Seeing Saori's sudden movement, Shiratori Seiya was first startled—then a subtle sensation traveled from his fingertips, through his veins, straight to his heart. He inexplicably felt a little warm, a little restless.
His gaze met the girl's eyes—thick and moist like honey, shimmering with an innocent allure. Through her soft, dark, and glossy long hair, he could vaguely see the delicate curve of her fair ears. His sight continued downward, tracing her pale, slender collarbone before inadvertently slipping into the shadowed hollow of her neckline...
Gulp.
Shiratori Seiya couldn't help but swallow.
In the quiet atmosphere, the sound was particularly clear—so much so that the girl paused her gentle sucking, raised her gaze, and stared blankly at him.
After a moment, as if sensing Shiratori Seiya's burning gaze, Hasegawa Saori softly asked:
"Seiya... do you want it?"
Such words were practically a foul—an unexpected critical hit that bypassed all his defenses.
Shiratori Seiya usually managed to suppress the surging desires within him. But recently, he seemed to have been in contact with girls far too frequently. Takahashi Mio was fine—she kept a certain distance—but Hōjō Shione came to his house almost every day, making physical contact inevitable. Her subtle touches, lingering glances, and deliberate proximity chipped away at his composure day by day.
His body was in the throes of adolescent sexual agitation. Facing these temptations, it was all too easy for things to develop in an uncontrollable direction.
Fortunately, he had been practicing kendo since junior high. His temperament wasn't bad, and his self-discipline had been honed through years of rigorous training. He could barely maintain control.
"No."
Shiratori Seiya replied flatly. He pulled his glistening finger free, wiped it clean with a tissue, bent down, and slipped one hand into his pants pocket. He turned his head away, forcing calm into his voice.
"There's not much left. You eat it all. After you finish, there's something I want to talk to you about..."
But after he finished speaking, he received no response.
Suddenly, he caught a faint scent of soap on the tip of his nose. He turned his head—and found Saori already close in front of him.
The girl's rosy lips shimmered, and her eyes flowed with infatuated light, gleaming with an intensity that made his pulse quicken. Her hot breath fanned across his face, and Shiratori Seiya could clearly see the tiny vellus hairs on her skin, the faint blush spreading across her cheeks.
"Seiya... Saori wants..."
As she spoke, she lowered her head and brought her red lips close. She touched them to his—light as a dragonfly skimming the surface of water—then pulled back, as if observing his expression. Finding no resistance, she leaned in again, pressing her lips more firmly against his.
Hasegawa Saori felt Shiratori Seiya's hand wrap around her waist, pulling her closer. She instinctively cupped his face, trying to draw him deeper into the kiss.
Chu—
Hasegawa Saori felt Shiratori Seiya's hand wrap around her waist, pulling her closer. She instinctively cupped his face, trying to draw him deeper into the kiss.
Lips and teeth met. The girl's breathing gradually quickened, her chest rising and falling against his. A warm current passed through her throat, striking directly at her heart, and an unprecedented sense of satisfaction flooded through her entire body.
Tears of joy slipped unconsciously from the corners of her eyes. The flower named desire seemed to be ignited and awakened within her, blooming with an intensity she had never known.
"Nnh—... Sei... ya..."
Her name for him came out muffled between kisses, half-swallowed. Shiratori Seiya's self-discipline creaked audibly inside his skull—the Pure Heart Mantra he'd been mentally reciting scattered like dropped shinai on a dojo floor. His tongue met hers, slow at first, testing, and Saori made a tiny startled sound in the back of her throat, "Hnn—?!"—before her body melted into it, pliant, obedient, following his lead the same way she followed a sensei's demonstration.
She tasted sweet. Almost sickeningly so.
His hand at her waist slid up the ridge of her ribs on reflex, thumb catching the underwire of her sports bra through the thin cotton of her practice tee. She was warm there—damp with the residual sweat of her match—and Shiratori Seiya felt her shudder against him, felt her small breast fit against the flat of his palm through fabric like it had been shaped for exactly that.
"Ah... Sei... Seiya, that's... nnh—"
Saori didn't push him away. Instead, her legs slid apart where she was kneeling and she pressed forward, sinking down into his lap, her weight settling in a way that made both of them freeze for a half-second at what was suddenly, undeniably firm between them through his slacks.
Kuh— he thought. This is bad. This is very bad.
But Saori—innocent, unfiltered, wired straight from want to action—only tilted her hips experimentally, once, testing the feeling. Her eyebrows drew together in the sweetest confused frown, mouth still parted from the kiss.
"It's... hot," she whispered, breath uneven. "Seiya, why is it so hot..."
He didn't answer. He couldn't. His hand had found its way under the hem of her shirt without permission from any rational part of his brain—fingertips against the smooth plane of her stomach, the muscle there taut from years of kendo, twitching where he touched. Her skin was so warm it almost stung. He traced the shallow dip of her navel, up the ladder of her ribs, and Saori arched into it with a small, drawn-out, "Haaa—" that he felt more than heard, vibrating against his collarbone where she'd tucked her face.
She rocked in his lap again. Not knowing what she was doing. Learning by feel.
Shiratori Seiya's free hand fisted in the back of her uniform skirt, knuckles white. Through two layers—his slacks, her cotton underwear, the pleated fabric of her skirt—he could feel the heat of her, damp already, the shape of her pressed flush against his aching hardness. Every small shift she made sent a jolt straight up his spine.
"Sei... ya... Saori feels strange, it's..."
"Saori. Stop moving. Please."
"But—nn, but it feels—"
Her hips rolled again, obedient in the wrong direction. Shiratori Seiya bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste copper. His thumb, which had been tracing the underside of her breast, brushed inadvertently over her nipple through the sports bra—stiff, small, straining against the fabric—and Saori's whole body jerked, her mouth falling open in a soundless little "Ah—!" before she buried her face against his neck to muffle the noise.
He felt her teeth catch lightly on his skin. Not biting. Just holding.
"...Ha... ha... Seiya, Saori's... panties are..."
"Don't say it."
"But they're—"
"Saori."
For a long, suspended moment, they stayed like that—her forehead pressed into the crook of his shoulder, her breath fanning ragged across his collarbone, his hand still trapped under her shirt with her heartbeat drumming against his palm. Somewhere far away, in the corridor beyond, a janitor's cart rattled past. A vending machine hummed. Someone laughed in the parking lot.
About ten minutes later, Hasegawa Saori adjusted her clothes in front of her phone camera. After smoothing the fabric and checking her reflection from every angle, she turned to Shiratori Seiya.
"Saori... is this okay?"
Shiratori Seiya had already recited the 'Pure Heart Mantra' seventy-three times in his mind. He turned his head and calmly looked at Saori, scanning her up and down with an objective eye.
"No problem. It looks about the same as before. No one will notice."
"Oh, that's good."
Hearing him say that, Saori seemed to relax considerably. However, her hand unconsciously moved to the hem of her clothes, and a troubled expression appeared in her eyes.
"But it's still uncomfortable inside... Saori needs to change her underwear today..."
Hearing this, Shiratori Seiya's eyelid twitched. He couldn't help but say:
"Saori, you probably shouldn't say such things casually, right?"
"Huh?"
Saori blinked her pure, innocent eyes. "Is there anything Saori can't tell Seiya?"
"It's not that you can't say it..." Shiratori Seiya opened his mouth, then sighed helplessly. "At least it's not good to say it like this outside."
"Oh."
Saori sat down on the ground, wrapping her arms around her shins. She turned her head to rest her face on her knees and looked at Shiratori Seiya with shy, hopeful eyes.
"Um... Seiya, when can Saori become a mother?"
"Huh?"
Shiratori Seiya first thought he had misheard. But after staring at Saori's shy eyes for a few seconds, he couldn't help but sputter:
"You haven't even graduated yet, and you're already thinking about raising a child? At least wait until after marriage, right?"
"Oh."
Saori seemed to ponder this, her brow furrowing slightly. "But Saori doesn't have much to do right now, so raising a child shouldn't be a problem, right?"
"No way. Absolutely not. At least wait until graduation."
"Oh."
Hasegawa Saori responded, then reached out and tugged Shiratori Seiya's arm, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"But, but... even if we don't have a child, Saori should gain some experience beforehand, right?"
This was practically a direct hint. But as soon as he thought of Shione living across from him and Mio, whom he was currently dating, he felt a headache coming on. He simply pretended not to understand.
"No rush. When the time comes, you can look up pregnancy precautions and post-natal care a year or so in advance. I'll also hire a professional doctor for Saori then."
He quickly changed the subject. "Oh, right, Saori—I came today to explain what happened yesterday..."
"I'm really sorr—"
Before he could finish the last word, Hasegawa Saori pressed her index finger against his lips and shook her head firmly.
"Seiya doesn't need to apologize."
She released her hand, her lips curling slightly upward. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at the stadium ahead, and she spoke with earnest conviction.
"Because Saori knows that Seiya must have encountered something unavoidable to not be able to come. Saori knows, so I'm not angry with Seiya at all."
"Besides, Saori won, you know? Against that kind of opponent, even without Seiya's encouragement, Saori can win."
"And... even if Seiya wants to apologize, Saori has already received it."
Saying this, Hasegawa Saori turned her head and pouted playfully at Shiratori Seiya.
"Seiya's apology... Saori has already received it, you know."
Hearing her say that, Shiratori Seiya found himself at a loss for words. The sincerity in her voice, the trust in her eyes—it struck him deeper than any accusation ever could.
Buzz, buzz.
Suddenly, Saori's phone, which she'd set aside, began to vibrate. Hasegawa Saori picked it up, glanced at the caller ID, then turned to look at Shiratori Seiya.
"It's the club president."
Looking at her clear black-and-white eyes, her meaning was unmistakable: Should I answer?
Shiratori Seiya couldn't help but laugh at her adorable expression. "Answer the phone. If you should, you should."
"Oh."
Saori replied, then answered the call, nodding twice like a mechanical doll.
Shiratori Seiya noticed her expression freeze for a moment—then the light in her eyes gradually brightened, like sunrise breaking over a mountain peak.
Less than a minute later, she hung up and looked at him, her red lips parting in excitement.
"Miyu-senpai told me that old man Oda asked her to ask me if I wanted to be an assistant instructor at his dojo. He said he would also pay Saori..."
As she spoke, her eyes sparkled with anticipation, practically glowing with joy.
Seeing her like this, Shiratori Seiya asked in confusion, "So he's inviting you to be an assistant instructor?"
"Mhm."
"Then Saori, you want to go this time, don't you?"
The girl nodded again eagerly.
"Then just go."
But the moment his voice fell, Saori shook her head. "Miyu-senpai said there's no need to rush. Even after the national competition is completely over, it'll still be in time to decide."
"Alright. I'll go with you then."
He looked at the irrepressible smile on Saori's face—her expression full of pure, unadulterated joy—and felt his own heart lighten.
Shiratori Seiya suddenly wondered if Saori's recent actions had been stimulated by Shione and Mio. Perhaps she felt she couldn't help him as much as they could. Perhaps she needed to prove her own worth—even if it was just using her abilities to earn money, so that her value wouldn't be wasted.
If that was the case, he seemed to have no reason to refuse.
So he continued to chat with her for a while longer. Finally, only when it was time for her to return to the hotel booked by their group did Shiratori Seiya bid farewell and leave.
But as luck would have it—just as he reached the entrance, hail suddenly began to fall from the sky, making pitter-patter sounds as it struck the ground.
It wasn't too heavy. Shiratori Seiya examined the ground carefully; the largest hailstones were no bigger than the first joint of his thumb.
After a moment's thought, he pulled his jacket over his head and turned to look at Saori, who was standing behind him, reluctant to part.
"Alright, no need to see me off. I'll be back tomorrow, so there's no need to be so emotional."
Hearing this, Hasegawa Saori took two steps forward—then wrapped her arms around him, burying her face deep in his embrace.
"Saori..."
Outside the stadium, in a sedan parked under the shadow of a large tree, Hōjō Shione watched the scene through her window with an expressionless face.
Her narrow eyes tracked the two figures intimately embracing, as if they wished to merge into one.
Undercurrents surged in her gaze—cold, sharp, and dangerous