"..." The girl slowly lowered her legs.
I refreshedly scooped a spoonful of my rice bowl. Mmm, it tastes really good; my skills are getting better every day.
After cleaning up dinner, I sat next to Kusanagi in high spirits and took out paper and pen. "Miss Kusanagi, let's begin."
The girl was curled up on the sofa writing songs. Seeing me approach, she calmly refused, "No."
"Why?!" I blinked innocently. "Miss Kusanagi, I start my internship tomorrow. I'll have the chance to interact with patients from other places. If I can't understand what they're saying, I'll make a fool of myself."
"What does you making a fool of yourself have to do with me?"
"Tell me, what will it take for you to teach me?" I sat up straight.
The girl stopped writing and twirled her pen. "It's not like I can't teach you, but you have to agree to three requests."
"What requests?" My spine instinctively tensed; she'd made plenty of ill-intentioned requests before.
"Listen carefully. First, you can't casually compliment my appearance or say things like I'm pretty. Second, you aren't allowed to just grab my hand whenever you want. Third, you can't keep taking off your clothes at the drop of a hat like last time." The girl's tone was impatient, but the tips of her ears were slightly red.
"If you can do those three things, I'll teach you."
That's it? I blinked. I thought she was going to say something outrageous, but it was just this. How could someone not like being called pretty? Miss Kusanagi's logic really was different from normal people.
However, her words piqued my curiosity. Why did she specifically emphasize these three points? Not letting me hold her hand was understandable, and not letting me take off my clothes was also understandable, but why no compliments on her looks?
It was truly strange. I decided to test it out.
Seeing my lack of response, the girl reached out and kicked me. "Hey, do you agree or not!"
"I agree, why wouldn't I?" After saying that, I quickly grabbed her slender ankle and looked it over carefully.
Kusanagi was stunned when her ankle was grabbed. She tried hard to pull her leg back. "What are you doing!"
Her fair ankle was narrow and thin, feeling delicate in my hand, its whiteness crystal clear. Just above the ankle, there was a red mark left by her white stockings, a circle around her slender calf.
"I can't hold your hand, but I didn't say I couldn't hold your foot, right?" I countered.
Kusanagi was momentarily speechless. A hint of panic flashed through her dark pupils, and she forgot to struggle.
Doctors are most particular about logic and theoretical practice; she was still a bit too green.
I applied a bit of force to pull her leg back. She was too light, and since she hadn't expected me to pull her, she lost her balance and was pulled down onto the sofa.
"Ah!" The girl let out a small cry of surprise.
I wasn't flustered at all. To verify my doubts, I propped my arms beside Kusanagi's thighs and looked down at her.
Kusanagi lay sprawled on the sofa, her hair scattered like soft seaweed. Seeing me lean over, her pupils shook with shock.
I hadn't realized how inappropriate this posture was. Instead, I leaned closer and lower. I'd noticed last time that this seemed to be a secret weapon against Kusanagi, and now I was even more sure.
"Miss Kusanagi's legs seem longer than those of people her age." I looked her over from head to toe. "Your skin is naturally white, and it's very delicate and smooth." She said no compliments, so I insisted on giving them.
The girl was flushed, her eyes wide. Her cool voice could no longer maintain its composure. "What... what exactly are you trying to do?!"
"I agreed to Miss Kusanagi's conditions. Right now, this is a self-study session."
"What kind of agreement is this," the girl said through gritted teeth, "and what kind of lesson is this!"
"If you don't agree, then I'll continue."
"..."
"Then that means you don't agree."
Behind me was the cool air of the summer air conditioner; in front of me was a slightly scorching heat.
I grew bolder. My heart buzzed like the cicadas outside, and my fingertips moved.
Kusanagi hadn't changed out of her school uniform yet, and because of the pulling, a sliver of her white waist was exposed. Her eyes, usually shimmering with a cold black light, were now frantically darting away.
Good.
"Miss Kusanagi grew up in Osaka, so you should be very familiar with the dialect there." I lightly tapped my fingertip on her collarbone. "How do you say 'this' in Osaka dialect?"
The girl lowered her eyelashes and bit her lip, refusing to back down. "I don't know."
The corners of my mouth twitched. Not annoyed, I pressed down on her wrist with my left hand. "How do you say 'my wrist hurts'?"
The girl remained silent, her face turning an unbearable shade of red. She secretly tried to struggle to escape her current predicament. I was much taller than her and suppressed her easily, my fingertips lightly brushing against her tender cheek.
"How do you say 'toothache'?" I couldn't help but poke her soft, white cheek. It felt very nice.
She turned her head to avoid my pinching, her red lips stubbornly pursed.
The smile in my eyes spread. "Tell me, and I'll let you go."
She didn't give up and struggled some more. After being held firmly on the sofa for a while, she finally glared at me with a red face. "It's pronounced ha-itai. In some places, it's ha ga itai."
The girl's tone was fierce and cold, her thick black eyelashes blooming like flowers.
I nodded thoughtfully, my fingertips inadvertently brushing her slender waist. "How do you say'stomach ache' or 'waist pain'?"
Kusanagi shuddered violently when her waist was touched. The flush on her face deepened instantly, and she stammered in a panic, "...Hara ga itai! I taught you! You promised to let me go!"
The smile on my lips grew deeper. Kusanagi's cute reaction was truly tantalizing, making me want to tease her even more.
"Did I agree? Hmm? How do you say 'chest pain'?" My gaze inadvertently drifted, and my fingertips began to move upward.
"..."
Of course, I wouldn't actually touch her; I was just scaring her.
Kusanagi quickly shielded herself with her arms. Her eyes, like dark grapes, widened in tension as she hurriedly answered, "Mune ga itai means chest pain!..."
"Go away!...I'll teach you, okay?..."
Mmm, very obedient. She answers whatever I ask. I hope she can maintain this state in the future. Such a good girl.
"Miss Kusanagi, keep it up." I smiled and flicked the tip of her nose.
This was a grand victory for me.
A few minutes later, we were sitting face-to-face on the Tatami with books, paper, and pens in front of us. The girl looked slightly unwell, seemingly still shaken.
"Speak. Which parts don't you understand?" Kusanagi asked irritably.
Taking advantage of the situation, I pushed the book toward her. "Right here, I don't quite understand this."
"This is a simplified way of saying 'to give'." Kusanagi tried her best to regulate her breathing, keeping her voice as calm and flat as possible. "The speech is kept as simple as possible, like this." She took a pen and drew a black circle. "Japanese people speak as simply as possible, using as few words as they can."
"Like how 'thank you', arigatou gozaimasu, is shortened to azasu?"
Kusanagi gave a cold "Mhm" and wrote another word for "want," establishing a relationship between "give" and "want." "This phrasing is also a simplification."
I was thoughtful. Simplifying spoken language was like having an extra set of vocabulary. I needed to get as familiar as possible with the connections between words so I could speak faster.
"I'll write out a standard medical history form. You just memorize it. I'll try to write it as comprehensively as possible."
The girl wrote silently, and I glanced over. Her handwriting was very elegant and fluid. Some special characters were also written very neatly; one could tell at a glance she had practiced calligraphy.
Another shining merit added.
While she was busy writing, I held a book on Japanese language and customs and asked her a question that had bothered me for a long time.
"Miss Kusanagi, do Japanese people really like to kneel and apologize at the drop of a hat? You see this scene in many films and TV shows. Sometimes they do it in hospitals when pleading with doctors." I was particularly afraid of someone performing such a grand gesture for me; in China, it's quite a taboo.
The girl didn't expect me to ask this. She said while writing, "It happens, but only if a very big mistake was made. It's the most humble and heavy way to apologize, begging for the other person's forgiveness."
"Maybe it's a cultural difference? Chinese people wouldn't do that. No matter the mistake, it's impossible to kneel and kowtow, except for things like ancestor worship."
"In Japan, expressing the greatest etiquette is also kneeling and kowtowing. It's an expression of self-deprecation. You might not be able to understand it."
I raised an eyebrow. "I can understand it, it's just hard for a Chinese person to do. After all, in China, that's considered a very formal rite."
"Finished. Take a look."
The girl stopped writing. She had written a full page about how to describe common illnesses, very detailed and careful, with Hiragana (similar to Chinese pinyin) marked at the top right. It was clear at a glance and very easy to memorize. It felt like the kind of notes a top student would make, yet Kusanagi was clearly a rebellious delinquent girl. This was unscientific.
"Got it. Teacher Kusanagi really is beautiful and capable." I teased in her ear.
"..." The hand the girl held the pen with began to tremble, and her face quickly heated up.
I didn't repent but instead smiled even more broadly. "Teacher, am I wrong?"
Kusanagi bit her lip hard, though whether out of anger or not I couldn't tell. "The piece I just wrote—copy it fifty times as punishment."
"...Huh?!"