No matter how you looked at her, Eriri Spencer Sawamura belonged to the petite category. Slender build, light frame—when she sat down on his back, it didn't feel heavy at all.
Of course, that might've been because Natsukawa Kanade's brain had long since stopped processing weight and started spiraling into an entirely different realm of suffering.
"Isn't it over yet…?" Kanade muttered into the floor, his voice the very embodiment of despair. It felt like she'd been sitting there for an eternity.
"Almost, almost~ Don't be so impatient!" Eriri chirped cheerfully, patting his shoulder with a practiced hand as she continued her self-appointed massage session. Despite the situation, her enthusiasm hadn't wavered even a little.
"Boys' backs really are something else," she murmured in fascination, her hands pressing and tracing along his shoulders. "So wide… And the muscles… wow, they're super firm…"
Kanade twitched.
Not from pain.
From the internal scream trapped in his soul.
She wasn't just massaging him. She was investigating him like he was some sort of scientific specimen, taking the opportunity to squeeze and poke with casual curiosity. Her fingers were completely absorbed in exploring the differences between a boy's body and her own, all the while murmuring like an intrigued biologist.
"Hard things everywhere…" she muttered with wonder, clearly lost in her own world. "Touch is… not bad though."
Kanade: "..."
He let out a single "mn" in response, fearing that if he opened his mouth, something wildly inappropriate would slip out. And that would be the end of him. Literally.
Up to this point, Eriri didn't seem to have any idea how dangerous the position she was in truly was.
After that poor art club girl had burst in and run off earlier, Kanade had thought for sure that the shock of it would wake Eriri up to the awkwardness of the situation.
But nope.
She just carried on with the calm of a shrine maiden performing a sacred ritual.
And Kanade, being the eternally unlucky protagonist, didn't dare bring it up again. The last thing he wanted was to make the atmosphere even weirder by acknowledging it out loud. Better to just… bury his face in the tatami and wait for salvation.
Still, as torturous as it was… the massage itself was weirdly effective. Too effective.
Eriri had clearly studied this. Her fingers found tense spots with practiced ease, kneading into them until the knots slowly loosened. It was both painful and pleasurable—a bittersweet, almost masochistic sensation.
"Don't tell me this is what being an M feels like…" Kanade thought, shivering slightly at the disturbing realization.
The massage continued for quite a while—long enough that he started wondering if she had turned this into a side quest—and just when he finally opened his mouth to say something, she clapped her hands together.
"All done!" Eriri said proudly. She gave his back a satisfied little pat, as if declaring her work complete. "Mhm. I used everything I learned. That should've helped, right?"
She patted him again.
And again.
And again.
It didn't really feel great to be honest—his back was kind of firm and hitting it just sent reverberations through his spine—but for some reason, Eriri seemed refreshed by it. So she kept going.
"Okay, stop it. Hurry up and get off," Kanade groaned. "I want to sit up already."
"Mou~! So impatient. Can't you bask in gratitude for even five seconds?" she muttered, reluctantly sliding off him. She sat on the table beside him and began slipping her shoes back on.
Kanade sat up quickly the moment he was free, but didn't move far. He simply leaned beside her, posture relaxed, saying nothing at first.
Eriri tilted her head in confusion.
"What are you doing? Don't tell me you're trying to flatter me now. Because if you are—too bad! There won't be a 'next time,' got it?"
"I just thought you seemed really tired today," she huffed, cheeks slightly pink. "I gave you that massage out of kindness. Don't get the wrong idea!"
"…I wasn't," Kanade replied flatly.
Still, her voice, her expression, her presence—it helped ground him again. The wild thoughts that had been threatening to spiral finally started to fade.
"Though I feel like you misunderstood something," Kanade continued, now a little more composed. "Your massage was actually… really good. My whole body feels lighter now. So, thanks."
Eriri paused, lips twitching. She turned away, but her shoulders lifted ever so slightly—like a cat trying not to look pleased.
"…Baka. Saying it so seriously like that. Gross," she muttered.
Kanade let it slide. He could tell. Even if her words were tsun, her mood was clearly dere.
And right on cue, she began chatting—about her class, of all things. Apparently, there had been a sudden wave of couples forming, and Eriri, nose wrinkling in annoyance, ranted about their shameless public displays of affection.
"You'd think they were in some romance anime!" she grumbled. "They're so loud about it too. It's gross."
Kanade just nodded occasionally, offering short comments while letting her vent.
This… felt normal. Peaceful.
And yet, once she seemed done, he gently slid in a jab of reality.
"…I'm glad you're enjoying campus life," he said, tone calm. "But you do remember that the midterms are coming up, right? You can't just coast forever."
"Σ(⊙▽⊙"a" Eriri's bright expression froze mid-laugh, like someone had just unplugged her joy. The energetic spring in her steps evaporated in an instant, replaced by the gloom of impending doom.
She didn't need Kanade to tutor her in person anymore—sure—but that didn't mean she was free. Oh no. Not when the dreaded Daily Study Tasks still loomed like cursed scrolls handed down by a merciless shishou. Each day, Kanade handed her assignments like a strict sensei with no concept of "mercy," the kind that made you question if your youth was truly worth it. The worst part? The workload. It was enough to make a light novel protagonist cry out for a redo.
"Y-Yes, I know… I am doing them… I'll do it when I get home, okay?" Eriri replied hesitantly, voice dropping into a sheepish mumble as guilt settled over her like a wet blanket.
Kanade folded his arms, sighing with the air of a long-suffering sensei who'd seen this routine before.
Just from the look on her face, he could tell: she hadn't even glanced at the assignments. Yare yare daze. Luckily, fate had them cross paths today, giving him a golden opportunity to press the matter before she fell any deeper into her comfy pit of procrastination.
Naturally, their conversation spiraled into a "motivational lecture." After some persistent nagging and just enough guilt-tripping to make even a catgirl apologize, Eriri eventually broke.
"I-I've got somewhere to be! Bye!" she blurted, then bolted like a ninja escaping a high-difficulty boss battle, leaving Kanade blinking in her dust.
As he stepped out of the activity building, the late afternoon sun painted the sky in warm orange and dusky pink, its soft rays casting long shadows across the quiet campus. The setting sun looked like a melting fireball, resting gently on the horizon, calming yet melancholic.
The campus had already quieted down, the bustle of school life giving way to stillness. Only the direction of the sports field still echoed with distant sounds of training—shouts carried on the breeze, the rhythmic thump of feet on track, whistles slicing the air. The athletic clubs were clearly in grind mode. So intense...
Kanade stood there for a moment, watching. A subtle wave of respect stirred within him.
He wasn't really the athletic type. Given the chance, he'd much rather curl up on the couch with a game controller and a bottle of soda. His own training regimen was purely functional—a way to maintain his health and physique, nothing more. But these people? They moved with passion, with purpose. They practiced not because they had to, but because they loved it. That alone earned his admiration.
As he wandered past the quiet buildings and under the dappled shadows of the trees, a familiar silhouette suddenly entered his field of vision, stopping him mid-step.
"…Huh?"
His eyes narrowed, and a subtle frown crept onto his face.
A girl stood there, clutching a net bag filled with sports balls. Her posture was hesitant, and when their eyes met, she paused too. A slight breeze brushed past, lifting strands of her dark hair. A sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead, and the trademark ribbon tied neatly beneath her collar identified her immediately.
Yukinoshita Yukino.
The Ice Queen.
"…Don't move. I'll come over," Kanade said, already making his way toward her.
Yukino's lips twitched into a faint line, resisting the urge to retreat even though the urge was clearly there. She stood her ground but offered an explanation first, her tone calm and indifferent.
"I'm on duty today. The last class was P.E., and it's my job to help clean up."
Kanade's brow creased. "You're still injured, aren't you? Why didn't you tell the teacher? You're supposed to be resting, not hauling gear like some overworked club manager."
Before she could object, he snatched the heavy bag from her hands, his tone low and—perhaps more than a little—irritated.
"Seriously, Yukino. You should be taking better care of yourself."
"It's just cleaning up some equipment. No need to make a big deal out of it," Yukino replied coolly, but her tone lacked its usual bite.
Kanade didn't buy it.
Her limp was subtle but noticeable. Every step looked like it came with a wince hidden behind that stoic face of hers. He knew she had sprained her ankle earlier that week. Had she really been pushing herself this hard, again?
"What about the others? You're telling me no one else could help you with this?" he pressed.
Yukino turned her head slightly, refusing to meet his gaze. "Everyone else had their own tasks. I was just assigned to this part. That's all."
Liar, Kanade thought silently. She was too proud to ask for help, and too stubborn to admit she needed any.
"Don't tell me you're being bullied again…" he muttered darkly.
Shuchiin Academy wasn't known for that kind of behavior. The school's environment was polished, refined—even the delinquents acted like noble heirs. But when it came to Yukinoshita, Kanade knew better. She had always attracted resentment, envy, isolation—ever since middle school. Her sharp tongue and aloof aura made her an easy target for both girls and boys.
Yukino's eyes flashed, her voice rising slightly. "What kind of nonsense is that? No one's bullying me. Everyone has responsibilities. I don't need help with something this small."
Kanade wasn't convinced.
"There's a cost to that pride, you know," he said softly. "You act like it doesn't matter, but your body will pay the price."
Yukino didn't respond. Her hands tightened around her arms, and her eyes drifted away.
"Baka…" Kanade sighed, brushing a hand through his hair. "You always act like you're fine. But look at you. Can't you just rely on someone—just a little?"
"…"
Yukinoshita didn't reply. One hand clutched her arm, while her eyes quietly drifted elsewhere—avoiding Kanade's gaze completely. Her silence was like a shield, calm on the outside but bristling with unspoken tension.
"Can you keep going like this?" Natsukawa Kanade let out a weary sigh, his voice softer now.
Still no answer. But she moved forward anyway—taking a few more stubborn, uneven steps, each one saying, See? I'm fine. Even though Kanade could clearly see she wasn't.
He sighed again, longer this time, then silently took the net bag of basketballs and followed after her. He wasn't about to leave her alone.
The equipment warehouse was a decent distance from the playground, tucked behind the main gym. Thankfully, he'd caught her early enough before she pushed herself too far. Small blessings, he thought. If she'd limped across the whole field like this, her injury might have gotten worse.
But watching Yukinoshita's expression—cool, composed, yet unrelenting—he couldn't help but wonder just how long she planned to pretend everything was okay. Her attitude wasn't just reckless anymore—it was plain baffling.
Why didn't she care about her own body?
And even now, when he could've just taken care of everything himself, she insisted on tagging along. Empty-handed, sure, but hovering nearby, ready to jump in if needed. When he tried to stop her from helping arrange the equipment, she even glared at him, like he was the unreasonable one.
Baka… so stubborn it's actually impressive, he thought.
"Is that everything? What about the rest?" Kanade turned to her after stacking the last of the basketballs.
Yukinoshita shook her head with that usual calm tone. "There's nothing else. We had basketball during the last class, so this is all we used."
"…Sou ka," Kanade murmured, not fully convinced. But whether she was lying or just being overly independent, it didn't matter anymore. She wasn't going to get her way this time.
"Alright. Come with me."
"Where to?" Yukinoshita blinked, suspicious now.
"The infirmary."
Her brows twitched, and the resistance in her eyes flared up instantly. "That's unnecessary… There's no need to make such a big deal out of this."
"I wasn't asking for your opinion," Kanade said flatly. "Just come quietly… or would you prefer if I carried you there princess-style?"
"…"
Yukinoshita shot him a lethal glare, her pride already crumbling from the way he spoke to her so casually—as if he had any right to order her around like that. Yet she knew she was at a disadvantage here. Her foot still throbbed with every step, and any kind of physical standoff would only make her look ridiculous.
"Tch… Fine," she muttered under her breath, swallowing her pride for now.
The infirmary was on the second floor of the east wing. As they reached the base of the stairs, Kanade glanced over just in time to catch the hesitation in her step. Yukinoshita stood in front of the staircase, expression unreadable, but her body betrayed her. She drifted toward the handrail, moving slowly, clearly trying to figure out how to climb the stairs without aggravating her foot.
Kanade stepped ahead of her and held out a hand.
"…?"
She looked up, eyes widening slightly.
"Give me your hand," he said, calm but firm.
"…"
Yukinoshita pursed her lips, clearly unwilling. For a few seconds, she just stared at his hand like it was cursed. Kanade rolled his eyes and, without waiting for her response, reached out and grabbed her hand himself. One swift tug—and Yukinoshita stumbled forward with a quiet gasp, falling right into his chest.
Thump.
Warmth enveloped her before she could brace herself. Her breath caught in her throat.
"If you'd just cooperated, this wouldn't have happened," Kanade muttered, not the least bit apologetic. "Honestly, how long are you going to be like this?"
He wasn't exactly trying to take advantage—but if she thought so, he wasn't going to correct her either. That was on her.
"Hmph… Some people's faces are thicker than castle walls. Your ability to twist logic really deserves an award," she snapped back, still nestled in his arms. Her cheeks had gone pink, but she'd never admit it.
Kanade grinned. "Heh. You've still got some energy left, huh? I was starting to think your silence meant something was seriously wrong."
He didn't let go of her immediately. No matter how many sarcastic jabs she threw at him, he acted like he couldn't hear a word. After all, she was right there in his arms.
At his mercy.
And even if she complained, even if she protested—she wasn't pulling away. Not yet.