Chapter 25: Unafraid and Unfettered

"Lift your face up, let me take a look."

Hearing this, Sayuri Sato felt a bit embarrassed. She fidgeted awkwardly before finally lifting her face, which had been streaked with tears just moments before.

"Open your mouth."

Kitahara’s tone was gentle, as if he were tending to a young child.

Sayuri Sato, however, was susceptible to exactly this kind of treatment. She let out a soft "mm" and obediently parted her lips.

Her lips were soft and coated in a fine layer of lipstick, a vibrant, burning shade like a raging fire. At first, Kitahara was captivated by the nimble little tongue within, but soon his eyes were fixed, unblinking, entirely focused on her lips.

She truly was a mature beauty, possessing such an alluring mouth. After just a few glances, Kitahara found himself imagining the infinite ways this mouth could be put to use.

Sayuri Sato felt a bit bashful under his gaze, but since her anger had subsided, her voice softened, turning into something akin to a playful pout: "Are you done looking yet?"

"I apologize..."

Kitahara snapped back to reality, withdrawing his thoughts. "No blisters. It should be fine, though you ought to stick to light meals for the next couple of days."

"But this is all your fault. Can’t you show a little more concern?" Sayuri Sato pouted, aggrieved.

"I’ve been very busy lately..."

Kitahara was planning to make another trip to Shibuya to try his luck and see if there was anyone in need of a life-reversing turnaround.

"..."

Here it comes again.

Sayuri Sato’s face, which had finally calmed down, suddenly turned icy. That sentence again.

This scumbag—every time she wanted to spend a little more time with him, he would suddenly become incredibly busy. She didn't know what he was actually busy with, but if she asked, the answer was always just "busy."

"I think you’re just fobbing me off," Sayuri Sato asked, her expression cold.

"How could that be..."

Kitahara sensed the change in her tone and said earnestly, "I really have things to do tonight. If you don't believe me, you can call me anytime."

Sayuri Sato remained silent.

Her dangerous, phoenix-shaped eyes stared straight at Kitahara, making his hair stand on end. Only then did she let go, saying coldly, "I don't have the spare time for that. If I did, I’d rather be writing lesson plans."

"A busy man like student Kitahara is someone I could never reach anyway..."

Having said that, Sayuri Sato sat back down at her desk and silently returned to work.

However, this time, the annoyance wasn't quite as severe. After all, everyone had their own private space, and Kitahara had no formal relationship with her; Sayuri Sato had no right to discipline him. She was merely sulking.

Of course, while there was resentment, there was also a hidden joy. As she worked, Sayuri Sato’s mind kept drifting back to the scene from a moment ago.

The office fell quiet for a while, and Sayuri Sato regained her focus, burying herself in her work. But the silence felt somewhat strange.

After writing for a while, she looked up at Kitahara. He had obediently pulled a chair over and was sitting beside her. When he saw her turn her head, he didn't forget to offer a compliment: "The characters you write are truly beautiful, Miss Sato."

"...Smooth talker."

Sayuri Sato pursed her lips, turned her face away, and whispered, "It’s just the level one reaches after writing so much."

"But mine always look a bit ugly when I write."

"How are you writing them?"

"Wait a second, let me sit a bit closer."

Kitahara stood up, gestured for Sayuri Sato to tuck in her black-stockinged legs, and sat down beside her. His arm pressed firmly against her side. Even through the fabric, he could feel the incredible elasticity beneath.

Sayuri Sato shifted subconsciously, but the chair was small, and any further movement would have pushed her off, so she had to stay put. She whispered, "Can’t you sit a little further away? What if someone sees us?"

"It’s fine, no one will come in right now."

Sayuri Sato instinctively looked toward the door. It wasn't locked. If someone were to push it open, her teaching career would likely be over.

Strange.

Even though it was such a dangerous situation, why wasn't she anxious? Why did she feel a sense of excitement instead?

Was it because his scent was lingering near the tip of her nose?

Sayuri Sato stared blankly at Kitahara’s profile, her heart filled with both resentment and grievance.

This rotten scumbag...

Every time, he had her heart completely under his thumb.

Kitahara casually wrote a few characters; they truly didn't look very neat. He turned to look at Sayuri Sato, who snapped out of her trance. She frowned and critiqued, "Your foundation isn't solid. You aren't finishing each stroke properly..."

"Then, could you teach me?"

"Teaching you wouldn't be difficult..."

Sayuri Sato checked the time. There was only a minute or two left before class. If she were to explain it properly, she would likely miss the second period.

She hesitated. "What is your second-period class?"

"English, I think?"

"Asuka’s class, then..."

Sayuri Sato thought for a moment. Since it was her best friend's class, it didn't matter; she could just explain it to her later. As for whether Kitahara would fall behind in his studies because of this... with his talent, even if he worked hard for another year, he wouldn't catch up to the average students in the class, so missing one session didn't matter.

However, Sayuri Sato didn't look down on Kitahara because of this.

The fact that he could keep up with his studies while having lost both parents and wandering the streets of Shibuya every night in search of patrons was, in itself, quite remarkable.

Just as she had thought before, if a regular college student were to do such things, they would only be looked down upon. But if someone did what he did while still striving to learn, one could only hold them in respect.

She focused. "Listen carefully. First, the brushstrokes..."

Kitahara listened for a while and understood what she meant. He actually held a higher opinion of Sayuri Sato in his heart; if nothing else, her teaching ability was solid—her logic was clear, and her explanations were easy to understand.

That senior teacher certification, if nothing went wrong, would likely be Sayuri Sato’s.

"Why are you staring at me?" Sayuri Sato frowned subconsciously when she saw him dazed.

She hated it most when students spaced out during class.

It was only because it was Kitahara; if it were anyone else, she would have already given them a piece of her mind.

"You look beautiful," he said earnestly.

"..."

Sayuri Sato was a little angry. "So I’ve been talking for ages, and you haven't heard a word?"

She liked hearing nice things, but there was a time and place for everything. Sayuri Sato felt her efforts had been wasted.

"I listened, though."

"Repeat it back to me."

Kitahara recited it word for word. This time, it was Sayuri Sato’s turn to be surprised.

This guy actually listened...

"So, can I say you look beautiful now, Miss Sato?" Kitahara blinked.

"Do whatever you want."

Sayuri Sato blushed, feeling shy deep down.

This brat—he was actually staring at her face the whole time he was listening to the lecture. Was she really that good to look at?

She touched her face subconsciously. The makeup she had applied during the lunch break now seemed a bit faded... perhaps she should find a chance to touch it up?

No, no.

She had fallen for his trap.

She was still angry!

"But just talking about it doesn't feel like it has much effect," Kitahara muttered to himself.

"I don't have a practice workbook here."

"I don't need one. Can't you just hold my hand and teach me how to write?"

Kitahara said naturally, "What teaching method could be better than experiencing it firsthand?"

Sayuri Sato suddenly said, expressionless, "Are you saying you want me to hold your hand and practice calligraphy with you?"

"Is there a problem with that?" Kitahara asked innocently.

"There is a huge problem. Do you know what our positions are!"

Sayuri Sato stared at him for a moment and then let out a frustrated laugh. So that was it—he had laid all this groundwork just for this.

He didn't think she couldn't see through it, did he?

Kitahara tilted his head, smiling as he met Sayuri Sato’s gaze. Although there was no tea being brewed in the room, Sayuri Sato caught the scent of "green tea" (manipulation) in the air.

A flicker of realization appeared in her eyes.

No...

Kitahara knew that she had seen through him.

But he was fearless.

He was fearless, relying on her partiality toward him...