The crisp evening breeze swept through the shopping street, carrying the faint clatter of shutters and the savory tang of street food lingering from the day's trade. Shuichi, fresh from the warmth of Fumika's massage room, tightened his jacket against the chill.
[Ogawa Sayuki: Sense of Belonging +10, Admin Salary +100,000 Yen. Current Salary: 2,580,000 Yen.]
[Fumika Ogawa: Sense of Belonging 80],
[Sayuki Ogawa: Sense of Belonging 80],
[Tamako Akiyama: Sense of Belonging 5],
[Ichika Kitagawa: Sense of Belonging 64].
A smirk curved his lips as he read Sayuki's update. 'She can play tough all she wants,' He thought, 'But the system doesn't lie.' The shaker cup, with its cheeky capsule, had clearly hit the mark.
His steps quickened, the street's familiar glow guiding him to Ichika's flower shop, its windows aglow with soft, ethereal light, the air heavy with the scent of blooms and earth. The narrow staircase to the second-floor loft was a well-trodden path now, each step sure and deliberate, a far cry from his early days of nervously fumbling over flower pots. The faint creak of the stairs announced his arrival, and he shed his jacket at the landing, the cool air brushing his skin as he stepped into the living room, a sanctuary of quiet elegance. Ichika was there, bent over a low table, her graceful form silhouetted against the warm lamplight, her fingers weaving delicate stems into an intricate arrangement, the soft rustle of leaves a gentle underscore to her focus.
"You're a bit late today," She said without turning, her voice a serene melody, its calm cadence a balm to the evening's restless energy. Her posture was unhurried, her hands moving with an artist's precision, each stem placed with care.
Shuichi's gaze, unbidden, drifted to the curve of her form, though the dim lighting veiled details in a frustrating tease. "Can't help it," He said, his voice low and playful, a grin tugging at his lips as he crossed the room. "Ichika-san's too captivating to ignore."
Ichika straightened, turning to face him, her expression a mix of amusement and mild exasperation, her eyes glinting with quiet intelligence. "You're incorrigible, Shuichi-kun," She said, her tone light but pointed. "Though I don't mind if you admire with… respect."
Shuichi shrugged, spreading his hands in mock innocence. "Fair's fair," He said, his voice teasing. "You sneak glances at me too, don't you? I notice, even if guys aren't as obvious about it." His grin was cheeky, daring her to deny it, his confidence buoyed by their candid dynamic.
Ichika didn't shy away, her eyes drifting briefly upward, a deliberate acknowledgment that sparked a quiet thrill. "Health class lessons linger," She said, her voice dry, a faint flush creeping up her cheeks. "Curiosity's natural, I suppose."
"Even-Steven," Shuichi said, his grin widening as he brushed past her, his shoulder grazing hers, the contact fleeting but electric. He sank onto the couch, his attention caught by her floral creation—a delicate balance of branches and vibrant petals, their arrangement a study in natural beauty. The air was rich with the sweet, earthy scent of osmanthus, a note that grounded him in the moment's intimacy.
"Like it?" Ichika asked, settling across from him, her legs crossed elegantly, her posture a portrait of poise as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Want to take it home?" Her smile was soft, her offer genuine, her eyes warm with curiosity.
Shuichi shook his head, his expression softening. "Too greedy," He said, his voice low, a reflective note creeping in. "Can't just claim everything I love." His words carried a weight beyond the flowers, a quiet acknowledgment of his limits. Once, he'd dreamed of filling every shop with stellar tenants, a grand conquest of the street's 49 units. Now, with 13 still vacant, he knew better—finding even a handful of exceptional shopkeepers was a triumph, not a given.
"Flowers or studies today?" Ichika asked, her voice gentle, her fingers brushing the table's edge, her gaze probing but kind. "Though I suspect I know your answer."
Shuichi grinned, leaning back, his hands spread in surrender. "You've got me pegged," He said, his tone playful. "I'll dodge work if I can. Flowers it is." His preference was clear, the prospect of her patient guidance far more appealing than textbooks.
Ichika laughed, a soft, melodic sound that warmed the room. "Typical," She said, her voice fond. "We'll stick with flowers, then. Simple techniques, like last time." She rose, her movements fluid, and retrieved a bundle of osmanthus from a nearby vase, their golden clusters catching the light. "We'll use a tall, slender vase today, focusing on naturally extending branches rather than full blooms."
Shuichi listened, his attention sharp despite his feigned laziness, her words painting a vivid picture. "Sounds like cherry, peach, or plum would be perfect," He said, his voice thoughtful, "But those aren't in season."
Ichika nodded, handing him a sprig of osmanthus, its tiny flowers fragrant and unassuming. "This season, osmanthus works beautifully," She said, her voice calm but instructive. "But it's not just flowers—branches, leaves, berries, even autumn grasses can create the same effect with this style." Her hands gestured gracefully, illustrating the versatility of her craft.
Shuichi took the sprig, its scent sweet and grounding, and selected a sleek vase from a nearby shelf, its narrow form a perfect canvas. With minimal fuss, he arranged the osmanthus, the branches splaying naturally, their simplicity striking. "Easy," He said, stepping back to admire his work, a quiet pride swelling within. "Looks good, though. I'll take this one home."
"Beauty doesn't demand complexity," Ichika said, adding a splash of water to the vase, her movements precise. Her gaze flicked to him, a spark of curiosity igniting. "New experiences to share today?" She asked.
Shuichi's grin turned sly, his mind sifting through the day's events. Tsuki's candied hawthorn obsession might be too much for Ichika's refined sensibilities, so he opted for a tamer tale, weaving in elements of his recent purchases. "Beyond what we discussed—techniques, stamina—there's also… tools," He said, his voice casual but suggestive, gauging her reaction. "You've heard of those, right?"
Ichika shook her head, her expression one of genuine ignorance, though her curiosity was piqued. "Vaguely," She said, her voice thoughtful. "I've never paid much attention to that side of things."
Shuichi pulled out his phone, scooting closer on the couch, their shoulders brushing as he opened his purchase history. The faint scent of her perfume—floral, with a hint of citrus—enveloped him, a quiet distraction as he showed her a camera-shaped device, its innocuous design belying its purpose. "This one's popular," He said, his voice matter-of-fact. "Looks harmless unless you know what it is." He scrolled through the product details, explaining its function with clinical precision, his tone neutral but his proximity intimate.
Ichika's eyes widened, her composure faltering as she processed the information, her fingers tightening around her laptop, poised to take notes. "That's… unexpected," She said, her voice soft, a flush creeping up her cheeks as she leaned closer, her curiosity overriding her initial shock. The array of devices Shuichi described—each with its unique application—painted a world far beyond her experience, a revelation that both intrigued and unsettled her.
Their closeness grew, Shuichi's arm brushing her shoulder, the contact warm and deliberate. Ichika's pulse quickened, her breath shallow as his explanations grew more detailed, her body responding despite her efforts to remain detached. "One thing I don't get," She said, her voice hesitant, her head tilting, her profile a study in beauty that made Shuichi's heart skip. "These… they're just for the other person's satisfaction, right? What do you get out of it?"
Shuichi paused, caught by her earnest question, her gaze searching his. "It's not just that," He said, his voice low, his eyes holding hers. "Watching someone I care about, like you, enjoy something—that's enough. Visuals alone can be… thrilling." His words were honest.
Ichika frowned, her mind grappling with the concept. "But yesterday, you said mutual comfort was better," She said, her voice thoughtful, her concern genuine. "One-sided feels… unfair. Like with that girl you mentioned, the one with unique tastes—you indulged her, even though it wasn't your preference."
Shuichi nodded, realizing he'd overlooked a key point. "True," He said, his voice reflective. "But it's not all about touch. Visuals, sounds—they can hit harder, especially for guys. Seeing someone's reaction, hearing their voice… that's powerful." His explanation was earnest, his gaze steady, inviting her to understand.
"Sounds?" Ichika echoed, her brow furrowing, the concept elusive but fascinating. "Like… provocative sounds?" Her voice was curious, her mind racing to piece together this new dimension of experience.
"Exactly," Shuichi said, nodding, his voice warm. "A voice can be more intense than any outfit or touch. It's… electric." His words were vivid, painting a picture that stirred her imagination, her notebook forgotten as she absorbed his words.
Sensing her growing interest, Shuichi seized the moment, his voice casual but probing. "Those devices—any catch your eye?" He asked, his tone light. "I've got one with me. You could take it, experiment a bit."
Ichika met his eyes, her clear gaze searching his for a moment, her initial hesitation giving way to intrigue. His openness, his lack of pressure, eased her doubts, her curiosity winning out. "If it's no trouble," She said, her voice soft, a quiet acceptance that sent a thrill through him.
"No trouble," Shuichi said, his grin easy as he stood, retrieving a small package from his jacket at the stairs. The device, compact and discreet, fit neatly in his palm as he returned, handing it to her with a flourish. "Got extras for others, so this one's yours."
Ichika held it, her fingers tracing its sleek surface, her expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "Phone-controlled?" She asked, her voice thoughtful, her eyes flicking to her device on the table.
"Yep," Shuichi said, taking her phone with her permission, his fingers swift as he installed the app and paired the device, his movements transparent. The dice pendant he used worked similarly, a remote trigger disguised as a trinket, its dual-control feature a nod to shared play. "All set," He said, handing her phone back, his voice calm. "I should head out—getting late, and I don't want to overstay. Questions? Shoot me a message." His departure was deliberate, a gesture of respect that left her space to explore on her own terms.
Ichika's eyes softened, a flicker of admiration crossing her face as she rose to see him out, the device clutched in her hand. At the stairwell, she watched him descend, his figure fading into the shop's dim glow, before turning back to the couch, her gaze lingering on the device. The app's interface was intuitive—waveform options, simple controls, safe for a novice like her. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, and with a quiet breath, she settled back, ready to test its mysteries.
---
Saturday morning dawned soft and hazy, the city stirring slowly under a pale sky. Most students would be sprawled in bed, savoring the weekend's freedom, but Shuichi was no such luxury prisoner. A strange sensation roused him, a pull that felt like his soul was being tugged free, a far cry from the shrill of an alarm but no less disruptive. Groaning, he threw back the blankets, his eyes squinting against the morning light filtering through his curtains, to find Tsuki nestled beneath, her presence a familiar intrusion.
"What're you munching on now?" He asked, his voice groggy as he pinched her cheek, the soft flesh warm under his fingers.
Tsuki mumbled something, her voice muffled and unintelligible, her cheeks puffed with whatever she'd pilfered. Shuichi's brow twitched, his patience thin. "Speak clearly," He said, his tone firm, his eyes narrowing.
She fumbled for her phone, typing swiftly before shoving it at him. [konnyaku] read the screen, the culprit revealed. Shuichi sighed, ruffling her hair, his touch gentle despite his exasperation. "Stealing An's snacks again?" He said, his voice dry. "She's gonna flip when she finds out."
Tsuki muttered another garbled response, her mouth still busy, and Shuichi waved her off, too tired to press further. Closing his eyes, he let the morning's lethargy ebb away, his breathing steadying as he shed the fog of sleep. When he finally rose, his body refreshed, Tsuki was still there, licking her lips with a satisfied air, her konnyaku heist complete.
"No cram school today?" He asked, pulling on a shirt, his voice casual as he moved to the kitchen, the faint scent of coffee lingering from the previous day.
"Afternoon," Tsuki said, her voice clear now, her tongue darting out to catch a stray bit of jelly. "So… morning visit to Nagase-sensei's? Please, Master?" Her tone was teasing, her eyes gleaming with anticipation, the honorific a playful nod to their dynamic.
"Whatever," Shuichi said, shrugging, his voice indifferent but his mind already planning. Weekends were a split—mornings and evenings packed, afternoons free. "How was that candied hawthorn yesterday?" He asked, his tone sly, catching the way her legs trembled at the mention.
Tsuki's face flushed, her posture shifting as she leaned against the wall, her voice soft but fervent. "Mom and An kept asking why I was walking funny," She said, her eyes glinting with excitement. "Mom gave me this weird look, like she knew something. So thrilling."
"Bet that got you going," Shuichi said, stepping closer, his hand finding her hip, his touch firm but teasing, eliciting a soft hum from her. "When you were sick, I held back—didn't want to break you. But now… you're ready, right?" His voice was low, suggestive, a challenge that made her breath hitch.
Tsuki's eyes sparkled, her body sinking to her knees, her gaze upturned, her lips parted in eager anticipation. "I'll be good," She murmured, catching his fingers, her tongue brushing them with deliberate care, her excitement a quiet flame.
Shuichi traced her lips, savoring her eagerness, his voice a quiet taunt. "No rush," He said, his tone deliberate. "Nagase-sensei'd love to witness this, wouldn't she? You'd shine with her watching." His words stoked her anticipation, her grip tightening on his hand.
"I'll endure," Tsuki said, her voice fervent, her eyes locked on his, her breath warm against his skin.
Shuichi grinned, pulling her up, his touch lingering. "Forgot to give you something yesterday," He said, leading her to the living room, where he retrieved another small device from the pile of deliveries. With deft hands, he helped her set it up, the process swift and intimate, her skirt rustling as she adjusted. "Ready," He said, his voice calm, stepping back to let her savor the moment.
Tsuki's eyes blazed, her excitement barely contained as she grabbed his arm, dragging him downstairs to the ramen shop, her steps quick and unsteady, the promise of the day's games fueling her haste. The shop was a hive of morning activity, the air thick with the scent of simmering broth and the clatter of prep work. An, her apron smudged with flour, looked harried, her expression a mix of exhaustion and resentment as she trailed her mother, Tamako, in the kitchen's chaos.
Spotting Shuichi and Tsuki, An's eyes lit up with indignation, her voice a plaintive whine. "Nee-chan, switch with me!" She demanded, her hands on her hips. "I'll wake Shuichi-kun from now on—you help Mom. I'm getting less sleep than on school days!".
"No way," Tsuki shot back, her voice firm, her grin merciless. "Don't haggle, or your snacks are gone." Her tone was unyielding, her authority as elder sister absolute, though her stance wavered slightly, a hint of distraction in her tightened grip on the counter.
Shuichi caught An's pleading glance, his lips twitching with amusement. With a subtle flick, he pressed the dice pendant on his phone, its click inaudible but effective. Tsuki gasped, her knees buckling as she clutched a chair, her face flushing as she fought to stay upright, her lips pressed tight to stifle a sound.
An blinked, confused but delighted, her eyes wide with awe. 'Shuichi-kun's amazing,' she thought, marveling at his effortless takedown of her tyrant sister. Tamako, observing from the kitchen, arched a brow, her gaze sharp and knowing. 'One of those toys, huh?' she mused, her mind drifting to her own experiences, though Tsuki's reaction puzzled her. 'Should be her dad's thing, not hers,' she thought, recalling her daughter's seemingly normal physique during a recent bath. Shrugging, she dismissed the mystery—kids these days were beyond her grasp, but as long as they were happy, she'd let it slide.
"Tsuki-chan, you okay?" Tamako asked, her voice laced with sly concern, her eyes twinkling as she stirred a pot, the steam curling around her.
"Fine," Tsuki squeaked, her voice strained, her legs clamped together as she sank onto the chair, her face a mask of forced composure. "Just… bumped my leg." Her lie was flimsy, her trembling betraying her, but her excitement simmered beneath the surface, a thrill only Shuichi fully understood.
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