Volume 4 Episode 04

I think I ended up saying things I didn’t need to, like how I would still want to see Miyagi after graduation. I don’t know how she took those unnecessary words, and although it felt impossible to study any further and I wanted to go home quickly, here I am, unable to leave. Instead, Miyagi started saying incomprehensible things, and now I’m staying the night.

“If it gets late, just stay over.”

I never imagined Miyagi would say something like that; I always thought she would chase me away instead. Even now it feels like she might suddenly say it was all a lie.

I knew she called me here today because she had something to talk about, and I expected it wouldn’t be good news—and it really wasn’t. It wouldn’t have been strange if she had said we were ending things before graduation.

That’s what I thought when I came here, so I made a bare-minimum call to my appearance-conscious parents, who don’t care where I am as long as the formalities are followed, and now I’m staying at the Miyagi house. I still can’t process the situation.

“Sendai-san, the fridge.”

“Ah, sorry.”

Called out from behind, I snap out of my thoughts and close the fridge I had left open.

Let’s eat before studying.

Neither of us really suggested it; it just happened naturally.

If we had switches on our bodies, we could probably flip ourselves into study mode instantly, but we can’t switch our feelings that quickly, so we ended up in the kitchen together.

That was fine, but there was one problem.

The fridge in this house.

“As expected, there’s basically nothing in here.”

“There are carrots.”

When Miyagi says that, I open the vegetable drawer. In a wide empty space, a few carrots are rolling around sadly.

“Is that the only vegetable?”

“And these.”

She hands me the carrots, then pushes a bag of potatoes at me. After that she passes me a box of stew roux, and the dinner menu becomes obvious.

“...No protein, right?”

I don’t know if Miyagi prepared these because she wanted stew or if it just happened to be here, but vegetables alone feel lacking.

“Protein means meat?”

“Yes. Is there something that can substitute?”

I place the carrots and potatoes on the counter and ask.

Stew can be made without meat, but stew without protein feels a little sad.

“This?”

As I’m pulling out a cutting board and knife, Miyagi comes over holding a can of corned beef.

“That’s perfect. I’ll take care of the rest, so go sit over there, Miyagi.”

It’s not that she would get in the way, but she’s not exactly helpful with cooking. I worry she might cut a finger if I let her handle a knife, and if I left her in charge of the pot she might randomly add something strange. It’s easier to cook alone than to watch her nervously.

Besides, today silence feels frightening.

When conversation stops, Miyagi’s presence becomes overwhelming. My heart feels restless every time she’s close, and I keep wondering what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling.

Miyagi is probably the same as I am.

She looks fidgety, like she’s searching for something to say.

So a bit of distance would be better for the moment. By the time the stew is done, we should be closer to our usual selves.

But Miyagi doesn’t leave the kitchen.

“You don’t have to help; just wait over there.”

While washing the potatoes, I glance toward the living room and signal with my eyes where she should be. But Miyagi grabs the freshly washed potatoes from me.

“...I’ll help.”

Her voice is irritated.

Why?

Miyagi should prefer a little distance too. I don’t understand why she suddenly insists on helping, which she rarely does.

“What are you planning to do?”

“Peel the potatoes and carrots.”

Saying that, she picks up the knife and begins wrestling with the potatoes.

I can’t help staring at her hands.

“...What?”

Miyagi sounds even more irritated.

“No, nothing.”

I never imagined the person who once cut her hand instead of the cabbage would volunteer to help.

I prepare the pot and glance at her again. Potatoes with unusually thick peels pile up in front of her.

“Should I cut the peeled vegetables?”

“No. I’ll do it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Sendai-san, you’re annoying. I can’t focus when you talk to me.”

I start worrying again. Someone who needs that much concentration just to cut vegetables shouldn’t be handling a knife. But taking it away from her now seems impossible, so all I can do is watch her chop the vegetables with precarious movements.

Thud, thud—the heavy sounds fill the kitchen as uneven chunks of vegetables pile up on the board. I throw them into the oiled pot and sauté them. I fry the corned beef too, add water, and let it simmer. The only thing left is skimming off the scum, and silence falls.

Looking troubled, Miyagi says, “Sendai-san,” then adds, “I’ll be sitting over there.”

“Okay.”

Left alone, I skim the scum while looking at the pot missing onions.

Today Miyagi never clearly said which university she’s applying to.

But I confirmed that what she heard from Utsunomiya was correct.

Knowing that changes nothing. The day this relationship ends is already decided. For some reason Miyagi’s resolve feels firm, and no matter what I say, nothing will change.

But I also learned that Miyagi thinks being with me is fun. And probably, just a little, she wants to see me even after graduation.

For now, I have to be satisfied with that.

I finish skimming, turn off the heat, and break in the stew roux.

The blocks plop in and melt, turning the stew white. There’s no milk, so I don’t add any. I turn the heat back on and let it simmer. Miyagi calls from the living room, “Is it ready?”

“Almost. Get some plates.”

“Got it.”

She comes back with two curry plates piled with rice.

“I said no rice; bring plates for the stew.”

“I brought plates.”

“Where?”

“Here.”

She places the curry plates with rice on the counter.

“...We’re having stew today.”

“I know, that’s why I brought plates.”

I look at the plates she brought.

There’s only one conclusion from plates filled with rice.

“Miyagi, you pour stew over rice?”

“Huh? Sendai-san, you don’t pour stew over rice?”

“Normally, no.”

“Pouring it is normal.”

Our opinions clash.

On top of that, she looks at me as if I’m the one who’s wrong.

“You pour curry over rice. Not stew.”

“Stew is basically curry’s relative. And pouring it means fewer dishes to wash.”

“That’s not the issue.”

“Once it’s in your stomach it’s the same.”

Her annoyed tone overwhelms me, and soon two curry plates sit on the counter with stew poured over the rice.

“Let’s eat.”

Miyagi eats the stew like curry.

“...Let’s eat.”

I scoop up stew and rice and put it in my mouth. It’s my first time eating stew this way, but once I try it, it doesn’t bother me much. Matching Miyagi isn’t bad.

I don’t absolutely need the stew and rice separate, and since it’s her house, I don’t mind following her way. And more importantly, this kind of trivial topic is soothing today.

But trivial topics don’t last long.

Soon conversation fades, and only the sound of spoons hitting plates remains.

As expected, today the silence feels heavy.

“Are you spending New Year’s Eve alone too, Miyagi?”

Unable to find a better topic, I ask something harmless.

“My parents will be home on New Year’s Eve.”

“I see.”

“You said you’re going to the first shrine visit of the year, right, Sendai-san?”

Miyagi speaks as if suddenly remembering, then takes a bite of stew.

“Yes. Want to come with me, Miyagi?”

“No way. You’re going with Ibaraki-san, right?”

“Would you come if I weren’t going with her?”

“...No.”

Miyagi rejects my words in a curt voice. I don’t dislike this attitude of hers. Seeing her get slightly annoyed over a small joke makes me want to tease her more. In reality I never push further because it would only worsen her mood and I would regret it, but I still think it’s cute.

But if we avoid this topic, there isn’t much left to talk about. Winter break plans or exam talk would end the conversation quickly without much excitement. Once that happens, I feel like bringing up topics I know I shouldn’t.

“You never said anything like ‘just stay over’ before… Why today?”

I know Miyagi’s words mean exactly what they seem to mean, without any hidden intent. She probably just wanted someone to eat dinner with, or maybe being alone at the end of the year felt lonely. It’s not as if she expects anything from letting me stay.

Even so, it’s impossible to stay completely unaffected. Because I might start hoping for something.

 I want words that clearly deny it.

“...I told you to come teach me.”

“I heard that.”

“Then don’t ask.”

Miyagi responds coldly.

The promise to teach her during winter break.

That was nothing more than an excuse to call me over today. So I can’t be satisfied with “studying” being the reason, but Miyagi refuses to give anything more.

“Sendai-san, wash the dishes.”

I don’t know when she finished eating, but Miyagi stands up.

“Sure.”

I watch Miyagi quickly leave the living room and return to her room, then I finish my stew. After washing the dishes, I go back to the room and find no one there.

I somehow feel relieved. I exhale, and then the door opens.

“Go take a bath first. My sweatshirt is fine as pajamas, right?”

Miyagi, who walks in and immediately opens the closet, asks me. I end up giving a vague “Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Then here. Change of clothes and a towel.”

She hands me a navy sweatshirt and a white towel.

“The bath is already prepared.”

“I turned on the hot water before we ate. The hair dryer and everything else is set up over there.”

She doesn’t push me, but she clearly shoos me out, and I head to the bathroom.

There’s a basket in front of the washing machine; I place my clothes in it.

Right.

Of course.

I didn’t bring a change of clothes, so this makes sense.

The day I came here soaked from the rain, I borrowed Miyagi’s clothes. 

I’ve also borrowed a gym uniform from a friend in another class when I forgot mine. Wearing someone else’s clothes isn’t a big deal.

But today it bothers me a lot.

I tell myself I shouldn’t care.

A sweatshirt is only fabric; there’s no reason to be conscious of it.

Since I didn’t bring anything needed for staying over, borrowing Miyagi’s sweatshirt isn’t strange. It’s natural.

It’s weirder to be bothered by it.

I slap my cheeks, then unclasp the pendant.

I place it on the sweatshirt and take off my clothes.

Something makes me look back; I catch my reflection in the mirror. It’s just the usual me, yet I can’t keep looking. I turn away, glance at the sink, and see a hair dryer and brush placed there.

Of course everything here belongs to Miyagi’s house, not me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them again.

This isn’t her room, but it’s still part of her house, and everything feels unfamiliar and unsettling. I feel like I’ve wandered into a strange place; my body gets fidgety, my back wants to hunch, and a small breath escapes me.

I clench and unclench my hands, tie my hair up, open the bathroom door, and step inside.

A shower and bathtub different from my own.

The shampoo and conditioner lined up are different too.

The water is clouded white with bath salts.

I rinse off and then sink into the tub.

I hug my knees and look around.

No good.

My stomach feels heavy even though I didn’t overeat stew.

People say a bath relaxes you, but that’s a lie.

I’m not relaxed; I’m tense.

The hot water only makes my body feel stiff like concrete; I can’t believe it is supposed to loosen me. I know the reason.

This is the bathroom in Miyagi’s house, and she is the only one here tonight. Normally it’s just her, but today the situation is completely different.

I press my temples hard with both hands and exhale.

“After this we just study, it’ll be fine.”

I don’t know what will be fine, but I mutter the words anyway to convince myself. Then I get out of the bath.

I wash my hair and body, then leave the bathroom.

I dry off and put on the borrowed sweatshirt.

I put the pendant back on and look in the mirror. There I am wearing Miyagi’s clothes. The size is just right. Not tight, not too loose.

Yet something still feels off.

It doesn’t feel like my body fits properly inside the clothes. It’s just fabric, but wearing it makes me feel like Miyagi is close to me.

“It’s just a sweatshirt.”

This is ridiculous.

There’s no point in letting myself be swayed by something that only “feels” like that.

I pick up the hair dryer on the sink and turn it on. As I start drying my hair, I immediately notice the obvious. The shampoo smells the same as Miyagi’s, and my hands stop. The loud whirring and lukewarm air keep blowing uselessly against my hair.

“...What’s wrong with me?”

I let out a big sigh. Small things pile up and become overwhelming. Things of Miyagi’s that I usually don’t notice cling to me one after another, taking up my whole mind.

Another sigh threatens to escape; I swallow it down.

I get my hands moving again and return to the room without being sure if my hair is fully dry.

“I’m back.”

I speak to Miyagi, who is reading a book, but she doesn’t say “welcome back.” She stands silently, opens the closet.

“You can drink the barley tea in the fridge whenever.”

Without looking at me, she grabs what looks like a change of clothes, says “I’m taking a bath,” and leaves the room. Left behind, I follow instructions, get barley tea from the kitchen, and drink about half. I place the glass on the table and stand in front of the bookshelf.

There sits the single black cat plush toy I gave her.

I don’t know that much about Miyagi, but the books lined up are definitely ones she likes. Seeing the black cat placed together with her favorites, it looks more cherished than I expected.

I pick up the plush toy and stroke its head.

“Good for you.”

The black cat isn’t alive, but being treasured is better than being treated carelessly.

I kiss the tip of its nose and return it to its spot.

Still, I have nothing to do.

I’m not in the mood to read, and I don’t want to watch TV.

I finish the barley tea. Like a proper exam student, I decide to spend my free time studying and begin lining up reference books and notebooks on the table. It should be more meaningful than pacing around the room.

I flip through a reference book and solve problems. I feel calmer than when I was in the bath. After a while Miyagi returns, and the study session begins naturally.

“No makeup.”

Miyagi glances at me and mutters.

Sitting beside me, she is wearing a sweatshirt similar but not identical to mine; otherwise she looks the same as always. It’s Miyagi without makeup.

“I just took a bath.”

Once studying is over we will go straight to sleep, so there is no point in putting on makeup, and she has already seen my bare face when she visited me when I was sick. Still, I wonder what she thinks when she sees me like this now. But she says nothing more, so I cannot know her feelings.

What remains between us is silence. Only the sound of turning pages and pens scratching feels unnaturally loud. There is nothing that can be called conversation.

I only move my mouth to answer Miyagi’s occasional small questions.

Silence doesn’t mean we are concentrating. I can’t say the person beside me is completely out of mind, and it is hard to say Miyagi is focused either.

Even so, we continue studying for a little over two hours.

Suddenly Miyagi says, “I’m going to sleep.”

Considering we are exam students, the study time is short, but there is no point continuing when we are not absorbing anything. I decide to make up for it later and begin putting away the reference books and notebooks.

“Sendai-san, come with me,” Miyagi says as she stands.

“Sure, what is it?”

“There’s guest futon in another room. Help me get it.”

Only when Miyagi says this do I realize it.

Of course, there is only one bed in this room.

“...The futon I’m sleeping on?”

“Yes. Help carry it.”

“Got it.”

I think it is natural.

When staying at a friend’s house, a futon usually appears from somewhere. Guest futon is not unusual, and there’s no way Miyagi would suggest sharing the bed. I follow her out of the room.

Past the living room, Miyagi opens a sliding door and enters a Japanese-style room. I have never entered or even seen this tatami room before. There is a closet, and the futon comes from there. We carry it back and lay it out on the floor.

“I’m turning off the light.”

Miyagi places her phone by the pillow, and before I can answer, a curt voice reaches me and the room goes dark.

“Good night.”

I speak into the pitch-black room where even the nightlight is off.

“...Good night.”

A small voice answers, and all sound disappears.

The now-silent room feels unbelievably uncomfortable for Miyagi’s room, a place I have visited countless times. Even lying down, I feel a strange discomfort like something is stuck to my back. Wearing Miyagi’s sweatshirt is probably one reason I can’t relax.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

The darkness melts and mixes with the discomfort.

As expected, I can’t sleep.

I open and close my eyes.

I roll over.

I try various positions, but sleep won’t come. I feel like I could count up to ten thousand sheep. I don’t remember being so sensitive that a different pillow keeps me awake, but it wouldn’t be strange if I stayed up until morning.

I drag my phone under the blanket to check the time. Barely ten minutes have passed since I last checked, so I sit up.

“Are you awake?”

I call out to Miyagi, who might be unable to sleep like I am, but there is no answer.

“Miyagi, you’re awake, right?”

It feels unfair if she’s sleeping while I’m awake. With that feeling, I call out a little louder. Still no response, so with eyes still not used to the dark, I go to her bed and speak.

“If you’re pretending to sleep, wake up.”

This time she really should wake up, but there’s still no movement from Miyagi.

Impossible.

I can’t sleep, yet Miyagi is asleep.

I reach out toward the silent Miyagi.

My hand touches something soft—her cheek. I trace its outline and then reach hair that blends with the darkness; it feels nice and smooth. I lightly tug what seems to be her bangs. But she still doesn’t move.

“...Shiori.”

I bring my lips close to her ear and whisper softly. The body that had not moved at all shifts away from me.

“Don’t call me by my name.”

An irritated voice echoes in the darkness.

“You are awake.”

“I only woke up because of you, Sendai-san.”

Saying that, Miyagi rustles as she sits up and turns on the nightlight.

“I can’t sleep, so keep me company and talk.”

I don’t really have anything to talk about, but it is better than counting sheep. Without waiting for an answer, I sit on the edge of the bed.

“No. This is my territory, so don’t sit here.”

Miyagi pushes my shoulder rather forcefully.

“Territory? We’re not elementary school kids.”

“Whatever, get off. Go back to your own territory.”

“My territory? Where is that?”

“There.”

She points toward the futon on the floor, and I obediently stand.

“Yes, yes. Returning to my territory.”

I take one step, two steps, then slip back under the futon.

Miyagi and I are different.

Wanting to kiss, wanting to touch—usually it is me. Even now I want to kiss Miyagi and touch her more. I don’t think she feels absolutely nothing, but she doesn’t seem to feel the same intensity. Even if she feels it, it’s probably half—no, even less.

“Going to sleep. Good night.”

Staying awake will only make these unresolved feelings grow, so I close my eyes.

“You just said you couldn’t sleep.”

Called out, I roll toward the bed.

“I did, but now I’m sleeping.”

“Why all of a sudden?”

Miyagi, who refused to keep me company, now speaks as if to stop me from sleeping. If she stayed quiet, I might actually fall asleep, but her voice pushes sleep further away.

“I decided not to betray your trust.”

As soon as I answer with eyes closed, she immediately asks, “What does that mean?”

“You let me stay because you believed I wouldn’t do anything weird, right?”

“That’s true.”

“So, good night.”

I am not sleepy, but I forcefully end the conversation. Miyagi calls “Sendai-san,” but I don’t answer and turn my back to the bed. Then I hear rustling behind me.

Soon the edge of the futon sinks, and I sit up. Looking toward the bed, I see Miyagi—not on the bed, but sitting on the edge of my futon.

“This is my territory.”

The same Miyagi who told me to return to my territory is now casually perched on the corner of my futon.

“This whole room is my domain, so this is mine too.”

Miyagi, who has trespassed, claims the futon and pulls back the blanket. I would give up the blanket if she asked, but I won’t silently surrender my territory.

“That’s unfair. And you didn’t say that earlier.”

“I’m letting you stay, so I’m allowed to be unfair.”

Saying this, Miyagi moves from the edge to sit right beside me.

Then she touches my neck.

My heart thumps so loudly I worry she can hear it.

My body stiffens at the hand pressed firmly against my neck.

I wanted to touch Miyagi.

But I never expected her to touch me.

“It’s your fault for waking me up.”

Muttering like an excuse, Miyagi runs her hand along my neck. Her fingertips slide downward and reach the collar of the sweatshirt. But they stop there, as if hesitating, and don’t go inside.

I grab her wrist.

Even so, her fingers stay in place and press harder.

I tighten my grip on her wrist.

“Sendai-san, let go.”

Miyagi speaks in the same commanding tone she uses when giving orders after school in this room.

I know what she wants to do. I don’t know why she won’t say it directly, but she must want to check if I’m wearing the pendant.

“What will you do if I let go?”

If she says “show me,” then I’ll show her.

The pendant was given with that promise, and I have no objection to keeping it. But she hasn’t said “show me” yet, and today—without the five thousand yen—she has no right to command.

“No need to say it.”

Miyagi answers curtly.

“Then I won’t let go.”

If it were the usual after-school time, I could let go, but today I don’t want her to check on her own.

“Let go of my hand.”

A voice close to pleading reaches me, and I unconsciously loosen my grip.

Miyagi only commands me; she doesn’t make requests.

Yet the voice just now could be called a request.

Now that winter break has started, I don’t have to obey commands.

Of course, I don’t have to obey requests either.

But it doesn’t feel like something I need to refuse.

“Well, fine.”

When I release her wrist, her fingertips slip under the collar and touch the pendant chain. Instead of stroking it or pushing deeper, Miyagi simply pulls the pendant out.

“You’re keeping the promise.”

After a slightly softer voice, her fingertips trace the chain and touch the moon-shaped charm.

“For now.”

I answer shortly, and the pendant top is gently tugged. 

“…There are promises you break, though.”

“There are also promises I keep, so that’s fine, right?”

“Keep them all.”

“I don’t have the confidence.”

At times like this, I think I should say—even if it’s a lie—that I’ll keep them all.

But if I said I’d keep them all, I don’t know what kind of promises she would make me take on. Miyagi sometimes does and says completely unexpected things. If she forced impossible demands on me, I wouldn’t have the confidence to keep them. I’m already failing at several promises, so I can’t make an irresponsible promise to keep every single one.

“I don’t like that part of you, Sendai-san.”

An openly lower voice reaches me, and her hand leaves the pendant.

“I know.”

“And saying things like that either.”

Her voice turns even more displeased, and I reflexively grab her arm. The distance between me and Miyagi hasn’t changed. Yet it feels like Miyagi has moved farther away.

Something different from usual.

I feel that, but I don’t know what it is.

But I know I made a mistake.

Even without confidence, I should have said I’d keep them all. Even if I didn’t understand what that would mean, I should have said it.

“I’m going to sleep now.”

Saying that, Miyagi tries to stand while I’m still holding her arm. I grip harder, and she says, “That hurts,” in a reproachful tone.

“Stay awake a little longer.”

If we fall asleep like this, it feels like Miyagi will drift even farther away.

“No.”

With those short words, Miyagi forcefully tries to pry my hand off.

Her nails dig into the back of my hand, deep enough it feels like she wants to tear the skin. At the sharp pain, I yank her arm strongly. I didn’t mean to be rough, but I couldn’t control my strength well; Miyagi loses balance and grabs my shoulder.

“That’s dangerous.”

I say it sounding angry and pull her into my arms.

Taking advantage of the physically closer distance, I bring my lips to hers.

Even when our breaths mingle, Miyagi doesn’t move.

So I press our lips together without hesitation. I’ve kissed her countless times before, yet my heart jumps. It feels like I can hear it thumping.

When I press harder, even with my eyes closed, the softness is so clear I can trace the shape of her lips through the contact. But soon my shoulders are pushed, and lips softer than the black cat plush move away.

“Sendai-san, you said you wouldn’t do anything weird.”

Miyagi mutters and escapes my arms.

“I taught you earlier, and a kiss isn’t weird. It’s part of the promise, exercising my right.”

Kissing is included in the promise to teach her that we made before winter break.

I had intended to prioritize the promise not to do anything weird with Miyagi today and wasn’t planning to use that right, but she didn’t run away either. So I think it’s fine to do it again.

I reach out and touch the lips of Miyagi beside me. But before I can kiss her, that hand is grabbed and I’m pushed down. The futon cushions my back so it doesn’t hurt, but not hurting isn’t the same as being okay.

“So you doing that just now means it’s allowed, right?”

Miyagi’s voice rains down on me.

It’s allowed.

I can imagine what that refers to.

But that’s the “weird thing” Miyagi mentioned, and while I hesitate whether it’s okay to accept this situation, she grabs the hem of my sweatshirt.

“Miyagi, I didn’t say it’s okay.”

“Then say it is.”

A voice that sounds extremely displeased, as if she’s not about to do something weird, reaches me. I’m not expecting sweet words from Miyagi, but there are too many thorns in her voice.

“I won’t.”

To begin with, today we promised not to do that kind of thing. I slap the hand grabbing my hem and say, “Let go.” But a hand slips under my clothes and strokes my side.

“Hey, Miyagi.”

“You’re the one who broke the promise, Sendai-san. You said you wouldn’t do anything weird.”

“A kiss is part of the promise.”

I insist on the right I earned before winter break, but Miyagi doesn’t stop her hand. Her fingertips slowly climb my side.

“The timing for that kiss was wrong. If you were going to do it, you should have done it after studying.”

“Timing wasn’t specified.”

Miyagi stops her hand.

Then she stares at me.

“As expected, I can’t trust you, Sendai-san.”

Miyagi says in a small voice and rolls up my sweatshirt to just below my chest. Having my stomach exposed isn’t a big deal.

I’ve already been seen in a fully lit room, not just under the nightlight. But my now-unguarded stomach feels terribly vulnerable. Miyagi places her hand flat beside my navel.

From the heat, I can tell her whole palm is pressed against me. The hand pressed almost too strongly moves hesitantly. Slowly the heat shifts to my lowest rib.

It’s more ticklish than pleasant. But it’s not unbearable, and I think a little more contact would be okay. Yet her hand keeps hesitating, stroking one rib and stopping, not moving forward.

I know where Miyagi’s hand is aiming.

I should grab it and pull it away right now.

We promised not to do this kind of thing today.

“Miyagi.”

Instead of grabbing her hand, I call her name. The heat that had been transmitted through my skin disappears. But immediately, warmth flows back, and she strokes up to just below my chest.

“…You’re wearing it.”

Miyagi says like a soliloquy.

Though the subject is omitted, I immediately understand she means underwear.

“I am. It’s not my house.”

“…Can I take it off?”

Miyagi says as if testing me, placing her hand on my chest. She moves it just slightly, as if checking the shape. Even with fabric between us, I can feel the touch and heat of her hand.

It’s not exactly pleasant, but my breath leaks out. Her fingertips touch the strap and stop.

She apparently has no intention of removing my bra until I give permission, but my body stiffens. I never expected the person who said not to do anything weird to be the one doing it.

I’m the one who has to answer, and Miyagi is waiting.

I reach out and touch her cheek.

I stroke her jaw with my fingertips and pinch her earlobe.

Miyagi lets out a ticklish breath.

“Sendai-san.”

She calls me as if urging an answer.

I want to be touched, and I want to touch Miyagi the same way.

“Okay” and “not okay” mix in my mind and won’t separate.

“—If Miyagi has the proper resolve, then go ahead.”

It’s Miyagi, not me, who’s doing the weird thing, but this might count as another broken promise.

Thinking that way, I feel we shouldn’t continue.

Each time it counts, the score gauge probably rises, and when it reaches the limit, Miyagi will go somewhere. But I can’t see that gauge. I don’t know how many more promises I can break, so I have no choice but to push the decision onto her.

“Resolve for what?”

“You know I’m not always rational, right?”

Like she did to me, I slip my hand under her sweatshirt hem and stroke her side.

“…What do you mean?”

“You’re asking even though you understand.”

Miyagi says nothing. “I don’t mind explaining the meaning, but is that okay with you, Miyagi?”

I ask, knowing it’s unfair.

I slide my hand and slowly stroke up her spine.

My fingertips hit her underwear. When I touch the hook, Miyagi startledly removes the hand she had on my chest and sits up.

She is far more rational than I am.

She can swim to shore before drowning in desire and even save me.

“That’s enough.”

Miyagi says while sitting beside me and fixing her disheveled clothes.

“I think that’s better.”

I also sit up and straighten my clothes.

If we had continued, I might have been thrown out of the house in the middle of the night. Miyagi seems capable of that, so this is for the best.

But I still don’t want to let her go back to the bed yet.

I take the hand beside me.

“Miyagi.”

I call softly, and she looks at me.

I bring my face close and press our lips together.

She doesn’t slap my shoulder or dig in her nails.

Knowing she isn’t refusing, I slowly pull away.

“This kiss is one of the things I promised with Miyagi, and it’s a continuation of earlier, but are you going to say it’s weird?”

I don’t hear Miyagi’s voice.

Without saying anything, she releases our joined hands and touches the pendant that’s still pulled out.

“I’m going to exercise my right a little more, so don’t get angry.”

Just in case.

To be absolutely sure.

After saying that as a precaution, I kiss Miyagi once more.