'What was I thinking?' Naomi mentally chastised herself, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and urgency. Monday afternoons alternated between subjects every other week, and last week's world history class meant this week was definitely health class. How had she forgotten something so basic? The realization hit her like a splash of cold water, snapping her out of the lingering haze from her earlier encounter with Shuichi Chiba.
Scrambling to her feet, Naomi began rifling through her desk drawers, her fingers fumbling as she gathered her teaching materials and the props needed for the lesson. The clatter of pens and papers filled the infirmary, a stark contrast to the charged silence that had enveloped the room moments ago. Meanwhile, Shuichi lounged casually on the stool, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement as he fixed his gaze on Sumire, who stood awkwardly in the doorway.
Sumire shifted uncomfortably under his stare, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. She clutched the edge of the door, her knuckles whitening as she tried to regain her composure. "W-Well… I'll head back to my office then," She stammered, her voice betraying her flustered state. "You two better hurry, or someone's going to come looking for you." With that, she turned and fled down the corridor, her footsteps echoing in her hasty retreat, as if escaping a battlefield.
Naomi, now with a stack of papers and a small box of teaching aids in her arms, glanced at Shuichi and couldn't help but chuckle softly. "So, about this cosplay thing with you and Nagase-sensei… she's not exactly thrilled about it, is she?" Her tone was teasing, her lips curving into a knowing smile as she handed him half the materials to carry.
Shuichi accepted the load with a grin, falling into step beside her as they left the infirmary, the door clicking shut behind them. "Nagase-sensei's just shy," He said, his voice light but laced with mischief. "She acts all reluctant, but once she gets into it, she's totally into the cosplay. You should see her—she's having a blast, even if she won't admit it." His eyes sparkled as he spoke, clearly enjoying the memory of Sumire's begrudging enthusiasm.
Naomi's high heels clicked rhythmically against the polished hallway floor, the sound crisp and purposeful. She let out a soft hum, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, her expression playfully skeptical. "Men," She said with a mock sigh, tossing her head so that her short hair bounced slightly. "You're all so untrustworthy."
Shuichi's gaze drifted downward, lingering on the way her white coat swished, revealing glimpses of her slender legs encased in sheer black stockings. He clutched the teaching aids a bit tighter, his grin widening. "Ouch, Sensei, that hurts," He said, feigning offense. "I went out of my way to cheer you up, even sacrificing my dignity, and this is the thanks I get?" His tone was exaggeratedly wounded, but the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his amusement.
Naomi couldn't hold back a laugh, her earlier melancholy dissipating like morning fog. "Alright, alright," She conceded, her voice warm with gratitude. "I'll admit, my mood's much better now. You worked hard today, Chiba-kun."
"Anytime you need me to work hard again, just say the word," Shuichi replied, his smile turning sly as they approached the classroom.
Naomi glanced around the empty hallway, ensuring no one was nearby. Then, with a sudden, impulsive movement, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Her lips lingered for a moment, cool and gentle, before she pulled back, her voice dropping to a hushed, earnest whisper. "Let's not make this mistake again, okay? Even in university, a teacher and student… it wouldn't end well. Don't get in too deep, Chiba-kun. But thank you for comforting me today."
Shuichi didn't cling or push back, his expression softening into a carefree smile that held a hint of wistfulness. "I'll treasure this memory, Sensei. It's probably one of the most important moments of my life." His words were sincere, his gaze steady, carrying a weight that belied his usual playful demeanor.
Naomi's heart fluttered, and before she could stop herself, she kissed his forehead again, her lips brushing against his skin with a tenderness that surprised even her. "Me too," She murmured, her voice barely audible. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, she straightened, her professional mask sliding back into place. They entered the classroom side by side, their interaction seamlessly shifting to that of a normal teacher and student, as if the intimate moment had never happened.
But as Shuichi settled into his seat at the back of the room, his eyes lingered on Naomi at the podium. Her poise was flawless, her movements confident as she began the lesson, a stark contrast to Sumire's nervous energy. Yet, beneath her composed exterior, Shuichi sensed a ripple of unrest, a quiet storm brewing in her heart. 'This isn't over, is it?' He mused, his lips curving into a faint, speculative smile as he propped his chin on his hand.
"Chiba-kun, care to answer this question?" Naomi's voice cut through his thoughts, her tone laced with a playful challenge. She stood at the front, one hand on her hip, her eyes glinting with a mischievous spark as she watched him.
Shuichi blinked, caught off guard, and sat up straighter. A sheepish grin spread across his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry, Sensei, I zoned out," He admitted, his voice carrying a hint of mock contrition.
Naomi raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching as she fought back a smile. "You need to pay attention in class, got it?" She said, gesturing for him to sit back down. The words echoed their earlier exchange in the infirmary, and Shuichi's grin widened at the subtle callback, a shared secret hidden in her stern tone.
…
After school, Shuichi made his way back to the shopping district alone, his mind replaying the day's events in the infirmary. The memory of Naomi's warmth, her radiant smile, and her gentle kisses on his forehead lingered like a soft melody. 'She's the ultimate fantasy big sister next door,' He thought, a fond smile tugging at his lips. Open, kind, and effortlessly warm—she was everything he'd imagined such a figure would be. Those fleeting forehead kisses and her whispered words had stirred something deeper in him than even their kiss, leaving an imprint he couldn't shake.
And then there was the irony of it all. He'd poured so much effort into teasing Sumire, only for it to unexpectedly pave the way for his connection with Naomi. 'Life's unpredictable like that,' He mused, kicking a stray pebble along the sidewalk as the late afternoon sun cast long shadows around him.
Back at the management office on the second floor, Shuichi tossed his schoolbag onto the couch, shrugging off his uniform blazer with a sigh of relief. He grabbed a glass of water, the cool liquid soothing his throat as he sank onto the floor, flicking on the TV. After some aimless channel-surfing, he finally landed on a news segment about the ramen shop.
The familiar female reporter he'd met once stood in front of the camera, her voice clear and enthusiastic. "So delicious it's got customers suspicious of illegal additives, prompting reports to the media—what kind of magic does this ramen shop's food hold? I'm here to uncover the truth…"
The report had been edited into a slick mini-documentary, complete with dramatic music and glowing praise. The reporter spared no hyperbole, tossing around words like "culinary masterpiece" and "flavor explosion." Shuichi raised an eyebrow when Mrs. Akiyama appeared on screen, portrayed as a stoic "Ice Queen" of the kitchen. He blinked, utterly baffled. 'Is this really the same warm, motherly president's mom I know?' He shook his head, chuckling. 'News reports are such nonsense.'
After watching for a bit, Shuichi sprawled out on the floor, his body sinking into a state of blissful laziness. His gaze drifted to the hydrangea arrangement on his desk, its delicate petals catching the soft light filtering through the window. Staring at it, his mind began to wander, thoughts dissolving into a hazy void until he drifted off to sleep.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been out when he stirred, blinking groggily. An Akiyama was crouched beside him, her big, curious eyes fixed on his face, her long lashes fluttering like butterfly wings. Backlit by the fading daylight, the fine, downy fuzz on her cheeks seemed to glow, a lingering trace of her youthful innocence.
"What's the class rep sneaking around for while I'm napping?" Shuichi asked, his voice low and teasing as he propped himself up on one elbow.
An shook her head vigorously, her ponytail whipping back and forth like a puppy's tail. "Nothing!" She insisted, her tone so transparently dishonest it was almost comical. Her lips were pressed into a tight line, and her gaze held his with exaggerated determination, as if daring him to call her out.
Shuichi's lips quirked into an amused smile. "Come here," He said, opening his arms. "Let me hold you for a bit."
"Okay," An chirped, obediently flopping onto the floor beside him and snuggling into his embrace. She let out a quiet sigh of relief, her body relaxing against his. 'Phew, he didn't notice,' She thought triumphantly. 'Lucky me—Chiba-kun was asleep, so I got to measure him in secret. Now I just need to learn to knit that sweater. Go, me!'
Shuichi wrapped his arms around her, breathing in the faint, sweet scent of milk that clung to her. He pressed a gentle kiss to her hair, his fingers playfully kneading her soft belly. But within seconds, her stomach let out a loud, indignant growl, protesting its hunger.
Shuichi burst into laughter, his chest shaking. "Starving, huh? Let's get you some food first."
"Yay!" An's eyes lit up, and she scrambled to her feet, practically bouncing toward the kitchen with uncontainable excitement.
Shuichi followed, sharing a lively dinner with the energetic girl, her chatter filling the room with warmth. After eating, he lingered to digest, then changed into his workout clothes and headed to the gym.
…
Sayuki Ogawa wasn't at the front desk when Shuichi arrived. Following the faint sounds of movement, he climbed to the second floor and found her in the yoga room, tidying up equipment. Her figure moved with practiced grace, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail that swayed with each motion.
Without a word, Shuichi crept up behind her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. Sayuki didn't flinch, clearly expecting his antics, but her tone was dry with mock irritation. "I'm busy here. Go wait over there and don't make a mess."
"No way," Shuichi murmured, his voice low and teasing as he nuzzled closer. "I want to hold Sayuki-san. It's too comfy to let go." His hands wandered playfully, brushing across her stomach, earning a half-hearted huff from her.
"You're comfy, but I'm not," Sayuki retorted, though her hands stayed still, making no move to push him away. "Let go already."
Shuichi grinned against her shoulder. "Sayuki-san must've forgotten—I'm not a good boy, so I don't have to listen." His tone was cheeky, daring her to respond.
Sayuki paused, her movements halting. She let out a soft snort. "Oh, you said it."
In a blur of motion, the world spun, and before Shuichi could process what was happening, he was flat on his back on the floor, dazed. Sayuki loomed over him, one foot planted firmly on his chest, her expression a mix of amusement and triumph. "Want more? Finish today's workout first, then we'll talk."
Shuichi propped himself up on his elbows, unfazed by her dominance. "Sayuki-san's such a bad woman," He teased, turning the tables. "You devoured me yesterday, and now you're all cold. Got what you wanted and got bored already?"
Sayuki rolled her eyes, her lips twitching. "Got a problem? I'm a bad woman, so what?" She shot back, her tone dripping with playful defiance.
"No problem at all," Shuichi said, his grin widening as he eyed her foot pinning him down. "Just saying, it's hard to work out like this."
Sayuki's gaze flicked over him, a glint of mischief in her eyes. She crouched down, her fingers grazing him lightly, teasingly. "Bad boys don't listen, huh? Guess you're begging for a punishment." Her voice was low, taunting, as she gave a gentle flick.
Shuichi tensed, his breath hitching. "Sayuki-san, easy there," He warned, half-laughing. "That's not something to mess with."
"Then get up and start working out," She said, hauling him to his feet with surprising strength and leading him to the wall. "Handstand push-ups. You should be able to do them against the wall by now."
Shuichi sighed dramatically but complied. "How many? Twenty again?"
"Up to you," Sayuki replied, her smile enigmatic and faintly sinister.
'Up to me?' Shuichi's eyes lit up, his competitive streak igniting. The last time she'd left the number open-ended, it was for pull-ups—a grueling session that had drained him so thoroughly he could barely lift his arms to hug Fumika afterward. She'd ended up supporting him instead, a memory that still made him smirk. 'This woman's a demon.'
As Sayuki stepped back, she pulled out a familiar small bottle, and Shuichi's stomach sank. 'Yeah, I'm not walking out of here today.' He swallowed hard, his gaze lingering on the sheen of her toned midriff, her defined abs catching the light. 'Focus, man.'
"Palms flat, about twenty centimeters from the wall, hands shoulder-width apart," Sayuki instructed, her voice calm and professional as she uncapped the bottle. "Bend your knees, push off, and get into a handstand against the wall."
Shuichi followed her guidance, his muscles straining as he kicked up into position. Swallowing while upside down was harder than he'd expected, and a stray thought hit him. 'Wait… upside down, swallowing… didn't the president do something similar yesterday?' His mind reeled. 'No way Sayuki-san saw that, right? She was stuck here at the time… So, what, some kind of weird coincidence?'
Sayuki's voice cut through his confusion. "Alright, form's good. Start the push-ups. Bend your elbows until your head lightly touches the floor, hold for a second, then push back up. Got it?"
Sayuki's voice was steady, her eyes locked on Shuichi as he held the handstand, his arms trembling slightly from the effort. "Keep your core tight," She instructed, stepping closer, her tone professional but laced with that familiar teasing edge. "Don't collapse on me now."
Shuichi grunted, focusing on his form, his palms pressing into the floor as he lowered himself, head grazing the ground before pushing back up. Sweat beaded on his forehead, the strain of the handstand push-ups igniting his muscles. Sayuki's presence, though, was a distraction—her scent, her voice, the way her fingers had grazed him earlier. 'Focus, man,' he told himself, but his mind kept drifting.
"Ten," Sayuki counted, her voice low, almost a purr. She crouched beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her. "You're slowing down. Need a little… motivation?"
Before Shuichi could respond, her hand slid forward, fingers brushing against the waistband of his workout shorts. His breath caught, his rhythm faltering as her touch lingered, teasingly light. "Sayuki-san," He managed, voice strained, "You're gonna make me fall."
"Then don't," She replied, her lips curling into a wicked smile. Her fingers dipped lower, tracing a slow, deliberate path over the fabric, feeling the growing tension beneath. "Bad boys like you don't get to complain, right?"
Shuichi's arms shook, not just from the push-ups now. Her touch was firm yet teasing, her hand moving with a confidence that sent heat coursing through him. "This… isn't fair," He gasped, trying to maintain his handstand as her fingers curled, stroking with a rhythm that matched his push-ups—slow, torturous, deliberate.
"Fair?" Sayuki's laugh was soft, almost dangerous. "You wanted to play, Shuichi. Now keep going. Fifteen."
His muscles burned, his mind a haze of sensation as her hand worked him, each movement precise, coaxing him to the edge. The dual challenge of holding the handstand and enduring her touch was maddening. His elbows bent, head dipping to the floor, but her grip tightened, pulling a low groan from his throat. "Sayuki-san… you're evil."
"Flattery won't help you," She teased, her thumb brushing a sensitive spot that made his whole body tense. "Eighteen. Two more, and maybe I'll be nice."
Shuichi gritted his teeth, pushing through the final reps, his body screaming from the effort. Her hand didn't relent, each stroke pushing him closer to losing control. "Nineteen… twenty," He panted, finally lowering himself to the floor, collapsing onto his knees, chest heaving.
Sayuki didn't pull away. Instead, she knelt beside him, her hand still moving, now with a firmer, more insistent pace. "Good boy," She murmured, her voice dripping with mock praise as she leaned closer, her breath hot against his ear. "But you don't get to rest yet."
His hands gripped the floor, knuckles white, as waves of pleasure crashed over him. Her touch was relentless, skilled, drawing him to the brink. "Sayuki-san…" He groaned, voice breaking, "I can't—"
"You can," She whispered, her free hand tilting his chin to meet her gaze. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something softer there, too—a quiet intensity. "Let go."
That was all it took. His body shuddered, a low moan escaping as he gave in, the release hitting him hard, leaving him breathless and trembling. Sayuki's hand slowed, her touch gentle now, guiding him through the aftershocks. She sat back, wiping her hand on a towel with a smug grin. "Not bad for a workout, huh?"
Shuichi collapsed fully onto the floor, panting, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. "You're… gonna kill me one day."
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