Chapter 322: I’ve Decided
Chapter 322: I’ve Decided
The kitchen.
The small earthen pot on the stove kept making a “gurgle gurgle” sound.
The white cat, Hikari, rubbed lazily against Himekoji’s feet, letting out a “Meow~~”.
Himekoji crouched down and annoyingly peeled off the underwear wrapped around this smelly cat, one by one.
“Confiscated!”
Himekoji held the underwear in his hand, slightly frowning as he tried to identify its owner.
“Nanami’s, Nanami’s, Nanami’s… still Nanami’s!”
“Hey! I told you to steal from someone else next time! Nanami only has a few pairs total!”
Akiko and Mashiro had tons of underwear. They wouldn’t notice if a few pairs went missing.
But Nanami was different. Her monthly budget for underwear was tiny. Lose two pairs today, two more tomorrow, and she’d go broke soon…
Himekoji scolded Hikari sternly. Before he could finish, his phone suddenly rang.
It was Mashiro.
This was the seventh call since he left her room.
Himekoji answered—
“What now?”
“Nothing.”
“Then stop making nuisance calls!”
Is she just wasting phone money?
Thinking about Nanami being so poor she could barely afford her phone bill… Comparing people could be so cruel.
“I wanted to hear Akito’s voice.”
“O-oh, I see…”
It wasn’t until he’d almost finished speaking that Himekoji suddenly caught on.
“Hey! Don’t say things like that!”
“Why?”
“It could totally melt my heart!”
Himekoji quickly hung up.
Probably because the porridge was done, or something like that.
He turned off the stove, placed the earthen pot on a tray, set a small bowl of medicine beside it, and carried it all out of the kitchen.
Reaching Mashiro’s room door, he knocked out of habit.
“Hey, Shiina?”
Just as expected, there was no response.
Himekoji didn’t wait. He pushed the door open right away.
But, strangely, Mashiro wasn’t in bed.
Himekoji instinctively glanced around and saw the room’s owner sitting straight at her desk, completely focused, drawing on her tablet.
“Why are you up?”
If you have a fever, shouldn’t you just rest in bed?
Hearing his voice, Mashiro turned around. Her fair skin was flushed with hints of red.
“Who is it?”
“Did the fever make you forget who I am?!”
“Well, from that complaint… it must be Akito.”
“Could you, like, recognize me by my face instead?”
“That’s hard.”
“What’s so hard about it?!”
Are you seriously so bad with faces? Can’t tell how handsome I am?
“Because complaining is Akito’s core trait.”
Himekoji was left speechless for a moment by Mashiro’s answer.
He put the tray with porridge on the nearby nightstand first, then walked up to her, responding to her ridiculous comment.
“Thank you for telling me something like that for the first time.”
But now, Mashiro seemed to have lost interest in him. She went back to drawing, head down.
Himekoji didn’t mind. He reached out and placed his hand on Mashiro’s forehead to check her temperature.
He frowned almost immediately.
“So hot. Not getting better at all.”
“Akito shouldn’t say the obvious.”
Mashiro spoke casually, not stopping her drawing.
“Huh? You know I’m stating the obvious?! Then why not just get back to bed and rest?”
“No. I’m in good drawing condition now.”
Mashiro refused.
Her hand never paused, smoothly drawing line after line, page after page.
Himekoji glanced at it and immediately saw the lie.
Her usually vivid characters were nowhere to be seen. The art style had completely melted down.
“What do you mean ‘good condition’?! Take a proper rest today! Obey!”
It turned out Himekoji could manage a stern tone when he tried.
Mashiro seemed cowed by it.
“Okay.”
Mashiro said, then started slipping down, trying to hide under the desk.
It was her instinct. Normally, when she finished drawing, she’d just curl up under there to sleep.
“Today, you’re sleeping in the bed.”
Himekoji reached out and caught the girl.
“Mmm…”
Mashiro tilted her head back and gave him a sidelong look, puffing out her cheeks like she was sulking.
“Why look so unhappy?”
“Because I don’t want to move.”
“Too lazy to do even that now?!”
“Akito will carry me.”
“You’re a child?”
Himekoji was at his wit’s end.
“I’m grown up. Akito knows that.”
“No, I don’t! All I see is you acting spoiled like a little kid!”
“But Akito has seen… my grown-up side.”
“Whoa, whoa, what’s with that suggestive wording?!”
“Want me to prove it again? I’m grown up. Very grown up.”
Mashiro’s cheeks flushed crimson from the fever.
No, not just her cheeks—the whole room seemed tinted pink.
What’s going on? Did I catch her fever?
Infected already?
“Ahem!”
Himekoji coughed lightly, hurriedly looking away.
“Akito, tell me. Am I a child?”
Mashiro’s voice sounded airy, yet strangely insistent.
“Fine, fine! Let me carry you on my back, okay?”
Too flustered to argue, Himekoji sighed and crouched down.
“No.”
Stubborn Mashiro instantly rejected the offer.
“Hey! Wasn’t this your idea, Shiina?”
“I want Akito to carry me.”
“Huh?”
“Carry me.”
“W-what?”
Himekoji’s throat suddenly felt dry.
Oh no, this is definitely a sign I’m sick.
“Carry me to bed.”
Blushing bright red, Mashiro repeated it, her pale little hands reaching from under the table, held out like she was asking to be picked up.
So cute… want to just—
No! Bad thoughts! Scram!
He shook his head hard.
Should I do it?
Just to be sure, he asked again.
“R-really?”
“Mhm…”
Her muffled reply sounded like a sleepy kitten’s purr.
“Phew—”
Himekoji took a deep breath, wrestling with himself.
Well, she can’t sleep properly under the table. So… yeah.
Ugh, forget dignity!
He shoved his embarrassment aside and slid his arms around her.
A princess carry.
Mashiro looped her arms around his neck, nestling against him like a fragile bird.
Her fevered skin pressed warm against his. Through her Pajamas came the softness and sweet scent only a girl has, making his mind race and his steps turn stiff.
Luckily, the bed sat just steps away.
He laid her down safely.
Tugging the blanket snug, he tucked back the little foot rebelliously trying to escape its warmth.
“Porridge is ready. Want it now?”
Desperate to distract himself, he rushed the question.
“Not hungry yet.”
The moment she spoke, her stomach groaned loudly: “Grrroooowwl!”
“Seems your stomach disagrees. Loudly.”
“Wait. I’ll talk to it.”
“No pointless bargaining! Eat it now before it cools.”
“Don’t wanna.”
Seriously? She asked for porridge earlier!
Himekoji massaged his temples, slipping back into child-wrangler mode.
“Wasn’t hungry then. Am now.”
“Fever kills appetite, I get it. Skipping food means no nutrients though.”
He made his best “Be Reasonable” face.
“Then Akito eat it.”
“Me?! It won’t magically nourish you, Shiina!”
“Really?”
She blinked at him, feigning shock.
“Duh! How would me digesting food benefit YOUR body? What are our bodies anyway?”
“Best friends?”
As she spoke, Mashiro rolled onto her side. The neckline of her Pajamas slipped. A hint of smooth, pink skin peeked between shoulder and collarbone. Smiling up at him with lazy, hooded eyes, her gaze drifted like fog over water—lazy, hazy, holding a heat that didn’t fit her sweet face.
“Hey… Shiina, you’re acting weird today.”
“Weird how?”
“Le…Lewd!”
It burst out before he could stop it.
Oh right. Me, the “Pervert,” judging others. Top-tier hypocrisy.
“Is that how Akito sees me?”
“W-well. Is it?”
“I’m okay with that~”
“Eh?”
Her eyes locked on his, suddenly intense.
“So… what do you want to do with me like this?”
“Wha—What do I wanna do?!”
“Wanna do… what?”
Her slow, teasing voice scraped against his fading self-control.
The small room thickened. Air tingled. Unspoken possibilities hung heavy between them.
Himekoji swallowed hard.
“Wh-what doing?”
“I want Akito to do it.”
Her shot landed swift. Direct. Bullseye.
THUD. His heart slammed wildly against his ribs.
Game over. Mouth like a desert now.
“Y-you… know what you’re saying?!”
“Akito’s allowed…”
“NO!”
A shred of sanity saved him. A flat-out refusal.
Then, stammering kicked in:
“W-wait! Not refusing-not refusing! I mean… I… I still need to sort things out. And… and even ignoring all those tangled thoughts… things like this… they… should be… step by step…”
Aaaargh! WHAT AM I EVEN SAYING?!
Hitting his own forehead in frustration, he mentally screamed.
“My decision is this.”
That’s when Mashiro’s words cut sharply through the haze.