Chapter 227: The Virtuous Wife, Yamamura Miki

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With a twist of the door handle, Fuyuji Mikage opened the door to his own room, grimacing as he touched the several red marks on his neck.

Those two women were ruthless!

Just last night, they had been so deeply affectionate—saying they liked him, saying they would never let go. They'd moved him to the point of tears.

And yet, come morning, they'd flipped their faces and refused to acknowledge any of it.

Was it really such a big deal—just because the morning atmosphere had built up to that point—that he'd wrapped one arm around each of them and given them each a kiss on the cheek?

Was it really such a big deal—just because he'd had a bit of a physiological reaction in the morning?

Was it really such a big deal—just because he couldn't control his left and right hands, both acting up at the same time, copping a feel or two in the midst of kissing?

He'd only committed the mistakes that every man commits. Why didn't they hit his hands instead of hitting him?!

Did they really have to unite against a common enemy like that—biting and scratching him in tandem?

And they'd even kicked him off the bed with a single foot. Wasn't there a saying—ten years of fate to share a boat, a hundred years of fate to share a pillow?

Forget it, forget it. In the end, his devotion had been misplaced...

Perhaps because he'd slept a night and been infected by Cha-Cha—after a bout of Cha-Cha-esque grumbling, Fuyuji had successfully convinced himself of his own righteousness.

"Haah~"

With a clatter, he shut the door and let out a lazy yawn.

Last night—saying he'd been asleep wasn't quite accurate. He'd actually been in a half-asleep, half-awake state. Holding two fragrant, soft girls—both counted among the beauties of the entire grade—if he'd actually been able to fall asleep for real, that would have been the true miracle.

Besides, the beds at Advanced Nurturing High were single beds to begin with. Two people sleeping together was already a tight squeeze, let alone three. Even turning over had been nearly impossible.

After a quick shower and drying his hair, Fuyuji returned to his own bed and peacefully closed his eyes.

In his dreams, there was a golden beach, and lions...

The sun gradually climbed to its zenith. The shadows on the floor shrank inch by inch. An unknown stretch of time passed.

Ding-dong~ Ding-dong~ Ding-dong~

The continuous chime of the doorbell rang out within the room—clear but not urgent. After a few rings, it politely stopped, quietly awaiting the owner to open the door.

"Coming, coming."

Fuyuji opened his eyes. Raising a hand, he ruffled his disheveled black hair and made his way toward the door. At this hour, the people who would come to his room without giving prior notice numbered exactly four—and only four.

Twisting the door handle open, a young girl with a blue-green side ponytail, carrying a vegetable basket in both hands, timidly entered his line of sight.

"Good morning, Miki... Hm?" Fuyuji's half-lowered eyelids opened just a fraction wider. He poked his head out of the room and looked left and right. "Where are they? Don't tell me they're hiding, planning to jump out and scare me?"

"No."

Yamamura Miki covered the corner of her mouth and smiled gently. Her gaze inadvertently swept past the conspicuous red marks on his neck, and she quickly lowered her eyes.

"Kamuro-san needed to buy some study materials for her tutoring sessions and asked Shiraishi-san for advice. So the two of them went to Keyaki Mall together. Morishita-san heard that the aquarium pet shop got a new batch of pets and went along with them. Around noon—they probably won't be coming back for lunch."

"Ah..." The corner of Fuyuji's mouth twitched.

Last night while gaming, Bro hadn't mentioned this to him at all. Tsundere as she was, for her to actually swallow her pride and ask Shiraishi-mama for advice—she must have been seriously provoked by him. She was probably trying to secretly put in the effort, then stun everyone with her exam results.

As for his girlfriend...

Fuyuji offered three seconds of silent mourning for the fish and shrimp at the aquarium pet shop.

The great Morishita-sama had already raised and killed who-knew-how-many batches of pets. Her observation diary had filled an entire notebook—the only regret being that it never went past the fifth day.

"Then why didn't Miki go with them?"

"Because I wanted to keep you company." Yamamura bloomed with a gentle smile. "If I didn't come, Fuyuji would be all alone."

That soft, gentle voice—like a clear spring—swept away every last trace of Fuyuji's drowsiness in an instant.

"But Miki... didn't I say yesterday that I had things to do this week and might not be around today?"

"But Fuyuji is here right now, isn't he?" Yamamura blinked and replied as though it were only natural. Then, without waiting for Fuyuji's response, she walked straight into the room. "Besides, I don't really have anything to do in my room anyway. What does Fuyuji want to eat today? Chinese-style tomato and scrambled eggs? Or chili stir-fried pork? Red-braised pork and stir-fried beef are also fine, you know."

"..."

Fuyuji froze for a brief moment. Turning his head, he saw that Yamamura had already slipped off her little leather shoes and was walking toward the kitchen cabinets in her white knee-high socks.

Beneath her white pleated skirt, her slender, straight legs took several alternating steps forward before coming to a halt. She raised a hand and wiped the fine sweat from her face. Setting the vegetable basket on the floor, she pressed down her skirt and crouched, stuffing the ingredients she'd brought into the refrigerator one by one.

"Fuyuji?" Seeing that Fuyuji hadn't responded, Yamamura continued organizing the ingredients and asked without turning her head.

"Oh. Chili stir-fried pork is fine."

"Alright. But you'll have to wait a bit, okay?"

Fuyuji closed the door and walked back to the low table in the living room, sitting down. "But Miki—when did you learn how to make red-braised pork?"

"Mm... I learned it quite a while ago, I think? About two months back?"

Closing the refrigerator door, Yamamura straightened up and headed straight for the small cutting board beside the sink, casually taking the apron off the wall and tying it on.

The simple, unadorned apron, tied around her slender waist, brought out a gentle, homely warmth.

"Fuyuji, go rest for a bit first. Take another nap, or read a book, or play some games. It'll be ready soon."

Even as she spoke, the young girl pulled out from the vegetable basket the ingredients needed for the chili stir-fried pork, along with some seasonings for simmering miso soup. Then, twisting open the faucet, the clear sound of rushing water echoed throughout the entire room.

Fuyuji didn't do as she said. Instead, he simply propped his chin on his hand and quietly admired this pleasing, heart-soothing scene.

Yamamura's knife work wasn't fast, but every cut landed just right. The green and red peppers were evenly sliced into thin strips. The garlic cloves were smashed and minced. The pork belly was sliced into pieces of perfect, moderate thickness. The entire process flowed smoothly, carrying a rhythmic cadence that set one's heart at ease.

The kitchen gradually filled with the fresh fragrance of vegetables and the faint, bloody scent of raw meat.

"Miki." Fuyuji gazed at her silhouette, his eyes lingering on the fair, pale nape of her neck—exposed as she lowered her head to cut the vegetables—and on that blue-green side ponytail, swaying gently with each motion. "You actually... could have gone with them to look around. You didn't have to come specially to keep me company."

"But—if you were all alone—wouldn't it be very lonely..." Yamamura paid his words little mind and continued focusing on the task at hand.

"You clearly noticed that I'd just been catching up on sleep. And you can see the red marks on my neck too. Then—aren't you going to ask me what I was doing yesterday?"

"It doesn't matter to me, you know. If Fuyuji wants to say, he'll say it on his own. Besides, I'm not good at asking people questions. If I accidentally touched a sore spot without knowing—it'd be really awkward for both of us, wouldn't it?"

"Ha?" Fuyuji's entire face collapsed. "Am I 'other people' to you?"

"Of course not. Fuyuji is Fuyuji. But I think the principle is more or less the same?"

"Fine. But Miki—what have you been doing these past few days? Studying together with Morishita-sama?"

"Mm... we only studied for a little while before Morishita-san dragged me off to play."

"Is that going to be okay? For this exam."

"It's fine. Our two scores combined come to over twelve hundred points."

...

In idle, leisurely boredom, the two of them struck up a conversation, one sentence at a time. Unlike the various emotionally charged dialogues he had with other girls, the conversation with Yamamura had no real destination. It was always about trivial, mundane matters. Plain and simple—like plain boiled water.

It was just...

Beyond the balcony, white clouds drifted lazily across the blue sky. Propping his cheek on his hand, Fuyuji suddenly blurted out:

"Miki—you really are suited to be a wife."

Yamamura, who had been mixing and stirring the meat slices, lost her rhythm for an instant. She accidentally bumped the stainless steel bowl beside her, which clattered onto the floor.

"Nn!"

Her pretty face instantly flushing red, Yamamura hurriedly crouched down and picked up the stainless steel bowl. Even her earlobes were dyed a faint shade of pink.

"Fuyuji—don't suddenly say things like that to flatter me."

"It's not flattery." Fuyuji earnestly corrected her. "Before—someone always told me—if you're going to get married, you absolutely have to find a girl who's virtuous and devoted."

"I-I-I'm not that kind of virtuous, devoted girl, you know." Above her house slippers, her adorable toes—wrapped in pure white knee-high socks—fidgeted restlessly. Yamamura lowered her head and continued mixing the meat slices in her hands. "I only know how to cook. My academic ability isn't the best. My physical stamina is terrible. I can't even socialize..."

Fuyuji nodded once more and spoke with smiling conviction. "As I thought—perfectly suited."

"Eeeeh?!"

The girl's incredulous cry grew even louder.

...

A little over half an hour later.

Upon the low table, four dishes were arranged in an orderly fashion. At the center, the chili stir-fried pork glistened red and green. The towering heap of tomato and scrambled eggs sat beside it. The poached seasonal greens had been placed in front of Yamamura herself. The miso soup sent up curls of white steam.

Fuyuji sighed as he gazed at the meal before him.

"So when you asked me what I wanted to eat—it was really just to figure out which dish to make more of. In reality, you made both anyway, didn't you? The two of us can't possibly finish all this."

"Th-this, that—Fuyuji can eat it as a midnight snack if he gets hungry tonight. Or have another meal this afternoon..." Her two index fingers twisted and tangled together. Yamamura's face burned hot as she replied.

Having been sent into a dazed, dizzy whirl by a single sentence from Fuyuji, she had subconsciously cooked enough for five people.

"Fine." Fuyuji puffed out his chest. Picking up his chopsticks, he placed several slices of meat into Yamamura's bowl. "Then Miki needs to eat more too. Out of all you girls, Miki is the lightest."

As an aside—the heaviest was Bro. Because her long legs were more firm and solid. It was just that she was far too tsundere and never let Fuyuji carry her on his back.

Yamamura let out a soft "Mm." Picking up her bowl and chopsticks, she began eating in small, delicate bites.

"Do you have anything else to do later, Miki?"

"Hm?" After thinking for a moment and swallowing the food in her mouth, Yamamura tilted her head and spoke uncertainly. "Help Fuyuji clean his room?"

"I'm asking about your own business."

Extending his hand, Fuyuji rapped her lightly on her little head with exasperation.

"Nn..." Yamamura raised a hand and instinctively covered her head. "In that case—nothing."

"Nothing at all?"

"Because I've never had friends since I was little—so I don't really have any particular hobbies either. Does Fuyuji have things to do later? If so, I'll wash the dishes and leave right after."

"What are you thinking?"

Fuyuji let out a sigh. From his pocket, he pulled out a card and pushed it before Yamamura.

"This is..." Yamamura's eyes widened slightly.

"The spare key card to my room. I'll let Miki hold onto it. From now on, Miki can come by whenever she wants. No need to wait outside every time. Just open the door and come straight in. Whether I'm here or not. However—" Fuyuji scooted closer and leaned in beside Yamamura's ear, lowering his volume. "Keep it well hidden. Don't tell Morishita-sama."

"Eh?" Yamamura turned her head, stammering. "D-don't tell Morishita-san?"

"That's right." Fuyuji nodded heavily.

He truly didn't dare imagine—if he handed the key card to Morishita Ai—what kind of grand, spectacular stunts his girlfriend would pull with her personality.

Things like showing up in his room ahead of time, secretly hiding under his bed at night, then suddenly poking her head out to scare him half to death—she would absolutely, without a doubt, do such things.

"Ma-maybe it's better not to?"

Gazing at that square card on the table, Yamamura felt a flicker of temptation. Yet at the same time, she felt that keeping this from her good friend wasn't right. If she were found out, Morishita-san would turn into a huffing, puffing pufferfish.

"Hurry up and take it." Fuyuji drew just a little closer and, without further explanation, pressed the key card into Yamamura's hand. "This way, you can—"

Chu~

A soft, tender sensation landed without warning on Fuyuji's cheek.

Time itself seemed to freeze solid in that very instant.

Yamamura herself was the first to stiffen. She hadn't even realized what she had done. All she felt was the blood in her entire body rushing thunderously straight to the top of her head. Within her field of vision, all that remained was the stunned profile of Fuyuji's face...

"I-I-I-I... I'm sorry!"

A short, startled cry squeezed out from her throat. Like a little rabbit, Yamamura abruptly sprang away. Her entire body, in a frantic, flustered scramble, stumbled backward.

"Wait—" Fuyuji instinctively reached out, wanting to grab hold of her.

Her pure white knee-high socks scraped and shuffled across the floor in a panic. The girl with the navy-blue side ponytail, not even sparing a thought for her slippers, spun around and rushed toward the door, stumbling and staggering.

"I-I'll come back later to clean up the bowls and chopsticks! Fuyuji, make sure to eat properly! Goodbye!"

Thud!

Her shoulder slammed heavily against the doorframe, yet Yamamura seemed utterly oblivious. Using every last ounce of strength in her body, she twisted the door handle open. Her blue-green side ponytail swayed and billowed in the air. With a sharp whoosh, she vanished beyond the door.

"..."

The air was still saturated with the spicy fragrance of chili stir-fried pork and the warmth of miso soup...

A long moment passed. Gazing at the table laden with food, then at the empty room, Fuyuji reached up and touched the lingering warmth on his cheek. Smiling, he murmured softly:

"Kissing and then running away. Miki—aren't you being just a little too irresponsible?"

Outside the room door, a few crisp birdcalls drifted into the corridor.

Her breathing quick and rapid, Yamamura Miki leaned her back against the wall. Both legs pressed tightly together, she slid down inch by inch. Silently, she raised her hand and pressed the key card against her chest. Her burning, feverish face buried into her knees, revealing only her ears—so red they seemed about to drip blood.

"Hehe. Fuyuji's wife... wife..."

The girl's murmured whisper echoed softly through the corridor. Along with the wind, following the fluttering, soaring birds, it drifted together into the distance.

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