It's said that there exists a particularly intimate activity between couples, known as—"feeding play."
Simply put, it's feeding each other.
Food is one of the most essential things in human life. To entrust someone else with feeding you is a clear sign of deep trust.
But the reason this act has persisted as a trope in anime and literature isn't the nourishment itself. No—the core element that makes it a "play" between couples is only one thing:
Shyness.
…
"Ah…" A pair of chopsticks skillfully lifted a clump of rice and brought it to the girl's lips.
"…!" The girl made a face as though she'd just swallowed something bitter.
"Don't make that face. You made this yourself, didn't you? And these are your own chopsticks—you've used them before. There's nothing to be shy about. Open your mouth." The boy spoke as if he had no concept of how delicate the girl's feelings were.
"Ah…" With no other choice, the girl parted her lips slightly, revealing her white teeth and the tiny tip of her tongue.
The rice entered her mouth.
She closed her lips, chewing with a furrowed brow.
The rice was hers, the chopsticks hers, and the brand of rice hers too. So why did it taste different this time?
Before she could puzzle this out, the boy's next bite arrived.
It was a piece of tamagoyaki.
Just like the rice, its taste seemed slightly… off.
It was noon. The location: Hara Kei's former clubroom. The girl: Yukinoshita Yukino. The boy, naturally, Hara Kei.
And the reason Yukino suddenly needed Hara Kei to feed her was hardly romantic—Her fingers were stiff; she couldn't use chopsticks.
As the indirect culprit of this situation, Hara Kei couldn't stand by and let her go hungry. He voluntarily became her "hands."
"Do things usually get this bad?" Hara Kei said, dumbfounded, as he waited for Yukino to chew the rice. "How long did you practice yesterday?"
"All the time."
"Huh?"
"Besides eating and doing homework, I've been practicing the piece you gave me."
"On that broken electronic keyboard?"
"Yes."
"…." Hara Kei stared in silence. Though Yukino wore a touch of makeup, he could still see faint dark circles around her eyes.
"You're no different," Yukino said. "Your dark circles aren't any lighter than mine."
"I'm not the same as you," Hara Kei quickly said. "I know what I'm doing. You're just following my instructions, playing nonsense on a broken keyboard—you can't even hear what you're playing."
"You said this would let me win," Yukino's serene, deep gaze fell on Hara Kei. "You didn't lie to me, did you?"
"…No."
"Then it's fine."
After a few more bites, Yukino relaxed considerably. She even opened her mouth on her own without being prompted.
"You really want to become Student Council President?" For some reason, Hara Kei didn't resume feeding her, instead probing deeper.
"Of course," Yukino said matter-of-factly. "But my motivation isn't just that."
"On the train back, I watched some competition recordings—the ones where Touma Kazusa didn't win," Yukino recounted. "I don't understand piano—Schubert, Liszt, Chopin, those names are only familiar from history books. But even so, I could tell—"
"Kazusa Touma played the best," Yukino's calm voice echoed through the small clubroom, like stating an undeniable truth.
"She clearly played the best but didn't win. On top of that, she received harsh criticism, and now she's quitting the piano world. That's completely unfair. There's no doubt—it's an 'error.'"
"And I… will correct that error." Her calm voice carried a rock-solid determination. "No matter how much effort it takes, I'm willing to do it."
There it was—the justice-warrior side of Yukinoshita Yukino. Predictable, yet impressive.
Hara Kei tapped his temple, a slight "plan working" smile on his lips. "And what does Kazusa Touma, who's been listening all this time, think about that?"
"!!!!!" Yukino blinked in shock, but compared to another, it was nothing.
"Kazusa Touma… why is she here?"
"Who knows? Maybe she's just here to find the thief who took her tuning tools," Hara Kei said nonchalantly. "Anyway, Kazusa Touma is here for your sake—her fingers are stiff enough she can't even use chopsticks."
The classroom door opened.
The girl standing there, cheeks red as if she'd run all the way, was undoubtedly Kazusa Touma herself.
"…What meaning does an amateur's evaluation have?" Kazusa's voice was fragile, like porcelain. It sounded more like she was convincing herself than judging others. "She just doesn't understand piano and overestimates me. There's nothing special about the piano I play—my fingers are just nimble and rarely make mistakes. Even my mother said, 'My piano has no soul.' Many of her mothers…."
"You've been talking about others, but never your own thoughts," Hara Kei interrupted. "What do you think? Do you like piano? Do you want to keep playing?"
"…." Kazusa opened her mouth, but no words came out. She wanted to scream that she hated piano and wanted to quit—but she couldn't force the words out.
"Seems our piano princess' heart is still tangled," Hara Kei said with a small smile. "Then, since this started with a competition, why not end it with one too?"
His tone left no room for debate.
"In three days—weekend morning, eight o'clock, in this classroom. The match: beginner Yukinoshita Yukino versus ace Kazusa Touma of the String Club. We choose the piece, and Kazusa acts as judge. How about it?"
"Wha—" Kazusa's eyes widened in shock. "Do you even know what you're saying? You really want to win?"
Yukino was undoubtedly a beginner. No matter how diligent she was with her three-day practice, defeating Kazusa, who had been playing since age three, was pure fantasy.
And the judging had been handed over…
What exactly was this man thinking?
"…Are you doing this for the votes from the Minister?"
"No, no, no. I don't care about that," Hara Kei waved his hand. "Kazusa Touma, you should realize one fact—"
"Fans who love your piano aren't just Yukinoshita," he added with a smirk.