I tied my hair, so instead I put on sunscreen. When I checked the clock, it was still a little early to leave.

I sighed.

I’d agreed to Sendai-san’s words—probably just a joke—but now I felt heavy. There was a movie I wanted to see, sure, but I didn’t know if she wanted to see the same one. And even if she had a movie in mind, I wasn’t sure I’d want to watch it.

I wasn’t her friend, after all. I didn’t know those “friend” kinds of things about her.

Her favorite movies, music, food—things her real friends surely knew—I had never asked.

Exhaling slowly, I slapped my cheeks lightly.

Today was just “pretend-friends.”

Nothing difficult.

All I had to do was spend time with her like I did with Maika and the others. Even if our tastes didn’t match, there’d be room to compromise—we’d always managed that before.

“…A little early, but whatever.”

I grabbed my bag and left the apartment.

Within ten minutes, sweat was already soaking through my blouse. Cicadas shrilled alongside the sound of cars, making the heat feel even more oppressive.

I ducked into the shade of a building and stopped walking.

Come to think of it, Sendai-san’s place wasn’t far from mine. If our destination was the same, we might end up on the same train.

I wasn’t looking for her, but my eyes wandered anyway.

As if she’d actually be here.

I muttered in my head and passed through the ticket gate to catch a train I normally never took. Neither the sweltering platform nor the sticky air of the carriage held any familiar faces. After several stops, I got off and headed toward the odd-looking statue we’d agreed on as our meeting point.

But before I reached it, I spotted her.

Even from a distance, I knew it was Sendai-san.

Her outfit today—a long skirt and sleeveless shirt—wasn’t anything flashy, but it suited her well, and maybe because of her looks, she stood out.

If we hadn’t arranged to meet, I never would have approached someone like her. Even with the arrangement, she was the kind of person hard to walk up to. We’d never have been in the same group if we’d just been classmates. It was the impression I’d had of her back when we first became second-years—before all this started.

But I couldn’t just ignore her.

Swallowing a sigh, I stepped forward—and she noticed me first.

“Miyagi,” she called, waving.

“Sorry, did I keep you waiting?”

I wasn’t late—there were still ten minutes to spare—but I figured apologizing was what a friend would do.

“I came straight from cram school, so I got here a bit early.”

I didn’t know how long she’d been waiting, but she smiled and said not to worry. Then she gave me a once-over and said,

“Miyagi, you don’t look that different from when you’re at home.”

“No need to change.”

“I see.”

“Do you always dress like that?” I asked.

When I’d seen her with Ibaraki-san the other day, her outfit had looked different—or maybe that was just the distance. Still, curiosity got the better of me.

She pinched her skirt and looked oddly serious.

“Yeah, why? Weird?”

“Not really. Just wondered.”

“Then it’s fine. Anyway, let’s go.”

She twirled her skirt lightly and started walking. The destination was obvious—the movie theater. We walked through the station, took the elevator up, and as soon as we stepped out, the posters on the wall caught our eyes.

“Anything you want to watch?” she asked.

“I do, actually.”

“Oh? What?”

I named a live-action film based on a romance manga—the same one sitting on my bookshelf at home.

“Ah, that one. Umina said she wanted to see it.”

“Ibaraki-san?”

“She likes the actor who plays the heroine’s love interest.”

“I see.”

I murmured, then almost asked, Do you like him too?—but swallowed the words. Instead, I said what sounded most natural.

“What about you? Any movie you want to see?”

“Yeah.”

She named the one title I least wanted to hear.

“You actually want to watch that?”

“It’s perfect for summer. You okay with horror, Miyagi?”

I wasn’t. Not at all.

The movie Sendai-san said she wanted to see was one of those so-called B-grade horror films set in a school. She really didn’t look like the type who would watch something like that. And me—I don’t even want to see horror movies in commercials. If we’re really going to watch that, I’d rather turn around and go straight home right now. But if I say I don’t want to watch it, Sendai-san will probably just tease me, so—

I don’t want to say it.

“...”

“Huh, Miyagi, are you one of those people who can’t handle horror?”

Sendai-san asks me as I stay silent.

“It’s not that I can’t handle it, I just… want to see something else.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re the type who can’t go to the bathroom at night because you think a ghost might show up.”

“That’s not it.”

“If it’s not, then you’ll watch horror, right?”

Sendai-san says it with a playful grin.

This is exactly why I didn’t want to say I didn’t want to watch it. But just going along with it and ending up watching a horror movie would be a problem too.

“...It’s not like ghosts really exist, but what if a hand suddenly comes out of the toilet or something?”

There’s something behind me.

I know there’s nothing there, but when I’m home alone I sometimes get that feeling, and it scares me.

At times like that, it doesn’t seem strange to imagine something creeping out of the toilet.

“Miyagi, your parents usually come home late, don’t they?”

Not just late—they hardly ever come home at all. But I don’t want to say that out loud, so I keep quiet. Sendai-san chuckles softly and says,

“Alright, we’ll watch whatever you want. Wouldn’t want you too scared to go to the bathroom at night.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not. I just think it’s cute—like a little kid.”

“See? You are making fun of me.”

“I’m really not. But hey, Miyagi, aren’t you usually the type who likes happy endings? This one’s definitely not a happy ending, you know.”

The movie I want to see is a romance, but in the original manga, the heroine dies. Like Sendai-san said, it can’t exactly be called a happy ending, but the heroine still ends up with the boy she’s been in love with, and it doesn’t leave a bitter aftertaste.

But more than the ending of the film, what catches my attention is Sendai-san’s memory.

Sure, there was one time I said in front of her that I thought a romance novel without a happy ending was boring—but it was just once.

“You remember that pretty well.”

“I remember because you spoiled the ending for me. I’m still holding a grudge.”

Sendai-san says this in a tone I can’t tell is serious or joking.

“And yet you read it all the way to the end.”

“Well, yeah. So, you’re okay with a movie that isn’t a happy ending?”

“There are ones I like, even if they’re not happy endings.”

“Then let’s get the tickets.”

With a smile at me, Sendai-san turns her back and heads off.

Today, she’s smiling a lot more than usual.

Because we’re friends.

Even if that’s the reason, the fact that Sendai-san feels different from yesterday makes it impossible for me to settle down, even once the movie starts.

A little over two hours until the end credits.

I sit through it until the very end, without leaving my seat.

Sendai-san, too, stays put until the credits are over.

I can’t get along with people who leave before the credits roll. Sometimes there are extra scenes at the very end, and besides, I like savoring the aftertaste of a film. That’s why I’m glad Sendai-san is the kind of person who stays through the credits.

At first, I couldn’t concentrate on the movie, but as time went by, I stopped paying so much attention to Sendai-san sitting beside me. While watching a film, it doesn’t matter who’s next to you—you don’t need to talk, you can just face forward. Thanks to that, after a while I managed to focus on following the story.

“Miyagi, did you like it?”

As soon as the lights come up, Sendai-san turns to me with a cheerful smile.

“It was good.”

I give a short reply and stand up.

The film wasn’t entirely faithful to the original manga, but it was good enough to honestly call it interesting. Still, I have no idea what Sendai-san thought of it. I don’t recall ever hearing her talk about enjoying a movie, so I couldn’t guess whether it fit her tastes.

“What about you, Sendai-san?”

I ask as we walk, and she answers without changing her expression.

“It was good.”

“Really?”

It’s not like she looked bored, or that her voice sounded like a lie, but something about her response doesn’t sit right with me, so I press her.

“Really. I thought it was good.”

She names a few scenes in a bright voice and shares her thoughts. Then, after saying again that it was good, she suddenly stops walking.

“So, what now? Want to go somewhere?”

Outside the theater, Sendai-san asks for my input on what we should do next.

“Go somewhere, like where?”

I hadn’t thought at all about what to do after the movie, so I can only throw the question back.

“Like shopping for clothes, or something like that.”

“Our tastes don’t match.”

“Then we’ll look at clothes you like.”

“I don’t really want anything.”

What I have in my closet is enough. I don’t have any particular desire for new clothes, and I doubt going clothes shopping with Sendai-san would be any fun.

“Then maybe grab something to eat?”

Sendai-san looks at me with a soft smile.

“Sure. What though?”

“Something light, maybe. What do you feel like?”

“You decide.”

“Hmm. Miyagi, you like sweets, don’t you?”

I meant for her to pick something she likes. That’s why I told her to decide. But apparently, she didn’t get that—because she’s trying to choose based on my preferences.

It’s not like that’s a bad thing.

If it were Maika and the others, I’d just say honestly what I wanted to eat.

But when it’s Sendai-san acting like this, it doesn’t make me happy.

And I know why.

It’s because she’s being strangely gentle, smiling constantly.

The Sendai-san standing here isn’t any different from the one at school. Always smiling, always speaking in a bright voice.

Right now, she feels like the kind of classmate I barely spoke to back at the start of our second year—someone I wasn’t even sure knew I existed. My impression of her at the meeting spot hadn’t been wrong.

This Sendai-san isn’t the Sendai-san I know.

“Sorry. Actually, let’s not eat.”

I decide the station platform is our destination and start walking.

“Hey, Miyagi—where are you going?”

If this were my room, her voice would have sounded annoyed. But chasing after me now, her voice is still soft.

It feels wrong. My stomach churns, and I feel like I might throw up what I ate for lunch, so I quicken my pace.

“I’m going home,” I say without looking back.

“Already? Isn’t it a little early?”

“It’s not early.”

A Sendai-san who just goes along with me is boring.

There’s nothing fun about being with her like that.

“Then, can I stop by your place? We’ve still got time.”

As she says this, she grabs my arm. When I turn, she’s still smiling the same fixed smile.

“If you don’t want me to, I won’t. But we can at least go home together, right?”

“Why?”

“Why? Well, even if I don’t stop by your place, we take the same train and go the same way home. Might as well go together. We’re ‘friends’ today, right?”

It looks like Sendai-san intends to keep playing this little “friendship game,” and she doesn’t let go of my arm.

And she’s not wrong. Our houses are pretty close, so going home together is only natural.

But if we’re going home together, then choosing a meeting spot far from where anyone we know might see us was pointless.

“That’s true, but… if someone sees us, it’ll be a problem.”

“It’s Obon. Everyone’s probably off visiting relatives or something. Nobody’s going to see us.”

With that careless reassurance, she tugs at my arm.

“They might.”

Sure, it’s Obon—but not everyone is off at a relative’s place.

“They won’t. Come on, let’s go together.”

She says it as she practically drags me along, so I have no choice but to walk at her side.

It’s better than the Sendai-san from earlier, who seemed to have no will of her own. At least this version is a little forceful, a little insistent.

I don’t like it when she’s pushy, but it’s better than her acting like a puppet. Even so, her smile never wavers, and that still makes me feel uneasy.

As we walk, Sendai-san talks about something.

Whether I respond or not, she just keeps talking—while we wait for the train, and even after we board it, she keeps chattering at me.

Clatter, clatter—the train runs along.

The scenery flows past, carrying us closer to home.

The dazzling city, the vivid green, all shifting into the familiar view I see every day.

I can hear Sendai-san’s voice. A voice I don’t dislike.

But it doesn’t enter my head.

It mixes with the noise of the train and fades away.

We get off when the train reaches our stop. Sendai-san steps out, and I follow.

We leave the station, surrounded by tall buildings, and walk the well-worn path home.

I thought after leaving her house, I’d never walk alongside her again—but here she is, still by my side.

And yet, there’s no easy conversation between us.

I can’t bring myself to try and make one, either.

I hate this kind of atmosphere.

My feelings weigh down my tongue, and I can’t make it move. If I try to force words out, it’s like a film of air presses against my mouth, sealing it shut.

And I think—surely, Sendai-san isn’t enjoying this either. Being with me, when I’m like this.

But she stays beside me the whole time, never once leaving my side.

“After all, you ended up coming to my house.”

I set down a glass of chilled barley tea for Sendai-san, who was sitting in my room as if it were the most natural thing, then sat beside her at the table and drank my cider.

“Were you planning to turn away a friend?”

“You’re still keeping up the whole friend act?”

“We’re supposed to be friends for today.”

Leaning against the bed as she sat on the floor, Sendai-san spoke with a smile plastered on her face.

She looked like a good person, and yet it felt unpleasant.

Surely, Sendai-san had already realized there was no meaning in pretending to be friends. A “pretend” will remain a “pretend,” and it will never turn into truth.

“Sendai-san. Did you really think that movie was interesting? If you’re going to call me a friend, then at least tell me the truth.”

I didn’t really care about her impression of the movie. I just didn’t want to be lied to. There was no point in continuing the pretend-friendship, but if she was going to say we were friends, then the least she could do was answer honestly.

I looked at Sendai-san.

The girl who had been talking nonstop until just a moment ago let out a small breath.

“…I could tell they were trying to make me cry, and that bothered me. I thought the manga was better.”

Her voice was gentle, though she avoided my gaze.

Unlike anything else I had heard from her today, this answer didn’t feel like a lie. But it still wasn’t a satisfying one.

“Is that enough for you?”

Sendai-san smiled faintly with only her lips and looked at me.

So our taste in movies was different.

That happened even when I went with Maika and the others. It was fine if Sendai-san and I had different preferences.

The real issue was her attitude.

With that fixed smile, Sendai-san felt distant and detached.

“…After all, I don’t think you and I can be friends.”

I finally voiced the words that had been drifting in my mind all day.

I had thought that if we did things friends normally did, we might be able to mend our fragile relationship even if we didn’t become friends. But that was nothing more than an illusion.

Spending time with a “friend-like” Sendai-san wasn’t fun. And I didn’t want to be with that kind of Sendai-san. More than that, I didn’t want to try to fix something that was already twisting apart if it meant staying with her.

Yet she continued making futile efforts.

“You’re deciding the result in less than half a day?”

She spoke calmly and drank her barley tea.

“No matter how many hours this goes on, nothing will change.”

“What exactly is it that you don’t like?”

“Everything. The way you are right now is disgusting.”

“You didn’t have to say it that harshly.”

Finally, with a big sigh, Sendai-san set her glass back on the table.

“You’re the one who wanted to play pretend-friends, Miyagi. I only went along with your request.”

“I never requested that.”

“You invited me to the movies. That’s practically the same thing.”

“But you were the one who first suggested going to see a movie.”

“And you agreed to go, didn’t you?”

With a resentful tone, Sendai-san flopped down on the bed. She wasn’t spread out completely, but her posture wasn’t proper. I worried her skirt would wrinkle.

“Don’t sprawl around on someone else’s bed, Sendai-san. Your skirt will ride up.”

“Not unless you do something weird.”

Her voice came back listlessly, and the arm that hung off the bed bumped into me. Even when I told her it was in the way, she didn’t move it. So I grabbed her limp arm.

Her bare skin, shown through her sleeveless shirt, was surprisingly pale. It didn’t seem possible for someone who walked under the blazing sun three times a week to come to my house. Looking down her beautiful white arm, I noticed her nails were discreetly decorated with polish.

I wondered if she would complain like usual or make an annoyed face if I touched her. Curious, I placed my hand on her shoulder. My fingers trailed from her upper arm down to her wrist as I looked at her.

But she said nothing, her face still indifferent and lazy.

I leaned closer, just above her wrist.

Then pressed my lips there.

Immediately, my head was pushed away.

“You’re the one who said not to do weird things, Miyagi.”

Sendai-san glared at me, her voice sharp. And at last, I felt like I had finally come face to face with the Sendai-san I knew.

Yes—this version of her was better. I was sure of it.

And yet, seeing her displeased expression sent a prickling pain, like needles, spreading through me. Still holding her arm, my fingers gripped tighter as if clinging to her.

“…It’s fine to touch just a little, isn’t it?”

I tried to keep my tone unchanged.

“Touch? That was a kiss. Do you go around doing that to your friends?”

“I don’t do it with friends. But you’re not my friend, Sendai-san. And besides, the pretend-friendship is already over.”

We saw each other often, even on holidays. We chatted idly a few times a week. By all appearances, it wouldn’t have been strange if we were friends. But maybe the beginning had been wrong, or maybe all the time until now had been a mistake. Either way, the world where I could call Sendai-san my friend would never arrive.

So I leaned toward her arm again.

But before my lips could touch her skin, my hair was yanked.

“Listen. Just because we’re not friends doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want.” Her voice was firm as she smacked my forehead with her palm. The gentle, soft-spoken Sendai-san from earlier had completely vanished.

“If you said I could, then it would be fine.”

Of course, that was a lie. I knew piling things like this up would only end badly. I knew I’d lose control. But I couldn’t resist the desire to touch her. If she had simply gone home quietly, this wouldn’t have happened. Because she was here, as if it were natural, it turned out like this.

Instead of sighing, I bit lightly into her arm.

“Ow, Miyagi.” She exaggerated the pain, even though I hadn’t bitten hard, and added, “I never said you could do whatever you want.”

“Then hurry up and say it.”

“During summer break, you don’t have the right to order me around.”

She sounded tired, sitting up on the bed and gently rubbing the bite mark.

“You’ve still obeyed some of my orders since summer started.”

“Those were exceptions. Today, you don’t have that right.”

“So if I did, it would be fine?”

I knew how to gain that right, and how to bring out this side of her. So I stood, pulled a 5,000 yen bill from my wallet, and held it out in front of her.

“This works, doesn’t it? Do what I tell you.”

“Money doesn’t solve everything. And besides, I already got 5,000 yen from you.”

“That was for tutoring. This is for the order I’m giving you now. So take it.”

I tried to force the bill into her hand, but she refused. Instead, she kicked my leg and said firmly, “I don’t want it.”

So I sat back down next to her, placing the unwanted bill between us on the bed.

“Sendai-san. Listen to what I say.”

Since this wasn’t part of the rules, she could refuse. And she did—she wouldn’t accept the money. The bill just lay there, trapped between us, looking suffocated.

Maybe it was hopeless.

I reached for it, but Sendai-san let out an exaggerated sigh, kicked the floor, and said:

“…It’s not that you can do whatever you want, but… if you really want to touch me that badly, then go ahead.”

Her voice sounded like resignation as she turned to face me.

She didn’t specify where or how.

So I quietly touched her cheek.

She didn’t say it was wrong. She didn’t say she hated it. My fingers traced down to her chin, then brushed her lips. When I leaned closer, she didn’t protest. So I pressed my lips to hers.

Only briefly, just a touch, and then I pulled away before I could even feel her warmth.

“That doesn’t count as ‘touching,’ you know.”

“I never said it had to be just with my hands.”

“…You’re seriously irritating.”

Her voice could be taken as anger, but she stayed seated on the bed, unmoving. She didn’t run from me.

So I kissed her again.

She wasn’t my friend, so it was fine if I kissed her.

Maybe that was twisted logic, but Sendai-san had kissed me more than once, so she had no right to complain. And if she disliked it, she could run away.

This time, I pressed harder, feeling out her lips.

Sendai-san’s lips, closer than anyone else’s, were as soft as they had been a few days ago. Though she had walked under the blazing sun and surely sweated, I caught the pleasant scent of her shampoo.

Just lips against lips.

I didn’t know why something so simple felt so good. I didn’t know why it made me want to touch her more, to get closer.

Just a little further.

Clutching her hand, I deepened the kiss, feeling heat more than softness, until I finally pulled away—only for her to smack my head with a pillow.

“…So, am I not allowed to be the one to kiss?”

She hugged the pillow and looked at me.

“If you try, you’ll just do something unnecessary. So no.”

If it were just kissing, fine. But she always tried to do more than that. And she shouldn’t even be asking me things like this. What she should be doing was rejecting me. If she wanted to spend the rest of summer break peacefully, that’s what she ought to do.

Yet she spoke as if kissing had already become part of everyday life.

“So if I don’t do anything extra, it’s okay?”

“Not today.”

“…So you mean, there might be days when it’s okay?”

“Sendai-san, you’re annoying.”

To silence her needless words, I leaned in again.

“Miyagi,” she called my name.

But I didn’t answer. I just kissed her.