Why were those things in his closet?
Kushida Kikyo couldn't understand it.
There was only one leather shoe. And it wasn't even the same size as the indoor slippers. The high heels didn't match either of the other pairs.
…What was he doing stuffing that stuff in there?
After thinking for a moment, a terrifying possibility surfaced in her mind.
She'd heard that lately, some men had developed rather… questionable tastes.
Feet.
And by extension—socks.
Even shoes.
…Don't tell me he's into feet?
It wasn't impossible.
Though, from what she'd heard, most foot enthusiasts were submissive types.
Maybe… next time she should step on him and see?
If he got excited, that would confirm it.
Decision made, Kushida gently closed the closet and looked elsewhere.
The computer on the desk… password protected. Couldn't get in.
Seriously, why set a password when you live alone?
The desk itself was clean. Nothing extra.
She scanned the room again. Aside from the earlier chaos, there didn't seem to be anywhere else to hide things.
No obvious slip-ups.
No wonder he left so confidently.
…Whatever.
The recording was enough.
She dug through her discarded clothes and retrieved the recording pen, confirming it was still working.
Hmph. If she ever felt unhappy, she could accuse him of acting against her will.
Even one moment of unwillingness counted as unwillingness!
She tucked the pen away again.
Judging the time, she started to remove the maid outfit—
"Click—"
The door opened faster than expected.
"Doesn't fit perfectly, but it's not bad," Asakusa Tōru said from the doorway, smiling. "I hereby promote you to Head Maid."
"Go to hell." Kushida pulled off her left stocking and threw it at him.
Despite her words, the heavy resentment from earlier was gone.
The cooling therapy had clearly worked.
The pressure on her shoulders had eased, replaced by a lighter, livelier aura.
She held out her hand.
"Give me my clothes."
"Don't you need help changing, Miss Kushida?" Asakusa peeled the faintly warm white stocking off his face and lifted the uniform he'd brought back.
At that, she smiled.
She sat at the edge of the bed and lifted her right leg—the one still wearing a stocking.
"Go ahead," she said.
...
There was no third round.
Asakusa wasn't so pent up that he needed to keep going endlessly.
Kushida wasn't so overwhelmed that she'd want more within minutes either.
If tomorrow were a holiday, that'd be one thing.
But there was class.
Kushida had no intention of limping into the classroom.
Even now, after recovering a bit, her legs felt strange. If they continued, she wouldn't be walking normally at all.
So she changed efficiently, folded the stained bedsheet, gathered her dirty clothes and recording pen, and put on her mask.
No hoodie this time, but the mask was non-negotiable.
"…See you tomorrow," she said quietly, turning her back to him.
"..."
No reply.
No attempt to stop her.
Not even a goodbye.
Heartless jerk.
She cursed him internally and stepped forward—
But before she could leave, a broad arm pressed down gently from behind.
"On second thought, maybe you should stay," Asakusa said, shifting his weight but not enough to topple her. "We can wake up early and avoid the crowd."
"I want a body pillow tonight."
"…"
For no clear reason, Kushida suddenly felt her mood lift.
But she didn't show it. She just shot him a look.
"Stay my ass. You don't even have spare sheets. You expect me to sleep on the floor with you?"
The dorm provided most necessities.
But extra sheets?
Those cost money.
"…"
After a brief pause, Asakusa snapped his fingers.
"Simple. I'll stay at your place."
"…Call me Mommy," Kushida murmured suddenly. "Call me Mommy and I'll agree."
It was petty competitiveness.
An off-the-record continuation of a battle that should've ended.
Even if hearing it wouldn't truly change anything, she just wanted to have the upper hand.
But from an angle she couldn't see, Asakusa's expression turned faintly strange.
Wait.
You really want someone calling you Mom?
…Do you even know what my mom's situation is?
"If you don't mind replacing my long-dead mother, I guess I could call you that," he said, releasing her slightly, his playful tone dimming.
Pet names were just placeholders.
On the battlefield, they were fun—boosted morale, maybe even "attack speed."
But off the field, keeping them meant something different.
Maintaining a clear boundary between on-bed and off-bed mattered.
"…Huh?" Kushida blinked. "Long-dead… mom?"
Her brain stalled.
As the meaning sank in, she realized she might've said something she shouldn't have.
Even her true personality understood that wasn't something to joke about.
But—
"Don't overthink it," Asakusa shrugged. "It's not a big deal."
"Who hasn't lost a couple of moms these days?"
"Don't worry. I'll protect you, Mommy Kikyo~"
Smiling lightly, he patted her shoulder and took the folded sheets and clothes from her hands.
He opened the door first.
"I'll go ahead. You follow later. Split up and we won't get spotted."
And with that, he left the dorm.
Leaving Kushida standing there, his words echoing in her ears.
'Mommy Kikyo. Mommy. Mommy—'
She'd heard the title she wanted.
Yet somehow—
Her feelings were far more complicated than she expected.
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