Volume 5 Episode 06

Sendai-san hasn't changed at all.

Even the day after we kissed at midnight, this morning, and even after we ate lunch, she speaks with the same expression and the same voice as before we kissed.

Of course, I have not changed either.

It is just that something we had done many times before, we did again after a long time.

Up until now, there has never been anything Sendai-san has done to me that I truly hated, and this time was no exception. Since I did not stop her, there is no need for a penalty game.

Still, I do have a complaint.

Sendai-san was the one who broke the promise, yet she is acting exactly the same as always.

She was the one who suggested that we become roommates.

We have a promise to watch a movie together now, but I cannot settle down, because it feels like she is going to break the “do nothing” promise again.

I lift my hand and touch my ear.

My fingertips brush against the piercing.

I could make her swear, using this small accessory, that she would not break the promise. But I don't really want to show her my ear.

I place a small stand mirror on the table and tuck my hair behind my ear.

I look at the piercing reflected in the mirror.

It takes about a month for a piercing hole to settle.

I cannot take it out.

It isn't that I particularly want to change to a different piercing soon, but because Sendai-san said things like that it suits me or that it's cute, this piercing has become something I am overly conscious of. I want to hide it from her gaze.

Sendai-san always says unnecessary things.

I let my tucked hair fall back into place and glance at the clock. The promised time with Sendai-san is approaching.

As I try to put the mirror away, my eyes drift to my lips.

I remember how hot Sendai-san’s hand felt when it touched my cheek the day before yesterday. I remember how her eyes, which rarely closed easily, were unusually serious, and how soft her lips felt when they touched mine. All of it rises up from the depths of my memory.

I trace my lips with my fingertips.

Not long ago, I touched my lips like this as well.

After wiping Sendai-san’s lips when she said she would do my makeup, and then, just like today, looking into the mirror.

My gaze fixes on the mirror in front of me. When I see my reflection touching my lips with my fingertips, I instinctively cover the mirror with my hand.

“Ah.”

I regret the chill that seeps through my skin. When I hurriedly pull my hand away, a clear fingerprint remains on the mirror.

“Seriously. This is all Sendai-san’s fault.”

I stand up and leave the room.

I stop in front of Sendai-san’s door, take a breath in, and slowly let it out. After knocking twice, I hear her say, “Come in,” from inside. I take another breath, then open the door.

“You actually came.”

Sendai-san speaks in a voice that sounds surprised, leaning back against the bed.

“If it would have been better if I did not come, I can go back to my room.”

I know those are not words that mean “do not come,” but when I turn my back to her and begin closing the door, her voice reaches me before I finish.

“Come in.”

When I turn around at her gentle tone, Sendai-san has already stood up, and her pale-colored skirt sways lightly.

She often wears skirts, while I almost never do.

After I moved in, Sendai-san once told me I should try wearing a skirt, but she never brought it up again. She only ever says troublesome, whimsical things.

“I thought you might not come, Miyagi. After something like that, you would not run away, and you would still come to my room?”

She asks a question that does not make much sense and grabs my arm, pulling me inside.

“What do you mean by ‘run away’?”

“If you do not understand, then never mind.”

Sendai-san smiles faintly.

I am curious about what she meant, but before I can ask again, she cuts me off.

“For the movie, we can watch whichever one you like, Miyagi.”

She hands me the tablet and says, “Here.”

Reluctantly, I sit down next to her.

One side of my body feels oddly sensitive.

The shoulder and arm closer to Sendai-san feel as though electricity is running through them, and I cannot calm myself. Only that side feels so sharp and aware that I can almost sense the flow of blood. I shift slightly away from her.

“If you touch me, it is a penalty game.”

I place the platypus-shaped tissue box cover between us. As I lower my gaze to the tablet to choose the movie, an unnaturally bright voice comes from beside me.

“The kind of penalty game you are imagining, Miyagi, probably would not be a penalty for me at all.”

“What do you mean by that?”

I lift my face from the tablet and look at her.

“Just a little warning. What you think of as a penalty might actually be something fun for me.”

“I have no intention of turning something fun for you into a penalty.”

“Then does that mean you will turn something that is not fun for me into the penalty?”

“Of course.”

When I answer plainly, Sendai-san lightly pats the platypus’s head.

“What you think of as ‘not fun,’ Miyagi, and what I think of as ‘not fun’ might be completely different.”

I do not know whether she is saying this to avoid the penalty game, or whether she means something else entirely. Either way, if what I consider unpleasant turns out to be enjoyable for Sendai-san, that would be a problem.

Up until now, Sendai-san has followed orders that most people would absolutely refuse. When I told her to lick my foot, when I blindfolded her, she never once objected. Even if she sincerely says that penalty games are fun for her, it would not be surprising.

“You are such a pervert, Sendai-san.”

“I have not said or done anything that deserves being called that.”

“You are definitely thinking something weird right now. Something perverted, right?”

She is the kind of person who suddenly says she wants to kiss, gets rejected, and then kisses you that very night. It would not be strange at all if she were thinking of something even more outrageous.

“I am not thinking about anything perverted.”

Sendai-san smiles with deliberate sweetness.

If only I could peek inside her head.

Even though she smiles like that and insists she is not thinking anything strange, I cannot trust her.

“You are absolutely lying. You are a complete erotic demon.”

“Stop that. It makes it sound like all I ever think about is erotic things. Besides, the fact that you, Miyagi, are saying ‘erotic’ means you are the one thinking about those things. If you were not, words like that would not even come to mind.”

“I am not thinking about it. You are the pervert, you lewd woman.”

I place the tablet on the bed and grab the platypus instead. I swing it and hit Sendai-san’s arm with some force. Once, twice, the soft body smacks against her, and she giggles.

“Sorry. It was just a joke. Go ahead and choose the movie.”

She hands the tablet back to me again, saying, “Here.”

I glare at her lightly, then look down at the long list of movie titles.

Last time, I chose a movie that bored Sendai-san halfway through, which turned into a hassle. Today, I want to pick something she will quietly watch until the end. Still, I do not want to watch horror, which she would probably enjoy.

Several movies come to mind.

Among them, I name an animated movie that has been broadcast on television many times and is beloved by both children and adults.

“Have you seen it?” I ask.

“No. But you have seen it before, right, Miyagi?”

“I have. It is one of my favorite movies.”

I search for the title and start playing it.

Even now, I am acutely aware of Sendai-san sitting beside me.

My shoulder and arm on her side still prickle.

Just like last time, Sendai-san places the platypus between us on the bed.

“Watch the movie properly,” I say.

When I shift a little farther away, she closes the distance by exactly the same amount. When I smack her arm, she responds with a short, “I will watch,” and takes hold of my hand.

Her grip is light and does not hurt, but my arm reacts as if static electricity has snapped through it. I instinctively try to pull away, but Sendai-san tightens her hold.

“I will watch the movie properly, so it is fine.”

She says something that sounds reasonable, and at the same time does not.

“If you hate it, I will let go, though.”

She adds it in a small voice.

Well, holding hands is probably fine.

That much, at least, I can forgive.

I don't squeeze her hand back, but I leave it where it is and return my gaze to the tablet.

Twenty minutes pass. Then thirty.

Our hands remain connected the entire time, never once letting go. Sendai-san is keeping her promise to watch the movie properly.

Maybe choosing a movie I have already seen so many times was a mistake. The warmth of her body so close beside me makes half of my body overly sensitive to it.

I fix my eyes on the tablet and force my attention onto the movie. Time passes, the climax comes and goes, and the ending credits begin to roll.

Sendai-san keeps watching the screen.

She talked to me occasionally during the movie, but unlike last time, she never brought up anything unrelated to what we were watching.

If there is a problem, it is the fact that the distance between us has nearly disappeared.

Now Sendai-san is so close that our shoulders are almost touching. She definitely was not this close when we started watching.

There should have been a little more space.

“Anime is not something I usually watch, but it was fun.”

When the movie ends, Sendai-san lightly bumps her shoulder against mine with a soft kon. Our arms press flatly together, and the sensation sharpens exactly where we touch.

Sendai-san’s sense of personal space is strange.

She could have shared her thoughts on the movie without being this close. I wish she would move away just a little.

“I’m glad you liked it. How long are we going to stay like this?”

I lift our still-joined hands.

“Until you tell me to let go, Miyagi.”

“Then let go.”

The moment I say it, her grip tightens so suddenly that it hurts.

“Sendai-san, let go.”

“Do you really hate being touched by me that much?”

The arms that were pressed together separate.

But our hands remain connected.

She loosens her grip, but does not release me.

“Why are you suddenly asking something like that?”

“If you hate it, I want to know why.”

“Don’t you hate being touched by me, Sendai-san?”

Instead of answering her question, I throw one back at her. She opens her mouth, a smile still fixed on her face.

“Do I look like I hate it?”

“…No.”

“Then it’s your turn to answer, Miyagi.”

She adds pressure to our joined hands, urging me to respond. It does not hurt, but the atmosphere makes it clear that I cannot escape without answering.

“It’s not that I hate it, but…”

When I answer reluctantly, she prompts me.

“But?”

“But for now, let go.”

Being touched is not something I hate, and I think holding hands is fine. But having our hands connected this entire time makes me restless. While the movie was playing, I could distract myself by focusing on the screen. Now that it is over, I cannot do that anymore.

So our hands should separate.

Yet they remain joined, and my chest feels unsettled, as though something is hiding just beneath my heartbeat.

“Sendai-san.”

I say her name in a protesting tone.

“Okay, okay.”

With a voice that sounds faintly like a sigh, she finally lets go of my hand.

I clench my freed hand into a fist, then open it again. I repeat the motion several times.

Even then, it does not feel like my own hand. It feels unfamiliar, as though it belongs to someone else. I stare at my palm, and then I hear Sendai-san’s voice.

“The movie’s over, but do you want to do something else? It’s still too early for dinner.”

“I’m going back to my room.”

I say that and try to stand, but Sendai-san grabs the hem of my shirt.

“Stay a little longer.”

She pulls hard enough that the fabric of my cut-and-sew stretches slightly.

I could force myself to stand anyway, but ending up with a stretched-out shirt would be annoying. I choose to sit back down and complain instead.

“Let go.”

“Earlier you said that if I touched you it would be a penalty game, but we don’t have to do that now?”

“No. Let go.”

“Because of you, Miyagi, my Golden Week was completely ruined.”

Sendai-san releases my shirt and points at her own neck. At the tip of her finger is the red mark I left behind. It was still visible yesterday. It has faded a little, but it has not disappeared today either.

“Shouldn’t you at least keep me company for a bit longer?”

She turns an irritatingly bright smile toward me.

“…What do you want to do?”

“Hm. How about I do your makeup?”

“No way.”

“Come on. I’ll make you really cute. I’ll even style your hair so the piercing shows nicely.”

Sendai-san reaches out and touches my hair. When she tries to tuck it behind my ear, I swat her hand away.

“I said no. Don’t touch my hair.”

My voice comes out stronger than I expect, surprising even myself. Sendai-san’s smile stiffens slightly, so I hurriedly add, “Sorry.”

It is not that I dislike my hair being touched.

I just do not want her to see the piercing.

But I do not want to say that out loud.

The air in the room feels half-frozen, and I do not know how to handle it. Unsure what else to do, I try to stand up, but Sendai-san speaks again in a bright voice.

“I won’t touch your hair. So just let me do your makeup. Just something light.”

I can tell she is trying to be considerate, which makes it harder to refuse. Even so, I do not want makeup.

I hug my knees and suggest a compromise.

“Let’s do something else.”

“Then be my dress-up doll for a while.”

“By dress-up, you mean wearing your clothes?”

“Exactly. I’ll lend you something I think would suit you, so try it on.”

“Why do you only ever suggest weird things like that?”

It is not that I want to reject everything, but Sendai-san’s ideas are always difficult to accept. I wish she would say something more normal.

“It’s fine if we do something you want to do, Miyagi. Do you have anything in mind?”

“…Not really.”

“Then it’s settled. If you don’t have anything you want to do, choose between makeup or dress-up.”

I do not want to become her toy, but it seems refusing both is not an option. I try to think of something I want to do, something that would add a new choice, but nothing comes to mind that I want to do in this room.

If it were Maika, we could somehow keep the conversation going and kill time talking about trivial things. With Sendai-san, there are no shared topics that naturally carry the conversation forward, and I never know what to do at times like this.

What I do know is that I do not want her to see me in makeup or wearing her clothes. No matter which I choose, she will definitely comment on it, and I do not want that.

“If you don’t choose, Miyagi, I’ll choose for you.”

“If I have to choose, then lend me the clothes.”

If I choose makeup, she will touch my face, and my hair will definitely get touched too. She might even touch my ear. Thinking about that, borrowing clothes feels like the lesser evil.

Even though I really do not want to become a dress-up doll.

Besides, Sendai-san and I have different body types.

Whether it is skirts or pants, I worry about whether the waist will fit. If the zipper does not close, it will be embarrassing. Our faces are different too, so I doubt her clothes will suit me.

“Okay, dress-up it is. Miyagi, face this way.”

Sendai-san grabs the arm wrapped around my knees and pulls.

“It doesn’t matter which way I face. Just hurry up and give me the clothes.”

“Come on, this way.”

She pulls harder, and I reluctantly turn my body toward her.

“First, take off your clothes.”

As she says it, Sendai-san casually grabs the hem of my cut-and-sew and starts to lift it.

“Wait a second.”

I hurriedly press my hand down over hers.

“Hm?”

“It’s not ‘hm.’ I’ll take them off myself, so go out. Or at least give me the clothes first.”

“I’ll give you the clothes after you take off what you’re wearing. And ‘go out’? This is my room, you know.”

Even though it is clearly Sendai-san who should be in the wrong, she looks at me as if I am the one making a mistake.

No matter how I think about it, what she is saying makes no sense. Yes, this is Sendai-san’s room, but under normal circumstances, you do not tell someone to take off the clothes they are currently wearing before you have even prepared the replacement outfit.

“It doesn’t matter that this is your room. Just give me the clothes first.”

I hold out my hand insistently, urging her on. Instead of handing me anything, Sendai-san steps closer and smoothly slips her hand under the hem of my cut-and-sew.

The palm of her hand brushes against my side.

Her hand crawls lightly over my skin, ticklishly, until it reaches my ribs.

It tickles, and I grab the hand that is doing nothing but unnecessary things from outside my shirt.

“Sendai-san, you really are only thinking about erotic things, aren’t you?”

“I’m not thinking about erotic things at all. Hurry up and take it off. You can’t put on new clothes unless you take those off first, right?”

“I’m absolutely not taking them off. Just prepare the clothes and stay outside until I’m done changing.”

“No way. If you hate changing in front of me that much, then let’s do makeup instead. That way, you won’t have to take your clothes off.”

The answer was decided from the very beginning.

Sendai-san is always like this.

She presents choices, but she never actually lets me choose.

“You’re so annoying, Sendai-san.”

When I glare at her from this uncomfortably close distance, the hand pressed against my side finally withdraws from inside my shirt.

“Miyagi, I’ll let you choose one more time. Makeup or dress-up, which one?”

“…Do whatever you want, Sendai-san.”

“Then makeup it is.”

With that, Sendai-san brings over a moderately sized case. She sits down in front of me again and adds that she will try not to touch my hair too much.

Right in front of me, Sendai-san smiles brightly and takes out a hairband.

“Miyagi, sorry. It’s going to get in the way, so I’ll have to touch your hair a little.”

The hair she claimed she would avoid touching is the first thing she touches. Using the hairband, she lifts my bangs and tucks my hair behind my ears, inevitably exposing the piercing.

This is not fun at all.

I knew that doing makeup would make my hair an obstacle, so I expected this outcome. I could have refused and left the room, but I didn’t. That makes this my own fault. I understand that, yet my brows still knit together.

“You said you wanted to try makeup once, right?”

Her voice is lively.

Unlike me, Sendai-san seems to be in an excellent mood.

“Then let’s start with primer.”

She takes a small container out of the case and places something cream-like onto my forehead and the bridge of my nose. Makeup obviously cannot be done without touching my face, but Sendai-san is very close. Our eyes almost meet, but never quite do. With a serious expression, she spreads the primer across my skin.

I feel restless. Unsure of what to do, I close my eyes, and as if she was waiting for it, primer is applied around them as well.

“Next is foundation.”

I do not know why she feels the need to explain each step, but as she says it, I hear the clicking sound of something being taken out of the case. Soon after, what must be foundation is applied to my face.

I feel like I have become a sheet of drawing paper.

They have elegant names like primer and foundation, but it does not feel much different from having paint smeared onto my skin.

Sitting still makes the process physically easy, but having nothing to do makes it unbearably dull. When I try to talk, Sendai-san tells me not to speak. When I want to touch my face because the sensation feels strange, she tells me not to touch it.

Everything I try to do is stopped, one after another, and my mood gradually sinks. Eventually, Sendai-san’s hand pauses, and I open my eyes.

“Is it done now?”

When I say that, my gaze meets Sendai-san’s. She is staring at me with a serious expression.

“It’s just starting. Everything we’ve done so far was only preparation.”

“I’m bored. Just sitting still like this isn’t fun.”

I grab the hand that is reaching into the case again.

“Miyagi, endure it a little longer.”

“No.”

“Not ‘no.’ Just lend me your face for another ten minutes.”

“Then five minutes.”

I say that and release her hand. Sendai-san lets out a small groan, then stares intently at my face. She takes something out of the case and gives instructions like close your eyes and open them. In the end, while my eyebrows and eyes are being worked on, five minutes pass, and I ask again,

“Is it done now?”

“Five minutes is way too short to finish.”

Her tone is clearly dissatisfied.

“But we agreed on five minutes.”

“Then just blush and lips. Just those two. It’ll be quick.”

Even though I never agreed, Sendai-san takes out something that looks like blush and a lip product and sets them on the table.

Arguing any further would only be exhausting, and even if I went back to my room now, my face has already become a canvas.

“Promise me it’s absolutely only those two. Nothing more.”

I do not ask her to swear on the piercing, but Sendai-san glances at my ear anyway and says, “Got it.” She picks up the blush, and with a brush larger than a paintbrush, sweeps it across my cheek.

What she is doing feels like she is drawing a new face over my own. The technique looks refined, something befitting her art grades, but it does not suit me. My own art grades were never very good.

“I’m going to apply the lip directly,” Sendai-san announces.

But what touches my lips is not the product itself. It is the tip of her finger. Her fingertip rests lightly, then moves. From the center of my lower lip to the edge.

Slowly tracing the shape of my lips.

This is not the first time.

Sendai-san never touches lips without intention.

My heart tightens sharply, and I push her arm away.

“You’re supposed to be applying the lip product, right?”

She does not resist. Her finger withdraws, and this time the lip product replaces it against my lips.

My temple twitches involuntarily.

I do not like lip products. I hate the sticky feeling, and I only ever use them when my lips are badly chapped.

Even now, I feel an overwhelming urge to wipe it off immediately. I desperately want to push Sendai-san’s hand away, but instead I clench my own hand tightly and endure.

I do not want her hand to slip and smear the sticky substance anywhere other than my lips.

By the time my clenched hand begins to hurt from my nails digging in, the lip product finally leaves my lips.

“Done. You can take that off now.”

Sendai-san points at the hairband. Following her instruction, I remove the thing holding my bangs up, and she hands me a hand mirror.

“Well? How is it?”

Prompted, I look into the mirror.

The reflection is me, yet it looks like someone who is not me. When my gaze shifts to my lips, I see that they are painted the same color as Sendai-san’s.

It does not seem to suit me very well. Even though it is the same shade as the lips right in front of me, the impression is completely different.

I know I shouldn't touch it, but I do so anyway, brushing my lips with my fingertips.

Unlike usual, they feel sticky.

When Sendai-san kisses me after applying lip product to herself, it does not bother me much. So why does it feel so unbearably sticky when it is on my own lips?

“Miyagi, what do you think?”

Urged again, I look away from the mirror and at Sendai-san.

“…My complexion looks better.”

“That’s not wrong, but say that I made you cute.”

“It just feels weird.”

“It’s not weird. I did your makeup with the intention of making you cute, so of course you’re cute.”

“It doesn’t really suit me.”

“You’re really cute, though.”

Just as I expected, Sendai-san only says things that can be taken as teasing. If she is serious, then I think she should see an eye doctor. If she does not need one, then I wish she would stay quiet. Hearing unnecessary words is something I am not used to, and when they are repeated, my back starts to itch.

“Do you want me to teach you how to do it yourself?”

I hand the mirror back to Sendai-san. 

“Good. I won’t do it.”

“If you don’t feel like doing it yourself, I could do it for you.”

“You don’t have to. You’ve probably had enough already. I’ll go drop this off.”

“Wait a minute. We went to the trouble of doing your makeup, so how about we go out to eat now?”

“I’m not going. I told you before the golden weekend that I wouldn’t go out with you, Sendai-san. Besides, is this really okay?”

I reach out and touch Sendai-san’s neck.

The mark I left there has not faded yet.

“…I forgot.”

“It’s still clearly visible.”

It is not as obvious as I am making it sound.

If she wanted to hide it, she probably could. But if she told me she wanted to hide it and go out anyway, that would be troublesome. And if she hid it, it would be boring. I think it would be nice if it did not fade, even after the long weekend ends.

“Maybe I should stop.”

Sendai-san sighs and leans back against the bed. Even though there is no way for her to confirm it with her fingertips, she touches her neck with her hand. The red mark disappears beneath her palm, and I immediately grab that hand.

“What?”

She sounds surprised.

“Don’t move.”

“An order?”

“No. But since I listened to you and let you do my makeup, you should listen to me too.”

Our eyes meet as she remains leaning against the bed like it is a backrest. I pull her hand away from her neck, and the red mark is exposed again.

Sendai-san does not move.

I touch her lips with my fingertip.

Her lip color does not bother me as much as mine does. I have never thought it unpleasant, even when we kissed before.

I slide my fingertip down along her chin, then move it further to the red mark.

It is not like I gave an order, but she does not try to stop me. When I bring my face close to her neck and press my lips to the mark, I feel her throat shift as she swallows.

“The golden weekend is ending soon, though.”

“I know.”

That is why I have no intention of leaving a mark in an obvious place. I unbutton two buttons of Sendai-san’s blouse.

A little below her collarbone.

I press my lips there and suck hard.

The warmth of her skin through my lips feels slightly higher than usual.

“Miyagi, you’re leaving a mark.”

She taps my shoulder, and I pull away.

It is not as strong as last time, but a red mark is definitely there.

Since it is in a discreet place, it should not be a problem.

“You don’t dislike being touched by me, right, Sendai-san?”

“Isn’t this more than just touching?”

“You’re so picky, Sendai-san.”

I bury my face against her neck.

I bite down on the mark I just made.

After biting lightly, I run my tongue over it.

The distance between us is the closest it has been all day.

She smells nice.

Even if I use the same shampoo she keeps in the bathroom, I do not think I would smell the same. Even with makeup, Sendai-san and I are completely different. She is prettier, smarter, and even when we do the same things, we are not the same.

I bite her neck again.

When I put more pressure into it, my teeth sink into her skin.

It is not like we are becoming one, but it feels as though we have drawn closer. Then I hear her say that it does hurt, and I stop. I lick the faint bite marks, press my lips beneath her ear, and she grabs my arm.

“Is this some kind of punishment game?”

She sounds as though she has only just realized it.

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

This is not an order, and it is not a punishment game. I simply want to leave a mark on her forever.

Something like a piercing would work too. But since she would never allow that, this is what it has become.

“Does it matter what it is?”

Once university starts again, and her tutoring job resumes, the parts of Sendai-san I do not know will keep increasing.

I think it is fine if I am allowed to remain a small part of that. She should at least allow a mark to linger.

“It does matter. Why?”

She is pressing for something she normally would not. No matter how many times she asks, I do not want to answer. Because in places I do not know, she is doing things I do not know about.

There is no way I can say that. Even if I did, she would probably tell me that it is not a valid reason to leave marks.

I press my tongue more firmly against her neck, enough to strongly feel her body heat. As expected, she is warmer than usual.

I attach my lips beneath her ear and suck lightly. I am not sure whether a mark forms, but I trace over the spot with my tongue and then bite her earlobe. It feels cool and pleasant compared to her neck.

“Hey, Miyagi. Any more than this is dangerous.”

She tightens her grip on my arm.

Even so, when I lick her earlobe and bite it again, she wraps her arms around my back and pulls me close.

“I don’t like that kind of thing.”

When I gently push her back, her voice reaches my ear.

“You’re planning to continue, aren’t you? If so, then at least let me accept a little of what I want to do.”

“Let go.”

She must hear the edge in my voice, yet her arms tighten instead.

“Sendai-san, I won’t do anything more, so let go.”

When I push harder this time, she finally releases me.

“Miyagi, stop doing things like this.”

She looks at me while rubbing the area just below her collarbone.

“I don’t want to hear that from you, Sendai-san.”

I am not the only one who touches without permission. She touches me too. She kisses me too. Considering that, she has no right to complain.

“Miyagi.”

She calls my name and sighs.

“What?”

“How about we go out to eat next time?”

The words catch me off guard, and I answer “Sure” before I can think. It is not that I do not want to go. It is just irritating that things always turn out like this.

“Then it’s a promise.”

Before I can protest, she grabs my arm. The distance between us vanishes instantly, and though it is through my hair, her lips touch my ear.

Right over the piercing, she presses a firm kiss.

“Why do you always do things like that immediately?”

I complain, and she replies lightly, “Instead of linking pinkies.”

“Just do a normal pinky promise.”

“This piercing is to make sure you remember the promise I made, so this much should be fine. If I do not swear properly, you might forget.”

She says it as if it is perfectly logical, and only then do I notice something wrong.

“Wait. That’s strange. This piercing is for you to remember and keep the promise you made, Sendai-san. It’s not for me to keep a promise you brought up.”

“You’re so picky, Miyagi.”

She brushes off my objection. Then she calmly buttons up the blouse I had undone.