"Y-You… you two…" Sumire's voice trembled as she looked at Shuichi Chiba, who was lounging with a smug, relaxed expression.
"Scared, Sensei? Hiding someone under the desk is a bit startling, isn't it?" Shuichi tilted his head with a grin, then gently swiveled the office chair toward her. "But the president insisted she's interested in Ultraman too, so I had to bring her along."
As Shuichi turned the chair, Sumire got a clearer view, but Tsuki's dimples had vanished. Apparently displeased with his words, her cheeks puffed up in a sulky "grumpy" look.
Sumire instinctively swallowed hard, clutching her racing heart. Then, with a jolt, she rushed to lock the infirmary door and dashed to the windows, yanking the curtains shut.
"You two didn't even close the curtains?!"
"It's fine. No one can see from this angle, and the desk blocks the view," Shuichi said, clearly familiar with the setup. "But your reaction, Sensei… it's pretty entertaining."
His soft chuckle made Sumire's teeth itch with irritation. She glared at his infuriating smirk, but her eyes couldn't help drifting downward, almost as if bewitched.
"Lunch break is almost over. Shouldn't you start getting ready, Sensei?" Shuichi said, playfully sliding the chair back and forth, clearly enjoying this childish game.
"Then stop it already!" Sumire gritted her teeth, her eyelids twitching.
"Huh? It's not like we're stopping you from cosplaying," Shuichi said, feigning confusion with a shrug.
Tsuki, her voice hesitant, chimed in, "Sensei, don't mind us. Just do your thing."
How could I not mind?! This is outrageous! Sumire tried to calm her pounding heart, turning to the infirmary bed. She pulled the curtain around it and rummaged through her bag, pulling out a black leather outfit and a motorcycle helmet.
She unzipped her frumpy tracksuit, revealing a plain white undershirt and an unremarkable figure. Only the glimpses of her pale, almost luminous skin stood out.
Bending down, she started sliding off her track pants, but a strange noise made her heart skip a beat.
It's nothing, just focus, she told herself, trying to steady her nerves. But another odd sound broke her calm.
Guessing it was probably someone slapping the desk, she overheard:
"As my little maid, you're complaining about being tired?"
"Mm~ Sorry, young master, I'll get back to work."
Sumire kept chanting to herself: Don't look, there's nothing to see. Just change, deal with that little punk Chiba, and get out. But her curiosity clawed at her like a cat, making her itch with temptation.
Feeling parched, she licked her lips to moisten them, then hesitantly parted the bed curtain just a sliver to peek outside.
One glance, and she yanked her gaze back, covering her face. What am I doing?! Why can't I resist?! Did she really crave that kind of thing so much? She'd always recoiled at the idea of dating, blind dates, or marriage—so why was she so desperate to look?
"Haven't finished changing, Sensei? Do you prefer sneaking peeks from behind the curtain over watching openly?" Shuichi's infuriating voice rang out again.
Sumire shot back, flustered, "Who's sneaking?! This tight outfit's just tricky to put on, that's all!"
"Is that so…" Shuichi's tone dripped with disbelief.
Huffing, Sumire kicked off her track pants, her dazzlingly pale, slender legs slipping into the black leather pants with an indignant flourish.
Soon, she had the full outfit on and donned the helmet.
It hit her: Right, I should've changed faster. With the helmet on, no one can see my eyes or expression—it's way better than hiding behind the curtain!
Ugh, what am I even thinking?! Sumire scolded herself.
"I-I'm done," She said, stepping out from behind the curtain, a bit awkwardly.
"Oh, perfect timing. I'm almost done here too," Shuichi said, gently stroking Tsuki's cheek to ease her soreness before turning slightly.
He blinked in surprise. "Huh? Where's Ultraman? Where's Tiga? Sensei, this is…"
Sumire spat, "Didn't you say I could choose between Tiga and the leather outfit? What's wrong with this?"
Shuichi's eyes landed on her long legs, snugly wrapped in the black leather pants, and lit up. "No problem at all. You look seriously hot in that, Sensei."
"Y-You! Don't say stuff like that about your teacher! I'll get mad!" Sumire instinctively turned sideways, dodging his gaze.
"Hmm, it's a bit lacking from this angle. If only you were a bit… fuller," Shuichi said, shaking his head regretfully.
"Sorry for being so skinny!" Sumire snapped, exasperated.
"This is cosplay too, right? Headless Rider?" Shuichi said, scratching Tsuki's chin. She responded with a soft hum. "Celty Sturluson, right? How's it looking? Pretty spot-on?"
Sumire genuinely loved cosplay. If her figure weren't so unsuited, she'd have tried this character ages ago.
"Stuff something in to pad it out, and it'd be perfect," Shuichi said seriously. "Don't be shy, Sensei. Cosplay all about using props and costumes to nail the look. It's totally normal."
Sumire's gaze, which had drifted to Tsuki, snapped back. Distractedly, she replied, "I didn't bring any… cough, I mean, I didn't prepare any props."
Catching her near-slip, she quickly corrected herself.
Shuichi grinned. "I heard that. You've got props at home, don't you, Sensei? But if you do, why haven't you ever posted this character on your socials? Unless…"
"Nothing! Let me see what I can use here," Sumire cut in, pretending to rummage around the infirmary.
In reality, she was sneaking glances at Tsuki from every angle.
Tsuki saw through her act and deliberately pulled her hair up—without even needing a hair tie—to give Sumire a clearer view.
Sumire dawdled, circling the two without finding anything useful.
The strict teacher's sneaky peeking only heightened Tsuki's thrill.
"Sensei?" Shuichi said, amused, eyeing her helmet.
"W-What?" Sumire jumped.
"If you can't find anything, just ball up your tracksuit," Shuichi suggested.
"Oh, r-right, good idea," Sumire said, reluctantly returning to the curtain. She quickly bundled her tracksuit top and pants, stuffing them into the leather jacket.
"There, good enough? This is the last time, I'm telling you. Don't think you can keep using those old secrets to make me—"
"Sensei, come closer. I can't see clearly," Shuichi interrupted, waving her over, ignoring her defiance.
"…"
Sumire bit her lip. I'm the teacher here. Why am I listening to a student? And he's so smug about it! But… getting closer…
Ugh, it's not about wanting a better look. I'm just humoring him.
Hesitantly, she stepped closer. Shuichi studied her and offered, "Wouldn't it look better if you unzipped it a bit?"
Sumire flinched, clutching her collar. "What are you trying to do?"
Shuichi rolled his eyes. "What's there to see, Sensei? I just meant unzipping a bit to show off your pale neck. It'd contrast nicely with the black leather. Purely a cosplay suggestion."
"…" Sumire fumed. Nothing worth seeing?! Muttering a grudging "Fine," she tugged the zipper down slightly, revealing her slender, pale neck.
"How's that?"
Shuichi snapped a photo with his phone and gestured for her to lean in and check it out.
Sumire braced herself on the chair, bending over his shoulder to look at the screen. The cosplay looked great, no doubt.
But…
Her eyes wouldn't behave! From this angle, Tsuki's face was right behind the phone, and she couldn't focus on the screen at all!
"Wanna touch?" Shuichi's voice cut in, carrying an almost hypnotic pull.
"?! W-What are you talking about?! Who'd want to… to do that?!" Sumire yelped, startled.
Shuichi blinked innocently. "Huh? What's Sensei thinking? I meant the president's face—so soft and fair, super cute, right? The usually prim and proper student council president—getting to touch her face is pretty rare, no?"
"…"
Sumire couldn't help glancing at Tsuki. Her eyes were hazy, almost like she was dozing off—a stark contrast to her usual demeanor.
Just touching her face? That's… probably fine, right?
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