Chapter 163: Next Time, The Death of Fuyuji Mikage

"Ding—!"

A crisp sound rang out, the elevator doors slid open, and a boy and a girl stepped out with light, brisk steps.

"Nn, nn, boyfriend-kun." Morishita Ai shook Fuyuji Mikage's shoulder with all her might. "Next time, next time let's go to the little forest together, okay?"

Fuyuji tilted his head back and took a sip of his ice-cold drink. "What would we do in the little forest?"

"Sleep together."

"Pfft—!"

The drink that had just entered his throat came spraying out in an instant, scattering into countless droplets of mist in the air.

"Cough, cough, cough." Fuyuji raised a hand and wiped the corner of his mouth, then gripped Morishita's small hand tightly. "Ai, I think that kind of thing is still a little too stimulating. And it doesn't suit Morishita-sama's status."

After blinking a few times, Morishita seemed to realize something, her snow-white cheeks going bright red in an instant. She lifted her little leather shoe and kicked Fuyuji in the calf, scolding loudly, "Idiot, pervert, Fuyuji Mikage! What kind of lewd things are you imagining?!"

Fuyuji: "..."

Was I the one with the dirty mind?

"Then what does Morishita-sama mean?"

Morishita placed both hands on her hips, closed her eyes, and lifted her chin slightly. "Naturally, to go there for an afternoon nap, to feel the forest's breath, and let nature's aura wash over my entire body."

"Aren't you afraid of bugs and snakes?" Fuyuji spoke abruptly beside her ear.

"That's exactly why I'm bringing you along—to use that thing of yours! We'll command the forest." Morishita was already plotting how to use Fuyuji's ability to communicate with animals, thinking of all the fun things they could do. "Otherwise, boyfriend-kun will just have to go sleep with me on a park bench."

"Why does it keep coming back to a park bench?"

Fuyuji felt like he was starting to lose track of this girlfriend's train of thought. No, it was more like—now that their relationship had grown even closer, the bizarre and whimsical ideas in her head were only just beginning to truly reveal themselves.

Morishita blinked and said matter-of-factly, "Because that sounds fun too. Let's go in the winter."

"Why winter again?"

"Because winter is colder. Sleeping there would be more thrilling."

"..."

Fuyuji decided to skip this topic. He pulled out his room card, and with a beep, opened the door.

"Speaking of which, Ai, how did you explain your absence today to Miki and the others?"

Fuyuji was, theoretically, still in a cold war with the three of them—the three were still keeping up the act of being angry, which was why they hadn't sent him any messages. Still, even so, Fuyuji had been borrowing Morishita's phone from time to time, logging into his own account and sending them private messages to deflect suspicion.

And yet Morishita, who should have been in the same camp as them, hadn't been contacted by any of them even once today.

"I sent them a picture of me being sick last night."

With a click, the door closed behind them, and Morishita stepped into the entryway, holding up her phone. "I told them I was sick today and needed to rest. And that colds are contagious, so it wouldn't be good to visit."

As she spoke, she steadied herself with one hand on Fuyuji and lifted one leg behind her, her toes hooking the heel and pushing the round-toed little leather shoe off. In the next second, her foot, wrapped in black stockings, stretched out freely in the air.

The nylon layer across the arch of her foot was thin as a cicada's wing, revealing the faint blue-green veins beneath. At the heel and toes, where the fabric thickened, it deepened into a rich, concentrated black. The moment her right leg lifted, the folds of her knee hollow rippled like waves, and the tips of her stockings were pressed outward by her curling toes into five pearl-like bumps.

Fuyuji's Adam's apple bobbed, his breathing instantly growing heavier.

"In other words..." He turned his body around, his back to the balcony, his burning gaze fixed on Morishita's already-flushed face. "They should now think you're in your room?"

"Yes..."

Feeling the scorching heat of Fuyuji's gaze, Morishita—one foot in its stocking, the other still in its little leather shoe—stumbled backward two steps, instinctively clutching her skirt down. "Pervert Fuyuji Mikage, what are you trying to do—nn!"

Before she could finish, Fuyuji had already scooped her up and sealed her mouth with his.

His left hand supported Morishita's pert, round bottom, while his right hand slid down along her long leg, stroking, easing off the other little leather shoe, and then slowly, inch by inch, traced upward from her toes.

Starting from those delicate little toes, gliding upward—over the pink-tinged sole, the exquisite ankle, the beautifully curved calf, the rounded knee, the fair thigh, and finally brushing past the soft, elastic curve of her supple bottom. That soft, silky sensation was utterly intoxicating.

"Naturally, I'm exercising my legitimate rights as your boyfriend. Back in the movie theater, I didn't get nearly enough of my fill." Fuyuji released her tender lips, greedily breathing in the scent of her, leaning close beside her ear and whispering low.

"Perverted boyfriend-kun, as expected!" Feeling the hot breath brushing past her ear, Morishita panted twice, her face deeply flushed, and lightly pounded Fuyuji's chest. "You touched them for so long in the theater and still haven't had enough? To actually like this kind of thing!"

"How could I ever get enough?" Fuyuji's large hand continued to linger over her legs, murmuring softly, "Not even in a lifetime—"

"Ding-dong~"

Before he could finish, a crisp doorbell chime rang out abruptly—like ice water splashed into boiling oil, instantly shattering the heated, charged atmosphere in the room.

Fuyuji, still lost in caressing the silky sensation of Morishita's legs, jolted as if shocked, his hand freezing in place.

Both of them, leaning against the back of the door, stiffened. Their eyes met, their breath hot, ghosting against each other's faces. Even their breathing unconsciously dropped several degrees quieter.

[Morishita: Boyfriend-kun, you're done for~]

[Fuyuji: You're in this too, you know! Anyway, stay calm. Maybe it's just someone dropping by to see if I'm back yet.]

"Ding-dong~" The doorbell rang again.

"In the shower or asleep?" Kamuro Masumi's faint, suspicious mutter filtered through the door.

"In that case, let's come back later." Yamamura Miki's gentle voice followed right behind.

Fuyuji had just let out a breath of relief when, in the very next second, the soft voice that followed made him feel as though he had plunged into an icy abyss.

"Just kidding~ Fuyuji, Morishita-san, did you enjoy your date? It's about time you gave us our turn back, you know."

...

The hour hand on the wall clock, accompanied by heavy, steady ticking, unhurriedly traversed most of its circuit.

Beyond the balcony, the inky blue-black of the sky finally swallowed the last trace of golden sunset at the horizon, and the moon climbed the branches.

Advanced Nurturing High School, dormitory building, inside Fuyuji Mikage's room. The incandescent lights blazed painfully bright, illuminating every inch of the room so that nothing could hide.

The two who had been so smug just moments ago now sat with their heads bowed, hands placed on their thighs, kneeling formally in the center of the room—as meek and obedient as two quails, resignedly accepting the interrogation of the three.

"Did you have fun? Fuyuji, Morishita-san."

Shiraishi Asuka's slender fingers lifted her teacup, the rim lightly touching her lips as she took a delicate sip. Her voice, gentle as water, brushed past like a feather—yet carried an invisible weight. "If Yamamura-san hadn't been worried you might not be eating well and come to knock on your door, we might still be kept in the dark by you two. As expected of our class's two famous oddballs."

As her words fell, Yamamura Miki, her small hands resting on her skirt, puffed out her cheeks like a little pufferfish. She shot Fuyuji a quick glance, then turned her head away, unwilling to look at him.

She had been worried he wasn't eating properly and had secretly come to cook for him, keeping it from everyone else—only to find he wasn't even there!

"..."

Fuyuji's mouth hung slightly open, his fists clenching in righteous indignation.

I was done in by this!

Truly, the more a person schemes, the more easily they fall prey to sheer coincidence.

"Tch..."

Kamuro sat on the bed, arms folded. Her crossed, snow-white thighs—wrapped in black knee-high socks—swung with obvious impatience, the sock openings around her toes tightening and loosening with the motion. She seemed to be considering whether simply kicking him directly would be more satisfying. "A scumbag like this—just breaking his legs would be better. Save him from running around causing trouble."

"Morishita-san." Yamamura let out a soft sigh and simply ignored Fuyuji entirely, shifting on her knees, her skirt rustling faintly against the floor, and knelt down beside Morishita. Reaching out with genuine concern, she touched Morishita's forehead. "How's your cold? At a time like this, you should be resting properly in your room, not running around."

"..."

Sensing that the three girls' main offensive was not, in fact, aimed at herself—

Morishita, kneeling in seiza, swiveled her eyes around in a circle, her long lashes fluttering rapidly like butterfly wings. She looked at the three present, then cast a sidelong glance at Fuyuji beside her, and then, abruptly, she stood up.

Under everyone's astonished gazes, she solemnly clasped her hands together before her, lowered her head, bowed, and spoke in a muffled voice, "Allow me to introduce everyone to my newly acquainted boyfriend, Fuyuji Mikage. He's a little dumb. From now on, please take good care of him."

The moment the words left her mouth, the atmosphere in the room instantly solidified.

Shiraishi's gentle smile froze on the spot, her violet-amethyst eyes flashing with an unreadable glint. She said nothing, simply staring fixedly at Morishita.

The swinging snow-white thigh stopped mid-motion, and Kamuro's fist quietly clenched. She shot Fuyuji a fierce glare.

Yamamura's eyes widened slightly in surprise. Then, with a smile, she covered the corner of her mouth. She, too, said nothing, merely watching everyone's reactions with keen interest.

A thick bead of cold sweat oozed from Fuyuji's forehead, and in an instant, sweat soaked through the back of his shirt. He raised his head and looked at Morishita in sheer disbelief.

[Fuyuji: This is how you treat the boyfriend you like?]

Morishita refused eye contact. Decisively and cleanly, she stepped forward twice, joining the girls' camp, then turned around and lowered her head. "My boyfriend said he'll protect me from now on. If anyone has any problems, you can take them up with him. Just now, he also tried to drag me into doing lewd things with him."

In that instant, the temperature in the room dropped several degrees.

Several gazes scraped across Fuyuji's body like blunt knives flaying flesh.

"Um..." Fuyuji swallowed hard, desperately twisting his facial muscles to force out a smile even uglier than a grimace. "Wait a second, everyone... I... I can explain. Really."

"No need to explain. Getting rid of you would be a service to the public." Kamuro stood up from the bed and sneered down at him from above.

"Honestly..."

Shiraishi let out a silent sigh. With steps as graceful as a feline's, she walked up before him, pressed down her skirt, and crouched, reaching out to cup one side of Fuyuji's cheek, her thumb gently stroking. A coldness never seen before flowed through her eyes. "It seems I may have been a little too lenient with this bad boy of ours. To go behind my back and do something like this... No, that's not allowed. That sort of thing is absolutely not allowed!"

"Then... how should we punish him?" Yamamura chimed in at the perfect moment, quietly adding fuel to the fire.

Miki, even you... My life is over!

Just as Fuyuji had completely sunk into despair and abandoned all hope of struggle, a strange, tingling itch—like ants gnawing at cartilage—suddenly rose from deep within his nasal cavity, as if a damp feather were burrowing through the cracks of his ethmoid bone straight into his brain.

"Ah—" The half-formed sound drew every gaze in the room toward him.

Fuyuji jerked his head back with a sharp inhale, quickly reaching up to move Shiraishi's hand away and turning his head aside. His ciliary muscles spasmed uncontrollably. "—choo!"

A resounding sneeze instantly rang throughout the room.

Immediately after, several more.

"Ah—choo!"

"Ah—choo!"

...

"Strange. Why am I suddenly sneezing?" Fuyuji shook his head, and when he spoke again, his voice had already taken on a nasal tone.

"Guilty conscience catching up with you?" Kamuro said with contempt—yet her body unconsciously shifted forward a small step, drawing closer to Fuyuji.

"No. It must be a cold." Shiraishi's brow furrowed tightly as she reached out and forcibly pulled Fuyuji's head back around, carefully studying his expression. "You were perfectly fine just yesterday. Why would you suddenly catch a cold?"

At that moment, Yamamura's gaze drifted to the side, thoughtful. "These symptoms... they're a little similar to Morishita-san's last night..."

A silence spread throughout the room.

If it had only been simple contact, a cold shouldn't have been transmitted so quickly...

The thoughts of the several young women connected in the span of just a few short breaths, their gazes gathering toward Morishita in the corner, as if by unspoken agreement.

The silence seemed to stretch on for an entire century.

A few seconds later, Morishita, locked under everyone's stares, abruptly wrenched her head to the side, her toes hidden inside her stockings curling up, her little lips pursed high, her gaze drifting aimlessly toward the night outside the balcony. "Morishita-sama knows nothing about this."

"..."

However, this situation had, instead, brought a sliver of hope to Fuyuji, who had already been driven into dire straits.

Without letting anything show, he lowered his voice, making his nasal congestion sound another degree heavier, and hurriedly stood up, pulling the girls toward the door. "In any case, this cold is clearly contagious. None of you should stay here. It would be bad if you caught it."

"But—"

Fuyuji cut them off forcefully, his tone half-genuine and half-feigned. "No buts. I have cold medicine here, so I'll be better in two days at most. Absolutely no way am I letting any of you catch this."

The door slammed shut, and Fuyuji called out through it, "I'll take care of myself. If there's anything, just contact me by phone."

Leaning against the cold door panel, Fuyuji panted heavily, gasping for breath, and raised a hand to wipe away the mixture of cold sweat and nervous perspiration from his forehead and face.

I survived, at last. Long live the common cold!

"Ah—choo!"

...

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