I am dreaming. I know because the five of them are there, standing in a row, like in a group photo that never existed. Aiko, Mizuki, Yumi, Rina, Sakura. Their faces are blurred, as if someone had run a wet finger over the fresh ink of a drawing. But they smile. They all smile. With that sweet and cruel smile they saved for the moment they had already decided to betray me. The smile that said "poor Kazuo" while they climbed into another man's bed. I hate them. I hate them so much that I feel my throat burning.
And then a shrill, unbearable voice shatters the dream like a hammer against glass.
"GOOD MORNING, MY DEAR CUCKOLD! Dreaming of your exes again? How pathetic! Did you start crying in your sleep or was it just a morning erection from the memories?"
I snap my eyes open. The same ceiling. The same cracks shaped like a map I saw last night. The same grayish light slipping through the half-broken blind. I turn my head slowly. The room is still the same: the trash bag full in the corner, the floor more or less clear, the black panties are gone (I threw them in the dumpster downstairs at three in the morning, like a thief).
My wish didn't come true. I'm not in my old rotten room. I'm not going to wake up and get a real second chance. This is real. This is permanent.
I sit up abruptly on the bed and hide my face in my hands. Elbows on my knees, fingers digging into my messy black hair. I feel the weight of the entire world pressing on the back of my neck.
"Gooood moooorning, my drama king," sings the goddess with that honeyed, sensual voice she uses when she wants to irritate me more. "Did you sleep well in your bad boy bed? Did you dream of your five unfaithful princesses thanking you for being so understanding?"
"Stop talking to me like you're a phone sex operator at seven in the morning."
"Oh, but your freshly woken voice is sooo sexy… hoarse, deep, like you'd been shouting all night… or moaning?"
"Stop."
"Fine, fine. I just wanted to cheer you up. How about a mental kiss to start the day with energy?"
"I'd rather you stab an ice pick into my brain."
I get up. The black T-shirt is wrinkled and smells of old tobacco. I yank it off and throw it to the floor. The pants drop next. I'm left in dark boxers, not caring at all. After all, I'm alone. Or so I thought.
"...PERVERT!"
The goddess's scream drills into my brain as if she'd seen a ghost. "W-what are you doing stripping like that all of a sudden?! Without warning! Without foreplay! I… I'm not ready!"
I freeze, raising an eyebrow.
"Seriously? You, the goddess who put me in this body and who yesterday offered me a physical body to screw, now get shy because I take off my clothes?"
"I-it's not the same thinking about it as SEEING IT LIVE! And oh my god those shoulders! And those abs! And… and…!"
Her voice turns into a high-pitched, nervous squeal. "Cover yourself, beast! This is divine harassment!"
I laugh without joy.
"Stop being childish. You literally designed this body. And now you're embarrassed?"
"It's not embarrassment, it's… modesty! There are rules! Protocol! You can't look at the upgraded package without prior notice!"
"Then close your mental eyes or whatever you use. I'm going to shower."
I step into the bathroom. A small-scale disaster: cracked tiles, mirror with a fracture cutting across my reflection like a scar, shower with black mold in the joints, a roll of toilet paper half dissolved by humidity.
The water comes out lukewarm after five minutes of waiting, and when it finally falls it feels like raining sand. I step under the stream and close my eyes. Then I look down. …Fuck.
It's not like I was unfortunate before, but this… this is another level. Even flaccid it's big, thick, veins standing out. The goddess wasn't joking when she said she had "upgraded the package."
I stare at it a second longer than necessary, impressed despite myself.
"You like what you see, huh? ∼" Her voice returns, now clearly proud. "I told you. Now it's a work of art. You could charge admission."
"I don't need your live commentary, thanks."
I soap myself quickly, the water turning cold again because the heater is crap. I step out, dry off with a towel that smells of damp, and open the closet.
Absolute chaos. T-shirts tossed as if they'd exploded, jeans balled up, leather jackets hung any which way. I find the Seiran High uniform at the back, wrinkled but complete: black pants, white shirt, navy vest with the embroidered crest, loose tie. It's identical to Reika's, but in the male version.
I put it on slowly, button by button, while staring at myself in the cracked bathroom mirror. The reflection staring back is… strange. Wild black hair falling over gray eyes. Silver piercing on the lower lip. Sharp jawline, broad shoulders, narrow waist. The shirt pulls slightly across the chest and arms. I leave the tie loose, because I don't know how to knot it and because, anyway, Reiji never wore it properly.
I look a second longer. This isn't me. But I have to learn to be him.
"You look gorgeous," whispers the goddess now in a soft voice. "Like you stepped out of a yankee manga… but one of the good ones. The kind that end up being the perfect boyfriend in the end."
"I don't want to be anyone's boyfriend."
"We'll see."
I sigh, grab the empty backpack, and open the door. The day begins.
I leave the neighborhood of low houses and narrow streets, and little by little the scenery changes. The buildings grow taller, cleaner, with well-kept gardens and light brick walls. The air no longer smells of greasy food and tobacco, but of freshly cut grass and expensive perfume. And suddenly, they appear.
Students of Seiran. Impeccable uniforms, branded backpacks, gleaming shoes. They see me coming from afar and the effect is immediate: groups part like the Red Sea, conversations cut off mid-sentence, girls cling to their friends and boys drop their gaze at once. A couple of first-years almost trip over each other trying to move aside. One girl drops her bottle of tea and doesn't even dare to bend down to pick it up until I've passed.
I feel their eyes stabbing into the back of my neck like needles.
"Look at that, your fan club is already up and running," the goddess whispers mockingly. "They fear you. They adore you. They hate you. You're the king of the school without even opening your mouth. Don't you love it?"
"No."
"What do you mean no? This is pure power! You could make them kneel just by glaring at them!"
"I don't want anyone to kneel. I want them to stop looking at me as if I were about to draw a katana and start cutting heads."
"Oh, Kazuo, how idealistic you suddenly became. Just yesterday you wanted the world to burn."
"Yesterday I was dead inside. Today… today I just want to walk without being feared."
"Well, tough luck, darling. This body has 'walking danger' written on its forehead. And you're wearing it. So get used to it."
"Or I'll change it."
"Excuse me? Change the reputation of Reiji Ryūsei? The guy who sent five yakuza to the hospital with a folding chair? Seriously?"
"Seriously."
And I keep walking, the backpack hanging from one shoulder, while the goddess keeps grumbling in my head about how "ungrateful" I am.
Then I arrive. Seiran High rises at the end of an avenue lined with perfectly pruned cherry trees. It is enormous, modern, with glass buildings and white concrete shining under the morning sun. Four stories, giant windows, a gym that looks like a shopping mall, professional athletic tracks, an auditorium that could host an idol concert.
At the main entrance, a golden sign reads: 「私立星蘭学園 — Seiran Gakuen — Since 1953 preparing tomorrow's leaders」
There's even an artificial lake with koi carp and a curved red bridge. This is not a high school. It's a university campus for the rich disguised as a high school.
I cross the main gate. And with the very first step I take inside…
"Ouch!"
A sharp impact against my chest. Something small, soft, smelling of vanilla and new books collides with me and bounces back. The girl falls sitting on the ground, with a pained whimper, rubbing her forehead.
"Ouch…! I'm sorry, I didn't see you…!"
I lower my gaze. She is… tiny. I swear she doesn't even reach my abdomen. Light brown hair, short to the shoulders, straight bangs, and a pair of star-shaped clips. Perfectly ironed uniform, skirt a little longer than usual, knee-high socks. And on both wrists… white bandages, clean, covering from the palm almost to the elbow.
My eyes linger there a second too long.
"OH MY GOD, HOW CUTE!" the goddess suddenly screams, with a lustful voice that almost makes me cringe. "Look how petite! What an angel face! And those bandages… ugh, self-inflicted wounds or BDSM, I don't care, I want to lick her scars and…!"
"Shut the fuck up right now!"
"Don't be a spoilsport! She's just a hurt little girl! Your walking fetish! What a huge size difference! Look at her, she's on the ground staring at you with those doe-like eyes. Pick her up, take her to the infirmary, and then...…!"
"Shut up, damn it!"
The girl remains on the floor, blinking in confusion, unaware that I'm arguing with a perverted goddess inside my head. I crouch down slowly, extend my right hand toward her. Palm open. No rush. No threat.
"Are you okay?"
She lifts her gaze. Big honey-colored eyes, with long lashes. And in them… there is no fear. Only surprise.
The girl stares at me a second longer with those huge honey-colored eyes… and suddenly her expression shatters. Wonder turns into pure panic. Her pupils dilate, her mouth barely opens, and she scoots back on the floor as if she had just recognized the devil himself.
"Hahahahahaha! Look at that face she made! She recognized you, Reiji-kun! You're the boogeyman of the school! What a moment!" the goddess cackles in my head.
"Shut the fuck up."
I lower my voice as much as I can, crouch a little more, and soften my tone until it sounds almost… human. "Hey. Easy. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to help you up."
She swallows hard. Her eyes flick from my face to my open hand, as if expecting it to turn into a claw at any moment. But at last, with trembling fingers, she extends her small hand and places it on mine. Her skin is cold. I lift her effortlessly; she weighs less than my empty backpack.
Once she's standing, I see she's not as tiny as I thought: she reaches my chest, maybe a little above the sternum. Even so, she has to tilt her chin way up to look at me.
"Watch where you're going, okay?" I tell her, almost in a whisper. "This place is full of idiots running around."
She nods quickly, still pale, and opens her mouth to say something, but…
"Oi, Hoshino!! On the floor again like trash?"
The shout comes from the main hallway. I raise my eyes. A group of five or six people heads straight toward us. Four girls and one boy my height, with bleached blond hair and an attitude screaming "I'm the king of the school even if I'm not even class rep."
The one shouting is in front: long, straight black hair, side bangs, skirt hiked up to the limit of the rules, blazer open, and a silver chain dangling from her pocket. She looks like a juvenile delinquent idol who escaped from reform school.
When her eyes meet mine, the insults freeze in her throat. —Rei… Reiji-senpai… —she whispers, and I swear I see her cheeks flush red.
"KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! The yankee is crazy about you! Look how she blushed! She's your number one fan!" the goddess squeals like a deranged groupie.
"Shut up already."
At that very moment, the short girl —Hoshino, judging by the shout— moves quickly and slips behind me. Her small hands clutch the hem of my jacket, trembling. She is literally hiding behind my body, as if I were a human shield.
I sigh so deeply it almost hurts my chest. And I keep walking. Because this isn't my war. It isn't my problem. I don't want to get dragged into more drama.
"Wait, wait, wait! You're just going to leave like that?! She just hugged you with her whole body like a scared koala! And the other one is insanely jealous! This is a harem in the making, idiot!" the goddess screams indignantly.
"It's not a harem. It's one girl being bullied and another who's afraid of me. Leave me alone."
"But she's literally using you as a shield! And the yankee is about to explode with jealousy! Look, look, here she comes!"
I don't even get three steps further. Suddenly, two thin but strong arms wrap around my waist from behind. Hoshino buries her face between my shoulder blades and clings to me as if her life depended on it.
My whole body stiffens. My eyes go wide. I feel her ragged breathing against my back, the warmth of her small body pressed to mine, her fingers trembling against my shirt.
The group halts abruptly two meters away. The black-haired girl scrunches up her whole face. Her eyes narrow into furious slits and she points at Hoshino with a trembling finger.
"Let go of him right now, you damn runt! Who do you think you are to touch Reiji-senpai?!"
"JEALOUSY! PURE JEALOUSY! She's red as a traffic light! She wants to kill her and screw you at the same time! This is pure gold, Kazuo, PURE GOLD!"
"Shut the hell up already, you sick freak."
I look down. Hoshino is still clinging to my back like a trembling limpet, her face buried between my shoulder blades and her arms wrapped around my waist so tightly I can barely breathe. I sigh again. The third in less than five minutes.
"Pffft! Another tired old man sigh! You already sound like a fifty-year-old with back pain! Sigh here, sigh there! Do you want an oxygen tank or what?" the goddess bursts out laughing.
"Shut up."
I lower my gaze toward the black-haired girl, the yankee. I try to make my voice sound as gentle as possible, though it still comes out deep.
"Hey. Leave her alone, okay?"
She opens her mouth to retort, but at the sound of my voice she blurts out: "Y-yes… I'm sorry, Reiji-senpai…" And bows her head like a little girl caught stealing cookies.
But then the bleached blond guy in the group, the one who thinks that being my height gives him the right to talk, steps forward with a shitty grin.
"And who the hell do you think you…?"
He doesn't finish the sentence. The black-haired girl whips her head around so fast her hair lashes across her face. She looks at him with eyes that could freeze hell itself. —Shut your mouth, Kenta. Now.
The blond falls silent instantly. He shrinks as if someone had kicked him in the balls without touching him.
"HAHAHAHAHA! The lovestruck yankee defended you! She marked her territory in front of everyone! She's your official waifu, admit it!" the goddess screams between fits of laughter.
"Screw you."
I raise my voice just enough for everyone to hear.
"That's enough. Stop acting like grade school brats. All of you."
And I turn toward the building entrance, ready to leave once and for all. The black-haired girl timidly raises her hand.
"S-see you later, Reiji-senpai…"
"Goodbye." I reply flatly.
But out of the corner of my eye I see her ears turn red like tomatoes. I sigh again. The fourth.
"Fifth sigh already this morning! Olympic record! At this rate you'll need an emotional inhaler!"
I walk down the main hallway. And the small, quick footsteps behind me don't fade away.
I stop abruptly and turn my head.
"Hoshino. Stop following me like a lost puppy looking for an owner."
She stops too, two steps behind me. She bites her lower lip, fiddles with the bandages on her wrists, and murmurs in a voice so low I almost don't hear it: "S-sorry…"
And she keeps following me. At the exact same distance.
I sigh and keep walking.
"Oh, how sweet! She's adopted you! Now you're her favorite human! Are you going to put a collar on her with your name, or do you prefer she puts one on you?"
"Not funny."
"Of course it's funny! Look at how she gazes at you with those little eyes saying 'please don't abandon me'! She's a walking ball of anxiety and you're her portable security blanket!"
"Shut up."
"And the yankee is insanely jealous! This is a love triangle in real time! All that's missing is the student council president to complete the quartet!"
"You're sick."
I enter classroom 3-B. The noise from before —laughter, cell phones, chairs scraping— cuts off as if someone pressed the mute button. Twenty-eight pairs of eyes fix on me. Then on Hoshino, who slips in behind me like a small, silent shadow.
The whispers start low: "What's Reiji doing with Hoshino…?" "Is he harassing her?" "No, she's following him…" "Since when are they friends…?"
I ignore it all. I walk to the back of the classroom, the last desk by the window, the one that's always empty because no one dares sit near "Crazy Reiji." I drop my backpack. I sit down. I rest my elbows on the desk and hide my face in my hands.
Another day in this damned borrowed life.
And behind me, a few meters away, I hear the sound of a chair being carefully moved: Hoshino sitting with her friends, who greet her with nervous whispers and quick glances in my direction.
I sigh into my palms.
...
Classes are hell. I didn't remember math being so… cryptic. The blackboard is covered in symbols that look like alien hieroglyphs, and the teacher, a bald man with thick glasses, talks as if we had all been born knowing derivatives. Every time someone answers wrong, the whole class holds its breath… unless it's Reiji. Then everyone relaxes because "well, the delinquent doesn't even know how to add."
But today I decide to change that. I raise my hand. Twenty-eight heads turn in unison. The teacher blinks as if he'd just had a mild stroke.
"Yes… Ryūsei-kun?"
"Question seven. The answer is 12."
Dead silence. The teacher checks the board. Then looks at me. Then back at the board. And finally nods, astonished.
"Correct…"
I do it three more times. Two right, one wrong (very wrong), but at least I try. Every time I speak, the class seems to hold its breath a second longer. By the end of the last period, no one whispers "the delinquent" anymore. Now they whisper "what's wrong with Reiji today?"
Lunch break. The classroom fills with noise, laughter, the smell of rice and soy sauce. Groups of friends gather, couples sit on benches in the courtyard or on the stairs, some kiss openly. I stay in my seat at the back, alone, with my empty backpack on the desk. Not a single onigiri. Not a single coin.
A memory flashes through my mind: Reiji receiving the monthly transfer from his parents (who live in Osaka and never visit him), and blowing it all the first weekend on pachinko, beer, and cigarettes. There was never food at home. Never.
"Poor hungry cuckold," the goddess sings in a mocking, childish voice. "Do you want me to conjure up a magic bento? Or would you rather cry a little so some nice girl feeds you by hand?"
I smirk. Today I'm in the mood to fight back.
"You know what? Yes. Do it. Show up yourself with a little apron and a "abu, open wide, Reiji-kun!" Let's see if you dare, goddess of courage."
"W-what…! I… I couldn't…! That would be way too embarrassing!"
"Uh-huh. Embarrassing for you? The same one who yesterday wanted to materialize to screw me in bed? And now you're shy about a bento?"
"That was different! That was sex! Sex is art! But a kitchen apron and feeding you like a baby… that's… that's maximum divine humiliation!"
"Then shut up and stop mocking my hunger, coward."
"Tch! You're mean!"
And right at that moment: "Ryūsei-kun?"
I lift my head. Reika is standing in front of my desk. Impeccable uniform, high ponytail, the student council badge gleaming on her lapel. And a small, almost timid smile that doesn't fit at all with the cold president image she projects.
"KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! THE OFFICIAL TSUNDERE HAS APPEARED! AND SHE'S SMILING AT YOU! SHE BROUGHT YOU FOOD, I KNEW IT!" the goddess shrieks like a crazed fangirl.
"Hello." I say, dry, curt.
"Hello," she replies, and sits down without asking in the empty desk in front of mine, turning her back to the rest of the class. "Have you… eaten yet?"
"No."
"Perfect."
She leans forward a little, opens her backpack, and pulls out two bento boxes perfectly wrapped in colorful cloths. One pink, one blue. She sets them on my desk as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
"I have two. My mother always makes extra. If you want…"
My stomach chooses that exact second to roar like a starving lion. Reika lets out a short laugh, almost a puff, and covers her mouth with her hand.
The whispers start instantly, like a swarm: "Kujou Reika sharing bento with Reiji…?" "Is this a joke?" "Have they both gone crazy?" "That's couple-level stuff!" "Haruto's going to kill him when he finds out!" "Shut up, idiot, she can hear us!"
I look at the boxes. I look at Reika. She still has that faint smile, but now there's a slight blush on her cheeks.
"ACCEPT, ACCE…!"
"Shut up!" I cut her off before she can finish spitting out some surely perverted condition.
I look at Reika. Her violet eyes are fixed on me, expectant, without a trace of her usual coldness. I take a deep breath.
"Thank you, Kujou."
She nods, almost imperceptibly, and pushes the blue box toward me. Carefully, I remove the navy cloth. The lid lifts with a soft click and the smell hits me like a train: perfectly molded rice with an umeboshi plum in the center, grilled salmon gleaming with teriyaki sauce, tamagoyaki sliced into perfect pieces with a touch of sugar and dashi, two crispy potato croquettes, broccoli and carrots cut into flower shapes, three breaded shrimp, a couple of cherry tomatoes, and in one corner, two small onigiri wrapped in seaweed with spicy tuna filling.
It's so beautiful it almost feels wrong to touch it. I pick up the chopsticks… and hold them as if they were some unfamiliar weapon. I try to close my fingers… and the two sticks slip away, clattering onto the desk with a sharp clack.
Reika blinks. Then, without a word, she takes her own pair, leans forward, and before I can react, lifts a piece of salmon and brings it to my mouth.
"Open." she says calmly.
My eyes widen. "No, wait!," I lower my voice, nervous. "You… you have a boyfriend."
The change is instant. Her smile fades. She lowers her gaze, her shoulders sink a little, and the chopstick hangs frozen in the air.
"Idiot! Look what you've done!" the goddess screams.
I grit my teeth. I don't understand women. I never did. Not before, not now.
Reika breathes deeply, raises her eyes again, and her expression turns serious, almost professional.
"We argued yesterday. Again. It doesn't matter. You open your mouth. I'm going to teach you how to use chopsticks properly while we eat. Two birds with one stone."
"You don't have to…"
"I'm not backing down," she cuts me off, firm. "I told you yesterday I'd help you with your grades. Well, I'm also going to make sure you eat properly every day. I don't accept "no" for an answer."
And there it is again: that half-smile, proud, as if she had just won a battle I didn't even know we were fighting. I sigh (yet another one today). I open my mouth, defeated.
Reika truly smiles for the first time today, small but real, and brings the piece of salmon closer. I bite it. It's warm, juicy, perfect.
"Now look," she says as she places the chopsticks between my fingers, correcting my grip with her cold hands over mine. "The top one moves, the bottom one stays still… like this."
And while the entire class watches us in sepulchral silence, the president of the student council feeds me bite by bite, smiling each time I manage to pick something up on my own without dropping it.
Lunch ends far too quickly. Reika gathers the empty boxes with precise movements, gives me one last look (a mix of satisfaction and something I can't quite decipher), and disappears through the door of classroom 3-B. "She belongs to 3-A," I vaguely recall. The class of the top students.
As soon as she leaves, the goddess explodes in my head with a shriek that nearly bursts my eardrums: "IN LOVE! I told you, I told you a thousand times! The cold, perfect president is totally smitten with you! She fed you by hand in front of thirty witnesses! In Japan that's practically a marriage proposal!"
"She's not in love. She just… feels pity or something."
"Pity? Do you think Kujou Reika feels pity for anyone and then makes them homemade bento, teaches them chopsticks, and blushes every time you look at her? Wake up, Kazuo! That girl is two steps away from writing your name with little hearts in her planner!"
"Shut up already."
I rub my temples. The classical literature teacher should have arrived five minutes ago. The classroom is in that noisy limbo that precedes total chaos: phones out, chairs scraping, laughter, someone watching videos without headphones.
And then the scream. It isn't loud, but it's sharp and full of contained panic. A trembling "Stop!" that cuts through the air like a knife.
I turn my head toward the corner of the classroom, next to the cleaning cabinets. Hoshino is there, alone, pressed against the wall. Four girls from my class surround her.
One of them, a tall brunette with dyed light-brown hair and long black-painted nails, is snatching her pencil case while the others laugh.
"Drawing weird stuff again, Hoshino-chan?," the leader says in a syrupy voice. "What's this? A diary of cuts? Or love letters to your blades?"
Another, with high pigtails, giggles behind her hand.
"Why don't you show us your wrists today? Or are there no clean spots left?"
A third grabs Hoshino's left arm and yanks the sleeve down. The white bandage slips a little, revealing a fresh pink line.
"Look, look! It's still bleeding a bit! Such dedication…"
Hoshino tries to retreat, but the wall won't let her. Her head is bowed, bangs covering her eyes, shoulders hunched. She doesn't scream anymore. She just trembles.
Her supposed friends, the ones who used to surround her at recess, are across the room, looking the other way as if she doesn't exist.
I sigh so deeply it almost hurts my chest. This world is absurd. In my previous life, if someone bothered someone else, they'd settle it with fists in the yard and that was the end of it. Here… here they torture with smiles and sweet words, and the victim doesn't even lift her head.
I rise from my seat. The chair screeches against the floor, and the noise makes several heads turn. I walk slowly, hands in my pockets, until I reach the group.
The four girls look up at the same time. The moment they recognize me, their bravado shatters like a broken mask. The leader drops Hoshino's pencil case as if it were burning. The others step back two paces, pale.
I say nothing. I just stand there, towering over them, with the most neutral expression I can muster. Silence. One of them swallows audibly. Another stammers a barely audible "I-I'm sorry."
And in less than five seconds, the four vanish through the classroom door as if chased by a ghost.
Only Hoshino and I remain. She's still pressed against the wall, breathing fast, head bowed. The bandage on her left arm has slipped all the way down to mid-forearm. Underneath… lines. Many. Some old and white, others pink, a few still red and fresh.
A knot tightens in my throat.
And then, of course, the goddess decides to open her damned mouth: "Uff, how sexy! Self-harm scars! She's like a broken doll! Imagine her crying in your arms while you lick her wounds and then…"
"Shut the fuck up, you disgusting freak!," I scream mentally so hard it hurts my head. "This isn't one of your damn fetishes! She's a girl hurting herself because they're tearing her apart alive! You're repulsive!"
Absolute silence inside my skull. Then, in a small, offended voice: "…I was just… joking. No need to insult."
"Then learn where the fucking limit is! Damn it!"
Hoshino lifts her gaze for the first time. Her eyes are filled with tears that don't fall, and she looks at me with a mix of fear and… something else. Something that feels like gratitude and shame at the same time.
I try to soften my voice as much as possible, though with this body it always sounds like I'm about to threaten someone.
"Hoshino… go to the infirmary, come on. Let them check that."
The words break halfway; not because I'm short of breath, but because when I lower my gaze I see something I didn't expect. In the right pocket of her skirt, half-hidden under the navy fold, peeks a transparent little bag of cat kibble. The cheap kind, the ones sold in five-kilo packs at corner shops. A few crumbs cling to the fabric, and inside the pocket there's a small hole where more have spilled out.
Suddenly everything clicks. The scratches. The bandages she always wears. The faint smell of disinfectant I noticed earlier. The marks that aren't perfect straight lines, but irregular scratches, tiny bites, curved scars like little claws.
She doesn't self-harm. She feeds stray cats. And cats… well, cats are cats.
Before I can fully process it, the goddess bursts in again with her shrill, perverse voice: "Ooooh, a wounded kitten who feeds kittens! It's perfect! Imagine her with little ears, a bell collar, and you pulling the leash while she meows and…!"
I don't answer. Not a thought. Not a word. I slam the mental door shut.
"Hello…?" Silence. "Kazuo! Reiji! Stupid human! Answer me!" Silence. "Hey! Don't ignore me! It was a joke! Just a bit of innocent roleplay! It's not that serious!"
Absolute silence. No mental sigh. No glance at the inner sky. The silence stretches.
And the goddess, for the first time in all my existence (this one and the last), starts to get truly nervous. "…Okay, I went too far. I'm sorry." Silence. "I really am sorry! I didn't mean to offend you! It was a dumb joke, I swear I don't actually think it's sexy that she has cat wounds! Well, maybe a little, but not in a sick way, in a cute way! No, wait, that sounds worse! Help me, say something!" Silence. "Kazuo, please! Don't leave me in silence! It terrifies me! I'm a goddess, but I'm also a girl! I can't stand being ignored! I'm really sorry, truly! I'll never make jokes about that again! I promise on… on my very existence!"
I ignore her one second longer, just so she feels the weight. And then, with the coldest voice I can forge inside my head:
"Never cross that line again. Not a joke. Not a "but it's sexy." Not a damn fantasy. She's a girl who gets hurt helping others. If you ever open your mouth with that crap again, I swear I'll find a way to lock you in a corner of my mind where you'll never see the light again. Understood?"
Total silence. No sigh. No laugh. No "but…" Only peace.
I breathe deeply, for the first time in a long while without a shrill voice inside my skull, and look at Hoshino. She's finishing adjusting the bandage on her left arm with clumsy fingers, tying the knot with her teeth. Her eyes are fixed on the floor, but she's no longer crying.
"I'm fine…" she whispers, almost inaudible. "Really…"
I roll my eyes.
"Sure."
I crouch a little, take her hand gently (her fingers are cold and trembling just slightly), and help her stand up fully. She lets me, without resistance, like a kitten that's already decided it won't bite anymore.
At that moment the classroom door bursts open and a boy from another class rushes in shouting: "We're all going home!! Huge traffic jam on the highway! The teachers can't get here! Classes canceled until tomorrow!"
The classroom erupts in cheers, chairs falling, backpacks flying. People pour out in a rush, laughing, shoving, happy.
I grab my empty backpack, sling it over my shoulder, and start walking toward the door. I don't look back. But I feel, clearly, Hoshino's eyes fixed on the back of my neck.
When I cross the threshold and step into the hallway, I turn my head for a second out of the corner of my eye. She's standing in the middle of the almost empty classroom, the bag of kibble still peeking from her pocket, the bandages neatly tied, and an expression on her face that isn't fear.
It's something softer. Warmer. As if, for the first time, someone had reached out a hand to her without asking for anything in return.
I step out through Seiran's main gate and the afternoon sun hits me full in the face. The air is warm, smelling of freshly cut grass and hot asphalt. Students scatter in every direction: laughter, bicycles, groups saying goodbye until tomorrow. I just walk toward the exit, my empty backpack hanging from one shoulder, my mind surprisingly blank.
The goddess remains silent. No comments, no giggles, no perverted orders. It's so unusual it almost worries me.
And then: "Reiji!"
The shout cuts across the street like an arrow. I stop dead and turn my head. Reika runs toward me, her ponytail streaming behind her, blazer perfectly buttoned, pleated skirt swaying with each stride. When she reaches my side, she stops half a meter away, breathes a couple of times to catch her breath, and looks at me with that neutral expression she always wears… but she can't hide the faint blush rising to her cheeks.
I curse inwardly. Why does she always have to show up when I'm trying to go unnoticed?
"…Reika?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
She clears her throat, folds her arms under her chest, and adopts her perfect president posture.
"Reiji," she repeats, calmer. "Where are you going?"
"Why do you want to know?"
She blinks, as if the question caught her off guard.
"It's just… just small talk. We're schoolmates, aren't we? It's normal to ask what the other is doing after class."
Her voice is elegant, measured, almost formal… but the blush on her cheeks deepens slightly. She rubs her arm discreetly, as if she doesn't know what to do with her hands.
I stare at her for a moment. I think about rejecting her outright and continuing on my way, but there's something in her violet eyes (a barely perceptible glimmer of pleading) that makes me swallow the "no" already on the tip of my tongue.
"Nothing special," I say at last, shrugging. "I was going to the supermarket. Buy something to eat for home. The fridge is emptier than my backpack."
Reika's eyes widen slightly. Then, suddenly, a small, sincere smile appears on her lips.
"What a coincidence! I was planning to go to the supermarket too. My mother asked me to buy some things for the pantry. Why don't we go together? That way… you don't have to go alone."
I open my mouth to refuse.
"That's not necessary…"
"Please," she cuts me off, and this time her voice drops a little, almost vulnerable. "It'll just be for a while. Besides… after today's bento, I feel indebted. Let me repay you, even just a little."
Her eyes meet mine directly. No coldness. No untouchable president's pose. Just a normal girl who wants to spend some time with me.
I sigh.
"Fine. Let's go."
Reika's smile widens, almost imperceptibly, but noticeable. She positions herself at my side, at a prudent distance but close enough that our arms brush now and then as we walk.
"You know," she says suddenly, in a softer voice. "I've never walked home with someone after class. I always go alone or with a council member, but… this is different."
"Different how?"
"I don't know. More… peaceful. You don't talk just to talk. You don't try to impress. You just… are yourself."
I stay quiet for a moment.
"I don't know if that's good or bad."
"It's good," she replies quickly, then realizes she spoke too loudly and lowers her gaze to the ground. "Very good."
We walk in silence a while longer. The sun begins to set, painting the sky orange and pink. Students fade away, the streets grow quieter.
"What are you going to buy?" she asks suddenly.
"I don't know. Rice, instant noodles, something that won't spoil in two days. I'm not much of a cook."
"Really?," she looks at me curiously. "I am. My mother taught me since I was little. If you want… someday I can show you an easy recipe. Nothing complicated."
I glance at her sideways.
"Why are you doing all this?"
She stops. So do I. She turns toward me, hands clasped in front of her skirt. —Because… because yesterday you saved me. And today I realized that… maybe you also need someone to save you a little. Even if it's just from an empty fridge.
And there it is again: that look. The one I don't understand, but that makes it impossible for me to say no.
"Let's go," I say at last, resuming my pace. "The supermarket closes at eight."
Reika truly smiles this time, and walks beside me with a lighter step.
...
I walk into the supermarket behind Reika and feel my soul drop to the floor with a dull thud only I can hear. The air conditioning hits my face like a cold slap. The white fluorescent lights make everything shine too much. And the prices… dear God, the prices.
A regular pack of instant ramen, the kind that in my previous life cost 98 yen, here is 398. One liter of milk: 328 yen. Eggs (10 pieces): 458 yen. A sad cabbage: 398. Ground beef… I don't even dare look at the label.
I discreetly pull my wallet from my back pocket. I unzip it with two fingers. Inside: three 100-yen coins, one 50, and two 10s. 370 yen in total. Not even enough for a fancy pack of ramen.
My parents (Reiji's parents) still haven't made the monthly deposit. And when they do, I'll probably blow it all on beer again. I'm more broke than ever.
Reika, oblivious to my internal drama, keeps tossing things into the cart without glancing at the prices:
Fresh salmon.
Wagyu beef on sale.
Organic vegetables.
Two cartons of freshly squeezed orange juice.
A pack of strawberry mochi worth more than my entire life.
I pick up my sad pack of basic ramen and put it back on the shelf carefully, like someone laying a dream in the trash. I walk up to her, lean in a little, and whisper in her ear: "Hey… I'd better go. I… I can't afford anything."
She turns. She sees the coins I'm holding in my open palm, pathetic and gleaming under the supermarket lights. Her expression changes in half a second. First surprise. Then pure horror. Her eyes widen, her lips part, and for an instant it looks like she's about to scream.
"No," she says firmly, almost in a whisper. "You're not going anywhere."
"Reika, seriously, I…"
"You came with me. You carried the bags here. If I have to buy extra food for you, I'll buy it."
I try to protest, but she's already speaking louder, with that president's voice that allows no reply: "It's what any responsible student council president would do for a classmate in need. It's not charity. It's… student welfare policy."
And before I can say another word, she's already at the register paying for everything with a golden card she pulls from a leather wallet that costs more than my rent.
We leave the supermarket with eight heavy bags. I, obviously, carry all eight. She walks beside me with empty hands and an expression of silent victory.
"Guide me home."
She says suddenly.
"No need, I live nearby, I can…"
"Reiji," she cuts me off, and this time her voice is truly serious. "Guide. Me. Home. Please."
Her violet eyes lock onto mine. There's no pleading this time. There's command. And something else I can't read.
I curse inwardly. I curse my life, my luck, my empty wallet, and this girl who won't accept "no" for an answer.
"Fine," I growl. "Follow me."
And I start walking toward the old neighborhood, eight bags cutting off my circulation and Reika walking at my side as if this were the most normal thing in the world.
And the goddess, for the first time all day, stays silent. No laughter. No comments. Just silence.
...
The streets in my neighborhood are not pretty. They never have been. The asphalt is full of cracks where dry weeds grow, the streetlights have half their bulbs burned out and flicker like they've got a nervous tic, there are half-erased graffiti, torn garbage bags, and the permanent smell of old fried food and cat urine. A couple of rusty bicycles are chained to posts no one uses anymore. On the corner, an old man in a dirty T-shirt smokes while sitting on a plastic crate.
Reika walks beside me, and I notice how her shoulders gradually tense. Her eyes scan the low, peeling buildings, the windows with broken curtains, the balconies cluttered with junk. Her steps grow shorter, more cautious, as if she's afraid of stepping on something she shouldn't.
"Don't be so surprised," I say without looking at her. "This is everyday life."
She presses her lips together and barely nods, but keeps glancing around as if she were on another planet. The silence grows heavy. After a few minutes, I can't take it anymore.
"Reika."
"Hm?"
"Why are you doing all this?"
She stops abruptly. So do I.
"What do you mean?" she asks softly.
"I asked for help with grades. That's all. I didn't ask for bentos, or supermarkets, or for you to walk me home like some personal bodyguard. Besides… it's late. Your parents must be worried."
Deathly silence. Reika lowers her gaze to the ground. She stays like that for several seconds, as if searching for the exact words in the cracks of the asphalt.
"I lied." she finally says, almost in a whisper.
"About what?"
"About my mother. She didn't call me to buy anything. My parents… aren't home. They almost never are. They're in Singapore this week. Business trip. They'll be back in ten days… or fifteen. Depends on the meetings."
I stare at her. "I'm sorry," I say, and this time my voice comes out truly gentle, without irony, without sarcasm. "I didn't know."
She lifts her eyes. For a second her violet gaze meets mine, then quickly darts away, as if it burned. A faint blush rises to her cheeks.
"It's fine," she murmurs. "I'm used to it. The house is always empty. The fridge full of food prepared by the maid. The answering machine full of messages I never listen to. Sometimes… sometimes I just want to walk aimlessly until night falls. Today… today I didn't want to go back yet."
She falls silent for a moment, then adds, almost to herself: "And with you… I don't feel so alone."
I don't know what to say. I've never been good at these things.
Reika takes a small step toward me. Now she's closer. Close enough that I can smell her soft perfume, something floral and expensive, mixed with the warmth of her skin after walking.
"Thank you for letting me come," she says quietly. "Even if it's just this far."
We continue walking in silence, but now it isn't uncomfortable. It's… peaceful.
We reach the building. Reika lifts her head and looks it up and down: the dirty beige façade, the rusty metal stairs, the broken flowerpots on some balconies, the laundry hanging that no one collects.
"Cozy." she whispers with a small smile.
I roll my eyes.
"Don't mock me."
"I'm not mocking," she says, and she sounds sincere. "It's… real. My house looks like a museum. Everything perfect, everything cold. This… this has life."
We climb the stairs. The metal creaks beneath our feet. I take out the keys, open door 2-B, and step inside.
The apartment still smells of lemon from the cheap cleaner I used last night. It's not big: open living room-kitchen, an old sofa, a low table full of marks, the small TV, the worn linoleum floor.
"You can leave the bags wherever," I say as I head to the kitchen. "And you can go now. Thanks for everything."
Reika doesn't move. She sets the four bags that are mine on the table and stands looking around: the bare walls, the nearly empty fridge visible from here, the single dead plant in the window.
"Do you live alone?" She asks softly.
"Yes."
"Always?"
"Since I can remember in this body."
She nods slowly. I place my bags on the counter and start unpacking: rice, noodles, eggs, milk, some ground beef, vegetables. I've never had the fridge so full.
Reika remains standing, fiddling with the strap of her backpack.
"Can I… can I come tomorrow?," she suddenly asks. "To cook. You don't have to do anything. I'll bring the ingredients and… and prepare food for several days. That way you won't have to eat ramen all week."
I open my mouth to say no.
"No." I reply dryly.
"Please," she insists, stepping closer. "It's no trouble. I like cooking. And… and you need to eat well if you want to improve your grades."
"You don't have to…"
"Reiji," she cuts me off, and this time her voice is firm. "Let me do this. It's not charity. It's… my selfishness. I want to come."
I stare at her. Her eyes shine with a mix of determination and something softer, more fragile. I sigh so deeply it almost hurts my chest.
"Do what you want."
The smile she gives me is so wide, so sincere, it almost blinds me.
"Thank you!" she says, sounding truly happy. "I promise you won't regret it. I'll bring easy recipes and… and I'll teach you to make them too, okay? That way you won't always depend on me."
She walks to the door, opens it, and before leaving turns back one last time.
"Tomorrow at six I'll be here. Don't open if it's not me."
"Okay."
"Good night, Reiji."
"Good night."
She closes the door softly.
I stand in the middle of the living room for a while, staring at the closed door. The silence is so dense I can almost touch it. And suddenly I realize… I miss her. The goddess. That annoying, unbearable, perverted, foul-mouthed goddess who hasn't left me alone for a single second since I opened my eyes in this body. And now she's quiet. Because I made her quiet. Shit.
"…Goddess?" I call out mentally, almost in a whisper. Nothing. "Are you there? Absolute silence."
I feel awful. I know I went too far. I know I crossed a line when I yelled at her like that. She's a pain, yes, but… she's also been with me all this time. She's the only one who knows who I really was.
I walk to the bedroom, fall backwards onto the bed without taking off my uniform, arms spread wide as if I'd just fallen from the tenth floor. I stare at the cracked ceiling.
"Hey…" I try again, this time softer, gentler. "I'm sorry."
Silence. I sigh and close my eyes. I try to make my tone… different. Warmer. Even a little playful, like when she teases me.
"Come on, sweetheart… don't leave me like this. I know I got on your nerves, but… it wasn't that bad, was it? Come back… I miss you."
Nothing. I bite my lip, smirk to myself though no one can see me.
"You know you're the only one who puts up with me, right? Without you I'm lost… Come on… say something, even if it's just to insult me."
A soft "no," almost a sigh, drifts from the back of my mind. I smile for real this time, relieved.
"See? I knew you couldn't resist this sexy voice."
"IDIOT!," she suddenly explodes, and her voice fills my head again as if it had never left. "More than an idiot! You're a brute, inconsiderate, an… emotional ogre! Do you know how bad I felt? You ignored me for HOURS! I've never been silent that long since the invention of Olympus! You shoved me into a dark corner of your brain like a dirty sock!"
"I know, I know…" I say, still smiling. "I was an asshole."
"A titan-level asshole! You made me feel like I was a real nuisance! I just wanted to make a silly joke and you… you locked me in the prison of silence! That's cruelty, Kazuo! Maximum cruelty!"
"You're right."
"Of course I'm right! And now you come with that cheap seducer voice trying to fix it! Well, it doesn't work that easily, huh! You'll have to grovel a bit more!"
"I'll grovel as much as you want," I say, and this time my voice is sincere. "I really am sorry. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I know you went too far with the comment, but… my reaction was disproportionate. I won't do it again. I promise."
Silence again, but this time it's different. It's a silence that waits.
"Do you believe me?" I ask softly.
A long, theatrical sigh.
"You're an idiot… And that apology sounded almost decent. Almost."
"So that's a yes?"
"This is an "I accept your apology, but you owe me something big." And when I say big, I mean big. With interest. With extras. With the full premium package."
I smile at the ceiling, relieved, happy to hear her voice again even if it's to scold me.
"Deal."
"Good. And now rest, reincarnated cuckold. Tomorrow your lovestruck president is coming to cook for you, and you still have to decide whether you'll keep pretending you don't like her or finally give in."
"Good night."
"Good night, idiot."
And with her voice once again echoing in my head, I close my eyes and, for the first time in a long while, I fall asleep without wishing to wake up somewhere else.
...
I'm dreaming again. And it's the worst dream of all.
First Aiko appears, my first high school girlfriend, kneeling on the floor of the kendo room, her uniform open and the team captain behind her, gripping her hips while she moans his name. Then Mizuki, sitting on her boss's lap in the karaoke room, skirt pulled up to her waist, moving slowly while she looks me in the eyes and laughs. Yumi in the back seat of a college student's car I didn't even know, legs spread, head thrown back. Rina in my best friend's bed, screaming things she never said to me. And Sakura… Sakura on top of my supposed "older brother," her nails digging into his back while she whispers "I'm sorry, Kazuo" between gasps.
I see them all, one after another, on loop, like a cruel porn film made just for me. I want to scream, I want to hit, I want to tear my eyes out, but I can't move. I can only watch. I can only feel the helplessness burning through my veins, my stomach twisting, the tears that won't fall because not even in dreams am I allowed to cry. It's like they're ripping my heart out with coffee spoons, slowly, again and again.
And then… Knock knock knock!
The sharp pounding on the door rips me out of the dream like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over me. I snap my eyes open, disoriented, drenched in cold sweat. My heart is pounding so hard I feel it in my throat. I glance at the cheap digital clock on my nightstand: 1:47 a.m.
Knock knock knock knock!
"Reiji-chaaan~? Open up, darling, it's me!"
A female voice, sing-song, clearly drunk. I drag myself out of bed, still in my wrinkled uniform, and stumble toward the front door. I open it.
And I'm hit by an explosion of expensive perfume, alcohol, and human warmth. A gorgeous woman, short perfectly dyed blonde hair, black eyes lined like a 2000s gyaru idol, giant false lashes, glossy pink lips, a tight black dress leaving little to the imagination, sky-high heels, and a leather jacket hanging off one shoulder.
BAM! She throws herself at me, hugs me tightly, and plants a wet, noisy kiss on my cheek.
"Reiji-kun! My big baby! My favorite wolf! My wild sweetheart!"
She smells of vodka, menthol cigarettes, and sweet perfume. A memory unlocks like a violent flash:
Name: Natsuki (Natsuki-chan to me). She's 21 (three years older than this body). Works as a hostess in an expensive Kabukichō club. She's been Reiji's ex-"friend with benefits" (many benefits) for two years. She's getting married in three months to a wealthy 38-year-old client who promised her a life of luxury… but she still comes here when she gets drunk and wants "real fun."
With a sluggish, sleepy voice, I try to push her away.
"Natsuki… let go, damn it. It's almost two in the morning."
She pouts dramatically, inflates her glossy lips, and looks at me with drunk puppy eyes.
"But I just wanted to have fun with you, baby! You know… like before. You pin me against the wall, lift my skirt, grab my hair and… well, you know the rest! My future husband is in Osaka and I feel like being wrecked for a bit."
I step back, rubbing my face.
"You're about to get married, Natsuki. Stop it."
She bursts out laughing and staggers into the apartment without asking.
"Oh, please! As if you cared! How many times did you screw me knowing I had a boyfriend, huh? Ten? Twenty? You were the king of other people's horns, Reiji-kun!"
She stops in the middle of the living room, looks around, and her eyes go wide.
"Hey! This place is… clean! What happened to your usual pigsty? And my black lace panties? I left them here last time!"
I smile without energy.
"I threw them in the trash."
She freezes. Then her eyes fill with drunken crocodile tears and she starts crying theatrically.
"My favorite panties! They were La Perla! They cost more than your rent! You monster!"
"Shut up already," I sigh, scratching my neck. "Sit on the couch. I'll make you hot milk and you'll sleep. Tomorrow you'll regret all of this."
She wipes her tears with the back of her hand, flops onto the couch, and crosses her legs provocatively.
"Hot milk? Seriously? You're not going to give me your special milk like before?"
"I'm going to give you cow's milk in a cup, Natsuki. You sleep in the bed, I'll take the couch. And nothing's going to happen. End of story."
I head into the kitchen, pour milk into a pot, and turn on the low flame, while she keeps talking from the living room in her sing-song, drunken voice. —You're boring! The old Reiji would've already slammed me against the fridge! What happened to you, baby? Did you suddenly turn good?
I sigh as I stir the milk.
"Something like that."
I walk toward the living room with the cup of warm milk in my right hand, steam rising in soft spirals and the sweet smell filling the air. The apartment is dim; only the kitchen light and the blue flicker of the turned-off TV illuminate the space. My steps are slow, heavy, as if each one weighed a ton.
I lift my gaze when I reach the couch… and freeze. Natsuki is lying on her side, propped up on one elbow, one leg bent over the other, her dress pulled up almost to her waist. Her neckline has slipped dangerously low, revealing the black lace of her bra. One hand plays with her short blonde hair while the other rests on her thigh, tracing slow circles with her long, shiny nails. She looks at me with those black, lined eyes, gleaming with alcohol and malice, and bites her lower lip in an exaggerated way.
"Are you here to say goodnight, daddy~?"
I sigh, trying to stay calm.
"Natsuki, stop it. Take the milk and go to sleep."
She rises slowly, like a cat, sits cross-legged, and takes the cup with both hands as if she were a good little girl. She takes a small sip, closes her eyes, and lets out an exaggerated moan.
"Mmm… it's good. But you know I prefer yours warm and straight from the source, don't you?"
"Stop" I repeat, more firmly. "Drink it and go to bed. Alone."
She finishes the milk in a couple of long gulps, licking her lips with deliberate slowness. Her body visibly relaxes; her shoulders drop, her eyes grow glassy, the alcohol and hot milk begin to take effect.
"Thank you, Reiji-kun…" she whispers more softly. "You're the best, really. You know what? We could sleep together… like before. Just sleep, I promise to behave… or misbehave, if you want~"
"No. Now get up and go to bed."
She shakes her head, spoiled, and opens her arms like a little girl.
"I don't want to walk… Carry me, pretty please~ Like when we were fake lovers."
I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts.
"We weren't lovers at all. And you were about to get married, remember?"
"But not tonight! Tonight I'm all yours~"
I sigh for the umpteenth time. I step closer, bend down, and before she can protest further, I lift her in my arms bridal-style. She's light. Too light for all the drama she carries. She lets out a squeal of joy and instantly wraps her arms around my neck.
"Yeeeeees! My wolf prince!"
As I walk toward the bedroom, she starts kissing me. First on the cheek, then on the jaw, then on the neck. Small, wet kisses, tasting of vodka and strawberry gloss. One brushes the corner of my lips and I feel my cheeks heat up against my will.
"Natsuki, stop" I murmur, trying to sound firm, but my voice comes out rougher than I want.
"You smell so good!," she laughs against my skin. "And you're so hard~! Is it because of me?"
"It's my arm, idiot. I'm carrying you."
We reach the bedroom. Carefully, I lay her down on the bed, on the wrinkled sheets. She clings to my neck for one more second, trying to pull me down.
"Stay a little… just a little…"
"Good night, Natsuki" I say in a low but definitive voice.
I pull away, free myself from her arms, and step back toward the door. She lies on her back, blonde hair spread across my pillow, dress pulled up, and a mischievous smile on her face.
"Good night, my secret love! Dream of me naked!"
I close the door with a soft click. I walk to the couch, drop onto it heavily, lying on my back with arms spread, staring at the ceiling. My body feels as heavy as if I'd run a marathon. My heart beats fast. I don't know if from exhaustion, from the kisses, or from the mix of everything.
Tired. Physically and mentally drained. And tomorrow… tomorrow is going to be another long day.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and let the silence of the apartment finally wrap around me. Though I know that at any moment, the goddess will wake up and torture me for all of this. But for now… I just want to sleep.