Shuichi blinked, caught off guard by the blunt request. "Huh?" His voice carried a note of surprise, his body still adjusting to the tranquil ambiance of Ichika's flower shop. He hadn't even had a chance to settle onto the sofa, the faint scent of jasmine and roses lingering in the air, when she'd made her bold directive to undress. The soft glow of the table lamp cast a warm halo over the living room, its curtains drawn tightly to cocoon them in a private world, yet the suddenness of her words left him momentarily flustered.
Ichika tilted her head, her long hair cascading over one shoulder, her expression one of gentle inquiry. "Didn't we agree yesterday?" She asked, her voice calm but tinged with a playful curiosity, as if puzzled by his hesitation. Her serene gaze held no trace of embarrassment, only an open, inviting warmth that seemed to dissolve the boundaries between them.
Shuichi's lips twitched into a sheepish grin, his initial surprise giving way to acceptance. "Oh, right, no problem," He said, his tone light but resolute. If she could stand there so unabashedly, her flawless form bathed in the lamp's golden light, what reason did he have to feel shy? With a casual shrug, he tugged off his athletic wear—jacket, shirt, and pants—his movements swift and practiced. In moments, he'd bundled his clothes into a haphazard pile, tossing it onto the polished hardwood floor. He settled onto the sofa opposite Ichika, the plush cushions sinking slightly under his weight, the cool fabric a contrast to the warmth of the room.
Now it was his turn to be scrutinized. Ichika's eyes roamed over him with an almost scholarly interest, her gaze lingering on the newly sculpted contours of his chest and abdomen, the result of recent, grueling workouts. Her inspection was unhurried, traveling downward with a calm curiosity that made Shuichi's skin prickle. He felt a twinge of self-consciousness, an unexpected vulnerability under her steady regard. Truth be told, the scene was more disarming than he'd anticipated, the intimacy of the moment heightened by the quiet hum of the flower shop's atmosphere.
He'd been seen before, of course. Fumika always gazed at him with a mix of shy adoration and flustered fascination, her cheeks blooming with color. Sayuki's looks were bold, her eyes glinting with teasing provocation. Tsuki, the perverse student council president, wore her obsession openly, her expression a mask of unapologetic fixation. And Sumire Nagase—well, her mortified reaction was best left unmentioned, a memory that still brought a wry smile to his lips. But none of them had ever studied him with Ichika's serene detachment, her gaze devoid of the heat or fluster he'd come to expect. It was as if she were appraising a work of art, her curiosity purely intellectual yet profoundly intimate.
Still, fairness demanded reciprocity. She'd bared herself without reservation, her body a vision of perfection under the lamp's glow. To deny her the same privilege felt churlish, a breach of the unspoken trust between them. Clearing his throat, Shuichi broke the silence, his voice carrying a hint of self-deprecation to ease the tension. "I'm not exactly on your level, Ichika-san. Just an average, maybe slightly scrawny teenage build. I'm working on it, though—give me a few more weeks, and I'll have something more impressive to show." His words were light, a playful attempt to shift the focus, though his cheeks warmed slightly under her gaze.
Ichika's lips curved into a faint, almost ethereal smile, her eyes softening with amusement. "Then I'll look forward to it," She said, her voice gentle but tinged with genuine interest. "This is my first time really looking at a boy like this, so I'm a bit curious. I hope you don't mind, Shuichi-kun." Her candor was disarming, her tone devoid of pretense, as if the act of mutual vulnerability were the most natural thing in the world.
"First time?" Shuichi's heart stirred, a subtle shift in his perception of her. The revelation added a layer of intimacy to the moment, her openness a quiet gift.
"Yes, first time," Ichika confirmed, nodding casually, as if discussing the weather. "Well, unless you count kindergarten, or even earlier, when I was too young to understand anything." Her words were light, but they carried a weight of sincerity, a glimpse into her private world.
Shuichi chuckled, the sound low and warm, his initial unease melting away. "Sounds like I've unlocked some kind of rare achievement," He teased, his grin widening as he grew accustomed to the unconventional setting. The floral scent enveloped them, the soft rustle of leaves outside the window adding to the serene cocoon of the living room.
Ichika shifted, crossing her legs with a graceful ease, the motion drawing Shuichi's eye momentarily before she leaned forward to retrieve a study guide from the coffee table. Her long hair swayed, catching the lamplight in silken strands, a fleeting distraction before she straightened. "If I'm not mistaken," She said, her voice taking on a teacherly tone, "Your midterm exams are next Monday. So, let's review this semester's material tonight." Her words were matter-of-fact, but her eyes sparkled with a quiet amusement, as if she relished the juxtaposition of their current state with the mundane task of studying.
Shuichi's expression faltered, a groan rising in his throat. "Seriously?" He muttered, his shoulders slumping. The prospect of studying, here and now, in this intimate, unconventional setting, was the last thing he'd expected. The contrast was almost comical—surrounded by the lush greenery of the flower shop, bathed in the soft glow of the lamp, and yet tasked with academic drudgery.
Ichika's lips twitched, a suppressed laugh escaping her as she noted his dismay. With a playful tilt of her head, she began posing questions, her voice clear and encouraging. The night deepened outside, the world beyond the curtains fading into a velvet darkness. In the living room, surrounded by the delicate fragrance of flowers, their voices wove a quiet rhythm—one asking, the other answering—in a scene of unexpected tranquility. The faint creak of the sofa, the rustle of pages, and the occasional hum of approval from Ichika filled the space, creating a cocoon of shared focus.
Yet, beneath her composed exterior, Ichika felt a subtle stirring, a pulse of curiosity that caught her off guard. She'd always believed herself immune to certain worldly desires, her life defined by intellectual pursuits and the quiet solace of her flower shop. The knowledge she'd encountered in health classes—abstract, clinical—had never held much allure. But now, with Shuichi before her, the reality of those lessons took on a new dimension. Seeing, truly seeing, stripped of the greedy, invasive gazes she'd always shunned, awakened something within her. There was no threat to her cherished freedom, no disruption of her serene existence. In this safe, private space, she allowed herself to explore the sensation, her heart beating with a quiet thrill.
She didn't shy away or panic, instead embracing the novelty with the same calm curiosity she brought to her writing. The feeling was unfamiliar but not unwelcome, a gentle ripple in the still waters of her soul.
"Ichika-san?" Shuichi's voice broke through her reverie, his tone laced with mild concern as he tilted his head, his eyes searching hers.
Ichika blinked, swiftly regaining her composure. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her smile returning as if nothing had happened. "It's nothing," She said, her voice steady and warm. "Let's continue." Her fingers traced the edge of the study guide, grounding her as they resumed their lesson.
---
Exhausted from the day's demands, Shuichi returned to his apartment, the weight of his fatigue settling into his bones. After a quick wash, he collapsed onto his bed, his eyelids heavy with sleep. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of streetlights seeping through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the walls. He drifted into a hazy limbo, not quite asleep but not fully awake, his mind adrift in a fog of half-formed thoughts.
A subtle shift in the air stirred him—the faint creak of a floorboard, the rustle of movement. His senses sharpened, though his body remained sluggish, reluctant to rouse. The mattress dipped, bouncing slightly, and Shuichi's certainty solidified: someone was in the room. Groggy but determined, he forced his eyes open, his mind racing with indignation. 'Is it the little maid or the kitten this time?' he thought, a spark of irritation flaring. Whoever it was, they were in for it. He was a living, breathing human, not some tireless machine! Even the hardest-working donkey got a break, didn't it?
With monumental effort, he clawed his way out of the dreamlike haze, his vision clearing as if a ghostly veil had been lifted. Before him sat a girl, her large eyes gleaming in the dim light, her tongue lazily lapping at an ice cream cone. The sight was so absurdly mundane that his frustration dissipated like morning mist.
"So it's you, the sneaky ice cream thief," Shuichi said, his voice a mix of exasperation and amusement. His hand darted out, slipping under An's shirt to tickle her stomach, his fingers dancing across her soft skin in a playful assault. Her giggles filled the room, a bright counterpoint to the quiet night, and by the time he relented, his lingering irritation had vanished entirely.
An, still licking her ice cream with relish, explained between bites, "I overslept this morning and missed breakfast. Couldn't stop thinking about it tonight, so I snuck over after Nee-san fell asleep." Her voice was cheerful, unburdened by guilt, her eyes sparkling with the simple joy of her treat.
Shuichi propped himself on his side, a fond smile tugging at his lips as he watched her. An sat cross-legged near his head, her bare feet fidgeting restlessly, their pale, delicate toes curling and uncurling. The sight stirred an odd impulse within him—a fleeting urge to nibble one, as if her feet might taste sweeter than the ice cream she savored. He shook his head, chuckling at the thought. 'Get a grip,' He told himself. 'No need to channel Tsuki's level of weirdness.'
"Are your feet cold?" He asked, his voice gentle as he reached out, his hand hovering near her.
"A little," An admitted, her voice muffled by another lick of her cone. With some effort, she wriggled her feet from beneath her, sliding them under Shuichi's blanket. Her toes brushed against his leg, icy and soft, a contrast that made him shiver.
Shuichi enveloped her feet in his hands, his fingers gently rubbing their smooth, chilled surface. "You're freezing, you little dummy," He teased, his touch warm and careful. "Don't you ever think about socks?"
An's toes wiggled more vigorously, her laughter bubbling up as she squirmed. "It tickles, Shuichi-kun, stop!" She protested, her body rocking with giggles, the ice cream wobbling precariously in her hand.
"You get to eat my ice cream, but I can't even touch your feet?" Shuichi retorted, giving her feet a few more playful squeezes before relenting. His eyes glinted with mock indignation, though his smile betrayed his amusement.
An pouted, then brightened, lifting her shirt to expose her pale, soft stomach. "Okay, no feet, but you can rub my tummy instead," She offered, her voice earnest, as if proposing a grand compromise.
Shuichi's gaze flicked to her stomach, a familiar sight after countless tickle sessions. "Nah, I've rubbed that plenty," He said, feigning boredom. "How about your calves? That's fair, right?" His tone was teasing, but his interest was genuine, a quiet curiosity stirring within him.
"Sure, that's fine," An agreed, blinking innocently, unperturbed by the request. She stretched out her legs, offering them without hesitation.
Shuichi's fingers traced the delicate line of her ankle, gliding upward to her calf, the skin impossibly soft, like silken tofu. A wave of nostalgia hit him—An's calves had been the first thing to catch his eye when he'd arrived in this strange new world, their slender grace drawing his attention during a mundane classroom moment. To finally touch them now felt oddly significant, a small milestone that left him momentarily lost in thought.
"Shuichi-kun, what's wrong?" An asked, leaning forward, her ice cream dripping slightly as she studied his face. "Not happy with my calves? I can let you touch my feet again if you want, even if it's super tickly." Her voice was earnest, her concern genuine, though her lips were smudged with melted ice cream.
Shuichi snapped out of his reverie, a grin spreading across his face. "No, I'm happy," He said, his fingers gently kneading her calf. "It's just a tiny bit less fun than thighs, that's all." With a gentle tug, he pulled her closer, settling her beside him and draping her legs across his lap, his hands continuing their slow, appreciative exploration.
An let out a surprised squeak but didn't resist, content to lean against the headboard as he caressed her legs. "Why aren't you wearing your new pajamas?" Shuichi asked, noticing her faded, well-worn clothes, the fabric soft from countless washes.
"The panda ones are too warm," An said, her tongue darting out to catch a drip of ice cream. "I'll wear them when it gets colder."
"What about the other set? Those weren't thick, were they?" Shuichi's hand slipped under her shirt, his fingers circling her stomach absentmindedly, the gesture familiar and comforting.
An shrugged, unfazed by his touch, her focus on her ice cream unwavering. "The old ones still work fine. I'm saving the new set for next spring." Her voice was casual, her priorities clear—food trumped fashion, and new clothes could wait.
Shuichi's hand paused, a sudden, fierce urge welling within him. He imagined fast-forwarding to the first of next month, his paycheck in hand, and showering An with a dozen new pajama sets—twenty, even. The thought was irrational, almost indulgent, but it gripped him fiercely. He didn't care if it made him a fool; he wanted to spoil this silly, endearing girl, whether she let him tickle her feet, rub her tummy, or kiss her cheeks. The impulse was pure, untainted by expectation.
"Don't save them," He said, his voice firm but warm. "Wear them tomorrow. I'll buy you more." A chuckle escaped him, the words sounding absurdly like a line from a cheesy drama, the kind where a domineering CEO sweeps the heroine off her feet. Except he was no CEO—just a guy with a modest strip of shops to his name—and An was no ambitious heroine. A single ice cream cone was enough to win her heart.
"Really?" An's eyes sparkled, her face lighting up with childlike excitement. Clothes weren't her passion, not like food, but the promise of cute, new outfits was a delight she couldn't resist.
"Really," Shuichi confirmed, his smile broadening. The thought of coaxing this quirky, lovable girl home with a few sets of pajamas was absurdly satisfying. In another life, he mused, people would've fought tooth and nail for the chance.
An giggled, her laughter tinged with a hint of guilt, though she didn't wait for him to pry. "Then I'll try harder," She confessed, her voice earnest. "I was learning to knit, but it's so hard, and I couldn't figure it out. I almost gave up." Her words tumbled out, her brain's unpredictable leaps leaving Shuichi momentarily baffled.
"Knitting?" He asked, his brow furrowing, struggling to follow her logic. An's thought process was a maze, navigable only with divine insight.
"Yup!" She nodded vigorously, her ice cream wobbling. "For Christmas, I'm gonna knit you a sweater and confess my feelings. I saw it on TV—it's supposed to work like a charm!" Her voice was proud, her plan laid bare with the enthusiasm of a strategist unveiling a masterstroke.
Shuichi's lips twitched, a mix of amusement and exasperation washing over him. "That's pretty impressive," He said, his tone warm but laced with a wry humor. 'But why spill the surprise?' He thought, the charm of her plan dimmed by her candid revelation. Her innocence was both her greatest weapon and her undoing.
"Right? Right?" An beamed, her eyes crinkling into happy crescents, oblivious to how her guileless honesty stirred his heart. She was a hopeless foodie, clueless about romance, yet her every action seemed designed to unravel him, her charm a quiet, unintentional assault on his composure.
"Oh, you didn't forget to close the balcony door, did you?" Shuichi asked, a flicker of concern for Tsuki surfacing. "Don't want your sister catching a cold again."
"Nope, I remembered!" An's expression turned solemn, her voice heavy with the weight of past consequences. "Last time I forgot, Nee-san confiscated my secret snack stash. I won't get them back unless I do well on the midterms." Her lips pursed, the memory clearly a sore point.
Shuichi stifled a laugh, the image of Tsuki's disciplinary tactics perfectly in character. "Midterms, huh?" He said, the word jogged a faint realization.
"Yeah, next Monday," An confirmed, eyeing the empty stick of her ice cream with a hint of regret. She licked her lips, savoring the lingering sweetness. "Did you forget, Shuichi-kun?"
"Kind of," He admitted, a wry smile tugging at his lips. Despite his immersion in this world, the rhythms of student life—exams, schedules—still felt foreign, their importance secondary to the whirlwind of his daily interactions. Midterms loomed, but they seemed trivial compared to the complexities of his relationships. Still, he suspected Sumire Nagase and Ichika would care deeply about his literature scores, their expectations a quiet pressure.
An's gaze fell to her fingers, now sticky with melted ice cream. True to her waste-not philosophy, she licked them clean, her tongue darting out with unabashed relish. "Tastes sweet," She mumbled, her voice content. "Can't let it go to waste."
Shuichi's brow furrowed, a mix of amusement and exasperation. "What are you, a kid?" He teased, his voice laced with mock disapproval. But in a moment of impulse, he added, "Let me try." The words slipped out before he could think, a reckless urge born of fatigue and An's infectious whimsy.
"Huh?" An blinked, her eyes wide as she glanced at her fingers, then at him. With a shrug, she extended her hand, offering it without hesitation.
Shuichi froze, instant regret washing over him. 'What am I saying?' He thought, mortified. 'Tsuki's rubbing off on me.' Yet, as he stared at An's glistening, delicate fingers, a strange hunger stirred—perhaps the lack of a late-night snack, or simply her disarming presence. He swallowed, his throat dry, the temptation unexpectedly potent.
"Shuichi-kun, you should've said earlier," An said, her voice tinged with regret. "I'd have shared half the ice cream… um, half." She paused, repeating the offer with a solemn nod, as if the decision to share her beloved treat was a monumental sacrifice.
Shuichi leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her hand, his lips brushing her skin briefly. "Nah, go get some sleep," He said, his voice soft but firm. "It's late, and if you're late tomorrow, your sister'll tan your hide."
"You sure you don't want a taste?" An asked, tilting her head, her confusion genuine.
"I'm good," Shuichi said, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Thigh meat's tastier anyway." He tugged her leg from the blanket, planting a quick kiss on the soft skin before pulling her pant leg back down. With a light pat on her backside, he added, "Off you go. Brush your teeth."
An clambered off the bed, her movements clumsy but endearing, slipping into her sandals and darting toward the balcony. A gust of cool night air swept through the room as she vanished, the curtains fluttering briefly before settling. The breeze left Shuichi's skin tingling, his heart a little less calm than before.
"She's gonna ruin her teeth with all that sugar," He muttered, pressing a hand to his forehead. With a sigh, he rolled over, murmuring, "Sleep, sleep."
---
Wednesday morning dawned, but Shuichi woke later than usual, roused by a gentle push. His body ached, drained from the previous day's exertions and disrupted by An's late-night visit. His temples throbbed, a dull fatigue settling into his limbs as he rubbed his eyes, struggling to orient himself.
"What time is it?" He mumbled, his voice rough with sleep, his hand massaging his aching forehead.
"Late enough that you'll be tardy if you don't move," Tsuki replied, her tone brisk but laced with a quiet fondness. Her hands were already at work, deftly peeling off his pajamas and slipping a crisp shirt onto his frame. Shuichi barely needed to lift a finger, her efficiency a well-practiced routine that felt both comforting and surreal in his groggy state.
"Did you feed the cat milk?" He asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. The question felt oddly normal, a grounding touchstone in the haze of his morning.
"Twice," Tsuki confirmed, her tongue darting out to lick her lips, her expression one of lingering satisfaction.
Shuichi's smile froze, a wave of realization hitting him. "No wonder I'm wiped," He muttered, his voice a mix of amusement and resignation. The pieces fell into place, his exhaustion suddenly making sense.
---
Breakfast was a blur, Shuichi and An still half-asleep, their eyes heavy with fatigue. Tsuki herded them out the door, her sharp commands cutting through their drowsiness as they raced to school, arriving just as the bell rang. The morning's three classes passed in a haze, Shuichi dozing through each, his head propped on his hand, the drone of lectures lost to his dreams. It wasn't until the fourth period—home economics—that he mustered the energy to focus, the familiar rhythm of chopping and stirring pulling him back to reality.
As he diced potatoes, he noticed Uchida's odd demeanor, the boy's eyes fixed on him with a mix of betrayal and awe. "What's with that look?" Shuichi asked, his voice laced with wry amusement.
Uchida's face twisted, his voice accusatory. "You traitor," He said, his tone heavy with mock outrage. "I thought you were just living the normie life, but no—you've got the class president chasing you!"
Shuichi's knife paused mid-cut, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You found out?" He said, his tone casual but tinged with curiosity. "Guess it won't be long before the whole school knows."
"Shuichi-kun, hurry up," An called from beside him, her voice bright but insistent. "The potatoes need to go in the pot."
"Got it," Shuichi replied, sliding the chopped vegetables toward her with a practiced motion.
Uchida stared, incredulous. "You two are so in sync cooking, and you think people wouldn't notice?" He said, his voice a mix of exasperation and envy.
"I'm surprised you noticed," Shuichi shot back, handing An the cutting board. "Not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed."
Uchida groaned, his shoulders slumping. "Why is it that we're both otaku, but you get chased by the class president, and I can't even find a loli to admire me?" His voice was plaintive, his dreams of anime-inspired romance dashed.
"Simple," Shuichi said, his tone deadpan. "Look in a mirror."
Uchida deflated, his expression one of mock despair. He glanced at Shuichi's hair, a sudden curiosity sparking. "By the way, where'd you get your haircut? Looks good. Since you changed your style this semester, you've got this… refreshed vibe."
Shuichi grinned, his voice honest but teasing. "Got it trimmed by a kind, caring girl-next-door type." The truth was straightforward, but Uchida's skeptical look said he didn't buy it.
"No way," Uchida muttered, his eyes narrowing. "Class president and a sweet neighbor? What kind of light novel protagonist are you?"
Shuichi shrugged, unfazed, his attention shifting as his phone buzzed in his pocket. Wiping his hands, he pulled it out, his brow lifting at the sender: Naomi Hajime. The message read: 'Got time to swing by the infirmary at lunch?'
Before he could reply, the message was withdrawn, the notification vanishing. Shuichi's lips curved into a sly smile—too late. He typed quickly: 'You pulled it back, but I already saw. I'll stop by after lunch.'
A hesitant reply came: '…Okay.'
Shuichi's expression softened, a flicker of understanding passing through him. Naomi's message hinted at unresolved feelings, the kind that lingered like a bruise. Time healed wounds, sure, but no one bounced back from heartbreak overnight. It'd take weeks, maybe more, to mend—unless, of course, the heart hadn't been touched at all. He pocketed his phone, his thoughts already turning to the conversation ahead.
.
.
.
.
You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.
pat reon.com/GreenBlue17
200 Power Stones for 1 extra chapter.
5 New reviews for 1 extra chapter.