Staring at the alabaster body before him, smooth as carved jade and carrying a faint, alluring scent, Hayashi Maki drew a deep breath and set a hand on Shiina Mashiro's delicate shoulder.
"Mashiro, listen. A girl's body is only for the person closest to her to see—like a boyfriend," he said. "So promise me, okay? When you're around strangers, protect yourself. Keep your clothes on, got it?"
Honestly, the sight made him happy—who wouldn't be? But he didn't want other men seeing Mashiro's body in the future. Her old roommate and "handler," Rita, was a girl—that was different. Now Rita wasn't here, and Mashiro had zero defenses or basic common sense. Hayashi Maki worried some bold punk would take advantage of her. From now on, he had to teach Mashiro to understand her own worth.
Hearing his serious tone, Mashiro nodded blankly. "Someone important? Mashiro understands."
"Good. Do you know what 'someone important' means?"
"I do." She looked at him earnestly and added, "Hayashi Maki is the handler. Mashiro's body is only for Hayashi Maki to see."
"Uh… I appreciate that, but I'm a man, you know—and a dangerous one for girls. Better to listen to Mahiru."
"Mhm. Mahiru is a handler too. Mashiro remembers."
Seeing her docile nod, Hayashi Maki didn't press further. He patted her head, then picked up a pair of panties with a pink bow from the bed and handed them to her. "Alright, let's get dressed. You're grown up now—learn to do what you can by yourself."
Mashiro pouted a little. She was used to Rita dressing her, and switching to doing it herself wasn't easy. But faced with Hayashi Maki's gentle gaze, she chose to obey halfway. With her handler gone, she should listen to the new one; still, because she didn't like it, she decided to test his tolerance. Also, she was chilly—she didn't want to catch a cold. Being sick felt awful.
Under Hayashi Maki's eyes, she took the panties, and without shying away, lifted a slim, pale leg and slowly stepped in. Next came casual clothes; she had plenty. Hayashi Maki chose a beige top and a white skirt and held them out. Mashiro, however, refused to move, staring up at him with big eyes.
"Hayashi Maki is the handler, so you help Mashiro get dressed," she said. "Rita always helped Mashiro dress." She emphasized it on purpose.
A heat rushed through Hayashi Maki—not anger. Who could get mad at a super-cute girl using a pleading tone and looking up at him like that? The heat was… physiological. Too tempting.
He swallowed and sighed, crouching with the skirt. "Since you gave me such a… view, I'll help this once. After today, you learn to do it yourself. Okay, lift your foot."
Mashiro obediently raised her slim, white leg. Fighting the flush in his blood, he dressed her, tugging the zipper up. Then, seeing all that porcelain skin, his self-control wavered. He wasn't exactly a saint; with beauty right in front of him, doing nothing wasn't in his nature. He slipped an arm around her lower belly and brushed his lips to it.
"Mm… Hayashi Maki… that tickles~" Mashiro's cheeks pinked; she instinctively pressed a hand to his head, confused by his teasing.
"I'm doing something very, very bad to you," Hayashi Maki said lightly. "That's what happens when you're completely defenseless."
He held her close and continued seriously, "Understand? When men see how cute you are, they'll do bad things to you. So from now on, never show yourself like this in front of other guys."
"Mmm… Mashiro understands…" Her face warmed. She didn't know much about this sort of thing, but she knew at least one point—Rita had told her. Only people who like each other should kiss, which is why her manga's leads hug each other. If Hayashi Maki was like this… didn't that mean he liked her a lot?
Mashiro, as her name implied, was truly "pure white." Her fair, luminous skin gleamed; her delicate face was adorably blank. Like a spotless white page—one that felt dangerously enticing. A slender waist, long legs, all brimming with youthful charm.
Her cheeks flushed as she felt Hayashi Maki so close. A strange feeling rose in her chest, sending ripples across what had been a calm heart.
"...Mmm… Hayashi Maki, this feels weird… Are you going to eat Mashiro up?" she whispered.
"This is the price for being defenseless around boys," Hayashi Maki explained. The girl's purity delighted the devil in him. "So, will you still show up like this in front of boys next time?"
Mashiro shook her head hard. "Mmm… so strange… Don't eat Mashiro… Mashiro still wants to be a mangaka…"
Pressing his head with both hands, she pleaded softly, even as an indescribable feeling bloomed inside. Hayashi Maki's face etched itself into her mind, taking a place alongside Rita.
Since he'd come to wake her for breakfast, he couldn't go too far—he didn't want Mahiru getting angry. Reluctantly, he let her go, gently helped her into the rest of her clothes, took her to wash up, then led her by the hand back to his place for breakfast.
Mashiro trailed behind him, that fetching blush still on her cheeks. Hayashi Maki's "lesson" had left a deep impression. She'd remember: never be that defenseless in front of anyone else. From now on, she would only show herself to someone who liked her—her handler, Hayashi Maki. It felt like a new world had opened.
While eating, Mashiro's gaze kept drifting to Hayashi Maki's lips without her noticing. She felt… a little unwilling to let that feeling go.
~~~
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