"Pon‑chan! Look Sumi‑senpai showed me this!"
Sakura flipped the pan, and the egg sailed into the air like it had a little life of its own—then landed perfectly back in place.
"W-whoa… s-super cool!" I clapped, maybe a little too quickly, forcing the excitement into my voice while my eyes stayed on her tiny hands working the pan.
"Right?! Isn't it amaaazing? Wanna try, Pon‑chan?"
"No… I'll handle the lighter stuff," I muttered, not wanting to embarrass myself any further—and thinking it was probably better to take it easy on this body for now.
"Eeeh~ c'mon! It's suuuper fun! Look, you just—flippity-flip!" Sakura wiggled the pan in the air again, bouncing on her toes.
Honestly… how did she have this much energy? My head was already starting to throb from the constant chatter, but… somehow, it didn't bother me too much. Her voice had this strangely comforting rhythm.
I tried to compare her to someone I knew… maybe my sister, though she'd never talked this much… but then again, maybe Mom—the way she could fill a room with warmth and motion, a little overbearing at times, a little like Sakura, actually.
I sighed softly, my thoughts shifting. More than anything, I wanted a chance to speak with that Sumi‑senpai guy… to ask him for help. My chest tightened at the thought, and a small rush of determination bubbled up inside me.
Then—quaannnk!—a strange, squeaky noise echoed from down the hall, followed by a skudun. It sounded like someone had almost fallen—abrupt, off-balance, but not quite a full, heavy thud.
I straightened immediately, eyes snapping toward the hallway. My hand rose on its own, barely enough to shield—or intercept—if whatever it was headed for Sakura. I knew it probably wouldn't do much; my body was far weaker than hers. Still… I couldn't stop the motion. It happened before thought could catch up, a reflex that had no reason but that couldn't be ignored.
"…Sakura. What was that?"
She froze mid-egg-lift, one hand still holding a plate, then grinned. "I-it's him!" Before I could even blink, she darted off, bouncing toward the hallway like a hyperactive spring, head poking forward with a giggle that shook the air.
"Him…?" I whispered, unsure if I'd heard correctly.
"Sumi‑senpai!" she squeaked, quivering with excitement.
"S‑s‑Sumi‑senpai?!" My heart did a triple somersault. I'd wanted to meet him… but I didn't know it would be this soon! "Wait, wait, Sakura! L‑let me catch my—my barings!" I yelled after her, flailing uselessly as my legs tried to keep up.
A door creaked open just as I stepped closer. I hesitated, then slowly peeked my head through the doorway…
And then—holy—everything stopped.
A pair of legs moved past me. Big. Massive. Like tree trunks. Like someone had stacked a skyscraper on stilts and called it a person. Brooding. Silent. Heavy. Every step felt like it could crack the floorboards beneath me.
I followed them upward, and my jaw practically hit the floor.
He wasn't wearing a shirt. A towel hung low around his waist, gripped tight in one hand, his knuckles pale like he was making damn sure it wouldn't slip— and if it did, he looked like the kind of guy who'd knock out whoever invented the towel company in the first place.
My brain sputtered like a broken engine.
His hands were huge. Absurdly, almost ridiculously huge. They looked big enough to wrap around my arm several times over, and I had the uneasy feeling that if those fingers ever closed for real, they could squeeze tight enough to crush every bone in it to dust.
I whipped a glance at Sakura, hoping for some clue—some normal reaction—but her eyes were wide… not with fear, just… adorned with a shimmering, starry-eyed recognition
Meaning… this was him.
This colossal, walking, breathing skyscraper of a man… was Sumi‑senpai.
Usumi. The base name—without any fancy suffixes—made my brain completely misfire. It painted a picture in my head: pale hair catching the light, clear blue eyes, a softness that didn't mean weakness—just something unguarded and earnest.
Heroic in that quiet way, like someone straight out of a storybook—or, okay, fine, like a shota character from one of those over-the-top, sparkly-eyed manga that doesn't try too hard to be adorable but just is. Gentle. Almost unreal.
But this… was not that.
He was tanned, broad-shouldered, with brown hair pulled into a long ponytail streaked with white that didn't match the rest of his still-young face. The white wasn't graceful. It looked earned. Like stress had carved it there. Every line of him felt sharp. Worn. Scarred in ways that weren't just skin-deep.
He didn't look cute. Not like Sakura made it seem. He looked dangerous—like the kind of guy who'd shove you out of your locker just because he could, and had no patience for anyone foolish enough to try stopping him.
If I'd been alone, I might've already turned and run in the opposite direction. But Sakura didn't move.
She wasn't frozen with the don't run or the bear will attack kind of fear. There was no tension in her shoulders, no cautious stillness. Instead, she stood there practically glowing, staring up at him as if she'd just discovered the world's biggest—no, most gigantic—adorable teddy bear.
He stopped near the doorway and lifted something dripping water.
A rubber duck?!
"Sakura," he said, voice low and even, each word sharp, "did you leave this on the shower floor?"
"Sorry, Sumi!" she chirped, looking away and twiddling her thumbs, "b-but duckies need showers toooo!"
For a moment, I couldn't move.
She… she really just said that. To him. Like he wasn't someone who looked capable of snapping the two of us in half without a second thought.
My heart started hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to break through my ribs. Every instinct in my body screamed the same thing.
Run.
If he attacked—if he even twitched the wrong way—I knew I wouldn't survive it. My body already felt like it was bracing for something violent.
Before I could stop myself, I reached out and grabbed Sakura's hand. My eyes darted around the room, searching desperately for some kind of escape, any opening that might give us a chance to get out before things turned bad.
But Sakura didn't move.
Instead, she gently placed her other hand over mine, warm and reassuring. When I looked up at her, confused, she simply smiled down at me like nothing at all was wrong, as if this entire situation were completely normal.
The silence that followed stretched painfully long. Each second dragged on, tightening the knot in my chest as I waited for him to react, certain that the calm was about to break.
But then he slowly exhaled through his nose, the sound more like a weary sigh than anything threatening.
"…Right," he muttered, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck as if the whole situation had suddenly become exhausting. "Of course they do."
"What am I supposed to do with you?" he added.
He turned fully toward me, eyes sharp and unreadable, and lifted a hand toward my head. I closed my eyes and flinched automatically.
He noticed. His gaze softened just slightly, enough that I realized he knew the flinch was directed at him. Still, the intimidating edge never left his expression. With a slow exhale, he looked away, as if forcing himself to step back from his own presence, and brought his hand to his own head, tapping it lightly.
"…Head still ringing?"
"H-hh… head? Uh—uhh!" I hesitated, then slowly raised my hand and pressed it to the same spot he'd indicated on his own head, but on mine, mirroring him awkwardly.
A sudden, stabbing jolt shot through my head. "N-nnh…!"
The pain hit again, and suddenly I remembered—it had happened earlier when I touched it, but I'd totally forgotten, like an idiot. How the heck did he know about that, though?
"Sakura," he said, his head unmoving, gaze fixed forward while only his eyes slid to the side, "I thought I told you to put the ice pack on her."
Sakura stiffened. "I-I was gonna!" she chirped, words tumbling out. "I put it in the freezer and—and…"
Her sentence faltered as his expression went completely flat.
"…And?"
"And… I got distracted," she admitted, cheeks puffing out, eyes sliding downward—right to my thighs.
Sumi's gaze followed her eyes without moving his head, sharp and unblinking. The weight of it made my stomach twist.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long, exasperated sigh. "Sakura…" he muttered, his voice low, flat, controlled—more tired than angry.
"How many times do I have to say it...This isn't complicated. Keep your hands to yourself."
"I- I'm sorry, Sumi—"
"You're always sorry," he cut in, just as flat, a quiet edge slipping through. "But you never actually listen to what I tell you."
"But, Senpai—"
"No 'buts.'" His tone sharpened just a fraction. "And don't look at me like that either. I know you can do better. Next time."
It almost looked like a parent scolding a child—the way Usumi's gaze pinned her in place, the way Sakura fidgeted under it.
But then I realized… it was more like a strict older brother and a mischievous younger sister, a dynamic I knew all too well. Only… these two didn't look anything alike.
Sakura immediately dropped to her knees and bowed dramatically, forehead nearly touching the floor.
"I'm sorry, Sumi-senpai! But look at her!" she squealed, gesturing toward me like I was some rare plush toy. "She's super cute! And her legs were sooo soft! I couldn't help it!"
If I'd been able to focus on the conversation, I would've yelped, told her to stop saying things like that—
—but I couldn't.
My eyes and mind were locked on one thing: Usumi's response, and the sheer weight of his presence. Every line of his body, every hard edge of his expression, radiated that quiet, dangerous control that made my chest tighten.
The same tiny chest that felt so weak I swore if I hit the floor wrong, something inside me would give out. Even now, my hand pressed against it, small and careful, like I had to remind myself it was still holding together.
And then there was him. I looked up again. Everything about him felt the opposite. Not just big—but dense. Like there was real weight behind it, a weight I could only dream of. My mind couldn't help but wonder…What would that feel like… To have a body like that instead of this one?
"…Doesn't matter. What did I tell you about—"
I dropped down beside Sakura so suddenly, so exaggeratedly, that I completely cut him off.
"The hell are you d—"
"M-Mr. Usumi!" My voice cracked halfway through, small and trembling. It's probably awkward. Probably wrong.
I hadn't meant to interrupt, but I had to ask. I had to. If I didn't do it now, I wasn't sure I'd ever have the courage to speak again. My arms were stiff, my head low, and I could feel my pulse hammering in my temples. It was like staring up at a mountain I couldn't climb, yet… somehow, I had to.
Both of them turned to look at me now.
"S-Sumi-senpai… I—I heard you're the one who saved me. I… I don't know how to get home…" My fingers curled into my lap, tightening until they ached. "I miss my family. I miss my school. I miss my life. I think I can figure out the way once I get close enough, but… the city… I just—I need to get back there!"
"In that place…?" The word slipped from his mouth like it didn't belong.
His eyes widened—only slightly, but enough to matter. It wasn't confusion that crossed his face. It was something else entirely. The kind of reaction someone might have if they heard a person calmly say they intended to walk back into a burning building—or worse, if they didn't even realize it was even on fire.
"Yes. I can figure it out on my own. Then… you can leave me. You won't have to deal with me again. I just need to get back."
His gaze flicked—quick, precise—up to my head, as if checking for something missing. Then back to my face.
"You sure your head's all right?" His voice was low and measured, every word controlled, but there was a subtle edge beneath it. "…Did that knock of yours scramble something in there?"
I shook my head firmly, meeting his eyes. "No… nothing's wrong with my head. I'm fine. I could remember the way if I could see just a single street sign."
Why would he even think that? I'm not making this up. My head isn't busted. It's all there. Every detail… though part of me wishes it weren't. Some things I'd rather not remember—but that doesn't make them disappear.
"P-please… help me… I can't do this alone! I don't want to be lost anymore… I… I need you!" Every word trembled with hope that he wouldn't refuse, that he'd see me, really see me… and understand.
He didn't answer immediately.
His gaze slid past me, down the hallway, as if weighing something in the distance, then snapped back. His jaw tightened once, a sharp line of tension, like he'd bitten down on a thought and decided not to voice it.
"…Eat first," he said quietly. "Then we'll talk." The words didn't sound mean. But they didn't sound kind either.
"…Oh," I said, my voice stupid and small. My hands were still clenched tightly at my sides. "I—I can wait! I don't want to be a bother, but—uh, hey—!"
Before I could finish, he turned away. The rubber duck landed on the counter with a soft plop. Without a glance back, he reached for a shirt draped over the chair and pulled it on, movements calm and precise, like nothing could touch him.
Sakura didn't seem to notice a thing. "Yay! Breakfast!" she chirped, bouncing toward a table just in front of us, in the same room as that sleepy, perverted girl.
"C'mon, Pon‑chan!" She grabbed my hand and tugged me along.
I let myself be pulled, my thoughts a tangle of panic and confusion, my chest tight with questions I couldn't voice. Pondaru talk! Why is he walking away? Ask him! Wait—please don't go, Usumi! I need—
My frantic thoughts were cut short. He stopped at the doorway, his voice slicing through the jumble like a blade.
"Can you read and write?"
"Huh?" I gasped, a rush of relief flooding through me as if the mere fact he'd turned back had pulled me from the edge of panic. The silence I'd feared vanished in an instant.
"Answer me."
"Y-yes, sir! I… I can!"
"I want you to write a description. Your home. Your parents. Anything that might help us find them... And give it to Juna," he continued. "You haven't met her yet. When you do, remember—she's short-tempered. But she's got a good heart. Deeper than she lets on. Like you. Like me."
I nodded quickly, the words like you… like me echoing in my mind for the briefest second. What did he mean by that? I wondered—but just like that, the thought vanished. Too much to think about now.
This is about finding my family… My thoughts raced. Why can't I just tell him now? Why does it have to be written down? We're right here. I could just say it!
I pictured the street, the house, the way the front steps creaked if you stepped on the left side. I could describe it. I could.
But before I could start, he stepped into the hall.
"Have it ready."
And just like that, he was gone. Gone for real this time.
Why did it feel like this was a test? Was it really just a task—or something else? Maybe it was on purpose. Maybe it was meant to make me think carefully. Every word mattered. No stumbles. No second-guessing halfway through. No pretending I knew what I was saying if I didn't.
…Maybe that was the point.
But why the hell did he have to be so damn confusing about it?!