"W-What's wrong?" Ryoka asked, startled, thinking she'd said something off. She grabbed a tissue, hurrying to wipe the water Satoru had sprayed all over himself.
"Nah, it's nothing…"
Satoru's mind reeled. His head had been stuffed with a flood of random info, enough to knock him out cold—how the heck did the doctor land on heatstroke? Was he somehow overloaded and overheating at the same time?
Man, this body is pathetically frail…
"Sorry for the trouble, I got it." Satoru reached for the tissue.
Ryoka stood, carefully dabbing at the soaked blanket and his shirtfront.
They were close—too close. Satoru could feel his nose almost brushing her silky black hair with every move.
"No need to thank me."
Ryoka's eyes dipped, her focus intense as she wiped. "Thanks to you today, Ayumu and I didn't get fooled by that Aihara Yamato…"
"Speaking of, where's Ayumu… er, Matsubara-kun?"
"Oh, he said he was starving and went to grab some food…" Ryoka finished drying his shirt and checked the pillow area. "Did it get wet here?"
"Should be fine…" Satoru started to reply.
But Ryoka's hand grazed the bed's reclining mechanism.
Satoru had adjusted the bed to a comfy 45-degree angle earlier. Her touch triggered it—clunk—and the bed slammed flat to 180 degrees.
Satoru just flopped back, no big deal.
"Ah!" Ryoka, caught off guard, let out a yelp, her weight crashing onto Satoru's chest.
Chest-to-chest…
Satoru's mind flashed back to that fleeting moment before he blacked out—his cheek buried in something soft and warm… So that was…
Face-in-boobs?
Sure, Ryoka was all tall and slender, the picture of elegance, seemingly at odds with "curvy." But Satoru had seen her in that doujin—every inch of her, including a chest that was plenty impressive. No wonder it felt so…
"Are you okay?!" Satoru propped himself up, forcing his voice steady. Crap… keep this up, and other parts might start standing at attention.
"…Ryoka, what're you doing?"
Before she could lift her head to reply, a voice cut through from the hospital room's doorway—her childhood sweetheart, Matsubara Ayumu.
Ryoka sprang up like a carp flipping off the water, not just lifting her face but shooting to her feet, ramrod straight.
"N-Nothing!" Her pale cheeks blazed crimson, as if to convince Ayumu. She locked eyes with him, stealing a tiny glance at Satoru, who played it cool as ice.
"Matsubara-kun, don't get the wrong idea," Satoru said calmly. "I just… accidentally shot—er, sprayed some water. Ryoka was helping clean up and hit the bed's lever by mistake."
He looked composed, but inside? He'd silently recited his mantra five times: One day, sword in hand, I'll slaughter all NTR dogs.
"Y-Yeah, exactly!" Ryoka chimed in.
"…Oh, got it." Ayumu smirked, a teasing glint in his eye. "Here I thought Ryoka was smitten, throwing herself at you. Don't let her tough act fool you—she's got a soft spot for 'hero' types."
"Sh-Shut up!" Ryoka snapped, her blush deepening. "Ayumu, keep yapping, and I'll—"
This guy…
"K-Kobayashi, why're you looking at me like I'm trash?!" Ayumu flinched under Satoru's judgmental stare.
With that attitude, no wonder you're prime NTR bait.
Leaving his childhood sweetheart alone with another guy, then spouting that kind of talk? And during the fight, he'd been dead weight, relying on Ryoka to shield him.
Frankly, without this deadweight, Satoru figured Ryoka could've fought off those punks, weaving through them like a shounen protagonist—retreat, advance, untouchable, and still come out on top.
Gotta knock some sense into this guy later.
"Those thugs may have bolted, but they'll probably be back for revenge. You two should watch your backs," Satoru warned.
Ayumu shrank, glancing nervously at Ryoka. "…Ryoka, what do we do? Should we call the cops?"
"Calling now won't help. Earlier, we could've pinned them for 'assault with weapons,' but without catching them red-handed, the police will just give a warning at best," Satoru said.
"Don't worry, I'll protect Ayumu," Ryoka said with a soft smile, her expression unwavering. "Like always."
"Ryoka…" Ayumu's eyes softened.
Ryoka's combat prowess was off the charts, but her naive streak made her an easy mark. Without that, she'd never have fallen for Yamato's trap in the original plot.
Satoru mulled it over.
Meanwhile, Ryoka seemed to be pondering something too.
"If anything happens, just shout for me—" Satoru started, but Ryoka cut in at the same time:
"For now, Kobayashi-kun, stick with me—"
They both stopped, words colliding.
Ryoka jumped in first. "I'm worried they'll come after you, Kobayashi-kun. How about you walk to and from school with us for a while? Safety in numbers, right?"
She pursed her lips, a touch of hesitation in her eyes.
Satoru caught her words. Instead of worrying about herself, this guy was thinking of her and Ayumu's safety first.
Kobayashi-kun looks frail, but…
She clenched her fist, resolve sparking.
"B-But, Ryoka, can you handle that many alone?" Ayumu asked, concern creasing his brow.
"Then it's on you to step up, Ayumu," she teased.
Compared to him, Ayumu always seemed to dump trouble on her. It'd been that way forever—she was used to it—but next to Kobayashi-kun's selflessness, Ayumu's reliance felt… lacking.
Ryoka shook her head, brushing off the stray thought.
"No big deal. Like today, we'll figure it out," Satoru said, tossing the blanket aside to climb out of bed.
"Kobayashi-kun? You're getting up already?" Ryoka asked, worried. "Shouldn't you rest more?"
Out of the hospital this fast? The doctor said it wasn't serious, but Ryoka figured he should take it slow.
Or is Kobayashi-kun tougher than he looks?
"Uh…" Satoru pulled on his clothes, scratching his head sheepishly. "…Hospital beds aren't cheap, right?"
Thanks to his new "orphan" backstory, he was dirt poor, scraping by on an aunt's remittances from Hawaii.
Talk about hitting rock bottom, folks.
Looked like he'd need to hustle some cash soon…
…
…