"Hmm… Which one should I wear?"
In the sanctuary of her pastel-hued bedroom, Kani Nayuta stood with her hands on her hips, her silver hair cascading like a moonlit waterfall over her shoulders. Before her, neatly arranged on the plush lavender duvet, lay three sets of meticulously chosen lingerie. Each was a masterpiece of fabric and design, representing a significant investment made with a pounding heart and flushed cheeks last week, shortly after returning from the idol's house. They were all premium, brand-name items—her secret arsenal.
Her devilish figure, often hidden beneath loose sweaters, and her angelic face, usually framed by a contemplative pout, now reflected a mix of intense scrutiny and thrilling anticipation. This was serious business.
First, she picked up the black lace set. It was elegant yet daring, with a unique crisscross strap design in the back and a delicate, perfectly placed satin bow at the front. This style was a perennial hot trend for a reason.
Formally speaking, she thought, holding it up to the light, it showcases a woman's graceful, noble, and mysterious temperament. She gave a firm, decisive nod. In plain language… it's sexy as hell.
Turning to the full-length mirror, she held the delicate black fabric against her body. The contrast against her fair skin in the mirror was striking.
"Hmm… Not bad at all!" she declared to her reflection, a spark of confidence igniting in her violet eyes. This one was definitely a contender.
The next set was a deep, wine-red satin, sleek and sensuous. The third was a playful ivory silk with subtle lavender embroidery—sweet and innocent with a hint of something more. She held each up, tilting her head, imagining scenarios, feeling the textures. After a silent fashion show for an audience of one, her decision crystallized.
"The black one with the purple accents, then," she murmured, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. The subtle purple detailing along the edges gave it a unique, almost mystical flair.
And since we're staying overnight… A logical, utterly practical thought followed. Bringing a spare set for tomorrow is just being responsible, right?
With a decisive nod, she set the chosen black-and-purple set and the ivory silk one aside. The red satin was returned to its drawer with a whisper of promise for another time.
Having conquered the first major decision, Kani Nayuta turned her attention to the main wardrobe. After the incident a year ago, her outings had become as rare as a solar eclipse. Yet, her mother, ever hopeful and endlessly fashionable, made sure her closet was never stagnant.
With each changing season arrived curated packages of clothes—cute, fitting, and always on trend. Kani Nayuta was, thankfully, not short on options. The problem was an overabundance of them.
"What on earth should I wear?" she groaned, her indecisiveness returning with a vengeance as she slid open the wardrobe doors. A kaleidoscope of colors and fabrics greeted her. She began the arduous process, pulling out every piece suitable for the mild spring weather and laying them on her bed, creating a mountain of potential outfits.
After twenty minutes of intense comparison—holding tops against skirts, evaluating color harmony, and considering the 'accidental' impression each ensemble might give—she finally reached a verdict. She selected a soft, white thin-knit sweater with a slightly loose, cozy fit. For the bottom, she chose a khaki A-line mini skirt that hinted at her legs without being too bold. A white leather belt would cinch the waist, and to finish, a pair of stylish khaki ankle boots. The look was cute, casual, effortlessly chic, and perfect for a date that might involve walking.
"Perfect," she whispered, giving herself a small, determined fist pump in the mirror.
Bundle in hand, she headed downstairs, her heart doing a nervous little tap-dance against her ribs. As fate would have it, she nearly collided with her mother, Honda, who was just returning from the morning grocery run, several reusable bags hanging from her arms.
"Kaa-san!" Nayuta squeaked, slightly startled.
Honda paused, her sharp maternal eyes taking in her daughter's freshly showered glow, the carefully selected outfit in her arms, and the subtle, determined energy radiating from her. "Going out, Nayuta-chan?"
"Um… yeah," Kani Nayuta said, her voice a tad higher than usual. She looked at the floor, then the wall, anywhere but directly at her mother's knowing gaze. "I'm, uh, going to a friend's house later. So you don't need to prepare lunch for me. And… I probably won't be coming back tonight. I'll just stay over there."
The words tumbled out in a rushed, rehearsed-sounding stream. Before Honda could even form a reply—be it a question, a warning, or a blessing—Nayuta ducked her head and darted past, disappearing into the bathroom with the speed of a startled rabbit, locking the door behind her with a soft but definite click.
Honda Nayuki stood in the genkan, the bags still in her hands. A slow, fond, and deeply understanding smile spread across her face.
"This child…" she murmured to the empty hallway. "Does she have a boyfriend?"
As a woman who had once been a young girl inventing similar "stay at a friend's" excuses, she saw right through the flimsy façade. The telltale signs were all there: the meticulous preparation, the faint, expensive scent of her own good lotion wafting in Nayuta's wake, the nervous energy.
She put the groceries down on the kitchen counter, her mind whirring. Is it that online friend she mentioned? The one who had become the catalyst for so much change?
Half a month ago, her reclusive, internet-bound daughter had suddenly announced her desire to transfer to Toyosaki Private Academy. The shock for Honda and her husband had been profound. Upon gentle interrogation, they learned the reason: friends she'd met online went there—both boys and girls. The catalyst seemed to be a specific boy, a talented creator Nayuta admired deeply.
While cautious, they were overwhelmingly relieved. For their shut-in daughter to proactively seek a normal school life was a miracle. They'd moved heaven and earth to expedite the transfer.
And they had watched, quietly, ever since. Every day, Nayuta came home with a little more light in her eyes, a little more chatter about her day. The change was undeniable. Then, this past Monday, she'd come home with a stranger's transparent umbrella. The story emerged: her own had been taken, and a friend—that friend—had lent her his, choosing to share with his own sister instead.
The teacher, apparently the same boy, had even stood up for her, recovered the stolen umbrella, and secured an apology. He was clearly looking out for her.
A warm feeling settled in Honda's chest. If it's him… then I won't object.
He seemed kind, capable, and he drew Nayuta out of her shell. If her daughter had feelings for him, then that was her journey to take. Even if it didn't last forever—and let's be honest, how many teenage romances did?—it was valuable experience. Better to have her heart flutter and break a little now, in a safer environment, than to be utterly devastated by a smooth-talking predator later in life.
Still, a mother's duty was a mother's duty. Certain… precautions needed to be emphasized. No grandchildren before graduation, at the very least.
With a resolved nod, Honda headed not to the kitchen, but to her own bedroom. She opened a small drawer and retrieved a few unopened boxes of a very specific, important product. She placed them discreetly in a small, pretty paper bag.
****
Meanwhile, at the Kasumigaoka residence, Touji emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and smelling of clean, citrus soap. He found Utaha already at the kotatsu, halfway through her bowl of tonkatsu curry. In her fingers, she held the remaining half of a golden-brown, perfectly fried croquette.
Seeing him, her eyes glinted with mischief. She held up the croquette as if presenting a rare artifact.
"Nii-san," she began, her tone dripping with faux curiosity. "Is Matsunoya running some incredible promotion I don't know about? 'Buy one curry rice, get a free croquette'? Their margins must be suffering."
Kasumigaoka Touji walked over, his expression a flat canvas of 'I-am-not-amused.'
"How could that possibly be the case?" He held out his hand, palm up. "That's my breakfast you're pilfering, Onee-san."
His motives were twofold: a genuine need to fill his stomach after the morning's activities, and a simple desire to share a meal moment with her, even something as small as a shared side dish.
"Hmm? Really?" Utaha blinked, the picture of innocent surprise. She placed the half-eaten croquette back into his waiting hand, seamlessly shifting the blame. "My mistake. It was just sitting there, looking so complimentary. Nii-san didn't specify it was his."
She then scooped a generous, steaming spoonful of her own curry rice, holding it out toward him. "Here, as an apology. A bite of my curry."
Touji leaned down and accepted the offering, the rich, savory flavors bursting on his tongue. Utaha watched him with a soft, expectant smile. "Oishi? Is it delicious?"
He chewed thoughtfully, swallowing.
"Hmm… It's alright. Pretty good for takeout." Then, a familiar, confident smirk touched his lips. "But not as good as mine."
His culinary pride was one of his bedrock traits. He firmly believed his homemade versions could give any chain restaurant a run for its money.
Utaha's smile deepened. "Is that so? Then… I'll be looking forward to tasting Nii-san's special curry rice tomorrow night."
The words were a simple request, but the look in her eyes carried a heavier, sweeter meaning—a promise of another evening in their shared, complicated world.
"No problem at all!" Touji gave her a confident thumbs-up, the croquette incident forgiven.
After finishing the reclaimed croquette, Touji headed upstairs. He needed a change of clothes. While he carried Utaha's scent on him like a cherished memory, it felt disrespectful to wear it on a date with someone else. He selected a fresh, casual outfit—a dark grey sweater and black trousers—and took a quick, second shower to wash away the physical reminders of the morning.
By the time he was dressed and his hair was towel-dried into its usual slightly messy style, he was ready. He descended the stairs just as the doorbell rang.
***
Back at the Kani residence, Nayuta emerged from the bathroom like a butterfly from a chrysalis. She was radiant. Her silver hair shone, her skin was luminous from the thorough scrub and the application of her mother's high-end lotion, and she smelled faintly of jasmine and vanilla. She wore her chosen outfit perfectly, the boots giving her a confident few extra centimeters of height.
Honda, who had been pretending to watch a daytime drama on the sofa, heard her approach. She turned, her nose twitching slightly at the expensive fragrance. "All set, dear?"
"Uh-huh!" Nayuta nodded, grabbing her small overnight bag.
"Come here for a second." Honda patted the space on the sofa beside her.
Nayuta obeyed, curiosity mixing with her lingering nervousness. Honda, without fanfare, gently pushed the small, discreet paper bag on the coffee table toward her daughter. She coughed lightly, her voice dropping to a serious, maternal whisper. "Just… be careful, okay? Be smart."
Kani Nayuta's eyes dropped to the bag. Peeking inside, she saw the unmistakable boxes. Her brain short-circuited.
Her face, which had been glowing with anticipation, instantly flushed a spectacular, fiery crimson that reached the tips of her ears. Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out. She looked from the bag to her mother's calm, understanding face, and back to the bag again.
"K-Kaa-san!? Wha— I— We're not—! It's not like—!"
Her words dissolved into incoherent, stammering static. She was completely, utterly, and magnificently stunned.
"…Uh…" was the only semi-coherent syllable she could finally force out, her mind a blank, screaming void of pure, unadulterated embarrassment.