Chapter 3: The Stirrings Of A Kept Man

Late April arrived, and the cherry blossoms began to fall.

Somehow, this year’s cherry blossoms feel reluctant to scatter. With Golden Week approaching, the atmosphere at school is tinged with excitement.

Some schools don’t get a full holiday for Golden Week, but Touryo High follows the calendar: April 27th to 29th, then May 3rd to 6th, giving us a decent break.

Optional classes, part-time jobs, short trips, dates.

Students must have all sorts of plans in mind.

By the way, my Golden Week—Kyosaka Kei’s—is fully booked.

The first three-day weekend is, of course, for work.

The four-day holiday after that is a family outing with Dad and Akari.

We’re poor, but camping lets us have fun without spending much. We’re planning a three-night, four-day camping trip in Hanase, up in the mountains of Sakyo Ward.

I’m looking forward to it. While thinking about that and taking notes in Math I, I noticed Karasuma-san glancing at me.

When our eyes met, she quickly looked away, focusing on her textbook.

She’s been like this lately. Did I mess up somehow? I have no clue, which makes it even more troubling. She’s usually so forward when we’re alone, though.

Like at the bike racks.

Or on the rooftop.

Or by the gym.

In quiet spots, Karasuma-san shows up to eat lunch with me.

Sometimes she brings snacks, and lunch break flies by. But in class, she just gazes at me from afar with a cotton-candy-like expression.

Something feels off.

Fourth period was a long homeroom used for a seat change.

Apparently, most schools hold their first seat change of the new term in late April.

Right after a class shuffle, relationships aren’t fully formed, which can cause drama, so they wait a bit before rearranging seats.

I don’t have many friends and don’t fuss over seat changes, so I watched my classmates draw lots like it was someone else’s business.

“Yoshioka, what number’d you get?”

“Seven. Right up front. Lame.”

“Oof, close call. Six doesn’t come up that easy, though. Window side, back row, plus five, eleven, and twelve are taken, right? You’ve used up your life’s luck.”

“One number off, and my luck’s gone…”

Yoshioka-kun in front and Maruyama-kun beside him groaned, comparing their numbers.

The guys were desperate for number six, so I followed their lead and checked the seating chart on the blackboard.

Got it. Five is Karasuma-san, eleven is Ono-san, twelve is Daigo-san. It’s like a divine setup, surrounding me in an inverted L-shape with the school’s three beauties.

Well, doesn’t matter much to me.

Like they say, any place can feel like home. Where I sit doesn’t affect me much.

“Next, Kyosaka-kun, come up.”

Called by class rep Misasagi-san, I approached the box of lots.

I drew one from the box on the teacher’s desk and unfolded the paper.

“What number?”

“Uh… oh. Six.”

“Wha!?”

“Seriously… of all people, Kyosaka!?”

Guys, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t repeat it like it’s some big deal.

“You two, quiet down. Next person.”

Once everyone drew, we started moving to our new seats.

As I lifted my desk, I noticed Karasuma-san smiling softly. Even through her mask, her charm was irresistible.

Maybe I was worrying over nothing. Doesn’t seem like I messed up.

With that, I settled into my new seat, like docking a mecha.

“Okei-han, don’t go staring at me during class, ’kay?”

Ono-san’s teasing voice came from the seat diagonally in front.

“That might be tough—oh, sorry.”

Crap. My true thoughts slipped out.

“…Don’t apologize there. It’s embarrassing for me…”

Ono-san toyed with her hair, turning away shyly. “…Okei-han is a womanizer.”

Shock. Even my friend’s calling me a flirt now.

“I think Tsukasa’s just digging her own grave. Nice to be neighbors, Kyosaka-kun.”

Daigo-san was in the seat to my right.

“Yeah, same.”

“Kyosaka, got a sec?”

Karasuma-san, in front, twisted around, speaking softly.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing… it’s not a big deal, but you were all flirty with Tsukasa. Only with Tsukasa.”

“Huh, what?”

The last part sounded like a muttered curse, hard to catch.

“N-Nothing. I mean, can we exchange LIEN IDs?”

Karasuma-san pulled her smartphone from her blazer pocket.

“I’m the only one who doesn’t have your contact info, and it’s been bugging me lately…”

Oh, I see. That’s why she kept glancing at me during class.

She could’ve just asked during break.

“I wanted to know yours too, so yeah, sure. What’s your ID?”

“Really? Okay, I’ll show my QR code, so you—”

We exchanged contact info.

And then.

I overheard whispers: “Kyosaka’s been super chummy with those three lately, huh?” Some guys glared at me, but it wasn’t envy. Girls murmured things like, “Since when…?” “Our only cute girls…” “They’ve found their place,” but I didn’t quite get what they meant.

Whatever. I’m used to it, so I don’t care.

But things are different now—definitely. The school’s three beauties are actually talking to me in class.

Also… Ishida-kun sometimes gives me a thumbs-up with this weirdly warm look.

(Does this mean he sees me as a comrade?)

While pondering that, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was a message from Karasuma-san.

Her LIEN icon was an SD illustration of the popular Vtuber Otoha Tenshi. Surprisingly trendy taste. I don’t know much about her, but Akari’s a huge fan, so I’m vaguely aware.

Does Karasuma-san like her too? Anyway.

The message read: Do you have work today? Got plans after school?

After a moment’s thought,

I replied: I’m off today. I bragged to my sister about making tasty curry, so I’m stopping by the supermarket.

I wanna try your curry too.

Along with that, a stamp of greedy eyes came through.

I’ll make it for you sometime.

Really? It’s a promise.

Yup, promise.

Thanks! I’m looking forward to it.

The message continued along with a barrage of stamps.

A flurry of stamps followed, ending with one doing a fist pump, making me chuckle.

Karasuma-san, leaning on her hand in front, let out an “Ehe!” and laughed happily.

Saturday, a supermarket along Nara Highway, is on my commute route and has a great selection.

Nara Highway refers to National Route 24, running from central Kyoto through Fushimi to Nara Prefecture. It’s a familiar road for locals, and most Kyoto residents have probably biked or ridden it.

Anyway.

I’m a regular at Saturday. It’s the perfect distance for a quick stop on the way home, and the prices are cheap.

Today, I bought onions, potatoes, carrots, and other curry ingredients. We have frozen pork at home, and there’s still spice and curry roux, so I didn’t grab extras.

“Hello, Kei-chan. Oh, curry today? You’re turning into quite the housewife.”

Izumi-san, a close neighbor, called out to me while browsing the vegetable aisle, eco-bag in hand.

“Hello. What’s for dinner at your place, Izumi-san?”

I asked, skipping pleasantries.

“Buri season’s almost over, so I’m thinking teriyaki.”

“Got it. It’s about 4 p.m. now, so you might want to wait till 5. That’s when they slap on discount stickers.”

“Should I wait, then? Ugh, everything’s getting pricier.”

“Tell me about it. Let’s both keep saving.”

After chatting with Izumi-san, I grabbed my green plastic basket and lined up at the checkout.

After paying and stepping outside, the sky was turning twilight.

Then, tap tap. Someone tapped my shoulder from behind.

Amid the shadows stretching across the asphalt parking lot, I turned to see a beautiful girl in a school uniform with a black mask staring at me.

“K-Karasuma-san?”

I was startled. Like, really startled.

Seeing my reaction, Karasuma-san put her hands together apologetically. Her mask hid her face, but her gesture clearly said sorry.

“Sorry, Kyosaka. Scared you, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, a little.”

“I meant to call out earlier, but I kept missing the timing. I was like, ‘When’s he gonna turn around?’ and halfway through, I was struggling not to laugh.”

“Wait, you were behind me the whole time?”

“Kinda… I wasn’t, like, hiding or anything.”

“Don’t tell me… since school?”

“Yup. Sorry. You just didn’t notice me at all.”

Karasuma-san put her hands together again, apologizing.

I was super embarrassed, but more than that, I was dying to know why Karasuma-san was acting so weird.

“So, what’s up?”

When I asked, Karasuma-san narrowed her eyes with a soft smile and stepped closer.

“You’re off work today, right? I know you promised your sister curry, but can you spare a little time? I’ve got something to talk about.”

“T-Talk about?”

“Yeah. Tsukasa’s coming too. That okay?”

“Uh, yeah…”

“Cool, let’s hit Kameda. It’s chill there.”

Kameda probably means Kameda Coffee Shop.

“I only drink sweet coffee, though. That fine?”

“That’s adorable. You’re so mature, Kyosaka.”

“That’s definitely childish. Are you teasing me?”

“Nope. I just like that you don’t try to act grown-up.”

Karasuma-san said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me along.

Her soft, feminine hand made my heart skip.

Izumi-san, coming out of the store, watched us with an amused “Oh my, my” smile. We’re not dating, okay?

Karasuma-san led me to Kameda Coffee Shop, a Nagoya-based chain with locations nationwide. It’s tucked quietly along Kyoto’s outer ring road, but being a chain, the interior is spacious.

It’s known for tasty food beyond just coffee, with a popular morning set: coffee, toast, and a boiled egg. I vaguely recall my grandparents in Shiga mentioning it ages ago.

As Karasuma-san and I reached a four-seater table in the back, Ono-san waved. “Yo, Okei-han!” I raised my hand slightly in response.

“Sit, sit.”

“Right.”

“Kyosaka, you’re next to me.”

Karasuma-san pulled me to sit beside her.

I set my bag of curry ingredients on the red sofa, ordered drinks, and we started chatting.

Soon, a waiter brought an iced café au lait, an Americano, and a white noir—a Danish pastry topped with soft-serve.

“I’m covering today, so order whatever you want, Okei-han.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. A thank-you for coming on short notice.”

Feeling bad, I sipped my café au lait. Karasuma-san, on a diet, hadn’t touched her water.

“Daigo-san’s not here today, huh?”

“Oh, you’re asking?”

“Sakurako’s on an important mission.”

“Mission?”

“Yup.”

“We’ll explain later.”

Ono-san and Karasuma-san exchanged glances, giggling, then shot me a cryptic look.

What’s this? A bad feeling. No, only bad feelings. They’ve got the faces of kids plotting mischief.

I took a sip of café au lait to calm down. It tasted like nothing.

“Presentation’s on you, Tsukasa.”

“Yessir, bra-ja!”

Ono-san pulled a large tablet from her bag and set it on the table.

I heard multi-level marketing scams used to be common in cafés. Surely these two aren’t into shady business… I braced myself.

“Here’s the deal.”

“Uh, okay…”

“The three of us are doing creative work and looking for help. We wanted your sister to understand, so we sent Sakurako, who’s great at explaining, to your place.”

“Sorry, I’m totally lost.”

“Basically, we want your family to know us and feel at ease, so they don’t think it’s a sketchy job.”

I’m even more confused.

“So they don’t think it’s a sketchy job.”

That phrase alone sounds sketchy. Ignoring my bewilderment, Ono-san deftly navigated the tablet.

“Take a look. Our circle’s monthly sales.”

“Circle?”

“The doujin circle Tsukasa, Sakurako, and I started. We haven’t told you, but we’re actually creators.”

“Creators?”

“Yup. Nowadays, if you register a circle on a platform, it tracks your monthly sales like this. Look here.”

Karasuma-san pointed at the numbers on the tablet, explaining.

Circle Name: Mellow

January Sales: 34.2 million yen

February Sales: 22.53 million yen

March Sales: 29.55 million yen

“This month’ll probably land around 25 million, I think.”

“Huh?”

Twenty-five… million…

My eyes burned the numbers into my retinas, replaying Karasuma-san’s words in my head, doubting my senses.

“T-Twenty-five million!? That’s… insane…”

That’s all I could manage.

“Nyahaha, Okei-han’s reaction is adorable.”

“Kyosaka, why not quit your job and work for us?”

“Huh…?”

“You said you’re working to pay for your sister’s tuition, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That really hit me hard.”

“Exactly. So we thought about what we could do to help.”

“If you’re okay with it, of course.”

“You’d earn way more with us. No beating around the bush—how’s 4,000 yen an hour?”

“F-Four thousand!?”

“Tsukasa, that’s too low. Kyosaka, what about 5,000 yen an hour?”

“F-F-Five thousand…!?”

That’s 50,000 yen for a ten-hour day!?

A full month’s work would be 1.5 million yen.

Akari’s college fees are about 4 million, so in three months, I could hit my goal.

Wait, taxes would take a chunk, so it’d be less.

Still, I’ve never seen a job listing with rates this high.

It’s so tempting I’m practically drooling.

But this feels like a level I, an average student, shouldn’t touch.

For Akari’s sake, though…

But, but.

My head’s a mess. But,

“Sorry. It’s tempting, but I can’t accept that much from classmates. I’m not capable of much, and I decided to earn Akari’s tuition myself. But I’m really grateful for the offer. Thanks.”

I poured all my sincerity into those words.

I don’t want them thinking I’m cozying up for money, and Akari wouldn’t want that either. Taking this job feels wrong.

Sorry, but.

“So, you hate us, Kyosaka?”

“N-No, that’s not…”

“Then it’s settled. It’s not a bad deal for you, right, Okei-han?”

“W-Well, yeah, but…”

“Kyosaka, listen.”

Karasuma-san leaned closer, her refined face nearing mine.

“If it’s something you want, I’d do anything for you. Even that or this.”

So close I could feel her breath.

Well, her mask meant I couldn’t actually feel it, but our noses nearly touched, and I pulled back in a panic.

“…Um, customers, could you refrain from such behavior in the store?”

“H-Huh? …S-Sorry.”

Karasuma-san snapped back to reality at the waiter’s troubled voice.

I noticed other customers and staff staring, whispering.

I quickly fled the store with Karasuma-san, whose ears were red, and Ono-san, who was smiling wryly in exasperation.

I was filled with a sense of helpless anxiety, wondering what would happen next.

Somehow, I ended up inviting Karasuma-san and Ono-san to my place.

Our house is technically two stories, but it’s so old and worn that both of them widened their eyes.

“Whoa…”

“T-This is Kyosaka’s house?”

“My home. Not a witch’s mansion, okay?”

I ushered them inside.

“Nii, welcome ba—WHOA! When’d you get such gorgeous girls!? …Wait, TWO MORE STUNNERS!?”

Akari, greeting me, yelped like she’d seen a ghost. Behind her, Daigo-san appeared, bowing politely. “Thanks for having me, Kyosaka-kun.”

She actually came. That’s scarier than a horror movie.

“I’m home, Akari. Daigo-san too.”

Akari scanned the three beauties with curiosity, grinning. “A dream harem! What’s the deal?”

“I’m not sure myself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“Karasuma Chikage. Nice to meet you, Akari-chan.”

“I’m Ono Tsukasa. Let’s get along.”

“Oh, hi! My brother’s in your care. Seriously, Nii, what’s going on?”

“Don’t ask, Akari. Let’s eat.”

I scratched my cheek, forcing a smile.

Until this morning, I was living a background-character life, but things took a weird turn. I thought about it like it was someone else’s story.

“Done!”

Portions for me, Akari, and Dad.

And for Karasuma-san, Ono-san, and Daigo-san.

I never imagined making dinner for six, but my special curry was ready. Dad’s coming home late, so I’ll reheat his later.

Man, though…

While cooking, I tried sorting out how my feelings shifted, but I’m still clueless.

The sudden turn of events left my emotions lagging. In the living room, my sister and the school’s three beauties are watching a variety show together. Surreal.

“Okei-han’s place feels so… you, y’know?”

“Totally. No Fire Stick or gaming consoles. Untainted by the world.”

Ono-san and Karasuma-san commented, eyeing our home curiously.

I know what those are, but we avoid them on purpose.

Streaming sites or subscription services let you watch anime and new movies, but I cut out options that might make us lazy.

Same reason we don’t buy games.

“The layout’s so you too. Kinda cool.”

“It’s got character.”

“Sorry it’s so old. Let’s eat.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Tsukasa’s got a knack for this. Sorry, Kyosaka.”

“Why’m I the bad guy!?”

Is Ono-san the straight man or the butt of the joke?

“Kyosaka-kun, sorry for barging in.”

“No, I heard the situation from them. Thanks for thinking of me and my sister.”

Daigo-san looked apologetic, so I reassured her.

“We should thank you. You even made dinner.”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing.”

To hide my embarrassment, I glanced at the TV.

Comedians bantered from the panel, sparking roars of laughter.

“Sorry, it’s cramped, so squeeze in.”

I served rice.

Added curry.

Put plates on a tray and brought them to the living room.

We all put our hands together and said, “Itadakimasu.”

“So good… It’s got that homey taste.”

“Delish! Okei-han’s got mad housewife skills.”

“Mm. Tasty.”

Seeing them eat so happily warmed my heart as the cook.

“It’s my specialty, so.”

“What’s with that cool reply? Kuudere vibes?”

“Shut up.”

Dinner conversation flowed, and Karasuma-san occasionally lowered her mask, looking stunning.

“Nii, it’s so lively today.”

“Yeah. We usually eat just the two of us, so it feels extra busy.”

“No kidding. I’m shocked you made three cute friends like this.”

“I’m the most shocked, trust me.”

I never dreamed I’d be serving dinner to Karasuma-san, Ono-san, and Daigo-san.

“Hehe, Akari-chan’s cuter, though.”

“Thanks! Coming from a beauty like Chikage-san, that’s super flattering.”

“…T-Thanks. I’m happy my future sister says that.”

Wait, Akari’s my sister already.

“Akari, what about me? Am I pretty?”

“Tsukasa-chan’s got that lovable charm. Probably Nii’s favorite type.”

“For real? I’m thrilled!”

“Akari, you don’t need to rate me.”

“Don’t say that, Sakurako-nee-san. You’re the prettiest glasses girl I’ve ever seen. Maybe the universe’s best.”

“What a good sister. There, there.”

Daigo-san’s glasses are fake, though.

Akari’s a master at flattery, hogging Karasuma-san, Ono-san, and Daigo-san’s affection.

Her knack for buttering people up has saved me countless times.

Enough sister bragging. Time to get to the point.

The job the three are offering.

I wanted Akari’s opinion, so,

“This is a Kyosaka family matter, and it feels wrong to rely on them that much, right…?”

I asked her.

Akari slammed her spoon on the table and declared,

“Listen up, Nii. Turning down a deal this sweet in this day and age is asking for divine punishment. Our family’s high Engel’s coefficient is partly ‘cause you and Dad keep sharing food with neighbors. That’s fine. Everyone says, ‘I’m lucky to live next to the Kyosakas,’ and I’m proud as your sister.”

Oof. When did Akari figure out our finances…?

“But face reality. No amount of frugality fixes your bleeding-heart habits, so get a bit greedier. Lean on them.”

She lectured me, the cheeky brat.

“Please take care of my dumb brother.”

“We’re the ones asking, Akari-chan.”

“So it’s Akari-approved.”

“Good job, Akari.”

“What about my say?”

“Shut it, Nii!”

And so, the job talk sped along.

It still doesn’t feel real, but it’s a proposal they thought hard about for me, so I had no reason to refuse.

Plus, my beloved sister gave the green light.

I don’t know how to repay their kindness yet, but.

I need to move forward. I decided to stay positive.

I barely slept last night, tossing and turning, and yawned through class today.

After school, I’m heading to my new job. Ono-san’s with the art club, and Daigo-san’s handling library committee stuff, so they’ll join later, leaving me to walk home with Karasuma-san.

“Kyosaka, I rode my bike today.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Guess why?”

Walking to the bike racks, I tilted my head.

“Ugh, you’re so dense. I wanna ride double with you.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“I’ll hold you steady from behind. C’mon, please?”

Her pleading, moist gaze made it hard to say no.

“That’s not the kind of danger I meant.”

Riding double violates Article 57, Paragraph 2 of the Road Traffic Act—a clear offense.

But stubbornly refusing and upsetting Karasuma-san felt wrong too.

“Fine, whatever. Which bike’s yours?”

“This one. It’s called Mee-chan.”

“Cute name.”

“You think? It’s named after my cat.”

“Nice.”

Karasuma-san’s bike was a sleek black mama-chari. I unlocked it, adjusted the saddle, and straddled it, setting my feet on the pedals.

Karasuma-san sat sideways on the rear rack.

“Hehe, my first time riding double with a guy. Kinda exciting.”

“Have fun, but don’t fall off.”

“This should keep me safe, right?”

Her slender arms wrapped around me, squeezing tight.

A soft muni sensation pressed against my back, nearly making me swerve.

“Your back’s so warm… I could hug you forever.”

Karasuma-san buried her face in my back, her voice sweet like melting ramune.

That cool, sugary tone was a notch lower than usual, sending my heart racing.

In the midst of this youthful double-ride moment, I couldn’t see her face, which was a shame.

Before I knew it, we’d arrived.

Wow… huge. A six-story condo in a prime Fushimi spot. Across the two-lane road, a decently sized convenience store parking lot.

The building screamed luxury, with sky-high rent.

There was a bike parking area on the left. I parked, helped Karasuma-san off, and headed to the entrance.

We took the elevator to the fifth floor.

“…”

Ding.

Karasuma-san walked confidently, like it was her own place.

At the end of the hall, she stopped, pulled a key from her pocket, and unlocked the door.

She beckoned me in, and I stepped into the genkan nervously.

“Excuse me.”

“Come on in!”

It’s a 3LDK. Ono-san’s home and workspace, but it’s a bit lavish for one person.

“Wow. Feels like a manga artist’s place.”

I said, looking around curiously.

It’s cluttered, but books, references, and creative gear are everywhere, showing their passion.

“Hehe, you could be a detective. Sherlock Kyosaka.”

“Wait, is it really a manga artist’s place?”

“Yup. It was originally Tsukasa’s mom’s studio, but now we use it.”

Karasuma-san hung her blazer on a rack, tightening her blue tie up to her blouse’s V-zone.

“Ono-san’s mom?”

“Yeah. Ono Machiko-sensei, who draws Roman Sanbun no Ichi and Nekobisha.”

“…Whoa, really?”

I was shocked. She’s a famous manga artist with tons of hits. A family of creators, huh? Ono-san inherited some serious DNA.

“Don’t just stand there. Come here.”

“Oh, right.”

Karasuma-san beckoned from the living room sofa, so I joined her.

Close. Too close. An unfamiliar shampoo scent wafted over, loosening my nerves. A citrusy, sweet aroma.

“So, till Tsukasa and Sakurako get here, what should we do?”

“Uh… can you explain the job?”

“Ugh, we’ll do that when they’re here. I’m asking what we should do.”

Hmm.

“I’ve got nothing, so you decide.”

“Okay… can I call you Kei?”

“Huh?”

“And you call me Chikage.”

“How’d we jump from that to first names?”

“Who knows? Maybe it’s part of the job?”

Part of the job? Didn’t you just say no job talk?

Plus, it’s a question, so I can’t tell how serious she is.

“So I’m the interviewer. Your hiring’s set, but if you’re flustered by first names, you won’t survive this job.”

“That’s unfair.”

“Hehe.”

Karasuma-san tucked her legs up on the sofa, resting her cheek on her knee, smiling eagerly.

Thump thump. My heart’s racing so fast it might be an arrhythmia.

“Once you say it, it’ll feel normal. Chi-ka-ge. Repeat after me.”

If I could do that, I wouldn’t be this nervous. Calling a classmate by her first name is heart-pounding.

*“(It’s just a job…)* …Ch-Chikage. Good?”

I managed.

“Not bad.”

Phew. If I’m this tense every time, I need to get used to it fast.

“Hey, Kei.”

“W-What?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to say your name.”

That’s the worst for my heart.

“Why’re you looking down, Kei?”

“Oh, uh…”

I looked up reflexively, meeting Chikage’s furrowed gaze.

“…I’m not used to being alone with a girl. I’m… pretty nervous right now.”

“That’s too cute. What a reason.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. I’m nervous too. First time alone with a guy I… like.”

Chikage blushed faintly through her mask, shyly twirling her hair.

“What do you mean—”

“You don’t ask about that. It’s a rule.”

Cutting me off, Chikage gently touched her lips through her mask.

“Kei, to ease our nerves, wanna practice with me?”

“Practice what?”

“Hmm… a hug, maybe?”

“That’s a bit too high a hurdle…”

“We did it once, right? With Tsukasa and Sakurako there.”

“That was… to reassure everyone, y’know, unavoidable circumstances.”

“Yeah. So reassure me again. Hug me tight.”

Chikage’s eyes flickered with curiosity and anticipation.

There’s a playful darkness in her light, showing a mischievous side.

Duality, maybe. I hesitated, but I knew braking was pointless, so I steeled myself.

“P-Please, let’s do this.”

“Request accepted. Wait, are you more nervous than me?”

“Obviously. You’re acting different, Chikage.”

“Hmm… I’m kinda surprised too. I get pretty bold around someone I like.”

“What’d you say?”

“Oh, sorry, nothing. Forget that.”

Chikage waved her hands frantically.

Forget what? It was too quiet to hear.

“Here we go. Hug!”

Chikage angled her head, searching for the perfect position, leaning closer.

It was a soft, light hug, but our upper bodies pressed together, her blouse shifting as her chest squished against me.

Thumpthumpthump…

My heart’s pounding at an unprecedented speed.

“Your fabric softener… smells nice. Your scent, Kei.”

“Is it that strong?”

“Kei… Kei… Kei…”

Chikage murmured my name like a chant, nuzzling her nose against my shoulder.

THUMPTHUMPTHUMP… My blood’s racing so fast my head’s spinning, my body heating up.

This is too much. My brain’s hitting its limit.

“Ch-Chikage? Can we… stop now?”

“Kiss me, and I’ll let go.”

“K-Kiss!?”

“Kidding, kidding! But… we’ll do something kiss-like, so read the mood, okay?”

Chikage’s earlobes flushed a fuzzy pink.

…Something’s coming. My instincts are screaming.

“S-Stop, timeout! Let’s cool off?”

“I’m perfectly cool.”

“No, no, no! I don’t even know what ‘kiss-like’ means, but I’m definitely the wrong guy for this practice!”

Panicking and babbling, I tried to reason with her.

“Hmm, you’re the only one I can think of.”

“Come on…”

“I mean, you’re my only guy friend, and I’ve never had a boyfriend. No one else to practice with.”

“Never had a boyfriend?”

“That’s not the part to repeat.”

“Sorry.”

I shut my mouth.

I’d heard rumors Chikage turned down triple-digit confessions.

But I never imagined she was single her whole life.

I had this image of her dating some future CEO-type hunk, but guess not.

Not that I’m one to talk, but no dating experience through elementary, middle, and high school is pretty rare, right? Not that I’m one to talk.

“So, uh, any plans for that in the future?”

“Not really… No plans. But I’ve got someone I’d like to reserve.”

“Then ask them—owowow!”

She pinched my cheeks.

“Wanna know who I’m reserving?”

“Uh… maybe not…”

“Wanna know?”

“I think… you should keep that in your heart. Or something…”

“That’s not an answer.”

Chikage’s eyes dimmed. Her slender fingers gripped my cheeks firmly.

“Words are tricky… They don’t always convey what you mean. So, I’ll do this.”

“Huh, wha—”

Chikage’s refined face slowly closed in, filling my vision.

THUD! My heart nearly screamed. A little closer, and our lips would’ve touched through her mask… At that moment.

Click.

“J-Jubei Capacity Wave…”

“Calm down, Tsukasa. It’s still just an attempt…”

Thud. Rustle.

I whipped around, face burning hot enough to melt shadows. There stood Ono-san and Daigo-san, frozen, shopping bags dropped.

“That ‘still’ sounds way too vivid… I went all out with my best-ever makeup in the convenience store bathroom, and this is what I walk into? Total yikes.”

“That’s why you took so long? Think about me waiting.”

This is bad.

“Chi_kage~?”

“N-No, it’s not what it looks like. Just… practice.”

“Practice what?”

Ono-san gave us a deadpan stare.

Chikage awkwardly scratched her cheek, scooting to the sofa’s edge.

And me? All I could do was flail my eyes in panic.

“Kyosaka-kun.”

“Y-Yes!”

“No room for excuses. The only question is who made the first move, you or Chikage.”

“Neither of us… we haven’t done anything yet?”

“‘Yet’? So you’re saying you were planning to do something?”

“It was… hug practice. I’m, uh, not used to girls, so… Chikage was helping me practice, right?”

“That’s not quite the nuance. …I was the one who pushed him. Kei’s just too kind to say no.”

Chikage stepped in to cover for me.

Meanwhile, Ono-san and Daigo-san looked like pigeons hit by a bean gun.

“Sakurako, am I imagining things, or are Chikage and Okei-han calling each other by their first names?”

“A step forward. It stings, but nice move, Chikage.”

Why are you giving a thumbs-up, Daigo-san?

As for me, I was racking my brain trying to figure out how to explain this mess…

“Anyway, you two, step apart. I’m gonna explain the job to Okei-han.”

Ono-san brushed it off easily.

But the seating arrangement was me in the middle of the sofa, Ono-san on my right, Daigo-san on my left, and Chikage sitting seiza-style across from us.

In this slightly awkward atmosphere, I got the job details explained to me.

Helping out with a doujin circle.

The job involves cleaning the workspace, doing laundry, running errands, and acting as a booth seller during events—mostly miscellaneous tasks.

They suggested I try the job for a month to get a feel for it, and I decided to go along with the idea.

Now, here’s where it gets to the main point, but before starting the job, the three of them asked me a few questions.

It felt more like confirmation than actual questioning.

How many days a week and how many hours a day can you work?

Can you work weekends?

When can you start?

Are you prepared to handle adult content? (Apparently, it’s okay for high schoolers to create it.)

Those were the four points.

Except for the last one, they were standard job interview questions, and I answered each without much hesitation.

Adult content, huh. Well, these days, plenty of non-explicit stuff gets labeled as mature, so maybe it’s pretty mainstream?

I stared at the eco-friendly linoleum floor for no reason, thinking about that.

“By the way, Chikage mentioned calling each other by first names is ‘part of the job.’ Should I call Ono-san and Daigo-san by their first names too?”

“Nyu? There’s no rule about that.”

“Then I’ll keep calling you Ono-san and Daigo-san, right?”

I let out a sigh of relief, but Ono-san and Daigo-san twitched their eyebrows slightly.

“Hold up. Maybe it is part of the job after all.”

“That was Tsukasa’s brain fart. First names—or nicknames—are included in the job description.”

“…That feels like a sudden retcon.”

“Okei-han, don’t sweat the details. It’s all good.”

I wasn’t entirely convinced, but if the bosses say so, I’ve got no choice but to comply.

“Can I call you Kei-kun, too, Kyosaka-kun?”

Daigo-san tugged lightly at my left sleeve, asking with a hopeful look.

“Of course.”

It’s part of the job, after all.

“Thank you. And I’d like you to change how you call me, too.”

“Uh, then how about your first name, Sakurako?”

“Four syllables is too long. Vetoed.”

“Oh, uh… then maybe three syllables, like Sakura?”

“Acceptable.”

Sakura, formerly Daigo-san, nodded with satisfaction.

“Guess I’m last, huh.”

Ono-san stretched both arms toward the ceiling, like she was warming up for something.

That pose, like she’s about to play rock-paper-scissors, made me brace myself instinctively.

“Well, you can call me by my first name or a nickname, whatever feels right. As long as it’s friendly, I’m cool with anything.”

Being told “anything” actually makes it harder to choose, but it’d be weird to overthink it, so I just nodded honestly.

“Tick-tock, tick-tock.”

“Wait, is there a time limit?”

“Makes it more fun, right? Twenty seconds.”

“Uh… what happens if I don’t decide?”

“Then you’ll call me Galaxy Maji-Love Angel Tsukasa-tan, nyahaha.”

“That sounds like it’d damage both the caller and the called.”

“I don’t mind. C’mon, ten seconds left.”

“W-Wait a sec!”

“Nine, eight, seven, six.”

“H-Hold on!”

“Four, three, two.”

“Uh, uh.”

“One!”

“…Then, since it’s Tsukasa, how about Tsu-chan?”

“Hau!!”

Zukyun. Tsu-chan, formerly Ono-san, clutched her chest and looked down, as if her heart had been pierced.

“W-What’s wrong?”

“…A sudden ‘-chan’ attack. That hits hard.”

“Tsukasa’s face looks kinda red, doesn’t it?”

“I-It’s not red!”

“Tsukasa’s such an easy target. Prime teasing material. Lol.”

“Shut up! Chikage, Sakura, stop staring at me with those sparkly eyes!”

“Alright, I’ll start cleaning so I don’t get in the way of your work.”

I don’t quite get it, but I understand the job flow now, so let’s get to work.

Rolling up my shirt sleeves, I scanned the pre-provided checklist and began cleaning the room.

Late April. Day two of the job.

While cleaning, I observed the doujin circle’s workflow and picked up a few things.

First, Chikage, Tsu-chan, and Sakura each handle different roles. Second, all three balance outside work alongside the circle’s activities.

Lastly, they’re all incredibly skilled. Based on what they’ve told me, here’s the breakdown.

Karasuma Chikage. Voice actress for the circle.

She’s affiliated with a certain agency and excels at vocal mimicry. She’s voiced heroines in gal games and ASMR projects. She’s also the person behind Otoha Tenshi, a rising Vtuber with over 200,000 subscribers, mainly active in live streams and song covers. Her voice acting stage name outside the circle is Oike Chikage, with a secret alias, Nureha Chizuru.

Ono Tsukasa. Illustrator for the circle.

A god-tier artist who handles everything from original characters to licensed art, serving as art director for gal games and creating ASMR jacket art. She’s also Otoha Tenshi’s “mama” (character designer) and doubles as a Live2D modeler, while drawing for doujinshi.

Her illustrator pen name is KOMATI, with over 300,000 SNS followers.

Daigo Sakurako. Scriptwriter for the circle.

A current writer for gal games and visual novels, she also scripts ASMR, Otoha Tenshi’s lines, writes lyrics and composes original songs, and pens doujinshi stories.

Outside the circle, she authors Yozakura Killing, a light novel series with over 500,000 copies sold, under the pen name Haru Urara. Should I call her sensei?

So, all three are well-known creators, a veritable dream team of talent.

Juggling this much work alongside school must be grueling, both time-wise and physically, but they manage thanks to a strong “support team” in the circle.

Apparently, no one knows the faces, ages, or genders of these helpers, who go by the handle “MM.” Basically, online collaborators.

They promised to introduce me properly someday, so I filed it away in my mind.

“You’re changing this part?”

“Not changing, retaking.”

“Ngh. I get Sakura’s perfectionism, but think about the effort on my end adding expressions and graphics for one scene.”

“Yeah… I’d have to relearn lines, too.”

“Then how about you two memorize the script and code? Look up ‘effort’ in a dictionary.”

“S-Sorry, Sakura.”

“Don’t sulk just ’cause we apologized.”

“I’m not sulking. Quality demands perfection, period. Deadlines, too, obviously.”

“Got it. Speed’s the priority. I’ll handle outsourcing the sound.”

“Do it.”

“Oh, a reverse offer email came in. What do we do?”

“For bundled proposals, go through Chome and Sergeant Yororo.”

The meeting, which started like a playful lovers’ spat, finally wrapped up.

I couldn’t help but pause my work to listen to their banter, so different from school.

I… I’ve gotta step up, too…

One hour later.

“Ichi-chi. My wrist’s panna cotta.”

“You okay, Tsu-chan?”

I rushed over to Tsu-chan, whose thumb was twitching.

“Eh, it’s the usual. Back to work.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Thanks for the concern, Ikkyu-san. By the way, are you, like, a cleaning pro?”

“No way, I’m not a contractor.”

“But the room’s, like, too sparkly, no?”

“Is it?”

“Totally. Where’d you learn these god-tier skills, huh?”

“Hmm… I guess watching videos and reading online tips just kinda stuck.”

“That housewife energy? Moe overload.”

I’m neither a housewife nor a househusband, though.

“Wow, not a single hair on the floor. Amazing, Kei.”

“Kei-kun’s a quiet worker. That cool, composed face is a bonus.”

“Really?”

Compared to these three, I’m nothing, but getting praised still feels good.

But if I get complacent, I’ll stagnate and stop growing.

For Akari’s sake, and to not let them down, I’ve gotta push harder.

No getting fired. Let’s do this!

April 25th. Thursday. Day three of the job.

“Take that, dust!”

I scrubbed the windows relentlessly, eyes locked on my task.

Cleaning tip: top to bottom, every corner, not a speck left behind.

I need to leave my mark during this trial period, or I might get canned.

For a talentless guy like me, pouring my soul into the few things I can do is the only way.

Gotta work harder… harder…

After a few dozen minutes cleaning various rooms, the low sun tilted westward, clouds parting to reveal more crimson hues.

“Kei, aren’t you working a bit too hard?”

Chikage peeked from behind a 24-inch wide monitor, looking worried.

“Not nearly enough.”

I wiped my face with the sweat towel around my neck.

“I love a hard worker, but overdoing it’s no good.”

“Don’t worry. I just wanna be more useful to you all.”

“Oh? What’s this loco moco about?”

Tsu-chan chimed in, egging me on. We’re not talking about Hawaiian burgers here.

“Loco moco? What’s that mean?”

“You know, ulterior motives, that kinda stuff.”

Nope, none of that.

“If I had to say… I guess I want more tasks. I feel like I owe you for the pay, so I wanna repay it with work. Anything I can do, I wanna do it.”

Yeah. Back in my first-year part-time frenzy, working at a ramen shop under the Yamashina overpass, I learned trust isn’t given—it’s built.

I started with front-of-house and topping prep, but my responsibilities grew until I was handling the kitchen, too.

Point is, in any job, the more you can do—one task, two, three—the better your rep.

If that’s an ulterior motive, then sure, maybe.

“Wow, what a noble loco moco.”

“Kei-kun’s drive is a universal truth for any job. I should take notes.”

“If Kei wants to push harder, I respect that. Just don’t burn out, ’kay?”

“Thanks, everyone.”

I was genuinely happy. I’m so grateful for this kind environment.

“Wait, you’ll really do anything?”

“Yeah, within my ability.”

“Then… that thing you did yesterday… can you do it again?”

Tsu-chan fidgeted, pressing her index fingers together, making her request.

“Oh, that?”

“Yup, please?”

“Sure thing.”

Tsu-chan’s kindness warmed my heart, and I answered instantly.

It’s probably her way of honoring my request for more tasks. Alright, let’s do this!

“Ah, ahh…! Okei-han, there! That’s good!”

“Here?”

“Hyaun! Y-Yeah, deeper!”

“Got it. Deeper, all the way in.”

“Kuh… haan! Higuuu!!”

As I massaged the hollow at the base of her wrist, Tsu-chan arched back like she was playing a tenor sax, trembling with pleasure.

Rub, stroke, knead, press, glide.

“Hya, hii! N-No, not there! Something weird’s coming!”

Sizzle.

“…Um, you two, your stares are kinda painful.”

“Kei’s hands are way too sensual.”

“Like foreplay.”

“Why does it turn into that?! It’s just a massage!”

“O-Okei-han… no more…!”

Tsu-chan, stop making weird noises, too.

“Kei-kun, Tsukasa’s already finished. My turn.”

“That’s cheating, Sakurako. I want it, too.”

“Then we can settle it fairly with rock-paper-scissors.”

“Hmph, ever heard of the ‘first proposer loses’ rule?”

“Unlike Chikage, I don’t believe in superstitions or horoscopes.”

Ignoring Tsu-chan, who was drooling in a daze, Chikage and Sakura heated up.

“Luck brings blessings to believers.”

“Luck’s got nothing to do with rock-paper-scissors.”

“First is rock! Jan-ken—”

“Kei-kun, focus on my shoulders, please.”

“Ugh, so frustrating… how do you throw paper five times in a row?”

After a rock-paper-scissors showdown, Sakura claimed victory.

“Alright, I’ll start.”

I moved behind Sakura and gently pressed her shoulders.

She says they’re stiff, but compared to Dad’s rock-hard shoulders, Sakura’s muscles feel soft.

“Ngh, Kei-kun… you’re good.”

“Oh, it’s tight here.”

“Ah, n-not there… that’s bad.”

“Huh? It’s really stiff, though.”

Sakura flinched ticklishly, her body trembling with a soft sigh.

“Kei, that’s too naughty.”

“It’s just a massage.”

“Kei-kun, trace a semicircle from there.”

“Like this?”

As I carefully kneaded around her shoulder blades, Sakura’s cheeks flushed cherry-pink, letting out a blissful “Faaaa.”

Her chest, pressed against the desk, looked like ripe fruit being squashed—a visual assault, for sure.

But this is part of the job, so I gotta polish my skills.

Clear your mind, and the rest will follow.

I banished distractions and focused solely on the massage.

“Paradise…”

Sakura, slumped forward with dreamy eyes, seemed ready to drift off.

I took a breath, only for Chikage to tug at my hem.

“Kei, my turn next.”

Her smile hid a prickly edge, hinting at slight irritation.

“I’d love to, but…”

“What’s the problem?”

I made sure to preface, like yesterday.

“Dad’s coming home early today, so I need to prep dinner.”

A subtle way of saying I’ve gotta go.

“Oh, right.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“But me being the only one without a massage feels unfair. How about tomorrow’s lunch break? Can you hang out with me?”

For some reason, Chikage proposed a trade-off.

“Lunch break? At school?”

“Yup.”

“Sure, but what’re we doing?”

“Hehe, that’s a surprise for tomorrow.”

With a mischievous glint in her narrowed eyes, Chikage smirked through her mask.

The next day’s lunch break.

I yawned in front of the old music room on the fourth floor of the annex, our designated meeting spot. The unlit space felt desolate, eerily dim despite it being midday.

Beyond the frosted glass, the room was shrouded in thick darkness, its interior impossible to discern.

A decade ago, this would’ve been a hangout for delinquents smoking.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Kei.”

As I zoned out by the door, Chikage appeared from the hallway.

“You actually came, as promised. Good boy.”

“Well, yeah…”

“Hehe, follow me. This way.”

“This way?”

Lately, it feels like she’s been calling the shots. Using “part of the job” as a shield, I can’t shake the sense I’m being… toyed with. But with a 5,000-yen hourly wage, I can’t exactly complain.

“This is… the old music room?”

“Yup. Come in.”

“Oh, okay.”

Rattle. The dusty room was crammed with neglected instruments.

“Huh, so this is what it’s like inside.”

“You took art, so you don’t come here much, right?”

Chikage closed the door behind her with a clunk, narrowing her sharp eyes.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Even as a spare classroom, it’s soundproofed. Closing the door cut off all hallway noise, like stepping into another world.

Click.

“Wait, what was that?”

The sound of Chikage locking the door.

“What’re you doing?”

“Should we skip the lights?”

“What’s that mean? Why’d you lock the door?”

“Relax, I’m not planning anything weird. Just here to finish yesterday’s massage. Come here.”

Before I could process, Chikage grabbed my hand and led me to the window.

After confirming the curtains were closed, she stared at me intently.

“Blocking out light and sound like this… doesn’t it feel a bit naughty?”

“N-No, it doesn’t.”

“It does for me. So, it’s okay to do it here, right?”

What?! Before I could grasp her meaning, slip.

Chikage shed her off-shoulder blazer, leaving just her tucked-in blouse and tie, her stunning figure on full display.

“W-Wait, what’re you doing?!”

“Getting ready for the massage, duh. Didn’t I just say? Or were you expecting something else?”

She set her blazer on a drum throne, peering at me teasingly.

“No way!”

“Hehe, don’t worry. I’m the type who likes to take things step by step.”

“So what are you planning?”

“Girls don’t spell that out. It’s a rule.”

There’s that “rule” again. No such rule exists, and I’m not signing up for it.

“Well, just a massage for today, I guess.”

Still not convinced, but it seems I’m just continuing yesterday’s task.

Chikage pulled a stool closer, sat facing me, and crossed her long legs.

“C’mon, start with my shoulders.”

“…Oh, right.”

“Stop. Not from behind—face me.”

“F-Face you?”

“Yup. I wanna feel good while you stare into my eyes.”

That’s absurd. Massaging her shoulders face-to-face? That’s way too embarrassing.

“Don’t be unreasonable!”

“Why not? After all this teasing since yesterday, you’re just gonna give me a regular massage? That’s cruel. There’s gotta be more, right?”

“What’s wrong with normal?”

“You know why. Making a girl say it out loud? You’re a bad boy, Kei.”

What’s with this flow? It’s like she’s hell-bent on turning me into a shady masseur.

“N-Next time. …Next time, I’ll do it properly, okay?”

I blurted out a vague “next time,” barely coherent, grasping at straws.

“Hmm, then maybe no massage. Just look into my eyes for ten seconds. You can handle that, right?”

“W-Well, yeah. But didn’t you want a massage?”

“To me, both are treatments. This one’s for the heart, though.”

I’m lost. Chikage’s thoughts are always a puzzle.

“I… really hate my face. But if you accept it, Kei, maybe I could start to like it a little.”

What does that mean?

“If you’ve got worries, I’ll listen. I’ll do anything I can.”

Staring straight into Chikage’s eyes, I declared firmly.

“Don’t throw around ‘anything’ so lightly. You don’t even understand a girl’s heart.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t get it, Chikage. I can tell if you’re joking or serious by your eyes. I’m hopeless against teasing, but I’m not so dense I’d misread a genuine confession.”

“Kei, you… sometimes say the most embarrassing things so casually, huh? It’s not… some grand story, though.”

With a self-deprecating murmur, Chikage began recounting her past, as if reminiscing.

Body dysmorphic disorder.

That’s the diagnosis I got from the doctor. I’m terrified of mirrors. I can’t look at my face directly. Even when applying makeup, I close my eyes and look down.

That’s why I always wear a mask. I can’t go outside without it.

A mask to hide my mouth. Taking it off feels as humiliating and scary as being naked.

It wasn’t always like this. It started in elementary school, when kids taunted me, calling me ugly, and I faced cruel bullying. That’s when I began hating my face.

The only ones who stood up for me were Tsukasa and Sakurako. We’ve been friends since kindergarten, and with them, I can take off my mask.

Later, I found out the boys who called me ugly had crushes on me. Doesn’t matter. My fear never went away.

In middle school, my world flipped.

People started calling me the prettiest girl in class. It horrified me.

Sure, the mirror showed a beautiful face. Clear skin, big eyes, a sharp nose. But beneath it, something hideous lurked. An ugly face.

Every time I looked in the mirror, my face felt grotesquely ugly.

But with a mask, I could hide it, so I felt safe.

A mask to accept compliments. A mask to affirm myself. Being praised for that superficial cover? It meant nothing.

I hated that version of myself, and the rude stares from others even more.

Romance? Out of the question.

The creatures who traumatized me were boys—alien beings to me.

That’s what I thought… until I fell for Kei.

Blurring my feelings and desires here and there, I opened up to Kei about my past.

What a heavy girl I am, I thought. But I had faith Kei would understand, so I could be honest.

After hearing Chikage’s story, I was speechless for a while.

…Heavy. So heavy, and painful… My imagination’s limited, but I understood Chikage’s sadness and suffering all too well.

Having been slandered myself, I get it.

But the malice aimed at me and at Chikage is different.

A boy calling his crush “ugly” as a twisted expression of affection—elementary school antics, teasing because they like her. Classic kid stuff.

Because they’re just kids. Because they’re still young. Perhaps parents raising children should understand a little more deeply that such excuses can sometimes become lethal weapons.

And that’s how victims like Chikage are born.

It makes me angry. At myself, for being powerless. But I want to be someone who acts for those who are struggling, suffering, hurting. That’s my resolve.

“Thanks for telling me.”

“No, thank you for listening.”

I wish I could say something clever, but… Saying “that’s tough” would only hurt Chikage more.

I know. When Mom died, I didn’t know what to say to Akari. Hollow words just deepen wounds.

“Tough.” “Sad.” “Painful.” Those muttered words become blades that cut.

So I’ll never offer empty comfort.

“You’re still fighting, right? With your heart.”

“Yeah.”

Chikage’s smile was fleeting, beautiful, and tinged with melancholy.

“Then let’s heal it, little by little.”

“…Huh?”

Pity’s easy, but it can’t just be pretty words.

Someone has to face her, or Chikage’s heart will stay scarred forever.

“I’m not saying fight alone. I’ll fight with you. Until you can show your face without fear… I swear I’ll become a man you can rely on. I promise.”

I gripped Chikage’s hand, vowing firmly.

Like the day I swore to Akari I’d be the coolest brother ever.

Well, Akari brushed it off with, “Stop spouting nonsense and make dinner,” but sometimes, light pierces the dark from moments like that.

“W-Wait, am I… being confessed to? No way, at this moment? I’m not ready!”

“N-No, that’s not it. I just mean I want you to rely on me more…”

“But you’re holding my hand, right?”

Huh? Oh. I let go in a panic.

“…Th-That was just ’cause words alone wouldn’t cut it… I got carried away.”

“Carried away, huh. So you’d hold hands with any girl in my shoes? You’re that kind of guy, huh.”

“Why does it turn into that?!”

“Hehe. If you’re pushing me forward, I wouldn’t mind taking off my mask. But… I’m so scared.”

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to push you. You don’t have to force it.”

“You rile me up this much and then back off? I don’t hate that about you, Kei, but it’s a bit unfair, don’t you think?”

“…But I can’t just say ‘take it off’ lightly.”

“It’s fine. I want to change, too. Otherwise, I wouldn’t even be able to kiss at my wedding, right?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“I wanna have my ceremony at Heian Shrine. I won’t say with who, but… romantic, right?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“So, as a rehearsal… don’t look away, okay?”

With crescent-moon eyes and a cheeky grin, Chikage slipped her fingers under the elastic and slowly lowered her mask.

Her hands trembled.

The contours of her pale skin gradually emerged, revealing lips of impeccable thickness, color, and texture. In that moment, I couldn’t help but gasp. …Beautiful.

“W-Well? Thoughts?”

“It’s… really beautiful.”

“You’re sneaky, Kei. Saying that, knowing how I feel, just to make me fall harder?”

“…Uh, what do you mean?”

“Ugh, I’m done. I’ve hit my limit… It’s embarrassing, and scary… so…”

Chikage stood from the stool, leaned her head against my chest, then stretched up—nip! Ouch.

“Sorry. Just… stay still a bit longer.”

Grabbing my shirt collar lightly, Chikage nibbled my neck like a vampire.

After one gentle bite, she pressed her lips against it, sucking softly.

“W-What… what’re you doing?”

“Marking you as mine—hmm… rehearsal’s over.”

“…Uh, um.”

“Phew, it’s hot… in here, right? Sorry, Kei, I’m heading back first.”

Adjusting her mask, ears beet-red, Chikage hurried off.

Only then did my thoughts catch up. …This is bad, huh.

I shook my head, picturing Akari to banish distractions.

Snap out of it, Kyosaka Kei. You’ve got things to do. As long as I believe in a goal worth sacrificing youth for, burning in my chest…

I’ll keep pretending not to notice Chikage’s feelings, even if it means lying to my heart.

Fifth and sixth periods done, only homeroom left—a half-step into after-school freedom. With Golden Week starting tomorrow, my classmates buzzed with excitement.

“So, rules are meant to be broken daily. Only fools break them just during holidays. If you wanna dye your hair like Ono or Daigo, first rank in the top 20 on the academic test. Got it?”

Our homeroom teacher, Uzumasa-sensei, who also teaches IT, gave a roundabout warning against holiday chaos, and I flinched inwardly.

Did she see through what happened with Chikage earlier? No way.

But “don’t get too carried away” was timely, with my next three days packed with work.

“Hey… Kei. Don’t show off that mark, okay?”

Stealing a glance past Uzumasa-sensei, Chikage whispered sneakily.

I didn’t quite get it but nodded anyway.

Luckily, our classmates didn’t notice our brief exchange. Whispering behind the teacher’s back is common, after all.

But Tsu-chan and Sakura didn’t miss those few seconds.

“Chikage and Okei-han. Did you two… do it?”

After school, while working at the usual condo, Tsu-chan’s curious stare made me and Chikage jump.

“D-Don’t be ridiculous, Tsukasa. Focus on your work.”

“Something totally happened, right?”

“Hiding things from your soulmate? That’s cold.”

“There’s… nothing to hide.”

“That reaction! …That’s the reaction of a liar, Karasuma Chikage!”

“Yup.”

Striking a famous pose, Tsu-chan declared, with Sakura harmonizing in agreement.

“I’m telling you, nothing happened!”

“Liar! That’s a dead-serious reaction, so liar!”

“It’s obvious something went down.”

“Ugh, fine. I’m checking scripts, so leave me alone.”

I stayed out of their circle, silently wiping the walls. Reacting feels like losing. It’ll come out eventually, though.

The mark, huh.

(…Chikage said not to show it off, but what kind of mark is it?)

The answer came clear as day after I got home.

The “mark” Chikage left was a hickey, revealed the moment I opened my shirt in the bathroom.

Panicking at the discolored spot on my neck, Akari smirked, “Nii, that’s a hickey. You’ve already gone that far with one of those three? Nice work~” Her teasing made me drop my tie to the floor.

…Just a little suck left this mark?

Staring at it in the mirror, my face burned.

And I finally understood what Chikage meant by “don’t show it off.”

April 27th. First day of Golden Week.

Naturally, I’m working through the holiday. Vacuuming, changing sheets, and other chores to avoid disturbing their work, it’s past noon.

I handle errands like grocery shopping and prepping lunch.

“Thanks for the meal~”

“Delicious.”

“It’s been ages since I had nikujaga. Thanks, Kei-kun.”

“My pleasure.”

“We’re starving for home-cooked meals.”

“Yeah. Kinda embarrassing to crave simmered dishes at our age.”

“Tsukasa and Chikage are such grannies.”

“Ten years from now, we’ll all be in our thirties. Time flies, right?”

“True.”

“I agree.”

…Are these girls really high schoolers? As they banter with wisdom beyond their years, I wash dishes at the sink.

April 28th.

“Tsu-chan’s art is incredible.”

“Hehe, you think so?”

I paused cleaning to admire Tsu-chan’s work on a Yacom tablet, feeling awe.

To an amateur, digital art’s process is a mystery, but her meticulous lines and coloring are strikingly clear.

“What’s this illustration for?”

“For the next Artist 100 Exhibition, pyon.”

“Wow, that’s cool. My art skills are so bad, my art teacher thinks I’m slacking…”

I let a weak complaint slip. It’s true—Baba-sensei, my art teacher, gave up on me, and now I’m invisible in class.

Akari even said, “Nii’s art is so unique. You’ll never be a sellout Picasso.” Her blunt family roast stings. Hard.

“I was trash at first, too. No need to stress.”

“Really?”

“Totally. Talented folks tend to slack off, but anyone can improve. If you’re serious about getting better, I’ll coach you.”

“Can you?”

“Duh!”

“Then, can I take you up on that?”

Chikage, watching our exchange with a sullen glare, finally spoke.

“Hey, Tsukasa. Isn’t it sneaky to use that excuse to get alone time with Kei?”

“Don’t be jelly. Teaching Okei-han hands-on is crucial for his motivation, y’know?”

“You’re just saying fancy stuff. All I see is a closet perv.”

“Take it back! Look at my pure, innocent eyes!”

“No way.”

Chikage and Tsu-chan started bickering loudly.

“Kei-kun, got a sec?”

Sakura, pausing her keyboard, beckoned me over.

“What’s up?”

“I need help at school after the break.”

“Sure. What do I do?”

“Organize library shelves. I’ll pay well.”

“Wait, I get paid?”

“Obviously. I expect labor for compensation. Give and take.”

I’m grateful, but… relying on them for everything feels wrong.

“Hmph, Sakurako’s pulling sneaky moves, too.”

“Chikage had uninterrupted alone time with him last lunch break.”

“Exactly.”

“You two only team up for stuff like this. Fine, whatever. Hey, Kei, wanna hang out somewhere now? It’d be a nice break.”

“Sorry, Chikage. I’m, y’know, working.”

“…Oh? So work’s more important than me?”

“Work, no question. That’s non-negotiable.”

I answered instantly. It’s selfish, but my priorities are family > (unbreakable wall) > Chikage.

I’m grateful for their help and want to return Chikage’s feelings as much as I can. But meeting all her demands? That’s another story.

“Sorry, Chikage.”

“…No, my bad. I was being mean. You work hard for Akari-chan, right? For my future sister-in-law, right?”

Huh? I didn’t catch the last part, but it felt like something I shouldn’t miss.

“Yeah, for Akari.”

“I’m rooting for you.”

“Thanks, Chikage.”

Tsu-chan and Sakura watched our exchange with exasperated looks.

Rokujou Keita straightened his posture and greeted his father at the door.

“F-Father, welcome home.”

“Don’t call me Father, you good-for-nothing! How much do you think I paid to settle with the Daigo family and victims, plus hush money for the media and tabloids? A fool like you is no son of mine!”

“I-I’m sorry.”

Keita apologized, his voice trembling under his father’s roar.

“Tch. It’s because Kazuyo spoiled you rotten that you grew up a brainless lowlife.”

“D-Don’t badmouth Mother. It’s all my fault…”

“You’re still clinging to your mother at your age? Pathetic. Your obsession with her love twisted your soul. That’s what caused this mess. Who told you to drug women and toy with them, huh?”

Grabbing Keita’s collar, his father slammed him against the wall, snarling.

The sheer intimidation left Keita trembling.

The way he unleashed his fury on his useless son was ferocious, as if laced with love and hate.

Blood ties allowed such unrestrained rage. Though… even without them, this man likely wouldn’t have held back.

Rokujou Bunta, president of a major entertainment agency, was always that kind of man.

“The only reason I haven’t disowned you is because you’re still a student who needs a guardian. Listen up! Until your probation ends, you stay quiet in this house. Otherwise, I’ll kick you out! Understand your mistakes, reflect, and change. If you don’t, blood or not, I’ll cut you off without mercy!”

Shoving Keita’s chest, Bunta kicked off his shoes and stormed inside.

Watching his back, Keita gritted his teeth.

“Damn old man… Nothing’s less trustworthy than a one-star parent gacha…”

Muttering, Keita flashed a sinister smirk.

“It’s all their fault… those smug girls and that brat Kyosaka who looked down on me. Heh… I’ll get my revenge. No matter what it takes.”

Keita laughed.

It was the wicked grin of a man resolved to tread an irreversible path.