I shrugged, turning around to hide the delight of my little scheme succeeding.
"I'll handle it from now on."
Late December approached, with Christmas just around the corner. Shops and stores had already decorated Christmas trees in advance, pasting vibrant and dazzling window decals. Salespeople at mall entrances shouted energetically, leveraging the Christmas season to build momentum, hoping to make a big profit this winter.
The girl, now full and satisfied, stretched lazily like a contented cat.
"Christmas is almost here."
She leaned closer, her cool, faint fragrance subtly enveloping me. Pointing outside the window, she said, "Every year around Christmas, there are many old folks in Tokyo selling Santa hats. Almost every kid gets one, and on Christmas Eve, they run around everywhere wearing them. It's annoying."
I chuckled, "Did you ever wear a Santa hat?"
Kusanagi replied flatly, "Too silly. I never did. Momozawa, though, loved it. Every year she'd buy a bunch, wear them herself, and even force them on others."
That sounded just like Momozawa. She'd definitely plop a Santa hat on a reluctant Kusanagi's head, and the two would start bickering again.
Seeing me laugh, the girl's gaze wandered, a faint blush creeping onto her pale earlobes.
"How do people in China celebrate Christmas?"
After washing the dishes, I signaled her not to touch the cold water. We both snuggled back into the warm kotatsu, the girl quietly resting her head on her hands, unusually well-behaved.
"In smaller cities, the Christmas atmosphere isn't great. I was born in a third-tier city where only young people really liked Christmas. Most others didn't pay much attention to it."
This answer surprised Kusanagi, a flicker of confusion settling on her long lashes.
"How could anyone not like Christmas?"
That was the source of her confusion. I smiled subtly, feeling a touch of melancholy. For a wealthy girl raised in Osaka and Tokyo, this must be hard to understand. After all, she'd never been to other cities and didn't know the culture I'd grown up with. There was already a vast distance between us.
"Back in my hometown, celebrating Christmas is called a 'foreign holiday' and is criticized by more conservative folks as being unpatriotic or worshipping the West. China is quite traditional, and many feel we already have plenty of our own festivals—why celebrate a foreign one? But it's gotten better in recent years. More and more kids enjoy Christmas now, and they even sing 'Christmas' songs. When I first learned to sing one, I got scolded by my elders."
"That's just unreasonable," the girl said, clearly not understanding.
"The elders in China grew up in a different environment, so it's normal for them to think differently. The more they forbade me from celebrating Christmas, the more I insisted on it. Isn't eating apples part of Christmas?"
Kusanagi nodded, "Yes, big, red apples."
"I'd buy apples ahead of time and give them to my family as if it were nothing special. They'd eat them without knowing, and then I'd say, 'Merry Christmas!' That way, they'd celebrate whether they wanted to or not."
She gave me a look that said, 'I knew it.' "...Miss Nozawa, you're so childish."
"Hmm?"
"You still do childish things like that now."
Still do that now? When did I ever?
"You deliberately prepared the barbecue, made it super spicy, and placed the thirst-quenching drinks in plain sight, all to catch me in the act, right?" Her pure, dark eyes, seemingly able to reflect water, held a hidden danger beneath their innocent appearance.
Drinking on the balcony, the barbecue... Ugh, the memory of that overwhelming mouthful of wasabi was still fresh. This sly girl had seen through my plan all along, setting a trap for me to fall into.
Is this girl really only 16?
Underneath the japanese kotatsu was a spacious area. The heating unit was above, leaving plenty of room below to move hands and feet freely. I reached under the kotatsu and quickly found the girl's thigh, giving it a light, teasing pinch in revenge.
"Oh, so you deliberately made me eat that spicy wasabi."
But my touch was gentle, worried I might hurt her. Instead of a pinch, it felt more like an impatient, lingering caress.
Kusanagi trembled at my sudden touch, her voice wavering slightly as she replied, "...You're the one who pretended to go out for an umbrella, putting on a whole act."
"That's called reasonable camouflage."
"That's called being sneaky," she retorted, her hand reaching back defiantly.
Her hand was cold, with slender, long fingers that quickly found my leg. I was wearing pants, so no matter how she tried to sneak a touch, she couldn't reach my skin. Relieved, I ignored her playful attack.
"You're wearing quite a lot," she said meaningfully, her hand suddenly darting downward and slipping into the hem of my pants.
I shivered at the icy touch. The sensation of the thin calluses on her fingertips was startlingly clear against my bare calf. I quickly stopped her, "Wh-what are you doing?!"
She didn't let go, her cold fingers tracing circles on my calf. "Nothing, just warming up."
Using someone's leg for warmth under a kotatsu—now that was a first.
I grabbed her wrist from the side, my strength far greater than hers, and pulled her hand out easily. "Who warms up like that?"
Kusanagi's eyes flickered, her face tense as she struggled. "You can pinch me, but I can't pinch back?"
"You've been getting more and more out of line lately, no sense of respect, huh? I'm still your senior, after all. How come I've never heard you call me 'big sister'?" I held her slender wrist firmly, my gaze sweeping over her forehead, hidden beneath her bangs.
"It's a bit late to play the senior card now. You're a senior living under someone else's roof."
Kusanagi's soft hair shifted, as if hiding something. Her dark, glossy hair usually fell freely and carelessly, never covering her eyes or face. Today, though, her hairstyle was different.
Part of her dark lashes were hidden by her bangs, giving her a slightly more obedient look and accentuating the contours of her profile. Overall, she appeared delicate, lazy, and weary.
Noticing my gaze lingering on her forehead, Kusanagi slowly withdrew her hand, her expression turning cautious. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
I understood perfectly but didn't call her out. Glancing at the unfinished milk, I took a satisfying sip. The thought of Kusanagi going to such lengths made the corners of my mouth lift. After all, she was still a 16-year-old girl, at an age where appearances mattered. Ah, understandable, understandable.
Kusanagi watched me drink her milk, her dark amber eyes sparkling as if filled with stars.
"This milk is really sweet," I said slowly, smacking my lips with interest. The sweetness I referred to was the milk, yet it wasn't—there was another layer to it. The girl stared straight at me, waiting for me to continue.
"Milk contains a lot of protein. Whey and casein can increase insulin secretion, so you shouldn't drink too much."
The girl didn't understand what I meant, muttering unhappily, "Are you making fun of me because I don't get it?"
I took a slow sip, pausing for a moment before saying cryptically, "Red plum blossoms dot the snow, adorning the space between brows. The fair one's skin pale as dawn, all blame to the milk's scorn."
"..."
I'd phrased it subtly, trying to convey the meaning in japanese, but someone as clever as her caught the key words immediately. Her eyelashes fluttered, teased by the poem, and her sulkiness became even more apparent.
"...Not bad poetry," she said, turning away to hide the faint blush on her cheeks.
"Miss Kusanagi understood? That was a poem composed with Chinese phrasing."
The girl's embarrassment quickly turned to flustered annoyance. She wasn't stupid—she knew 'the fair one' was a compliment to her beauty, while the rest was a roundabout tease about her... breaking out.
Amidst this dual meaning, she also felt the shame of being exposed.
She hadn't wanted Miss Nozawa to see her tired face or the pimple, so she'd even taken a bath before the other returned home. She'd blow-dried her hair until it was smooth and soft, then carefully let her bangs fall to cover the annoying redness. She'd even applied a bit of moisturizer to her stinging forehead.
After doing all this, she'd looked at herself for a while before finally feeling reassured enough to go downstairs and meet the person she'd shared a bed with the night before.
Shared a bed.
Those four words lingered on her lips, an overwhelming palpitation hard to control.
She'd lit a scented candle in her room, painted her nails with new black polish, and deliberately kept on that overly thin camisole. Those indescribable, adorable girlish thoughts were vividly reflected in these small details.
"Don't look at me," the girl said, turning her head away, her tone even more sullen. How had she still been found out? She'd tried so hard to hide it.
"Don't look where?" My gaze danced teasingly, noticing how easily she blushed. With this particular trait, being a delinquent girl seemed quite challenging.
"Don't look anywhere! My face isn't pretty right now!"
The girl reached out to cover my eyes, but I refused to comply, dodging her hands left and right, unable to suppress a smile.
"Stop dodging!" Unable to cover my eyes, she lunged forward recklessly, clamping her hand over my face. Unprepared for her force, I lost my balance and toppled onto the floor, still tangled in the kotatsu blanket.
"If you keep looking, you're dead!" she warned fiercely. This time, she used real force, covering my eyes so tightly not a sliver of light could get through.
Her reaction was exactly like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. I laughed uncontrollably, my mouth still running. "Oh dear, I can still see." What followed was the sharp pain of my back hitting the floor, and then the weight of her slender, pale legs straddling my waist.
Then came the full weight of the girl as she sat directly on top of me, one hand covering my eyes, leaning down breathlessly. "Forget all of it, you hear me?"
With her hand over my eyes, I couldn't see a thing, but my mind wasn't on that at all.
When Kusanagi pounced like that, the cotton jacket draped over her shoulders had long since slipped off. She was still wearing that extremely revealing tank top underneath, with no fabric covering her legs. Kusanagi was really too light; even sitting on me, she had almost no weight at all. I could easily flip her off or simply pick her up entirely.
The thin calluses on her fingertips felt a bit rough as they brushed over my eyelids. Her hands were slender, long, and large, covering even the bridge of my nose. Almost my entire upper face was enveloped by her palm.
This position felt a bit strange... especially since I wasn't wearing pants.
With my vision gone, the darkness sharpened my senses, making them more acute, yet also bringing an uneasy sense of danger. Under these conditions, the rich fragrance from the girl and the faint, occasional brush against my inner thigh felt more like some kind of signal. My mind wandered for a while without speaking, and I noticed Kusanagi's palm covering my eyes was slightly damp with sweat. Yet she didn't let go, nor did she speak. The atmosphere fell into a subtly awkward silence.
"I won't look. You can take your hand away," I said softly, trying to plead my way out of this position. "It's too dark to see clearly at this hour. The medicine will work by tomorrow."
Kusanagi didn't respond, but the hand covering my eyes relaxed slightly, allowing a sliver of light to seep through her palm.
I tried to push myself up on my elbows, but Kusanagi remained completely still, her weight pressing me back down.
"Miss Kusanagi?"
She hadn't spoken since earlier, so I softly called her name again.
Still no reply. A subtle sense of restlessness seemed to emanate from the girl's body.
Having drunk milk earlier, my lips felt dry. Unconsciously, I licked them, feeling a bit thirsty. At that moment, the fingertips of the person on top of me suddenly tensed, as if she was holding something back, and her breathing grew slightly heavier.
In my dazed state, I caught a glimpse of faint light through the gaps between her fingers. I realized she was staring intently at me, not blinking at all. With my upper face completely covered, only a section of her pale, delicate chin and her lips were visible.
The atmosphere had grown too strange. I didn't understand what was happening, but a profound unease stirred deep within me. The beautiful contours of the girl's features were vague and indistinct through the unclear gaps between her fingers, giving off an elusive, unfathomable feeling.
For several seconds, time seemed to stand still.
Unconsciously, I shifted my angle slightly to avoid this face-to-face position, even surprising myself with the thought. That unfamiliar feeling, mixed with an unusual tension, made my temples throb, and I felt dizzy and lightheaded.
I made a decisive move to sit up, using the momentum of standing to gently push her onto the futon by the kotatsu.
Caught off guard, Kusanagi was pushed away by me. Her expression stiffened, and her face looked very unpleasant.
I immediately sensed her discomfort and quickly made an excuse. "Um, if I don't get up soon, my legs will go numb."
"Am I too heavy?" the girl asked again, repeating the same question from before.
"Am I too heavy."
The 'heavy' here meant burdened with deep thoughts. I had always believed I wasn't that type of person, even priding myself on being above such things. Yet, after meeting Kusanagi, I found myself proven wrong time and again.
I urged Kusanagi to go take a bath and get some sleep, even turning on the electric blanket for her in advance. Only after seeing her return to her room did I finally let out a sigh of relief. My heart began to race belatedly, pounding loudly in the quiet night.
The night was gentle, the streetlights dim and yellow.
The winter air was thin, and even with the room's constant temperature from the air conditioner, it felt stifling. Tossing and turning, I woke up groggily, drank some water, and pressed my phone screen to light it up. It was 3 a.m. Was it because the air conditioner was too dry and stuffy, or was it the events before bed affecting my mood, keeping me awake? Perhaps it was both.
For some reason, I suddenly craved a cigarette. I searched all my pockets but couldn't even find an empty pack. So, I threw on a coat, slipped out quietly, and headed for the 24-hour convenience store.
Tokyo in the early morning was still beautiful yet desolate. The never-ending, dazzling lights stained the black sky with color. People on night shifts, seemingly fueled by sheer endurance, were still working hard. This city never lacked for people.
I wrapped my coat tighter, braving the chilly wind as I walked to the convenience store and finally bought my cigarettes.
The cashier was a young boy who didn't look very old. He was dozing off a bit at the register, not expecting any customers so late. His checkout skills were also a bit clumsy, and he accidentally overcharged me for a bottle of drink.
Watching him turn red with panic and apologize repeatedly, I waved my hand, signaling it was okay. I placed the bottle of drink in front of him and said softly, "Merry Christmas."
He paused for a second, his eyes instantly lighting up. Holding the bottle, he exclaimed, "Merry Christmas to you too, beautiful lady!"
Lighting a cigarette, I exhaled a cloud of smoke. I found a bench under a streetlight and sat there, lost in thought.
This is just the kind of person I am—easily soft-hearted towards others. It wasn't an exception made only for Kusanagi. A doctor inherently needs to be compassionate, caring for others with a parental heart to achieve true empathy and benevolence.
If I could attribute all these special feelings for Kusanagi to this reason alone, perhaps my heart wouldn't feel so tormented.
I didn't know when it started, but thoughts of Kusanagi would pop into my mind constantly. I'd wonder if she was attending her classes properly, if she was eating lunch on time. I'd always recall the stunning image of her singing freely during the Cultural Festival—it was so captivating it would replay in my mind over and over.
The valuable local specialties and expensive silk sent from China—I gave them all to Kuroki, trying to mediate a better relationship between them and Kusanagi, hoping it would make her feel less upset. I offered all the good things I had to the person Kusanagi liked the least, just wanting to bring about even a slight change in their relationship. For that small change, I was willing to put in all the effort, wanting her to be a little happier, wanting her to have everything she desired.
But at the same time, I couldn't understand myself.
Whenever I was on the verge of grasping that faint clue, rationality and calmness would inevitably jump out, blocking my path and stopping me. That vague, formless thought would tease and nag, impossible to touch yet impossible to dismiss.
My heart felt unbearably stifled, persistently resisting that answer.
When the girl lay in my arms, I could clearly feel her breath, the subtle pulse, her slightly damp black hair—even her breathing carried a fresh sweetness.
I was grateful I had fallen asleep. If that state had lasted a little longer, I wasn't sure what might have happened. What that answer was, I didn't dare to know.
I couldn't dwell on it any longer. I closed my stinging eyes and exhaled the last puff of smoke. Overthinking late at night is a universal human flaw. I stood up, put out the cigarette, and my phone buzzed softly in my pocket—a notification sound.
Who would be messaging at this hour?
I took my phone out of my pocket. At the top of the screen was a LINE message notification. I stared blankly for a moment before opening it. The sender field clearly read: Miss Kusanagi.
"Where do you want to go for Christmas?" As usual, no honorifics, no polite tone—just a simple, straightforward sentence.
I stared at the input field in silence. I deleted the question asking why she wasn't asleep, and didn't ask why she was messaging me at this hour. Instead, I seriously thought about it. I wanted to go many places with her: Osaka, where she grew up; Senso-ji Temple again; an amusement park; The Jikei University School of Medicine in Tokyo.
"Wherever you want to go, I'll go." Only after replying did I feel it might not have been the best response. Hadn't I just thrown the question back at her?
My phone quickly received her reply: "On Christmas day, I have two visitor passes for The Jikei University School of Medicine."
What?
I even began to doubt my eyes and was instantly overwhelmed by countless questions. How did she know about The Jikei University School of Medicine? How did she know I wanted to go? How did she get visitor passes? Jikei had no policy allowing outsiders to enter. This flood of bewildering questions filled my mind, accompanied by an uncontrollable surge of joy.
I instinctively covered my mouth but couldn't help letting out a small, audible gasp. Feeling that this was unbecoming and very unlike myself, I sat back down with a stern expression, though the corners of my mouth still turned up uncontrollably.
Two passes meant she would go with me. And on Christmas, just the two of us. Was this real? Was I dreaming in the middle of the night? I pinched my cheek. It was cold. It hurt.
I could no longer contain the joy in my heart. I typed out a long paragraph excitedly, then felt I was being too eager. Condensing a thousand words into one, I finally sent: "Okay."
Was replying with just one word too cold? Hesitant and conflicted, after struggling for a while, I sent another message: "How did you know I wanted to go?"
"Miss Nozawa's thoughts are written all over her face."
There were many materials about The Jikei University School of Medicine on the desk in my room. Perhaps those books had given me away.
It was quiet on the other end of the phone for a while before a message finally came through.
"Hurry back."
She knew I was outside? My movements had been so quiet, yet she still noticed. This indirectly meant her sleep was too light, and her sleep quality must be poor. But that night, the girl had slept soundly, not even turning over, staying in one position until morning.
It was almost 4 a.m. now. I replied, "Coming back right now. Go to sleep." Subconsciously feeling she was waiting for me, I hurried back.