The two took the elevator from the top floor down to the first floor. Without running into Ichinose, they left the club building and headed toward the administrative area. However, once they stepped outside, Sakayanagi noticeably slowed her pace. She rubbed one arm with her free hand, the one not holding her cane.
"Hmm?" Yukio gave her a curious look, scanning her from head to toe. She seemed to be dressed warmly enough—her usual beret, a white shirt layered under a matching white sweater, and a thicker-than-usual school blazer. She shouldn't have been cold.
But as his gaze moved lower, he noticed the likely culprit: her over-the-knee white stockings. Her smooth, slender legs were framed by the snug fabric, which hugged her thighs perfectly without leaving any creases. Above the stockings, the gap between the hem of her pleated skirt and the top of her stockings formed a tantalizing "absolute territory," a captivating detail that seemed to embody a universal charm.
Yukio admired this quintessential winter style, a hallmark of Japanese culture. Girls here often wore skirts year-round, pairing them with tights or stockings in winter. The aesthetic trumped practicality, even at the cost of freezing temperatures leading to potential long-term consequences, such as less-than-perfect leg shape in adulthood.
Although he had initially found this style peculiar, he eventually came to appreciate the sacrifices people made in the name of beauty. However, considering Sakayanagi's frail constitution, wearing only thigh-high stockings in the cold was bound to be uncomfortable. Without a second thought, he shrugged off his school blazer, grabbed its sleeves, and tied it securely around her waist.
This sudden act of kindness caught Sakayanagi off guard. Her typically serene and elegant demeanor softened, her eyes shimmering with a rare warmth. "Yukio-kun, you're unexpectedly considerate."
She wasn't the type to respond with a shy "Thank you for your trouble." In Sakayanagi's world, Yukio was a meticulous person. If he offered his blazer to shield her from the wind, it simply meant he could handle the cold himself. There was no need to decline his gesture; once they reached the chairman's office, she could always repay the favor by pouring him a cup of hot tea to warm up.
Yukio didn't engage in any further pleasantries. He deftly wrapped his blazer around Sakayanagi's back, threading the sleeves in front of her and tying them into a knot as securely as possible to block the wind. As he worked, he asked casually, "Why not wear tights?"
In cold, windy weather, tights—designed as a single, continuous piece—offered far better insulation than thigh-high stockings. At least they could stave off that biting chill of the wind cutting through.
"Thigh-high stockings look better," Sakayanagi replied with a soft chuckle, revealing the illogical yet endearing reasoning of many girls. In their eyes, stockings weren't just an accessory—they were a statement of style. The priority was what looked good, not practicality. Even someone as composed and rational as Sakayanagi wasn't immune to this line of thinking.
She lowered her gaze slightly, her amused smile widening as she observed Yukio crouched and focused on knotting the sleeves in front of her skirt. His concentrated expression, as if this mundane task were of utmost importance, gave her a peculiar warmth. She teased him further, her voice carrying a playful undertone: "Is that all you're going to do?"
"I thought, perhaps, Yukio-kun might take this chance to... indulge himself a little while tying the knot."
"If that's the case, I won't hold back," Yukio retorted smoothly. He wasn't one to shy away from such provocations; his self-proclaimed mischievous nature wouldn't let him.
Without hesitation, after tying the sleeves securely around Sakayanagi's slender waist, he casually reached out and let his hands rest momentarily on the space between her pleated skirt and the top of her stockings—the infamous "absolute territory."
'Hmm,' Yukio mentally evaluated. The sensation wasn't as plush as Kushida's or even Ichinose's; it was firmer, more slender—very fitting for Sakayanagi's elegant and lithe frame.
"!" Sakayanagi was genuinely caught off guard by Yukio's bold move. She had only been teasing him, expecting maybe a flustered blush or at least some hesitation.
Who could have predicted that this guy wouldn't even blush, skipping straight to action and catching Sakayanagi completely off guard?
The previously chilly "absolute territory," once caressed by the crisp autumn breeze, had turned into a sweltering furnace. What was once tinged with cold, biting moisture was now replaced by an intense warmth, like two freshly activated heating pads pressed against her thighs. The heat coursed through her veins, spreading throughout her body and melting away all the autumn chill. Even her usually pale face now glowed with a flush as intoxicating as fine wine.
But Sakayanagi wasn't one to let emotions overwhelm her for long. Though the surge of embarrassment and panic had momentarily surfaced, she swiftly subdued those feelings, burying them deep. Instead, she leaned into the moment, her cheeks still glowing as she feigned bashfulness. "And… how long are you planning to stay there?" she murmured, her voice delicately trembling, leaving her words hanging suggestively in the air.
She had employed this exact tactic before, back at the eel farm. Its success had been undeniable.
Typically graceful like a royal princess, always exuding composure and control, she transformed into a shy and powerless girl, stirring an immense sense of contrast and allure in any boy's heart.
For a moment, Yukio hesitated, genuinely finding it hard to continue his teasing. He finally straightened up and began walking again, though he couldn't resist a parting remark: "Shy? Weren't you the one inviting me in the first place?"
Sakayanagi's lips curved ever so faintly—a mischievous smile, subtle like a sly fox celebrating a successful heist. "True enough," she said, her tone light and teasing. "But to answer your earlier question about thigh-highs versus tights, the reason is simple: if someone like you decides to get handsy, thigh-highs save you the trouble of dealing with an extra layer."
The sharpness of her reply left Yukio momentarily speechless.
Feigning bashfulness was effective, sure, but Sakayanagi knew better than to overuse it. If she relied on this act too often, it would lose its charm—especially against someone like Yukio, who was unnervingly perceptive. So, she allowed herself a moment of playful vulnerability before quickly slipping back into her usual logical and composed demeanor.
This balance kept her unpredictable, leaving an indelible impression on him while setting the stage for his eventual anticipation of her next "moment of shyness."
As Sakayanagi's eight years of filial obligations began to loosen their grip on her, she felt a budding freedom to live for herself. A newfound lightness sparkled in her gaze as she looked at Yukio, who walked calmly beside her. Her fingers lightly brushed the fabric of the blazer tied around her waist, still carrying his lingering warmth.
The comforting heat of his gesture felt akin to a brazier in the heart of winter, casting a soft, glowing warmth over her soul.
Her smile blossomed like sunlight breaking through thick winter clouds—pure, radiant, and disarmingly warm.