Kaguya Shinomiya's eyelids fluttered open. A faint groan escaped her lips as consciousness returned, bringing with it a wave of weakness. She found herself cradled in the secure arms of her attendant, Ai Hayasaka.
"Hayasaka…" Kaguya's voice was thin, fragile. "What… what was all that? Is that how ordinary people date? Do they all have to… do those kinds of things?"
Ai Hayasaka remained silent for a beat. She had feared the material would be too potent for her mistress's innocent sensibilities.
"Some of what was depicted is…part of an ordinary couple's life," Hayasaka began, her tone measured and careful. "But it is not the entirety of it. The most important thing for you to understand, Kaguya-sama, is that the man behind it, Tanaka Masao, is dangerous. It is best to keep your distance."
"…I see."
A full-body shiver wracked Kaguya's frame as the lurid images replayed in her mind's eye.
"What about Fujiwara-san?" she asked suddenly, her usual composure shattered.
She clung to Hayasaka's presence like a frightened child, her decision-making faculties seemingly offline.
Hayasaka considered this. "We could simply mention, in passing, that Tanaka Masao has published certain… works. Fujiwara-san's natural curiosity will compel her to seek them out. What she does with that knowledge will then be her own affair."
"Yes. That's what we'll do."
"Then, if that is all, Kaguya-sama, I shall take my leave."
As Hayasaka moved to gather the scattered books from the floor, Kaguya's voice stopped her.
"Wait. Hayasaka… leave them."
"Leave them?"
Hayasaka's eyes shifted to her mistress. Kaguya was pointedly avoiding her gaze, a telltale blush blooming on her pale cheeks. A knowing, almost maternal smile touched Hayasaka's lips.
'Of course. Kaguya-sama is at that age, after all.'
"Very well. Please rest, Kaguya-sama. I will be going." She paused at the door, her voice dipping into a playful whisper. "And just so we are clear, once I close this door, I will not be returning for the rest of the night."
"I know. Just go!"
With an impatient wave, Kaguya shooed her out.
The moment the door clicked shut, Kaguya scrambled to her feet and turned the lock. She then gathered the stack of books as if handling contraband explosives, her movements delicate and reverent. After drawing the curtains around her bed, she created a secret, private world.
What followed was a long, clandestine study session. Kaguya would read a few pages, her eyes wide, then need a significant pause to process the shocking new "knowledge" she was acquiring.
Hayasaka, of course, had not departed immediately. She lingered by the door, listening to the occasional gasp of surprise from within. A faint, satisfied smile graced her lips.
'Kaguya-sama is certainly learning a great deal. I only hope it is for the best.'
Her mistress had been far too innocent. Now, however, she seemed to be hurtling toward the opposite extreme…
'No matter. The priority is secrecy.'
If it were discovered that she, Hayasaka, had exposed the heiress of the Shinomiya family to such illicit material, the consequences for both of them would be severe.
—
The Next Day
Masao adjusted the strap of his backpack, which was filled with his newly acquired doujinshi, and boarded the train to Tokyo once more.
As for the novel 'I Want to Eat Your Pancreas' he had already procured a digital copy from his "system" and submitted it electronically to Dengeki Bunko, a prestigious imprint under the Kadokawa publishing banner (a famous studio). He had chosen it for its influence and reputation.
Ding-dong!
After the hour-long journey, he stood at the entrance to the Sawamura residence. As always, it was Sayuri Sawamura who answered, her warmth as enveloping as a spring day.
"Masao-kun! You're here. Please, come in!"
"Thank you for having me, Sayuri-san."
Masao offered a small, polite smile as he stepped inside. The layout of the Sawamura home was becoming familiar, its only enduring mystery being the perpetual absence of Eriri's father.
In the living room, Eriri was perched on the sofa, arranged in a pose of classic tsundere haughtiness: arms crossed, one leg draped over the other.
The sight of Masao did little to improve her mood; she was still smarting from the emotional devastation of his previous "Hydrangea" storyline. She greeted him with a sharp "Hmph!" but, notably, held her tongue.
Her mother had mentioned that Masao was bringing new works. For a chance to preview fresh material, she could tolerate his presence a little longer.
Sayuri accepted the hefty stack of doujinshi. "Now, Eriri, please be a good host. I'll be in my room."
Eriri's eyes had been locked onto the precious cargo, so when her mother proceeded to carry the entire stack away, her hope curdled into despair.
"Hey, wait! Mom, leave one for me at least!"
Her plea was futile. Sayuri was already disappearing into her room, the definitive click of the lock echoing in the ensuing silence.
Realizing the battle was lost, Eriri slumped and grumbled under her breath, "Honestly… I always get the leftovers. What kind of mother does that?"
Mid-complaint, she suddenly became aware of a gaze fixed on her. She turned to find Masao watching her.
"W-What are you staring at?" she stammered, her pride flaring. "It's not like I wanted to read them that badly anyway! I just need to make sure you aren't polluting the world with more of your… weird stuff!"
Her trademark tsundereness was back in full force.
"Anyway, do what you want. I have a manuscript to finish. Studying for exams has completely wrecked my drawing schedule."
Hearing that Eriri was heading off to draw, Masao saw an opportunity. "I don't have any plans. Do you have a spare set of tools? I feel like sketching something myself."
Eriri raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You're going to draw here?"
Masao nodded.
After a moment's hesitation, Eriri gestured for him to follow. "Well, come on, then."
She led him to her room. She had to admit, she was curious about his process. Perhaps they could even exchange some professional insights.
Eriri's room was spacious. While not as austerely tidy as, say, Yukinoshita's might be, it was far from the chaotic hurricane of art supplies one might expect. It was a working artist's organized chaos.
She went to a large cabinet and retrieved a brand-new, high-quality set of drawing tools—she always kept spares. Paper and supplies of the finest grade were never in short supply here.
Taking the tools, Masao settled onto the floor by the low table, which was covered with Eriri's own unfinished pages. Studying the detailed linework, a question occurred to him.
"Hey, Eriri, when you draw… do you use a reference?"
A faint blush instantly colored Eriri's cheeks. She cleared her throat, slightly flustered. "O-Of course I do."
She retrieved a featureless wooden artist's mannequin and handed it to him. "Here. I use this for posing and getting the proportions right."
Masao looked at the bland, articulated doll. It was useful for basic anatomy, he supposed, but it was not what he had been asking for.
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