The dark infirmary still carried Hoshinomiya's faint fragrance. After she'd finished working Yukio's back, she stopped with a slight ache, massaging her own palms—left kneading right, right squeezing left—occasionally shaking both hands to relax her over-worked wrists.
Yukio felt completely at ease, his fatigue melted away. To borrow a wuxia phrase, it was as if the ren and du meridians along his spine had been opened: every blockage vanished.
"Hoshinomiya-sensei, your technique keeps getting better."
"Hum-hum~ Of course!" She put on a little-girl look of smug pride, her smile so wide it could hang an IV bag.
"Teacher's manned this infirmary a long time, you know—I do more than slack off and watch dramas."
The comfort in his back contrasted with the slight discomfort in front; he and Hoshinomiya were very close. One casual breath let him catch that pleasant, faint scent on her—an elegant, watery perfume laced with a trace of floral sweat.
Even in frigid January, doors shut, she'd worked so busily that a sheen of fragrant perspiration was inevitable. The smell reminded Yukio of what she'd said yesterday: So many Class D students in the infirmary today—Sensei, did you forget something?"
"!" She was still shaking her wrists when he spoke; at once her expression grew awkward and she deliberately looked away. I knew it, I knew it! From Kushida onward this afternoon, Class D girls had come in one after another. She'd already guessed Yukio must be angling for a reward.
Why else work so hard? In barely one afternoon he'd delivered nearly one-third of Class D's girls. If he had no ulterior motive, would he attack D Class that zealously? Perverted brat—he really does want payment!
With that in mind, her demeanor turned stiff. Eyes darting about the room as though the infirmary were full of fascinating curios, she said, "Eh? Didn't I… already give it?"
"That back massage just now—you praised it so highly, remember? It's not even been a minute."
Yukio merely stared at her mischievously, saying nothing but seeming to say everything. Wordless tension wrapped them in a hazy, ambiguous air.
Hoshinomiya felt something was off—why were her cheeks burning hotter, her gaze growing flighty, her heart pounding faster? No, no! She'd sworn to regain the upper hand. She couldn't bolt like she had during that house-call to Yukio's dorm.
He was just a student! She'd been in the adult world ten years longer—an older sister by far. How could she be scared off by one boy? Remembering her humiliation fleeing his room, she steadied her wandering eyes; her heartbeat slowed to normal.
But her face? Still blazing. Thankfully the lights were off—if Yukio saw how red she was, she'd die of shame. Part of the heat came from wanting to give him his reward; part from the smug thought that an older woman snagging a young stud might be her win.
She always played the eternal eighteen-year-old, but reality? Everyone knew. To her students she was practically an auntie. No matter how girlish she acted, it couldn't change that. Her biggest irritation on trains was giving her seat to kids—only for them to chirp, "Thank you, Auntie." Each time felt like a dagger; she wanted to snatch the seat back.
So the fact that a much younger Yukio would go to such lengths—just for her reward—filled her with a tiny glow of pride. All those emotions blended into zero disgust and a bit of expectation; that was the real reason for her hot cheeks…
She even cursed herself inwardly—Shameless!—yet couldn't stop the thoughts. The more you try to stifle them, the more vivid they become. Am I… love-starved? she wondered.
What girl doesn't dream of sweet romance? But back in school she'd chased Class A at all costs—until Chabashira's obstinacy crushed it. At university she learned Sae planned to return as a teacher, so in spite she followed—no room left to date.
As a teacher she ran three homeroom classes. Only after they graduated did she have down time—dated a few men, but her longest relationship lasted two weeks. As she put it, her passion fizzled fast; she'd chat with a guy she fancied on the street, maybe, break up before they'd even held hands—too boring.
That's why, despite looking flirtatious, she'd bolted from Yukio's dorm—pure as they come. Over time she met no one who clicked—until Yukio: her type on the outside, thrilling with that older woman, younger man vibe, and supremely helpful against Chabashira. Hard to refuse.
Countless subconscious motives swirled—she scarcely noticed them herself. Forcing a reliable tone, she said, "Humph. Don't worry—since I said it yesterday, I'll pay up. I don't run tabs."
"But Yukio-kun, be mentally prepared—don't let Sensei beat you in a single move."
His eyebrows lifted—she couldn't see it. "That's for me to decide, not you, Hoshinomiya-sensei."
Elsewhere, in the dark classroom, the selected boys of Yukio's class finished their task, obediently stowed everything inside a certain desk, and slipped back to the dorm unseen.
Later Yukio, too, returned to his room, leaving Hoshinomiya—legs slightly unsteady—to sneak off to that classroom and quietly retrieve the items his classmates had hidden in the desk…
...
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