"Brr, it's freezing!"
Hiiro Eri shivered, dragging herself out of bed. She'd just woken from a dream where she'd plunged into an icy lake, surrounded by bone-chilling water.
"No wonder I had that dream," she muttered, touching her damp pajamas and bedding, soaked from the sweat she'd poured out while sleeping.
"That guy was right," she admitted reluctantly. "One bowl of that green onion-ginger water, and I'm sweating buckets."
Hopping off the bed, Eri felt lighter, her head no longer foggy, her body less achy than it had been that morning. But the clammy, cold clothes clinging to her were unbearable, even making her chest feel tight. "Gotta change, or I'll catch another cold," she said, rolling up her pajama top for some relief.
She opened the guest room door and headed for her bedroom to grab fresh clothes, only to freeze as a savory aroma hit her. "What's that smell?" Her eyes narrowed. Wait… he's still here?
Before she could lower her shirt, Shuichi Hayashi emerged from the kitchen, a steaming pot in hand. His eyes locked onto his childhood friend, her pajama top hitched up, revealing a glimpse of what lay beneath.
"Uh…" Shuichi's eyes widened.
"Ah!" Eri let out a piercing shriek. "You—you're still here?!"
"Instead of screaming, maybe pull your shirt down," Shuichi suggested, his tone teasing but kind. "You just got over a fever. Don't make it worse."
His words snapped her back to reality. Blushing furiously, Eri yanked her shirt down. "I thought you left!" she stammered, stamping her foot in frustration. "I got up to use the bathroom earlier, and you were gone. I figured I was alone! When did you sneak back in?"
"I went out to grab ingredients for lunch," Shuichi said, raising the pot with an innocent grin. "Look, I made chicken soup to help you recover."
"You—" Eri faltered, her face burning. "Did you… see anything just now?"
"Nope!" Shuichi raised his hands, mock-solemn. "I swear by all the gods of Japan, I saw nothing!"
"Liar! You don't even believe in gods!" Eri snapped, her embarrassment flaring into anger. "You're always staring at people with that eagle eye of yours. You definitely saw something!"
"…Alright, fine, I saw a little," Shuichi admitted, rubbing his neck. "But just a tiny bit."
"A tiny bit?" Eri pressed, biting her lip. "What exactly did you see?"
Shuichi stifled a laugh, switching to Chinese to recite a line of poetry: "A young lotus bud, just peeking out…"
"What?!" Eri's fists clenched, her face a mix of fury and mortification. She'd studied that poem, Yang Wanli's The Little Pond, in junior high. She knew exactly what he was implying.
"I'm not small!" she blurted, her anger overriding her shame. "I'm already a B-cup!"
"Fun fact," Shuichi said, adopting a lecturing tone. "To spare the pride of Japanese women, Japan's bra sizes run one to two sizes larger than international standards. So, a Japanese B is more like an international A…"
That jerk! He saw everything and now he's mocking my chest size? "Shuichi Hayashi, go die!" Eri roared, charging at him with raised fists.
"Whoa, easy! I'm holding hot soup here!" Shuichi dodged her swings, scrambling to set the pot on the table.
"Alright, alright, I get it—you got the short end of the stick!" Seeing her relentless fury, Shuichi yanked off his shirt in one swift motion. "There, take a good look. Stare as long as you want until we're even."
"You're shameless!" Eri spun away, her face crimson, but her eyes kept darting back to him. His body's… actually kinda like those male models on billboards…
"Eri, if you wanna look, just look," Shuichi teased, chuckling. "No need to sneak peeks. I'm not stingy like you."
Mortified at being called out, Eri bolted to her bedroom, slamming the door with a resounding bang.
Shuichi exhaled, relieved. White Knight's reverse psychology worked like a charm. If he'd let Eri keep fuming, who knows how long she'd have stayed mad.
Inside her bedroom, Eri flopped onto the bed, pounding the mattress with her fists. "Shameless! Pervert!"
Her words were sharp, but her mind kept replaying Shuichi's shirtless figure. That jerk always finds a way to mess with me!
Blushing, she grabbed her pillow, imagining it was Shuichi, and sank her teeth into it. As she bit down, a sudden thought struck her: Where on him did I just bite?
Half an hour later, Shuichi had set the table with lunch, the chicken soup ladled out, but Eri was still a no-show. He walked to her bedroom door and called, "Eri, food's ready! The soup's gonna cool off if you don't come out."
No response. Worried about her post-fever condition, Shuichi turned the knob and pushed the door open. There was Eri, sprawled on the bed, biting her pillow with a goofy grin.
"Uh… what's with you?" Shuichi asked, bemused. "Did the pillow do something to offend you?"
Eri froze, Shuichi's sudden appearance dragging her back to her earlier daydream. Her cheeks flushed an even deeper red.
"You're not spiking a fever again, are you?" Shuichi stepped forward, reaching to check her forehead.
A saliva-dampened pillow flew at him, followed by Eri's mortified shout: "Get out!"
Eventually, Shuichi coaxed Eri out to the dining room, where she sat sipping the chicken soup, her demeanor visibly uneasy. Her eyes kept darting away from him, avoiding his gaze.
"What's the big deal? You saw me shirtless," Shuichi said, rolling his eyes. "I've taken my shirt off plenty of times playing basketball, and you never got this shy before."
"It's… different now," Eri mumbled, barely audible.
Before Shuichi could press her, she grabbed a chicken drumstick from her bowl and shoved it into his mouth, then quickly pointed at the copy of Night Baron on the table. "Since when do you read detective novels?"
"It's not mine," Shuichi said, chewing the drumstick. "Someone gave it to me when I was out buying groceries."
(End of Chapter)