"Excellent, I'm relieved you're so dependable," Kagura said, rising with a smile and extending his hand to Yukino. "Here's to a fruitful partnership."
"Not 'fruitful partnership,'" Yukino replied, a touch displeased, reluctantly offering her right hand. "It's 'please guide me' instead, isn't it?"
"Ah, right," Kagura said, gently clasping her fingertips with a slight bow. "Please guide me. I'm counting on you for this."
"Good," Yukino nodded, satisfied, withdrawing her hand. "Starting tomorrow afternoon, come to the Service Club daily if possible. I need to mold you from scratch. Also—"
"Also…?"
"Girls rarely dislike a helpful boy. Since you'll be spending time here improving yourself, why not join the club officially?"
"Brilliant idea!" Kagura exclaimed, smacking his right fist into his open left palm. "Hand me the application."
Yukino swiftly pulled an Entry Application Form from her bag, but as she was about to hand it over, she froze, like a robot suddenly unplugged.
No, no, I must keep my distance from him, or… this is bad. My body's getting stranger. That place below, it's warm, tingling… something's seeping out.
"Thanks," Kagura said, oblivious to her distress, taking the form. He sat, smoothed it on the table, pulled a carbon ballpoint from his bag, and scrawled his full name, handing it back with both hands.
"Here you go, President. I'm in your hands."
Kagura grinned brightly.
"Uh… right, okay. Wel… welcome to the club," Yukino stammered, her face stiff as she accepted the form.
She looked as if she'd just made a colossal mistake, her complexion ashen, rubbing her temples.
"Thanks," Kagura said, wondering: Is she regretting taking my commission?
But that wasn't the case.
Yukino Yukino harbored a secret she buried deep within.
From the first day she met Kagura, she'd felt her body react strangely whenever she looked at him or spoke with him.
How strange? Intensely so.
So strange that her private, shameful place would grow moist, secreting sticky, glistening fluids that soaked her underwear, forcing her to retreat to the restroom to wipe clean and change into a spare pair.
At first, she thought she'd contracted some bizarre illness.
She recalled from biology texts that such fluids lubricated during intercourse or were secreted during self-induced arousal.
Self-induced arousal meant masturbation—something Yukino understood but had never done.
This filled her with profound shame, leading to a suspicion: Kagura must be doing something nefarious to me in secret.
She had no desire for anything romantic or sexual with him, yet the fluids defied her will, flowing unbidden.
There was no other explanation but Kagura's interference! Lacking evidence, she could only endure in silence.
Once suspicion took root, it grew. Thankfully, Kagura's transfer to Class F this year had distanced him—until, by a twist of fate, he sought her out at the Service Club with a long-term commission.
What am I going to do now…?
Yukino groaned inwardly, her head throbbing.
Even now, she felt the sticky discomfort in her underwear, more intense, rapid, and viscous than ever, heightening her embarrassment.
Fortunately, she'd brought a spare pair. She could clean up in the restroom soon.
"Huff… huff…"
Yukino's cheeks flushed as she panted softly.
"You okay?" Kagura asked, concerned.
"I'm fine," Yukino waved him off, covering her lips and pointing to the door. "Just a slight discomfort—happens often. That's all for today. Please go."
If you don't leave, I'll become utterly strange, irreparably so.
"Alright, see you tomorrow," Kagura said, not prying into a girl's private matters. He slung his bag over his shoulder and left.
"Take care, see you tomorrow," Yukino said, nodding slightly without sitting.
After Kagura left, she checked for forgotten items, found none, and hurried to the door. She dragged the stacked desks from the right to block it, then crouched to shove the cardboard box into the gap beneath, sealing the dilapidated wooden door tightly.
No one could push it open now—not without multiple kicks, and no one at Sobu High would resort to that. The back door's broken lock and piled debris ensured this room was secure.
Swish, swish—
Yukino drew the curtains, plunging the room into darkness.
Unfazed by ghost stories, she had no issue staying alone in the dim space—just a minor inconvenience.
Click! She lit her phone's flashlight, aiming it at the large, bronze-edged mirror in the clutter pile.
She often cleaned this room, including the mirror, keeping it nearly dust-free.
The mirror reflected a flushed, breathless, adorable girl.
"What's happening to me…?"
Yukino muttered, frustrated and ashamed.
She couldn't make it to the restroom. Since Kagura's handshake, the shameful fluids had gushed like a spring, seeping through her underwear and trickling down her inner thighs.
She dared not sit, fearing the soaked underwear would stain her skirt. She always carried spare underwear but not a spare uniform.
Yukino grabbed tissues and her spare underwear from her bag—white cotton with lace trim and a red bow, nearly identical to her current pair. Biting her lip, she glanced back warily, scanning the room with her phone. No one. Relieved, she wedged the phone into a crevice to hold it, crouched behind the purple sofa, and tore open the tissue pack. She reached under her skirt, wiping the frosty trails of fluid from her inner thighs—left, right. Each touch near there made her tremble, her shame nearly overwhelming, but she couldn't stop.
One tissue, soaked with her viscous secretions, was discarded. Curiosity struck—she lifted it to sniff…
"Ugh…"
She tossed it away as if it were vile, then quickly retrieved it, stuffing it into a small white plastic bag.
Why such a lewd scent…? I'm not that kind of girl!
Frustrated but unfinished, she lifted her skirt by the sides, bending to hook her thumbs into her underwear, slowly peeling it down to her knees.
She felt the fluids stringing between her skin and the fabric, snapping as she pulled.
"Urgh…"
Suppressing discomfort, she slid the underwear past her knees, grabbed a tissue, and, in this humiliating pose, wiped the drenched crotch of her panties. Carefully stepping out, she sealed them in another plastic bag, burying it deep in her bag like a shameful secret.
Biting her lip, she held her skirt with her left hand to avoid the wet area, using her right to gently wipe beneath with a fresh tissue, eyes closed, relying on muscle memory.
"Mm!"
Today, unlike before, her body was hypersensitive after Kagura's touch. Brushing her inner thighs made her quiver; her private area was worse.
The slightest friction threatened to make her cry out.
Her tissue slipped, falling to the floor.
Bending to retrieve it, her exposed, fluid-slicked slit felt cool in the room's air, prompting her to clamp her thighs.
She discarded the dropped tissue into the trash bag, taking a new one.
But a few wipes made her cover her mouth, clutching the sofa back, panting in distress.
What… what is this? This sensation… so strange, yet so pleasurable. What's wrong with me?
Doubting herself, she tossed the half-used tissue away, grabbed a cushion from the sofa, and placed it behind the sofa back. Lifting her skirt, she sat astride it, legs unladylike, to investigate.
Observing her private area was trickier for girls than boys, often requiring a compact mirror. But the Service Club's large mirror sufficed.
Yet…
Seeing herself in the mirror—legs spread, skirt lifted, private area exposed, face flushed—Yukino felt dizzy with shame.
She wasn't doing anything wrong, just checking why it felt so different today.
After a second, she dropped her skirt, covering her eyes in mortification.
Why must I endure this?
But avoidance was futile. She needed to assess and clean up quickly. After a brief mental struggle, she lifted her skirt again.
Her laser-smooth private area glistened, its oyster-like folds slowly opening and closing. The parted sections oozed clear fluid, while the closed parts stuck together, sliding in the slickness, threatening to part again.
"Why… why is this happening…?"
She whispered, barely audible.
The small bud at the top, usually hidden in folds, now protruded, swollen and glossy, asserting its presence.
Yukino knew it was her clitoris and that good girls shouldn't touch it idly, as it was primarily for sexual intimacy—something she had no intention of pursuing.
Normally pale with faint pink, her slit was now entirely light pink, the slightly parted areas revealing a deeper, engorged pink tinged with red, filling her with shame and helplessness.
Thankfully, the fluid's flow had mostly stopped. Relieved, she took a tissue and carefully wiped against the mirror.
One wipe… two… accidentally grazing the top bud, she doubled over, curling like a pitiful shrimp.
What's this? Why… so pleasurable? Am I sick? Will I die tomorrow?
Baffled, she avoided the bud, wiping the rest dry, leaving her breathless and dizzy.
"This should be fine…"
She pressed her fingertips to the slit's sides, gently parting it. Clean inside and out. Good. Time for new underwear.
But as she dried her fingers and reached for the spare pair, she hesitated.
Biting her fingertip, she closed her eyes, recalling that peculiar sensation.
It was… captivating.
Trying once more wouldn't hurt, right? It was her body, her private area—no trouble to others, and no one would know.
A secret just for her.
She couldn't face the mirror this time. Hand beneath her skirt, she grabbed her phone, turned off the flashlight, and in darkness, softly explored.
The slit's shape, its folds, the place for urination, the place for intimacy, and the bud at the top—every touch was exquisitely comforting, with a relaxing magic. The bud was the most intense, a sum of all other sensations.
Her dry fingertip stung the sensitive area. She touched it to her lips, moistening it with her tongue, then returned it below, gently pressing the unspeakable place, instinctively circling, tracing eights, from the entrance meant for future intimacy to the pleasure-giving bud, moving delicately…
"Something… something's coming…"
Yukino's body curled forward, legs splaying back, hips sinking.
The final wave of pleasure was so intense she clamped her lips, but shameful, lewd whimpers escaped through her nose, resonating in the dark, thrilling her blank mind further.
She nearly collapsed forward, hips raised seductively, fingertips pressed below her slit, waist dipping, swaying with each surge of pleasure, mirrored by her trembling shoulders and stifled tears.
When it subsided, guilt overwhelmed her. She wiped her hands, covered her face, and knelt before the mirror, dazed. Kneeling on the cushion, she bowed deeply to her reflection, murmuring, "I'm sorry…"
She'd done it.
Masturbation was pleasurable.
But never again! This was the limit, an exception—no, an experiment to understand her body. It was impure, sinful. Good girls didn't do this.
Wiping tears, she hypnotized herself.
Pleasure so intense it made me cry… too humiliating!
It took thirty minutes in the Service Club to compose herself enough to change into her spare underwear. Her first masturbation and climax left her reeling from desire's impact, walking home in a daze, even bumping into an office lady who kindly alerted her.
Back to Kagura.
He didn't return home with Eriri and Sora after school; they only shared the morning ride.
Eriri, the art club's star, lingered in her dedicated studio post-school, and Sora, her personal maid, stayed with her—or was roped into modeling.
Sora was a natural muse.
Kagura, uninvolved in clubs, went straight home, no need to wait for Eriri.
Texting Miss Nao, the driver, he headed to the main building's restroom, as the old building's were unusable relics.
After relieving himself and washing up, he heard Aki Tomoya's obnoxious voice nearby. "Please, I beg you! It's my life's plea—spare me some time!" Aki was pleading with someone in the side hallway, his groveling almost comical.
This jerk still wants me to compose for him? Who does he think he is?
Kagura's gaze hardened, but he had no time for Aki, striding to leave.
Then—
"No interest. You're in my way."
Hayasaka Ai's voice.
What? Kagura froze. What's that punk want with Hayasaka? Does he know her?
Aki was Eriri's childhood friend from elementary and junior high, so Kagura knew him vaguely. Aki had visited their home as a kid, when Hayasaka was around, but—
When guests came, Hayasaka disguised herself as a black-haired, glasses-wearing boy, posing as a butler named "Smith A. Hashaka." Aki should only know her as "Hashaka."
Had her disguise been exposed? Unlikely—Aki hadn't visited since he was ten.
Curious, Kagura backtracked, peeking around the stairwell corner.
Aki stood a meter from Hayasaka, looking near tears, hands clasped, hunched, and pleading. Hayasaka, her hair styled in a golden cascade, was expressionless, her blue eyes icy, gripping her bag strap with turquoise-nailed fingers, eager to bypass him.
"What's going on…?"
Kagura couldn't grasp the situation, but it seemed Aki was begging Hayasaka for something—likely a date over tea.
No way would Kagura allow that. His personal maid, dating another guy? Unacceptable.
He stepped around the corner, striding toward Aki.
Unaware of Kagura, Aki continued groveling. "Ten minutes! Just ten! Please, lend me some time. I'll regret it forever if I miss this!"
"Your regrets are none of my concern," Hayasaka snapped, spotting Kagura and growing more impatient.
Though she couldn't speak freely with Kagura at school, she'd rather brush past him than deal with Aki, a mere acquaintance.
The issue traced to spring break.
A week before school started, Kagura sent Hayasaka, his personal maid, to a minor event. Unimportant to him, it demanded her best, so she dressed elegantly and rode in her mother's Rolls-Royce. The event ended quickly, and she returned.
Near home, at Detective Slope, she asked her mother to stop.
The cherry blossoms along the road bloomed vibrantly, and she couldn't resist stepping out to admire them, leaning against the car door, gazing at the floral corridor.
A breeze dislodged her scarf ribbon, which floated downhill.
Aki, cycling below, picked it up, staring awestruck at the refined Hayasaka stepping from the car. He hurried up to return it.
Recognizing him as Eriri's old classmate from seven or eight years ago, Hayasaka knew he wouldn't recognize her—she was "Hashaka" to him.
Once he turned away, she tossed the ribbon and her gloves into a trash bin.
She'd rather lose them than touch something Aki had handled. Even without direct contact, his touch felt contaminating.
The incident was trivial, so she didn't report it to Kagura, only mentioning, "Lost a pair of gloves and a scarf, please note the expense." Kagura waved it off, unconcerned.
Yet, unexpectedly, Aki, spotting her at school, pursued her, insisting on discussing some Galgame. She had zero interest.
Slap! Kagura's hand landed on Aki's shoulder.
"Who's that? Can't you see I'm busy?" Aki snapped, turning.
In that instant, Kagura backhanded him, sending Aki crashing into the wall with a thud, dazed, mouth agape, blood trickling from his lip.
"Ka… Kagura?! Oh! It's you! Are you here to compose for me?!"
Even with a swollen face, Aki still pitched his project.
"I'm saying, can't you see the girl's annoyed? That's not how you ask a girl out, you moron," Kagura said, glaring down, avoiding Hayasaka's gaze to maintain their school pretense of unfamiliarity. He itched to kick Aki a few times.
"No, no, don't kick! I surrender!" Aki cowered, shielding his face.
"Ah…" Hayasaka, half-covering her lips elegantly, gave Kagura a slight bow. "Sawamura-kun, thank you for stepping in."
They had to act distant, but as former classmates, names and faces aligned.
"No big deal," Kagura waved off, thumb-jabbing at Aki. "You okay, Hayasaka-san? What's this guy trying to do?"
"Oh, I'm fine… As for what he wants…"
Hayasaka gave Kagura a concise rundown, as if reporting at home.
Learning the full story, Kagura's disdain for Aki deepened.
Him, a Galgame producer?
Kagura thought removing the "game" and sending him to Thailand as a "gal" might suit him better.
"In short, I'm not interested," Hayasaka told Aki, her true thoughts unspoken: Even if I were interested in Galgames, I wouldn't be your lead heroine.
Kagura shrugged at Aki. "Kid, stick to jerking off and quit daydreaming."
"Don't say that in front of my lead heroine!" Aki wailed, clutching his face.
Meanwhile, Hayasaka silently mouthed to Kagura: [Master Kagura, I want sweets. I want parfait.]
Years together gave Kagura a 99% accuracy reading her lip-speak.
Her craving for sweets, sparked by Aki's "tea" suggestion, was irresistible, unlike his invitation.
"Your lead heroine? Tch, you can't even get her to go out with you," Kagura scoffed. Hayasaka stifled a laugh.
"Then you try asking her!" Aki challenged, pointing at Hayasaka, goading like a petulant contrarian.
"Fine," Kagura said, turning to Hayasaka with a hand extended. "Hayasaka-san, free now? Wanna grab a bite? I know a place with great parfaits~"
"Oh… how could I let you treat me?" Hayasaka said, eyes twinkling, feigning politeness.
Tch, you're the one who said you wanted parfait! Kagura thought.
"Ha, see? Even the 'piano prince' can't get her!" Aki crowed, but Hayasaka's tone shifted. "But we were classmates for a year, and you transferred. It's rare for you to invite me. It'd be rude to decline, and I'm free~"
"Tch." Kagura stroked his chin, shooting Aki a smug told you look.
Aki froze, a gray statue, muttering, "You're the lead heroine! Don't make yourself so… cheap…"
"But about the Galgame—got a proposal written?"
Kagura thought of his Galgame-loving mother and sister, both otakus. Aki's idea sparked a plan: maybe make a Galgame as a birthday gift for Eriri and his mom next year.
"Yeah, I wrote it!" Aki nodded eagerly.
"Nice," Kagura said to Hayasaka. "Shall we all go sit down?"
"Well… since Sawamura-kun insists, let's go~"
Hayasaka agreed readily.
As long as Kagura went, she'd follow. Without him, no one could drag her out.
The warm spring sun bathed Kagura's back as he walked nearly side-by-side with Hayasaka out the school gate. Aki trailed, clutching a blue hardcover notebook, gazing longingly at Hayasaka's graceful figure.
The sunset cast the girl's profile onto the shop window, like a painter's masterpiece—serene and refined.
Hayasaka sat alone at a row of seats, facing Kagura across the table, perusing the menu like a fashion magazine, her lively eyes darting up and down, reflected in the glass.
To Kagura's left, Aki pressed his notebook to the table. He didn't sit with Hayasaka—they played "strangers" around classmates.
"This is just Umeda Coffee Shop on the way home… Every student knows this place!" Aki muttered, scanning the familiar decor, pushing up his glasses.
[Note: Original text references "Kameda" Coffee, translating to "Turtle Field"… instantly breaks immersion.]
"So? Their parfaits are genuinely good," Kagura said, shrugging, glancing lazily out the window.
"It's not about taste—it's practically fraud!"
Aki clenched his fist, restraining from slamming the table.
"How's it fraud? Explain."
"You said you knew 'a great coffee shop'! Why drag us to the obvious Umeda Coffee everyone knows? That's fraud!"
"It's this great shop. No issue."
"No, huge issue! If you're serious about asking out your lead heroine, you don't pick a roadside joint like this!"
"No clue what you're fussing about." Seeing a waitress with an order tablet approach, Kagura asked Hayasaka, "Hayasaka-san, decided yet?"
"Hm… mango parfait and a Hibiscus beauty tea. You, Sawamura-kun?"
Hayasaka set down the menu, asking calmly.
"Hokkaido milk ice cream and jasmine tea."
"Oh, I'll have…" Aki began, pointing at the menu, but Kagura cut in, telling the waitress, "Oh, separate orders. He's on his own."
"Uh… got it," the waitress said, wiping her brow, stifling a grin.
Her sharp female intuition pegged this as a classic: a smitten couple and a hopeless tagalong.
"Hey, you're not treating me?" Aki grumbled at Kagura.
"Did I say I was? I'm only treating Hayasaka-san."
"Argh, damn it!" Aki clutched his head, then told the waitress, "Just a cappuccino, thanks."
"Noted. Please wait, all three," the waitress said, bowing politely before leaving.
"I hadn't noticed before," Aki said, studying Kagura, "but you're seriously a 'bros before hoes' type."
"Never said you were my bro."
"Male tsundere's got no market."
"Not tsundere—truth."
"Stop lying!"
Aki's shoulders shook.
"Let's see your proposal," Kagura said, snatching the blue notebook, flipping through it, then asking, "Where's the actual plan?"
"Right here!" Aki took it back, flipping to the "proposal" page, pointing with his right index finger.
It read: [Heroine A (Name TBD), Lead Heroine—Girl met on a cherry blossom slope. One day, the protagonist finds her lost ribbon. At the slope's peak, a lone, ancient cherry tree blooms. She's bound by its curse, living eternally as a cherry blossom spirit. As a child, the protagonist made a promise with her… When that promise is fulfilled, her wish granted, the curse lifts. But her existence will vanish from all memories.]
Reading this half-baked "proposal," Kagura's face darkened. He tore the page out, ignoring Aki's wail, crumpled it, and tossed it toward the window. "You call this garbage a proposal?"
Hayasaka, chin in hand, gazed out the window, seemingly indifferent.
No, she was indifferent.
If Kagura wanted to make a Galgame, she'd join. If not, she wouldn't lift a finger. She fully backed Kagura tearing Aki's precious notebook and crumpling it.
"That's a whole day's work!"
"Then your work's dirt cheap."
Kagura ignored Aki's teary face, mercilessly critical.
"You didn't even show it to my lead heroine! How could you crumple it?"
"Show that embarrassing fantasy to Hayasaka-san? I'm ashamed for you."
"Waaah—stop, stop!"
Amid Aki's meltdown, their orders arrived.
"The parfait here is delicious. Thanks for inviting me, Sawamura-kun," Hayasaka said soon after starting, holding her spoon in her right hand, touching her cheek with her left, smiling.
"No big deal. Glad you like it," Kagura said, winking playfully.
Hayasaka pretended not to notice, nodding, while Aki looked crushed, sipping suddenly bitter coffee, muttering, "Hayasaka, is this your first time here?"
"First time with Sawamura-kun," she said.
"Wouldn't it be your first with me too?"
"Well…"
Hayasaka tilted her head, giving a vague reply.
Kagura nearly laughed, but Hayasaka lightly kicked him under the table. He glanced at her; she raised her eyes, nodding toward the window.
He looked outside.
Eriri, whom he'd groped that morning, stood glaring, hand on hip, as if saying: You jerk brother, skipping home to hang with some doll-faced ghost?
Eriri was invited in, sitting with Hayasaka. Kagura and Hayasaka quickly briefed her on Aki's Galgame ambitions.