No matter whose blood it is, it doesnât taste good.
The impression I got from licking the blood on my finger, which was stuck out of my mouth, was not something I would have expected.
Miyagiâs blood also tastes like iron rust, just like when I licked my own blood. I donât know if thatâs right because Iâve never actually licked rusty steel before, but it didnât change the fact that it tasted bad. Cider, which I donât like, tastes much better.
ăGive it a good lick.ă
With a word, a finger is pressed against me, and the liquid overflowing from her body wet my lips. I reflexively close my mouth. But Miyagiâs fingers enter my mouth as if to pry open my closed teeth.
When her finger touches my tongue, I taste blood more clearly than before.
Is it A or B?
Or is it another blood type?
I donât know Miyagiâs blood, but whatever it is, itâs not something I like to lick. But my feelings didnât seem to matter, and the finger was never pulled out, and the taste of blood became thicker as I pressed my tongue against the wound.
The taste of blood, more vivid than my own blood that I have licked in the past, is still not tasty.
I think this kind of thing is only done with Miyagi.
Even if I have a lover in the future and she cute off my finger, I will not let him lick my blood.
Itâs just not that tasty or hygienic.
Miyagi will be the first and last time I do something like this.
I swallow the blood spreading in my mouth.
The sensation of someone elseâs bodily fluids falling down on my throat and into my stomach is not pleasant. Instead of protest, I press my tongue against the wound, and a labored breath escapes from Miyagi.
Then another liquid resembling iron rust stains my tongue and I swallow the blood.
The blood that flows from the wound does not stop.
Itâs no wonder, since the bleeding doesnât.
Every time the blood spreads, my mouth and body seemed to be invaded by Miyagi, giving me goosebumps.
These things are not good.
Itâs an unsound order.
Maybe itâs not healthy to have people giving orders and people listening to them, but I know that what we are doing right now is not very good.
Even as I think it is, I strongly set my teeth on the wound.
My mouth is stained with taste of blood.
I donât want to swallow it, but Miyagiâs blood goes down my throat.
ăOpen your mouth.ă
Miyagi said in a emotionless voice.
When I didnât obey the words I thought I heard, her finger was forcibly pulled out and asked me a question.
ăDoes human blood taste good?ă
The taste of blood remained in my mouth.
It tasted worse than cider, and I felt like my mouth was covered in that oppressive liquid.
ăMaybe it would taste good if I were a vampire, but Iâm a human, so it doesnât.ă
ăItâs iron supplementation, you know?ă
Miyagi says irresponsibly and laughs.
I have no taste for iron supplementation with human blood. If itâs going to be part of my body, Iâd rather eat a liver even if I donât like it.
ââThatâs right.
The blood of Miyagi that enters me becomes a part of my body.
Thinking of this made me feel heavy in the stomach area.
ăIâll borrow a cup.ă
As if leaving the words behind, I open the cupboard faster than Miyagi can reply. I take out the glass that always contains cider and fills it halfway with water.
Gulp.
I drink water to push away the blood remaining in my mouth.
Emptying the glass, I look at Miyagi and see that the blood is still flowing out.
ăYour hand, let it out.ă
Iâm not going to ask for answers.
I grab Miyagiâs wrist without question. Then I wash off her blood-stained fingers. This time, Miyagi did not resist. She was quietly exposing her fingers to the running water.
ăIâll get you a bandage, just leave it.ă
Even if I ask Miyagi, she wonât tell me where the bandage is anyway. If that were the case, it would be quicker to bring my own.
I go back to Miyagiâs room and pull out a nice bandage from my bag that is supposed to heal wounds faster. When I returned to the kitchen, Miyagi was looking at her wound.
ăYes.ă
I offer her the bandage I brought with me.
ăWonât you put it on?ă
ăYou mean you want me to put it up?ă
There was no reply. Instead, she stuck out her finger.
If I spoil them, they wonât grow up to be good people.
Yes, they will become a useless person like Miyagi.
Even in highschool, they become spoiled people who doesnât even know how bandage on themselves.
But this is probably part of the order.
Thatâs the way it is, so Iâm going to put a bandage on the wound.
ăThe rice, itâs cooked, right?ă
I ask Miyagi as throw away the trash from the functional but not pretty bandage.
ăItâs cooked.ă
ăGo sit over there.ă
ăThe cabbage?ă
ăIâll cut it myself.ă
Iâm not in a hurry, but I donât want to fret over every shred of cabbage, and I donât want to get her fingers cut again.
I kick Miyagi out of the kitchen and chop the cabbage while frying the karaage.
I take the liberty of bringing out a plate and serving it.
On the counter table, I arrange the plates with the rice. As we sit down side by side and say, âItadakimasu,â to each other, Miyagi grumpily bites into a piece of karaage next to me.
First munch, second munch.
Her expression doesnât change.
ăIs it not delicious?ă
I ask, and the answer comes quickly.
ăItâs delicious.ă
It is nice to be told that what I make tastes good.
But Iâve never seen a person eat something that tastes so good that it doesnât taste good.
ăSendai-san.ă
ăNhn?ă
ăWhatâs the reason for you to do this?ă
ăLike I said, itâs for dinner.ă
ăYou donât have to do this again.ă
With a mouth full of deliciousness, Miyagi said coldly.
ăYou donât like karaage?ă
ăWhether I like it or hate it, you donât have to make it.ă
Miyagi at school does not appear to be the type to express negative emotions. Sometimes I see her in the corner of my eye, talking or laughing happily with her friends. It is very different from when she is talking to me. Perhaps it is the environment of her own home, her own territory, but Miyagi seems extremely unstable when she is with me.
That doesnât mean Iâm letting get it to me that much.
Itâs just exhausting trying to find out what someone who doesnât know what theyâre thinking is thinking. Besides, the only person I have to put in a good mood is Umina.
ăMiyagi, donât you cook?ă
I decide to change the murky air by changing the subject.
ăIâm not bothered if I canât cook.ă
ăI can teach you how to cook.ă
ăYou donât have to, itâs fine.ă
ăI see.ă
Thatâs right.
I thought you would say that.
I donât want to force her to teach her how to cook, so I end the conversation there and take a bite of the karaage.
It tastes good, even to me.
Miyagi doesnât say a word, but puts the dinner lined up on the table into her stomach.
The meal is over in a short time compared to the time it takes to cook, and I am ordered to read my novel as if I were being harassed.
In Miyagiâs room, I continue to read aloud a long series of sentences.
How many enough was there.
Naturally, I canât read it all the way through. I spend three hours at Miyagiâs house, including dinner, and leaving the apartment.
A few days later, she called me to her home, but she never asked me to cook for her, nor I did cook for her. However, we did have together. We also had dinner together after White Day, but I did not return the favor.
I go home where there is no answer to my âIâm home,â and put a 5,000 yen bill in my piggy bank.
What am I expecting from Miyagi?
When I lifted the piggy on my chest, it was neither heavy nor light.