Chapter 27: Who on Earth Is It?

"No, I just thought it would be interesting, that's all," Kitahara explained.

"Is that so?"

Satō Sayuri cast a skeptical glance his way, a cold smirk playing on her lips. He was making things up again.

"In movies, don't they often have scenes like that? A female boss and a male subordinate, doing certain things in the office..."

"Movies..."

Satō Sayuri paused, not immediately grasping his meaning. A moment later, a sudden blush crept across her face, and she glared at him. "Your mind is only capable of thinking about such things."

"Actually, there are many other things, but it depends on whether you, Teacher, are willing to understand my heart." Kitahara set down his teacup and moistened his lips, feeling much better.

The air below was actually quite stuffy. With the heater running, the room was already stifling, and mixed with the scent of Satō Sayuri’s perfume and the smell of sweat, it created a unique, cloying atmosphere.

"Get out, you little pervert," Satō Sayuri rolled her eyes.

"Right away."

Kitahara grabbed a few more tissues and sniffed his own clothes, worried about the lingering scent of her perfume. Physical Education was the next period; if someone caught a whiff of that, it would be hard to explain.

His concern was well-founded. The fragrance from the teacher had naturally clung to him. While he couldn't be sure if others would notice, it was clearly suspicious for a male student to smell like perfume.

"Do you have any air freshener here?"

"Is that how 'Student Kitahara' addresses his teacher?"

The airy, teasing voice came from behind him. Kitahara turned to see Satō Sayuri wearing a mischievous grin. Clearly, she had figured out his dilemma.

"My dear Satō-sensei, is there any way to solve this?" Kitahara asked, feeling helpless.

"There is. Come here."

Satō Sayuri beckoned him closer. Kitahara leaned in, and she whispered into his ear, "The place where your hands were just now—you can use that to mask the scent."

Kitahara looked down. Satō Sayuri had slipped off her high heels. Encased in tight pantyhose were a pair of delicate feet. Her legs were beautiful, her feet fair and soft. But in terms of scent, they were, frankly, not pleasant.

"Are you insulting me?" Kitahara was indignant.

"Insulting?" Satō Sayuri sneered. "Weren't you touching them quite enthusiastically just a moment ago? Why is it an insult now?"

She lifted her long, black-stockinged legs, hooked her toes lightly, and tapped them against Kitahara’s leg. Then, she slowly moved them until they reached his palm, where she kept them there, rubbing them back and forth... Satō Sayuri licked her vibrant lips, smiling without a word.

Kitahara gripped her foot; his first reaction was that it was warm. Then came the pungent odor.

"..."

With the heater on, it was easy to work up a sweat, and since she was wearing thick black stockings, it was inevitable.

"Enough, give me the air freshener," Kitahara said, lowering his voice. "Good sister, please."

"Take a taste, and I'll give it to you."

Satō Sayuri’s tone was languid. At this point, she had relaxed significantly, no longer fearing someone might burst in. At worst, she would just take the blame for punishing a student.

"I'm not joking," Kitahara’s gaze hardened.

This woman—give her an inch, and she takes a mile. If it weren't for the "Master-Level Japanese Mastery" he stood to gain from her, and the fact that she wasn't entirely intolerable (aside from being a manipulative narcissist), he wouldn't even bother with her.

"I'm not joking either," Satō Sayuri giggled. Since the trouble wouldn't fall on her, she had no worries and even found amusement in watching Kitahara squirm.

Kitahara silently raised his middle finger and pushed the door open to leave. Once outside, he found himself lingering on the memory of that warmth. He then instinctively sniffed himself.

"..."

Movies were all lies; it didn't smell good at all. Who on earth was into foot fetishes anyway?

...

In the boys' locker room, Kitahara caught the scent of smelly socks in the air and felt much more at ease.

Perfect. The next class was PE; no one would suspect him for spending time here. Kitahara sat for a while, looking out the window. The weather was cold, and Tokyo was experiencing sporadic rain—sometimes light, sometimes heavy—it was unpredictable.

His plan for the evening had been to wait in Shibuya for someone fated to cross his path, much like a shrine maiden. However, considering the forecast predicted heavy rain, Kitahara abandoned the idea. He decided he would visit his old homeroom teacher, bring a small gift, and then go home to sleep. He had been staying out late for several days, and his mental state was suffering.

Kitahara waited until the PE bell rang before stepping out of the locker room. He checked his scent again. It was still slightly fragrant, but within an acceptable range—even if someone teased him about wearing cologne, it wouldn't matter.

Outside the hallway, the sky was gray. The PE class had been moved indoors. Kitahara found a corner, watching them warm up and then engage in their activities. He yawned, a wave of sleepiness washing over him; the long-delayed fatigue finally surfaced as his body relaxed.

The conversations with Chikawa and Satō Sayuri had been draining. As the rain fell, Kitahara listened to the sound, his head nodding until he eventually drifted off against the wall.

When he woke up, Takagi Akane was sitting next to him, her arms wrapped around her knees, revealing her fair calves as she watched the boys playing ball in the distance. Hearing the shift in Kitahara’s breathing, she turned, meeting his dazed gaze.

For a moment, there was an indescribable silence.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Twenty minutes. Are you still sleepy?" Takagi asked softly.

"A little."

"Then... sleep a bit longer. I'll wake you when class ends," Takagi blinked her clear eyes.

Kitahara murmured an acknowledgment but didn't close his eyes. He felt a bit more alert now. He propped his head up and watched the basketball game with Takagi.

As they watched, he introduced the players to her.

"That tall one who looks a bit old is a good guy. He’s pretty solid as a friend."

"He is..."

"Yoshimizu Yū, someone I know. Besides him, there’s another guy named Toyohara Hideyoshi..."

Takagi Akane nodded. "Do I need to know them?"

"That's up to you... if you think they seem like good people, get to know them." Kitahara thought for a moment. "Although sometimes I think it's great that you only have me as a friend, I hope you'll get to know more people over these three years of high school..."

"Is that what you think..." Takagi Akane looked down, her voice soft. If Kitahara had been looking at her, he would have seen a faint blush.

"One shouldn't be too selfish; care is reciprocal..." Kitahara explained. "Just like how you care about whether I get home late, I care about whether you're making new friends. Although it's a bit early to say—high school has only been in session for two days—when it comes to friends, it's always 'first come, first served'."

"It's fine..." Takagi Akane curled her lips into a smile. "No matter what, I have a baseline."

"I didn't coach you to think that way..." Kitahara was speechless, but it wasn't his place to lecture her.

*Thump!*

The ball went through the hoop with a cheerful sound. Takagi squinted, pulling on the hem of Kitahara’s shirt. "Your friend scored."

"Yeah..."

"He's amazing."

Though he didn't quite understand why she was so happy, Kitahara echoed her sentiments. Whenever someone scored, they would share a smile.

They watched until the end of class. Takagi Akane smoothed out her sweatpants and walked away briskly. Kitahara watched her go, feeling slightly more relaxed. Unlike other girls, when he was with Takagi, he didn't have to overthink things. He could say whatever was on his mind and share his hobbies with her.

Their relationship was one of equals. Equality meant respect—she, too, considered what he was thinking.

Kitahara checked the favorability rating.

【Takagi Akane】
【Favorability: 65】

Neither high nor low, a good range that didn't involve any strange romantic complications. He truly cherished Takagi as a friend.

Back in the classroom, he ran into Yoshimizu Yū and was dragged along to get a drink of tap water.

"Hey."

"Speak."

"How come I saw Student Takagi sitting with you?"

Several other boys looked over.

"That's right, she's my girlfriend now," Kitahara said naturally.

"Bullshit, I must have seen it wrong."

The others turned away. Boys were like that; if he had stuttered, they would have been suspicious, but because Kitahara lied with such a straight face, they were certain he was just messing around.

"And what about Sakura?"

"Who?"

"Sakura, Sakura Reina," Yoshimizu Yū whispered. "Everyone saw clearly when you took her out yesterday."

"Oh..."

Kitahara finally remembered; among the many interpersonal relations he was balancing, he had left one in the corner.

Sakura Reina. A patient with Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

He had lectured her yesterday, and she had been obedient for the time being. But Kitahara knew it was only temporary; once he showed weakness, she would bare her fangs. She was like a dog—very conscious of hierarchy.

"We're just classmates."

Kitahara glanced at his phone. That said, she occasionally needed to be put in her place, or she would bite the hand that fed her.

He sent a message to Sakura Reina.