Even though it was evening, the light coming in through the window was bright.
Even without turning around, one can see that the sun is illuminating the city with a heat that is close to noon.
ăDonât you have to close the curtains?ă
It is trivial to say that the curtains are open or closed, and it is hard to believe that anyone is staring at a room in an apartment. But today, such trivial things are bothering me.
ăJust shut up.ă
Miyagi says tediously and gets down on one knee on the bed. Then, closing the curtains and brightening one light in the room, she stood in front of me, using the bed as a chair.
Miyagiâs hand touches my hair as I inevitably look up at her. After combing through my hair, which was neither braided nor tied up, Miyagi, who looked unsure of herself, pursed her lips.
I donât think I understand this kind of thing.
Last time she came close to my face as a matter of course, but today she seems hesitant to approach me. Itâs funny that even though she forcefully gave me 5,000 yen and got her ready to kiss me, she still acts simpering like itâs the first time sheâs kissed me.
ăClose your eyes now.ă
Iâm wildly told that Iâm looking at Miyagi, who is as bold as a stray cat wandering around in front of her house. Still not closing my eyes, Miyagi covered my eyes with her palm. The bright room darkens all at once, and a soft touch falls on my lips.
No different than yesterday.
Slightly dry lips gently touch and quickly leave along with a hand covering my eyes.
Our lips touched each other for a really short time, and the only thing I can remember is a fluffy feeling like cream puffs.
I kissed Miyagi a few times, but she only kissed me to the touch. To begin with, she doesnât like it when I try to do more than that. And yet, she looks at me like Iâm not enough. Itâs the same now.
ăMiyagi.ă
When I call her name and reach out your hand, she commands me to do so before I touch her.
ăJust sit there.ă
Saying so, Miyagi sits down next to me. But she doesnât run away without such an order.
ăIâm fine sitting down, but what are you doing?ă
The question I asked was never answered, but instead I was touched on the thigh as if in return.
I shouldnât have worn shorts.
The fingertips gently moving, I regret that I should have chosen different clothes.
The hand gliding over my skin was not something that made me feel any deeper meaning. It is similar to the clerical touch that a doctor might give to a patient. Yet, when touched, the consciousness turns toward the hand.
Itâs somewhere between disgusting and ticklish.
Thatâs how my brain perceives the sensations Miyagiâs hands give me.
Her hands go down my thighs to my knees.
I caught Miyagiâs hand as she continued to touch me without restraint.
ăI told you not to move, didnât I?ă
I hear a voice that is emotionless and my hand is brushed off.
ăI canât, it tickles too much.ă
When I told her why I did not follow orders, Miyagi raised her eyebrows.
She looked at me in discontent, then patted my knee.
I knew it, feeling both uncomfortable and ticklish, I grabbed Miyagiâs wrist. But perhaps not liking that, Miyagi untied my hand and closed the distance at once. Thanks to this, I could not close my eyes and feel her lips on mine.
A hand grabs my hip bone.
I cringe and close my eyes, the feeling of pressed lips becomes more vivid. The connection is so hot that it almost melts me and makes me want to let go of reason.
Whether these orders are good or bad, I have no complaints about kissing. However, I think being kissed is one of my least favorite parts.
Kissing makes me want to touch Miyagi more when I am kissing her than when sheâs kissing me, and I feel like I am doing something wrong. It doesnât change how good I feel, but I feel somewhat unsettled.
I squeeze Miyagiâs arm, and our lips part. I followed it and pulled my face close to it, and Miyagi covered my mouth with the palm of her hand.
ăDonât try to take advantage of me.ă
I ask, slipping and peeling her hand.
ăCan I ask you one question?ă
ăDonât.ă
ăWhy do you want to kiss me?ă
Ignoring Miyagiâs immediate response, I asked.
ăI said I donât want to.ă
A low voice comes back, apparently not intending to answer. But after a short pause, a small voice added, as if to say, âIt goes without saying.â
ăIf you donât want to kissed, just run away.ă
ăI canât escape because Miyagi gives the orders.ă
ăYou mean you donât want to do that?ă
ăYou think so?ă
ăIt was Sendai-san who said you shouldnât answer a question with a question, right?ă
ăThen, answer. Donât tell me what to do, just kiss me.ă
ăYou want me to try it myself to see the answer?ă
ăSomething like that.ă
I know.
At times like this, Miyagi definitely runs away.
Thatâs why she never kisses me.
ăMake me something for dinner.ă
Sure enough, Miyagi blurted out to deflect the conversation.
I think she knows the answer, but she have no spirit.
ăCan we kiss?ă
ăIâm hungry.ă
ăI think itâs still a little early for dinner.ă
I tried to catch Miyagi, who kept deflecting the conversation, but she stood up as if to run away from me.
ăWhy donât you just go faster?ă
Assuredly, Miyagi leaves the room. Then I would have no choice but to head to the kitchen and work on checking the contents of the refrigerator.
ăYou only have eggs, though.ă
I open the refrigerator and call out to Miyagi, who is sitting at the counter table.
ăItâs okay, itâs not empty, right?ă
ăI mean, what does Miyagi eat every day?ă
ăLike the one I serve to Sendai-san at night.ă
ăâŠI know.ă
The fridge, which I have opened several times in the past, had very little food in it, and I donât believe that was a fluke. When I go home for dinner at this house, she serves me something that doesnât require much effort, like retort-packed food or frozen food. Besides, Miyagi is not a good cook. She has no desire to get better.
Although I could see glimpses of an unhealthy diet, so far I had not seen a Miyagi that looked sick. I donât know if she will remain healthy in the future, but that is not a matter for me to interject. Occasionally, Iâd be willing to at least cook, but Miyagi didnât often want to do that, as she did today.
I choose an omelette from my not-so-large repertoire, taking into account the contents of her refrigerator and the fact that I have made omelettes in the past.
Heat a frying pan and oil it.
I wish I had the ingredients, but I canât help what I donât have. Maturely, I fry only rice with ketchup from the refrigerator.
For the eggs, make an omelette with the dying butter I used when I made French toast and put it on top of the ketchup rice. However, the omelette seemed to be overcooked, and the eggs did not start to melt even when I cut a slit in it with a knife as it should have.
Itâs all the same once itâs in her stomach, so itâs okay.
After saying to Miyagi, who is looking at the kitchen over the counter table,ăItâs ready,ăI carry the plate and spoon.
I sit down next to her, even though it seems a little early for dinner. The sound of the spoon hitting the plate with a clink echoes through the room as the wordsăItadakimasuăare said over and over again. I took a bite or two of the omelette, and after eating about a third of it, I looked next to me.
ăMiyagiâs house is always empty, but when do your parents come home?ă
Not to overstep the mark, I ask one of the things I was wondering about.
ăHe hasnât come home yet.ă
A small voice responds with a subtle, off-beat answer.
The fact that she didnât tell me before means she didnât want to be asked, so I simply said,ăI see,ăand we cut the conversation short.
If she doesnât want to answer, Iâm not going to pursue it further.
I just had a brief desire to know when it was time to end those nights when she was afraid to be alone and think there might be something there.
Scooping a spoonful of badly made omelette rice.
I donât expect it to satisfy my little interest.
I watched Miyagi eat her omelette in silence before bringing the spoon to her mouth.