Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It started with a mutual glance. One that incited a change of heart, an excitement due to novelty. Goosebumps. Racing heart. Shaking hands.

So this was what a crush was like… The waft of warm tobacco lingered in her mind after class. Kooky patterned shirts, messy, thick black hair, tattoos… She thought a man like that could only exist in movies or comics. Especially one with such a straight, severe, never-changing face.

Keeping it to herself, she thought it would pass. But as they sat next to one another every other day, her curiosity only climbed to an ever-growing peak. At the time, Yoshino Hirota didn't know she wasn't the only one to fall under the spell of Shouma Toriashi.

…Until about mid-semester, she overheard a few girls discussing his many conquests.

Suddenly, the feelings weren't so unique anymore. He transformed into just a guy who sat next to her and asked for a pen from time to time. Pens that she never got back, but she knew to only give ones she'd be okay parting with.

The mutual glances and slight smiles of acknowledgement meant nothing. No. In her mind, they were triumphant expressions of bullets dodged. Her innocent heart was again protected, and fate's attempt was again thwarted in its quest to have her end up like her mother.

Even with such resolve, the worst part of the class was the ending. Hundreds of eager bodies concentrated at the exit. One of the few things she knew about him was that, like her, he didn't have much else going on after this class. So, they waited patiently for the clearing crowd.

That day, on an ordinary chilly fall, their ethics professor decided to cover everything. Well, it felt like everything. And it was confusing. She mulled over her notes while waiting for the stairs to clear, sighing defeatedly.

Metaphysics made no sense.

"You alright?" He asked.

She turned her glance to him, incredulous. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"This class was confusing, wasn't it?"

Oh, just innocent class talk. So, Yoshino admitted with ease, "Yeah… I actually didn't get the material at all."

A playful smirk popped up. "The professor explained it a little weird." He pulled out his notes, haphazard and a little messy. But upon closer inspection, they were pretty organized. The way he put his subtitles and even corrections just made sense.

With slight elation in his tone, Yoshino listened to his explanation. Suddenly, things weren't so confusing.

"Thanks so much. I was drowning today."

He coughed, then reached for his throat to self-soothe. "I feel bad because I've lost all the pens you've lent me."

She gave him a cheesy thumbs-up. "No worries, all's forgiven."

She stood from her seat, noticing that the lecture hall was empty. Even the professor left the room.

Still sitting, Shouma looked at her with boredom in his eyes—from what she could tell. "Wanna' go to an all-you-can-eat? My treat."

She frowned in confusion. "Right now?"

He shrugged, staring at his phone, scrolling. "Now's a better time than ever."

Mutually knowing they didn't have much else after this class was a blessing and a curse. The answers to why not shrunk considerably. And harder to think of an excuse equalled a harder time saying no.

Given her reputation and rather loose connections, she wondered why someone like him would take her out to lunch, guessing aloud, "are you taking me out ‘cause you still feel bad for the pens?"

His shoulders slumped further. "Yep. Then my debts will finally be settled with you." His straight, bored expression was off-putting. She couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Debts? It's not like I handed you my favourite pen." Then, her stomach rumbled. Her attempt to muffle the sound only made her hunger more apparent. She huffed, "Alright."

Shouma brought her to a place close to campus, an all-you-can-eat with robot waiters. They sat across from one another at a booth by the window. Instead of waiting awkwardly, he ordered immediately like a regular. The lightning-fast movements of his fingers making choices on the electronic menu were telling enough.

Yoshino watched passersby through the glass, asking herself how she ended up in this situation?

He passed her the tablet. "Here. Eat until you drop. It's good for you."

She snorted, "Pfft—You sound like an old man."

"Been around them my whole life."

A wave of irritation flowed through her. One of disgusting jealousy. She prodded further, "A lot of adults in your life? You musta' learned a lot then. I see old guys discussing what was just said in class in parks. Bet that's what you listened to your whole childhood."

Yoshino often took her infant and toddler siblings to playgrounds as a teenager. Exhausted by the babbling and her brother's incessant questions, she took reprieve in eavesdropping on conversations where canes aggregated near her picnic blanket.

His stare focused on his teacup, replying rather waveringly, "Uh—somewhat." He explained his family dynamic with minimal detail, describing his adoption and having an older man as a father figure. Made him feel out of place, but he wouldn't change it if the opportunity came.

She learned a lot about Shouma at this buffet. Firstly, his stomach was bottomless. Secondly, they shared a love of traditional food and loved the same kind of sauces. Thirdly, he went to bed late and liked rock music.

What confounded Yoshino was his seeming less bored than he usually presented. That assumption stemmed from judging his response to her cheesy imitations of famous comedians. The Shouma in front of her didn't look like that, even among his many friends. Or maybe she never noticed. He always seemed stone-faced, apathetic even. One that wouldn't worry about owing someone after losing their pens.

That didn't matter. This little outing opened a box of insecurities from Yoshino's mom, telling her those impressions gave way to a crude, country-girl image. But this innate crudeness paved the way for a peculiar discovery. That, being Shouma laughing peculiarly. He stifled his fits by hunching over but then, unable to contain it, released a hearty laugh and a flush on his cheeks when he threw his head back. Peeking through the collar of his shirt was more ink work. This gave her pause, and she wondered if he was Yakuza. But then again, he wouldn't have gone through nearly three years of university if he had exchanged the Sake.

She looked at her empty plate. Coincidentally, she was also a carrier of a bottomless stomach. As a friend, that would be an epic trait to share. But a feature to share with a crush? Habits were hard to kill. At the same time, being only twenty meant plenty of time to correct it.

They parted ways, but not before exchanging contacts. Yoshino spent that evening staring at his name in her contact list.

But he never contacted her, and neither did she. After that luncheon, she found him closer to the front, chatting with a group of guys at the next class where they usually sat together. He never sat next to her again.

Yoshino wasn't hurt. It made sense. It seemed that he sat next to her all this time, starved of the attention from friends, just to settle a debt. It's a silly pen debt. She almost felt sorry that resolving this debt took him so long. Besides, it's not like they promised to sit next to one another, though still disappointing.

But maybe in another lifetime, they could've been closer.

Chapter Text

A month later

Yoshino made a few friends in her first year. Though, it was touch and go. Making contact once a month. And that day, Suzuka, a more gregarious type, asked the girlies for a luncheon. Yoshino found herself too busy to accept most invitations, but she was able to catch this one. 

And the five of them stared at her funny when she walked in. Even the waitress serving the lattes joined the audience.

Suzuka broke the tension by asking the burning question, "What's going on between you and Shouma?" 

Oh. It was one of those hang-outs. An exchange of gossip to which she could finally contribute. Her answer was less than dry, "He felt bad for losing my pens, so he took me out to lunch. And then he stopped sitting next to me after that." 

"Pens? Multiple? How many pens did he lose?"

Yoshino couldn't recall. 

She waved her hand. "Guys, it's been a month since I talked to him. There's really nothing going on." 

The table was divided. Some slumped over the lack of spice to her story. Others seemed elated, as though they still had a chance. Yoshino's irritation crept over both presentations. Frankly, that's why she often declined their invitations to hang out. 

Of the slump-ers was Mariya, a type-A personality. She cleared the air, announcing, "I'm hosting a goukon next week. I'd really like it if you all were to come!"

Feeling pressured, Yoshino promised to go. Her first goukon. Of course, at a karaoke bar.

This time, she'd take her mom's advice and appear as feminine as possible. Frills. Light makeup. A cute updo. 

Quickly, following that advice fell through. The cutesy makeup tutorials had her looking like she dipped her face in cocaine powder. Lolita frills didn't suit her either, nor light colour--so much for that classy, northern Osaka girl image. 

As usual, anything labelled sexy always suited her best. Even her mother—defeated in the fight to make her daughter cute—admitted to that. So, it was a tight black lace dress, a pair of flats, and smoked-out eyeshadow. 

In high school, she was teased for her curly hair and how much older she looked. She was even given a cruel nickname, the Hostess of Umeda. Meaning she looked like some high-class escort. Well, at least she was considered high class—that's her way of coping with these things, through hoops and hoops of rationalization. 

Besides, when she tried something cute, it looked like trying to fit a square into a circle. Just wrong. 

And being a hostess seemed like good business in the grand scheme of things. So, she always kept that option in mind if school didn't pan out. 

Nonetheless, rumours spread like wildfire about her wild sex life. And she did nothing to stop them. Mainly to keep alive her last resort plan of becoming a high-class escort. 

But jokes on them, she'd never been kissed. Most guys would look at her and run away. She blamed it on taking after her father, who was handsome for a man. But his face on a woman resulted in Yoshino's current perils.

It didn't help having an exaggerated hourglass figure. Anything other than tight clothing made her look big. Maybe she'd be embraced in the West, but in Osaka, her body was too much. Yet, she'd rather hear about how she needed to lose weight over the older women who constantly nagged her on how Japan's population was declining and her hips were designed for birthing. People regularly went out of their way to tell her about her body's purpose, so most days, her wardrobe consisted of oversized t-shirts and hoodies. 

The karaoke party had Yoshino wracked with nerves. She ended up stress cooking out of habit. Her fridge had no room left. So, Lugging plastic bags full of home-cooked snacks, she walked down the street all dressed up. Thankfully, carrying those bags was jarring enough for men to leave her alone. 

She recognized the neon sign and took note of her surroundings. It was early evening, so most office workers hadn't left. Therefore, office buildings were still fully illuminated. Stepping in, she was surprised to see the main area so quiet. A lone bartender greeted her. She asked where the group was, and he pointed to a sign that said karaoke. She walked down an uncomfortably warm hallway, glancing at her phone to determine the room number Mariya had booked. 

When Yoshino slid the right door open, the chatter among the group went silent. Confused glances seeing the so-called Hostess of Umeda holding up kilos of home-cooked meals told her where she was physically and socially. 

And surprise-surprise, she made eye contact with that heavy-lidded gaze she worked so hard on forgetting.

Shouma just had to be a participant. 

The guys poked fun at Yoshino for bringing a feast. The girls jokingly accused her of trying to get everyone's attention. All except Shouma, who eagerly unwrapped the bags with her. 

"Hey Yoshino, what's in here?" Somehow, he managed to bypass hadn't been in contact for over a month in his eager tone. Nor did he seem to mind the awkward sounds of clearing throats and judgmental stares. 

Putting on her best Hostess voice, a little goofy, a little bit like a waiter, she listed, "Some tempura, onigiri with different fillings, cold tofu, a bunch of deep-fried meats…" She continued with a few more dishes and their variations, ending with, "Of course, Okonomiyaki and Takoyaki as well."

Mariya leaned into her and whispered, "Are you fucking insane?"

Yoshino smiled and cocked her head, "Absolutely. Besides, people usually go for dinner first before karaoke at goukons. I did you a favour."

Mariya sat momentarily, then quietly admitted, "Shit, you're right. Should we go for dinner?"

"You've managed to get twelve of us here. So, let's just move on." She peered over to Shouma, sitting diagonally to her, already munching on the food. Well, at least one person liked the gesture, and that's all that mattered. She was hungry too, already deciding she wasn't interested in any of the guys, so she started putting some Okonomiyaki on a paper plate. 

People started following suit after noticing Shouma eating. Yoshino even got a few compliments. She wore her I told you so face proudly. 

As everyone got over Yoshino's grand entrance, Mariya pulled out some icebreakers. 

"Okay, everyone, let's start with icebreakers. Let's get each of us to state their name, what they study, and what they like to do for fun. I'll start. My name is Mariya Himeno. I study law at Osaka University and like to read manga for fun."

The guys started. Most of them were from Osaka University and took the icebreakers seriously. Some were in engineering, some were in economics. Shouma and the rest of the girls were in the law program. Naturally, everyone gravitated towards him. 

He didn't take the icebreaker seriously, ending with saying he liked to eat. Which was true, but he could've said something else. Knowing what she knew of him, Yoshino saw Shouma was at maximum boredom and… maybe craving a cigarette, judging by his thumb and forefinger rubbing together. The fruit-patterned shirt was another tell he wasn't here seriously. Despite that, he played along, asking the girl across from him questions as he should. 

Shouma and Yoshino would occasionally lock eyes, signalling some form of distress. He winked at her once, causing her to snort during a conversation. 

"Okay, Girls, times up, let's slide down."

Yoshino moved down, sitting across from a cute guy. His hair was wavy, a lovely chestnut brown. He had a friendly smile and broad shoulders. Dressed well. His name was Jiro. She couldn't remember his last name, so she avoided addressing him by name. 

When he looked at her, it didn't seem like he was looking at her face. The dress had a mock neck--no cleavage. There, she thought her black dress was slightly more modest and saved her from wandering gazes. Well, Yoshino thought too kindly of others. 

On a positive note, it was the first time she got someone's number somewhat consensually. Although she probably would never text Jiro since he seemed too into work and moving up the corporate ladder. While that would be a good trait in most, it reminded her too much of her father. 

She and Shouma had to skip their conversation because they already knew each other. He did remind her in passing that the food was great and made a little face. She made a face back. He shook his head and chuckled. 

The other guys ignored her, mostly talking about themselves or current events. One asked whether she did anything else for money, insinuating that she was a hostess, causing her to nearly throw her drink across the table. Thankfully, the bell dinged at a fortunate moment, and he was the last. 

Suzuka dove straight to karaoke and ordered another round of drinks, breaking any awkwardness. She decided on a theme song from a popular children's cartoon, getting laughs. 

When the microphone was passed to Shouma, he chose a pop song out of his range and got bigger laughs. 

Then, the torch was passed to Yoshino. And she picked a song she'd sing to her little brothers to calm them down. An old ballad. It was the only song she knew well enough on the list. Other than the cartoon themes, but singing them might've been too jarring. She expected them to fall asleep, but it was applause and tears. 

The rest of the time, everyone mingled comfortably, loosened by the alcohol. Yoshino had a high tolerance, and Shouma's full stomach ranked them both the most sober of the twelve. 

They finally had a chance to chat after the initial hordes of attention wore off. 

"How'd you get roped into this?" She asked, popping edamame in her mouth.

"Guilt."

"Same." 

They continued talking at their most ease all evening. Last night, a vital niche comedy special aired, and being law students, they discussed and dissected the arguments and viewpoints. 

"I think the best joke was about his inability to maintain a garden."

Shouma recited, word-for-word, excitedly, "Yeah! 'Oh fuck, a surprise carrot in my hole.'"

She continued, "And then the dry line really kept it tight. 'I hate carrots. The best ones are the non-existent ones.' My ten-year-old brother doesn't get most of those jokes, but he'd even like that special since he shares a similar opinion.

He then reminded, "Until he goes to mention butt plugs and the emergency room."

She palmed her face. "I forgot about that. I've watched so much comedy that sex jokes aren't memorable. Shit, I wouldn't be able to watch it with him--would be a difficult conversation to have afterwards."

"Better his sister than some website."

"His sister would use that very website as source material."

He snorted into his drink. 

After sharing a fit of laughter, she wanted to ask why he decided to change seats or why he didn't text her. But then she looked deep within, asking herself why she wanted to know. Pride? That he didn't like her? All of it seemed petty and self-serving. So, she decided to be content with that moment. 

After a while, the room went quiet, and there was a chill in the air. Suzuka announced it was suddenly stuffy and was about time to wrap this up. Everyone agreed except Shouma and Yoshino, whose conversation was suddenly interrupted. Realizing they had been deep in their bubble for the last half hour, she blinked a few times, guilt awash. Suzuka had explicitly told Yoshino that she wanted to go out with Shouma. 

Joking to herself, for once, Yoshino lived up to her image.

Shaking off that pang of shame, Yoshino went to retrieve her containers. Shouma helped her pack while everyone else headed outside until they were the only two in the room. Yoshino counted the containers and bagged them proudly. Nothing was lost. She sat back on the vinyl bench, letting her slide squeak obnoxiously to recharge her social battery before saying goodbye to everyone. Shouma excused himself to go for a smoke. 

And she was alone. Napkins and empty glasses were scattered about. The attendant walked in and bowed. She nodded back, signalling it was okay to clean up. The karaoke system flashed bright colours that she couldn't appreciate when the room was packed. There was a disco ball too... And coloured lights, with their switches on the other side of the room. Mariya lost a few opportunities in this room that night, but everyone started somewhere. 

Then she took a deep breath. Suzuka was right. It did feel stuffy. 

She rose from her seat, thanking the attendant. 

When she walked out, the girls had already left, leaving the guys in a circle except Jiro and Shouma. She stopped walking towards them when she heard her name. 

"Do you think she was advertising her cooking as a trial service in her escort package?"

They all laughed. 

"God, who'd rent her as a girlfriend? She wouldn't even make it as a hostess. She just tries too hard and shows off too much."

"I can't believe Jiro gave her his number."

"Jiro's always been the type, though."

"You think Shouma was just being nice to her? He's a good guy, but he didn't have to talk to her all night."

"Hey…." She started, "Watch your fuckin' mouth. I cooked because Mariya drowned in her poor planning. And I'd be surprised that a woman looking like me would touch you with a ten-foot pole. You gotta' come up with good money first, millions, you penniless fucks." 

Colour drained from their faces. Usually, Yoshino ignored what people said about her. But when Shouma's name was mixed, it set her off. 

She felt a little pressure on her shoulder, seeing a familiar hand on her joint and turning to Shouma suddenly beside her. Of all the emotions he let show on his face, anger was the one he made most evident. The vitriol and crazed trembling from his glare reminded her of the tween barfight rumours surrounding him. "She's better company than anyone I've met. So, fuck off."

They immediately scattered, awkwardly apologizing and saying their goodbyes. Shouma sighed, then took a glorious drag. The irritation she noted before melted away. Poor thing really sat through a goukon without a puff. 

Her eyes wide, baffled, and like a deer in headlights, she bowed her head in gratitude. "You didn't have to do that."

Whether what Shouma said was true didn't matter. It was the nicest thing she's heard in a while. 

He quipped, "You were making me out to be someone who can afford the likes of you."

"It still came across that way when you interrupted," she came back.

Their faces twisted to mutual grins. Both agreed to never attend a goukon again.

Then Shouma looked her up and down. 

"Can I say something?"

"Only if I say something first."

"Go." He breathed another heavenly puff, releasing it into a cloud surrounding them. 

She waved her hand to clear the smoke around her. "Smoking's really bad for you. You'll look older than you are and suffer the plights I suffer right now." 

He closed his eyes, shaking his head in fits of laughter. 

Once he calmed down, he told her straightly, "Alright, it's a nice dress. It suits you, but you do look like someone who'd get hired by old men to accompany them at funerals. The song you chose cemented that impression for good." 

She looked down at her open palms, disparaging, "Is it the makeup? I don't know how else to do my makeup… My lipstick's a nude… I didn't go crazy with mascara… And I wore flats to ensure I wasn't taller than the guys."

"You look good, it suits you, don't worry. But you don't belong there. Since you look older than everyone else, it brings out that impression 'specially when you're being compared to someone like Suzuka.

"She's a Gyaru…"

"And you're her strict, stuck-up stepmother."

"Pfft. Someone once told me that I was a pretty face that one would tire of after three days. Then it became a nickname? I didn't understand, was it because I wasn't interesting to talk to? Or did I seem to have gold-digging motivations?" 

He palmed his forehead upon hearing the nickname, brushing his hand through his hair. Seeing his forehead for the first time, she thought it was a shame that he covered it. Then again, she couldn't think of a haircut better suited to him than his signature black, shaggy mess. 

"Were you bullied? That's horrible." 

"Not overtly, and I needed to focus on my grades anyway. It made studying and taking care of things at home easier."

They stood at the curb, watching cars drive by. She relished in the fresh cigarette smoke. But she'd never tell him she liked the smell of tobacco. People walked by, and she even overheard someone call her beautiful. 

Maybe she was aiming for the wrong crowd. 

He stomped out his cigarette. "Ah, I could eat. What about you?"

She looked around, spotting a food truck. "Street food sounds good. The canal is nearby, so we can sit on a bench to eat."

"I was thinking heavier, like Donburi down at that place over there."

"Even better."

They rushed over and took their seats. Shouma ordered a more potent alcohol and extra-large bowl, and Yoshino felt hungry, so she ordered similarly. He didn't question her appetite or eating capabilities at all. Just the way she liked it.

"So how'd you manage to cook all that? Did you get help?"

"No, I cook for fun. It's something productive that I can do. I always make a meal for six instead of one, and I tend to buy like I still lived at home."

"After a year alone, you still couldn't shake the habit?"

"No, thank God for this goukon, three days ago I went to this supermarket, and they had a bunch of food on discount. I ended up clearing that entire shelf. Everything I cooked tonight came from there 'cause I didn't want to waste food."

"The octopus was on discount?"

"Yep, and the smoked fish, too."

"Where is this place?"

"It's near the big grocery store by the university, so it gets overlooked. On Tuesdays, they mark a bunch of stuff down. I waited until they opened like some crazed fan. At five in the morning."

"Why did you do that?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"And you get groceries of all things to do."

"Yes."

"That's absurd." He added. 

They go back and forth like this for a couple hours. The next thing she knew, Yoshino was awake in her bed at four in the morning, ten minutes after he took her home. 

The thing that kept her awake was a fantasy. One in which she'd find the courage to pull him into her apartment, passionately kissing and clothes peeling off their bodies that landed on the floor and him pinning her down over her covers. She's naked, and him, almost. She'd see the outline of his erection say something about it being big. And mouth stuff, and hand stuff. And she'd be all like, but I didn't shower! 

To that point, she cackled, chastising herself for reading too much porn.

Life wouldn't be so bad if her social life continued like this for the rest of her college days. 

Chapter Text

Two weeks later: 

Yoshino couldn't understand Dad's tone over the phone when he asked her about her day. Was he forlorn or happy? Then he threw a bombshell:

"Your mom is pregnant."

She dropped the phone. In her mind bloomed a garden of peonies: shame and anger. An initial shock left then, crept a stalk of disdain and dread. 

Picking back up the phone, she tried to make the rage pass and keep it from seeping into the phone call with a softer, higher pitch inflection, "So, how far along is she?" 

"Four months." Counting on fingers, Yoshino determined the baby would be out by the end of her second year. Perfect timing to trap her and throw her back into the role of everyone's minder. They'd say money's tight and guilt her into staying and deferring her schooling. 

With that in mind, she said impulsively, "Are you sure?" 

Her dad reassured her that everything was going to be okay. 

Fuck. She should have the right to push back a little. So, she did, sternly saying, "I want to stay in school without any breaks." 

"Of course." 

Of course. 

"Yoshino, I have something else."

She took a deep breath, waiting for another heavy shoe to drop. 

"Your grandfather's been trying to reach out to you. You know he isn't any good. Try your best to stay away."

Ah, yes, most of our family's no-good speech. A constant circular dance. She sighed, "Do you know why?"

"Something about inheritance. But it could be a trap, so please avoid the area and any dangerous people. Your grandfather is the most dangerous of them all." 

"Why don't you visit him and accept it on my behalf?" 

"Yoshino—no—you know very well that this is complicated." 

"He doesn't even know about his other two grandchildren." 

"He doesn't know of most of the grandchildren he's sired." 

"Right. I get it. But maybe the inheritance is good enough to launch the entire family out of Japan, and we'd never worry about him again."

Dad had enough, called her attitude boorish and hung up. 

Her back ached after that rollercoaster of a call. She didn't recall doing anything strenuous lately. Maybe it was all the sitting she did when studying. Stretching was a good thing to do after a tense conversation. Yes, calming down was the priority. Shaking off the cloud around her proved difficult, as anger simmered through her like the stew she had on the stove. 

Then her phone buzzed again. What the fuck did he want now?

Tempted to throw the phone, she held back, deciding not to pay a damage deposit. To her surprise, it was Shouma, not her father. The previous fuming flipped on its head to novel delight and anticipation. But upon reading the text, she turned to a mildly vexatious state, unaware of what was sent to her. 

It was a picture of a massive pile of groceries at near expiry from the store she recommended to him after the goukon. With it, he wrote: Can you teach me how you made those things? Kind of urgent. These are gonna go bad soon. 

She replied, asking for his address. Looking over to the stew, her shoulders dropped, defeated. The silver lining to his inevitable food wastage was being able to share something edible instead of having it alone, especially after receiving the big news.

His apartment was about 20 minutes from hers by bus. He lived close to campus, steps away from the library itself. It was at least ten times over budget for a 6-mat space when looking to rent in that area. His building was considered a luxury one too. He must've had money. 

Growing up, there was money on her mom's side. Mom was a ditzy heiress type. Funny, charming, beautiful--probably why her dad fell for her in the first place. Before she got pregnant with the first brother, they were a happy triad in a large home. All of it was sponsored by her grandparents on her mother's side. Then, Yoshino's grandparents went bankrupt, and instead of moving somewhere more affordable, Mom wanted to stay in the northern suburbs. Money was tight, no more fun, but Yoshino was still a happy kid. They still kept the house, the exterior stayed in excellent condition. The interior... not so much. 

She loved hearing about how she was a good girl and incredibly adaptable. That's why she never complained, put more than her hundred percent, and ultimately replaced her mother in domestic tasks. Those traits unfortunately carried into adulthood, making her a doormat. Again, somewhat desirable in a woman--but not in someone like Yoshino. Those traits often put her in danger. 

For example, she's going over to a guy's place, barely knowing him. Winter approached, so there was a possibility that he could have his way with her and leave her out to freeze to death... 

But then she spotted a 24-hour convenience store and said she was exaggerating, slapping both cheeks. 

Yoshino whether she suited being in a pair of old jeans and a fitted t-shirt under her puffy coat. She washed her hair before coming, styled and all, and put on a wash of makeup to look fresh, whatever that meant. And her biggest sin was that she brought a toothbrush. Murphy's law was probably at play, so what was the point of anticipating getting laid? Especially as a virgin. Plus, he never actually said anything about liking her that way. 

Returning to reality by the time the elevator opened into the hallway of his floor, Yoshino muttered the suite number, glancing over at the doors. She spent time admiring the cones of light evenly placed along the walls. There were no fluorescent panels, so the tones were warm, like the feeling of coming home. His nice building was nice inside. That's what was expected. She frowned, thinking back to her childhood and her odd beliefs.  

It took her a minute to decide whether she should knock on his door. And then she glanced down at her stew. 

Nah, I'm hungry,  Yoshino thought. And up her knuckles went to make contact with that premium door. 

"I can never get tired of that face," He said, leaning on his doorframe, "you look like an old Yakuza boss." 

Well, she was related to one, so she was hardly surprised by his comment. 

Oh, but she probably looked angry. She was, but not enough to justify the narrow eyes, the wrinkle in the brow and the deep frown. Clicking her tongue, she held up the bag containing the stew. "I brought collateral in case this fails. You bought a ridiculous amount of food but none of the basics. Like salt." 

"That's under the lettuce in the picture I sent you." 

She slumped her shoulders in instant regret over voicing her assumption. "I see."

Walking in, she marvelled at the size of his apartment and its modernity. It wasn't a penthouse suite or executive, but it was at least three times the size of her student apartment. A family of three could live here comfortably. And he had two bedrooms.

"How can you afford this? Do you have a roommate?"

He stretched as though hard at work. "No, I live alone. I do construction gigs. Flexible. Quick. And I got lucky. The clients I work for are rich people." He reached into his closet, finding her a pair of slippers. 

She thanked him, slipping them on. "Huh. Well, I can work. Got any openings?"

He laughed. 

She didn't. 

"I'm serious." 

"It's… not the safest work."

"Fine," she huffed, moving to the pile of food. 

He approached her carefully, "You doing' okay? We can do this another day." 

She snapped out of it, feeling the weight in her face lessen. "I'm sorry. It's been a day—and trust me, cooking and not eating alone is the highlight." 

The straight face he was known for softened at her admission. "I'm glad to be the highlight."

In some ways, his cheekbones lifted slightly and stayed up, his lips too. His relaxed posture was emphasized by a clinging dark, long-sleeve shirt and lounge pants. And he wore a well-loved pair of slippers. The top was old. She could tell by the overstretched neck, allowing his tattoos to show. 

Sakura flowers and Koi fish.  

Placing her stew on a free place on his actual stone counter, she turned to the stove, and pots and pans were already on top with food cooking. Judging by the tomato sliced halfway and the knife halfway off the cutting board, he was in the middle of cutting. 

"I started already. What I'm stuck on is the sauces." 

Focused on the coolness of natural stone countertops, she mindlessly asked, "Just the sauces?" 

"I can't get the right temperature or stir them right. Can you show me? I also need help to wrap or shape things right. I tried to make takoyaki… but they look kinda like the octopus are trying to hatch out." 

He tapped her shoulder and nodded to a plate of what she could only describe as… octopus mash. It was unexpected and delightfully horrifying. She howled, clutching at her stomach. 

Still pointing, she wheezed, "I'm so sorry, but this is… so bad." 

"You made so many perfectly round ones. I thought it would be easy." 

Pulling a cooked tentacle out of the pile, she popped it into her mouth. 

"Still tastes good."

Shouma did the same with childlike curiosity. While chewing, he brightened, "It does…" He picked up the plate and slid it in the fridge like he found and stashed gold. "I'll save it for later."

"Are you gonna cook all of this tonight?" 

"That's the plan." 

She crossed her arms. "Even you can't eat all of this, right?" 

"My family's large, gonna' bring some back to them." He went back to cutting his tomato. 

She turned to the ingredients. "How kind of you… What are they like?" 

"A lot of hungry guys, they're a loyal bunch, and we look out for one another." 

She picked up a mostly appealing cabbage. "Musta' been a hell of a time growing up around so many old guys, eh?" 

For a flash, he stopped cutting. "Yeah." She caught the interrupted flow but decided not to pry any further. He grew quiet, and she couldn't think of anything else to discuss, especially since the pregnancy weighed heavy on her mind. So, Yoshino kept her head down, peeling potatoes already growing roots. 

Noises of sizzling, cutting, and stirring filled his space. They were doing their own thing. He cut, she peeled. They took turns checking on what was cooking. It was the first time she was in a kitchen where she didn't feel the pressure of making the value of the ingredients stretch as much as possible for a family of five. Nor did she feel lonely and trapped while cooking. Usually, she was caged by the needs of four other beings who couldn't manage themselves. Even when living for herself for the last year, she still couldn't shake those sentiments. 

With ease, she started making batter for Takoyaki, whisking. 

"You making the Takoyaki already? How'd you make the batter?" 

Pedantically, she explained step by step, leaning on his counter and making all sorts of hand motions. He wrote them down on a scrap paper he ripped from the fridge. After she showed him how to flip them in the batter, he beelined for the chopstick and attempted to flip the rest. He started slowly and awkwardly, spilling and splashing batter on his apron. Yoshino continued coaching him from the sidelines, telling him when he had it, instinctively grabbing his arm if he went off course. With that, he quickly settled in with the method. 

Finally successful, he muttered a few celebratory words, grinned ear to ear, and pumped a fist. 

Yoshino was taken aback. 

Cute. 

Endeared, she realized Shouma wasn't just serious about eating. He was serious about food. 

"Good job." She pat him on the back once before suddenly retracting, kicking herself for mindlessly touching him. "Ah, sorry for touching…" She shrunk, cheeks blazing.  

He shook his head while smirking, and in one fell swoop, the Takoyaki tray glided into the oven. 

"It's okay. I don't mind. Now I can make Takoyaki, I'll save so much money." 

Friends pat each other on the back,  Yoshino reminded herself repeatedly, pretending to wipe sweat from her brow but it was just to glide a cooler finger on her heated face.

She giggled nervously over her cutting board. "This is probably the first time I've been at someone else's place in ten years. Not even a friend's place. I only know how to interact with my younger brothers in a kitchen, and I was always playing or encouraging them… I don't mean to make you feel like a kid." 

"Yoshino, it's fine." 

She placed a palm on her chest and blew relief. 

"But why couldn't you go to other people's places?"

Still nervous, she rambled, "Ah. My parents were worried, and I always had to go home to clean and care for everyone. Mom's a bit of an airhead and can't work. She'd serve my brothers store-bought cake when she remembered they had to eat. Dad pushes himself to work overtime ever since my brothers were born. I feel like haven't seen him in years." Saying it was painful, she tried to grin and distract herself from the welt of emotion by cutting the potatoes. 

"Huh?" He gave her a look of confusion. "What's going on now that you're gone?" 

Yoshino realized she might have bad-mouthed her family, so she walked back. "Mom's doing better, and Grandma moved in when I moved out. Plus, Dad has a better job, and he's hired housekeeping." 

"Why didn't your grandma move in before?" 

That question caused a shock up her spine. 

On autopilot, she moseyed to the stove and folded the simmering sauce. Taking a minute to collect herself, she continued, "My mom… she wasn't well after she gave birth. Started seeing things. Talking funny. Dad and grandma thought it was best she stayed home. Grandma was helping out in the beginning. I was… nine, I think. Three months in, they had a fight. Grandma thought mom was faking it, and then they didn't talk for years. So, I stepped up. I wanted to feel useful, like any kid that age."

The sounds of cooking felt erratic and awkward now. Yoshino glanced over to Shouma, hoping she didn't dampen the mood. She couldn't tell. Shit, she overshared. Embarrassed, she debated on whether to clean up and leave. 

But then he asked a question that she never truthfully answered, something she was always in denial of, "Why did you move out? Usually, it takes something serious for a people pleaser to leave all 'a sudden." 

People pleaser? 

She chuckled.

Fuck , he was a little too observant. But she felt the need to get the load off. Heart racing, she begged internally for it to slow down. "My youngest brother was born four years ago. I knew what would happen and thought I was ready for the storm. But one morning, Mom suddenly shoved me in her psychosis. She was weak, but I fell back onto a nightstand, hurting my back. Didn't think much of it until a few days later at school. My back started really hurting, and my legs went numb. Turns out I fractured a vertebra, causing swelling around my spinal cord. When I was on bed rest, Dad went silent on me. Wouldn't even look at me when I got home from the hospital. If I waited any longer, I could've been paralyzed." 

"That's fucked up." 

"It is. I still don't know why he froze me out the minute I went to the hospital." Her knife handle shook. "And I found out today that mom's pregnant again. As soon as they climb out of their mess, they fuck it up again. I can't do it anymore. I want to live my life." 

"Yoshino." 

"Hmm?" She looked over to him. 

"You keep cutting, but nothing's on the board." 

"Ah, shit. That's the first time I talked about this, so I guess I got a little nutty. Thanks for listening." 

Shouma bit into his cheek, revealing to her, "My dad wasn't around most of my life, too. He was a violent drunk. But I was adopted into a better family. I was a rough kid. Took a while for me to learn." 

"Absentee fathers… Maybe that's why I felt a kinship when we first met." Yoshino smiled softly at Shouma, who smiled back. A novel warmth flooded her chest. In response to the wave of heat, she blurted, "I can see why you have so many people around you. You have a healing effect." 

He turned away, coughing, "Thank you." 

Yoshino threw the last ingredients into the pots and pans on the stove, except for the soup he had already simmering before she arrived. She turned around, going to wipe surfaces clean. Shouma started washing dishes. 

Shouma sighed, "That nickname, Mistress of Umeda is really cruel, especially all the shit that came with it. 'Just a glance, and it's obvious that you're nothing like what the rumours say. It pisses me off."

She scoffed like it was nothing. "Honestly, I'm surprised it spread so fast in our department. I think it's kind of fun these days. Mariya was shocked when I told her I'd never even kissed or had a boyfriend. Then again, if the truth went around, people might think I dress like that to be desperate. It is what it is. But every time I try on something cute…" She reached for her phone, scrolling to a photo of her most recent attempt at something cute, and handed the phone to him. She let him process her blunders, staring at a poor, mottled ball of green. "You have this cabbage, wanna make Okonomiyaki?""

"Yeah, let do it." He then stared at the photo for a while, grimacing, "Oh, that's bad." 

"I tried." Then she became curious, "Don't you also have a similar reputation? I guess that's another thing we have in common." She winked. Then looked down at his... fucking genuine tile floor, horrified that she had just told him she was a virgin.

"Yeah. But there's some truth behind my reputation."

She shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that."

He picked a slice of cabbage off her cutting board to munch, smirking at her. "So, you don't think I'm that bad?"

Robotically, maternally, she replied, "Why would I? Was it nonconsensual? Did you ever hurt anyone except for breaking their heart?"

He frowned, scratching the back of his head. "No. They ask me out, I feel bad saying no."

She narrowed her eyes, partially serious. "That's crueler than my nickname. You can't just lead people on."

He slouched, leaning on the edge of the counter next to her, pensive, "How do you say no when people ask you out? I don't like making scenes."

Sticking to slicing the cabbage, she answered, monotone, "I don't know. I guess it's different for guys. I've never been asked out on a proper date. Guys ask for my number, but it usually feels like a joke. Like Jiro, for example. I laugh, they laugh, and it's over. The closest thing, I guess, is when you took me out to lunch that one day and the Donburi."

The pity Donburi. 

"Yeah. That was fun." 

A slideshow recap of that night's sex fantasy played in her head. "It was." Turning away from him to release a cheeky smile, she shut the stove and oven off and announced, "Let's eat."

After carefully arranging everything on his small dining table, she snapped a picture, proud of the massive amounts of food they cooked. Shouma asked her to send the photo to him, dazily staring at the spread. 

Chapter Text

Lights were warm and dim, coming from a floor lamp next to Shouma's dining table. He shut the overhead lights, citing that they were irritating while trying to relax. 

"Thank you for this meal!" She proclaimed. They both reached for pickled fish in the same direction, grazing one another's fingers. Yoshino immediately retreated, stiff as a board. Shouma took the plate of fish and placed a few pieces on her plate, eyeing her carefully. 

"Is that enough?" 

"Yeah. Thank you." 

Overwhelmed by his proximity and that gesture, she suddenly had no appetite. She slowly brought the fish to her mouth, begging for her hunger to return. 

"What's wrong?" 

She chewed and swallowed, barely tasting the fish. "It's good." 

He ate with more fervour than she did. Blaming her loss of appetite on a silly crush, Yoshino reached for the soup, hoping the heat would somehow out-warm the scalding butterflies bouncing back and forth in her ribcage. 

And it did. 

She had nothing to do with an ounce of this soup, and it was delectable. Not that she doubted Shouma in his cooking abilities. He was confident in many things, but his humility bled through in the kitchen. 

"Shouma, this is so good. Do you make this often?"

He stopped eating in his tracks, squirming as though unsure of his answer. "Often enough." He said it as though it was nothing at all. But she could tell that compliment meant the world to him from the sparkle in his eyes. 

She took another spoonful, sighing. "Ah, I'm gonna' need the recipe. There's ginger for sure…"

He cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. "No need. I always make a bunch. I can bring you a steady supply."

Her heart skipped a beat. Did that mean Shouma wanted to come over to her place? Was he flirting? Was he concerned about her eating habits? As baffling as it was, Yoshino joked, "We're holding out pretty well considering our reputations. By now, the rest of the world would expect us to be fucking, not having a wholesome meal and offering to deliver soup." 

"Sounds like they're rooting for us," his knee languidly brushed against hers. In response, her legs quivered and trembled, out of service. 

To regain control of her body, Yoshino pictured them as pandas and the people they know holding out signs of various panda sex positions. 

It worked like a charm.

"Almost like we're a spectacle," she mused, giving a toothy grin. Her appetite returned, thanks to her imagination, and some of her strength returned. 

Looking at her with unrecognizable intent, Shouma retorted, "I'd rather be boring." 

She put her rice down. "What do you mean?"

His lips formed a thin line as she gave him a skeptical glare. "I think it would be nice to live boringly with someone like you." He said it so nonchalantly, calmly that she couldn't imagine it being for the sake of romance…

Tone of voice low and matter-of-factly, she said, "Is it because of my housekeeping skills?"

He keeled over, laughing, shaking his head 'no'. Yoshino gave him a suspicious glare, betting her particular scary Yakuza face switched on. Shouma gave her a playful look, shrugging and then sighing. 

"I think I'm gonna go insane." He pored over her silently for an awkward minute. The intense scrutiny met with Yoshino, giving him a curious stare. Shaking his head, he huffed and muttered, "Can't be helped." 

He stood up, moving to the kitchen to rifle through a drawer and, from it, pulled something. She recognized it immediately—her pens. All the ones he borrowed. Perplexed, she had to do several takes to process this new development.

"You found my pens?" 

He held back laughter, waving them like little white flags, "I never lost them."

"Wha-What? Why?"

He sunk into his seat, turned his body towards her, and leaned back, grinning, defeated. "Cause I'm into you." 

Dropping her spoon, Yoshino blinked and fell into deep rumination over nonsense. "Since when?" 

He pulled a pen from the pile he had accumulated, spinning it slowly in his fingers. "Since the first pen I lost." 

She watched the pen spin in a trance. It moved elegantly between the spaces of his hand. His nails trim. There were a few scars scattered about. The scuff marks she noticed in class healed nicely. What really threw her in awe of him was the lack of tremor in his hold, compared to her, who could barely handle a chopstick at that moment. 

"But I'm… super inexperienced." Short-term memory fried, Yoshino couldn't remember anything he said that evening except I'm into you. 

"That's okay. I'm kinda' inexperienced, too."

Alarms sounded in her brain, calling bullshit. 

INEXPERIENCED IN WHAT!?

Internally, screams muffled by pillows of irritation flooded her mind. Externally, she tried to maintain her logic. "Oh. I see. So I helped cook tonight. And then the pens are back, plus you helped me at the goukon and bought me donburi, so I'm also in double debt, I guess?"

Other than measuring out ingredients, which would still be a struggle, Yoshino was horrendous at math. 

"Why're you talking about debts?" 

She continued, ears buzzing, unable to process. "So if you're into me, and I'm indebted, and I do have a crush on you…" That slid out effortlessly, "There's an opportunity for experience. But then I pay back my debt in the form of sexual favours, and that's not exactly ethical, is it? But if it's something we both want…" 

Looking up, Yoshino escaped that state of dissociation to Shouma smiling at her. He had an impatience in his posture. And Yoshino suddenly remembered everything that had just been said. She slapped her mouth, eyes wide. 

"I'm glad you have a crush on me. You're cute, Yoshino. Really fucking cute." He leaned forward. Knees to elbows, chin in palms, further closing the distance between them. Their faces were now less than a foot apart. This was the closest a male had ever approached her. 

She squeaked, "That's good. Do you need your eyes checked?"

"I'm serious." 

She didn't want to leave, but she wanted to run. Very confusing. So, she froze instead. 

Logically, they liked each other, were good company, and had things in common. But she'd never been intimate with anyone, which was a huge roadblock for the fun she'd really like to have in that moment.

Therefore, she sought clarification, stalling. "What are you inexperienced in?"

"Having a girlfriend that I actually like."

Her eyes returned to slits. "You really are scum."

"Ouch." But he accepted the criticism with grace. 

"So, you like me, in a lovey-dovey kinda' way, not for my tits or whatever."

"Right."

"You're okay with me being a virgin? Or is it like a thing you have, going for inexperienced women so they can't tell the difference between a good or bad time?"

His smile dropped as he emphasized, "I don't have a virgin fetish. Back to my last point, I like you for you." 

Still, those kind words hit a wall. Yoshino returned with, "Are you sure you wanna deal with me going over the learning curve? What if injury occurs?" What kind of injury was she thinking of? She didn't know herself. 

A smirk appeared, his eyes somewhat darker, returning to the unmovable apathetic dullness he was known for. That apathy she perceived lorded over her as he said, "How forward. Unless you're not improving, I'm fine with teaching you the ropes. Might even be fun. In fact," His stare darkened, "It usually is."

A chill ran through her. This was a dream, right? To confirm, she tried to break the mood a little with another joke. 

"So, like a new shoe that actually fits, but you hav'ta' break it in and suffer the blisters."

"I guess…."

And silence. Awkward silence. 

This wasn't a dream. 

"We don't have to do anything tonight. We covered a lot of ground. Don't worry, a lot of it's intuitive."

She blurted. "I showered before coming here. And I always carry a toothbrush." The only thing was the condom. That's all people needed, right? And consent. Obviously. 

His head dove down and came back up with one eyebrow raised and a muffled smile. "You wanna' spend the night?"

Given the ambiguity behind their intentions, Yoshino stuck to facts. "The last bus that would take me home in good time just passed."

"Shit, is it already that late? Time does fly with you." 

Yeah, it did fly by. She kicked herself for not leaving earlier than she had planned. Toothbrushes in bags had a sway in determining how someone's night would end. 

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat, "Alright, let me clean up so I can have a moment to gather my thoughts. The bathroom's over there. It's about time to sleep anyway."

In the bathroom, blankly staring at herself in the mirror, Yoshino tried to pick up the fragments of her shattered mind. What the hell did she get herself into? Since when had she been so forward? Did Shouma lace the soup? That last one was too absurd. He seemed just as baffled as her regarding what she said. 

Oh God. What if she was imposing? Maybe she should go home… She was probably burdening him. Perhaps he had other plans that night. Face washed, teeth brushed, she stumbled out of the bathroom to Shouma still washing dishes. 

In a jilted tone, flighty, Yoshino rambled, "I'm so sorry, I probably should go. I definitely overstayed—" 

"—I want you to spend the night here." Shouma dried the last dish. She scanned the kitchen and the table for anything else to clean, he'd already done it. "The bedroom's over there. I'll sleep on the couch."

"I'd rather, well, since I haven't been able to keep to myself—I really want to sleep with you."

Shouma looked to be organizing something in a drawer but stopped dead in his tracks. "Okay. Let me get ready. Go lie down." 

"What about my jeans?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

Yoshino opened the door, deciding not to switch on the light and moved straight to the bed. The glow of the moonlight was enough to see the bed. 

Shouma slept on a large bed, low to the ground. It was clean, his closet door was open, and she could identify a few shirts. The room didn't smell like smoke like she expected it to. Instead, it smelled like spices and fruit. A large window allowed for a decent view of the sky. 

She sat on the side of the bed, nervously fiddling with her hair. Tempted by the thought of exploring the objects in Shouma's room, she relented, deciding it would be more fun if he was in the room. 

Instead, she stared out his window, muttering, "It must be so bright here in the morning…"

"I had to get black-out curtains."

She jumped back as Shouma stepped in. He sat beside her, pulling her in a side hug, resting his chin on her head. Yoshino noted mint and spice as she allowed herself to melt into his shoulder. Fingers intertwined as he gently pressed her further into his side. She was like butter on a hot pan. 

She looked up to meet his eyes, exploring and searching for any cues. The timing was almost telepathic. Her cheek received an almost-chaste-if-it-weren't-lingering peck. Then she froze, staring into his half-lidded gaze and earnest smile. 

"Hey. It's okay." He pulled her inner palm to his lips, kissing it. 

"M-My hands are sweaty…"

He shot her an all-consuming glare. "It tastes good."

Yoshino tried to think back to the last time she washed her hands. 

Shouma caught her in the middle of calculation, gently rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. "We don't have to do anything tonight. No rush." 

She bit her lip. Suddenly clear-minded, she sensed an opportunity to learn something she's always pined for—how to kiss. Agenda in mind, she pressed, "It's not that late, we're both sober, let's just take it slow. Reach a natural limit. Y'know—Get to know our bodies…"

He chuckled, saying mockingly, "Yeah, let's get to know our bodies."

Yoshino realized just how stupid and desperate she sounded in front of a guy so experienced. Why wouldn't he just go for someone who'd already blow him to completion by now? 

But she was no quitter. 

"Yoshino, come sit on my lap, back towards me." 

She followed his instructions. Now, instead of watching his face, she watched the door and the solitary sliver of dark at the bottom of the frame. They were alone, with no chance of interruption. 

Oh, and she sat with her legs apart on his thighs. He secured her in place with one arm. And the other arm, well, she felt the tickles of her dark curls behind her neck. And then a sudden coolness at the base of her skull, with the bulk of her mane thrown to the front of one shoulder.

"Your hair's pretty, these natural curls?"

The insecurities melted for that moment as she affirmed with a nod. There was gentle tugging at her scalp and the tickle of moving strands at her neck. He smoothed out any stray hairs, clearing the canvas now ready to be painted by lips.

"First thing I noticed. Your hair. Maybe a few months ago." 

"You did—ah…" Slight, warm suction eased the sudden cooling at the back of her neck. Seconds later, fire from the shoulders up. 

The click from his lips resonated in her ears. He widened and heated the sensation further, tilting her entire body forward for more control. One hand maneuvered the bend of her neck from her chin, giving him the patch of bare skin he wanted. 

He paused the kissing, reflectively adding while nuzzling her, "Yeah, I wondered how soft it would feel. I had to stop myself so many times from touching your hair."

"Thank you for your restraint." A sudden peppering of a few mind-crumbling kisses in one spot made her blurt, "Mmm… I never liked my hair." 

"It's cute. Especially when a curl sticks to your cheek like a cartoon blush," He said into her, holding his lips to her neck. 

"Second was your neck when you put your hair up." He traced lines from her chin to her shoulder. The tracing stopped at a bend. "This curve here, I could bury myself here for a while."

She shifted in place, chest rising and lowering with a tremor, "I think that would feel really good."

"I'll give you a sample." Mouth staying in contact with her skin, his tongue slid down to that crook, leaving a cooling trail. He sucked and then gnawed gently. 

"Mhmm." She threw her head back, trying to squeeze her thighs together. Breathless, she affirmed, "It feels amazing."

Her moans escalated as though out of her control. He was running the show, and for every new sensation was a unique vocalization in her repertoire. Like he was playing her as an instrument. 

And suddenly Yoshino found a new meaning behind the term player.

His arm around her waist tightened and pulled her into him. Her back made contact with his muscular front, and her tailbone felt the prod of an even harder subject of interest. Instincts kicked in as nervous writhing transitioned to playful grinding into his lap. 

He reacted with a sharp hiss between his teeth. She did something! But her little moment of celebration was flipped onto its back abruptly as he pushed her onto the bed.

And suddenly, she was underneath him. He straddled her hips and gently grasped her waist, now bare from her shirt incidentally hiked up. Her exposed front broiled from his burning palms and sweeping ogle.

"You've never kissed anyone."

Yoshino's eyes wandered away from him in guilt as she shook her head. "Never."

He smiled playfully, pulling her shirt down to cover her waist. "Follow my lead."  

While muttering a little apology, he cleared a few loose strands from her face, tucking them behind her ear. "I got a little carried away since you smell good." 

The face he made as he walked back the advancements was one of restraint. His breath remained hitched, his brows knit together, wild, black eyes, and a deep flush on his cheeks. 

She was faring no better. This evening with Shouma was an attack after attack. With every compliment, her core temperature shot up a degree. She pondered if these sorts of encounters could cause dangerously high fevers. Did she even have the muscle to move her mouth at this point?

He pulled her up to kneel on the bed. Their knees touched as they matched, facing kneeling on the bed. 

"Keep your lips relaxed. Pout, but don't purse your lips. Pay attention to how it feels and how I suck and put pressure on your lips." 

Innocently, she asked, "Is it how you like to be kissed?" 

"It's how I want to kiss you." 

"Okay… Uh…” How does someone relax their lips in a situation like this? She looked away, massaging her cheeks. Before she could ask, a hand snaked behind her neck. Pulling her in, he pressed on a tense spot with his thumb. 

"Ah!" She sounded to the shock of pain and release running down her shoulder. But his lips were on hers before she could figure out what he'd just done. It was a brilliant distraction tactic on his part. Like that, she had her first kiss. A gentle, slow, closed-mouthed kiss. He kept her relenting by working the tense points in her jaw. All these incredible, powerful, odd, new, soft, painful, and pleasurable sensations stirred her brain to static, bringing down another level of weakness. 

He pulled her in closer by her bottom on both sides, lifting and squeezing her ass so she could only graze his erection with trembling hips. Her arms, which she thought paralyzed, reached for stability and control by wrapping around his neck, with trembling nails combing the back of his unstyled, shaggy mess of hair. His hold on her ass guided her up and down, foreshadowing. 

She separated away from the kiss, burying her head in the crook of his neck. "Are you getting carried away again?" She teased. His hands stayed where they were, squeezing harder, and she jumped. 

He chuckled, finally lowering her onto his lap, "Show me what you just learned."

Two things ran through her overwhelmed mind: 1. She had to kiss back. 2. That's what an erection felt like over clothes. She exhaled unsteadily, counting down in her head. He didn't help soothe the hesitancy with his wandering caresses over her thighs and back. Accompanying his explorations was a piercing, blackened, and resolute stare. 

"You can do no wrong," he reassured. 

Because, in a sense, there was nothing she could do. It was as though the outcomes were predetermined. Outcomes only he knew about. 

She made her best attempt, aiming for a tender lock of the lips and graceful release. Starting with a gentle graze, feeling what his lips were like, still and relaxed. The faintest note of tobacco presented. And with an open pout, she kissed his bottom lip and then, the top. Slow and steady, she experimented with different pressures. Then she licked a little, which he didn't show her. He was wrong. She could do wrong. But how could she not try to taste him? 

Her curiosity triggered something in him, unintentionally raising the stakes. He began reciprocating fervently. Less control and more devouring, his fingertips pressed into the back of her scalp, hooking into her hair. While catching breaths, Shouma sternly instructed, "Open your mouth." He already had his thumb pressing on her chin, guiding how much of her he wanted to welcome him.

All her life, she dreaded the French kiss. The idea of tongues making contact made her shrivel up inside. 

With Shouma, however, it was delightful, like a forbidden delicacy. She followed his lead the best she could, then pushed a little too much, clanging their teeth. They paused, laughing in between apologies. He used that moment of disarmament to get her lying on her back. 

The make-out continued. This time, his hand eagerly up her shirt. Though his hand pushed her flesh up, internally, she was dropping. 

And then she felt a snap and relief from pressure. "You did that with one hand?"

He paused. "Ha... If you can use a lighter, you can unhook a bra with one hand."

"Fair point." 

He should still quit smoking.

Chapter Text

All Yoshino could do was clutch at his crown with trembling fingers, curled like Velcro in his hair. Honestly, she imagined him as aggressive in bed, pent-up all day by keeping face and finally releasing through a long, hard fuck. 

But no, he was the type to lap up and play with what seemed like insignificant areas of skin, turned into personal erogenous zones. Yoshino, the virgin, didn't expect to be explored and savoured. 

And it was torture. How she imagined Shouma's style of fucking was a mere projection. She was the one who craved a release of pent-up energy from a long, hard fuck. 

Her jeans were still on, and her belt buckled tight, digging into her hips. The sultry heat between her thighs sapped into thick denim. His tongue moved at an aching pace just above her breasts, tasting another sensitive spot. And she kicked herself for handing him another cue to identify another weakness. 

So, she tried to increase the pace by reaching for the hem of his shirt. Pausing, he straddled her and slipped it off like it was a nuisance. All the teasing and build-up left her overwhelmed by the sight of a built, strong, scarred, tattooed physique. 

"That what you want?" 

She could only nod with pleading eyes. She tried to say I'm ready, but the words wouldn't flow out. Instead, she grazed the waistband of his pants. "This too."

"No."

"We won't?"

"I mean not right now." 

"Fuck." She huffed, forearms covering her face. 

"Not too long ago, you were preoccupied with your toplessness." He reasoned.

She pouted. "Where'd ya find this patience?"

"I don't play with food."

"So ya' play with women?"

They sat in silence, cracking grimaces that contained their laughter. 

Then he flipped the tone, "I play with women, not for long, I can admit." He returned from sitting up to kiss her lips and moved her arms to her sides. 

While his hand danced down her abdomen, he fiddled with the buckle of her belt, then stopped and whispered in her ear, "But Yoshino, I wanna' squeeze all the fun outta' you."

That hand moved between her breasts, toying with the valley as though unsure of where to begin. Shouma added, "Slowly. In a way that keeps you comin' back."

She fussed through escaped whimpers. Timed like punishment for her whining, he moved off her to lie on his side next to her, his head propped on his palm, letting his view remain unobstructed and above her.

"Fuck, your rack is…"

"Rack?" She pushed back.

He shrugged, "I don't have a better word."

"Maybe tits?"

His caress swirled around a peak, "Really? It doesn't sound right. How about breasts?"

This conversation somewhat relaxed her, distracting her from the uncanny ebbs of emotions caused by exposing her bare breasts in front of the opposite sex.

She countered, "Nah, that's too technical… How about…" She raised her palms, moving them like she was smoothing out a sticker in front of her. "Milkers."

He gently squeezed her flesh. "That's somehow even more technical."

She bit her cheek, uncertain. "Mammaries?" 

Deadpan, Shouma replied, "That's even worse."

She giggled, beaming, "I know, I just wanted to get it outta' the way."

He pinched the swollen nub he worked to tease out, bringing a light, ticklish shock to her chest. It was more sobering than arousing. "Does that feel okay?"

She wrapped her hand around his wrist. "It tickles. A bit painful but in a nice way."

"Hmm." He dove in for another heated, open kiss. This time, it was messier and unyielding to let rest, as though he intended on bringing her to a head-spinning state by taking her breath. He pulled her to stand on her knees, shaky, and he sat cross-legged, solid. Steamy scalding breath hitched between her breasts. In this position, she was technically taller, hovering over him, but the weakness in her core reduced the use of her arms to mere support, hinging on broad shoulders. She barely noticed the extent of the tattoo on his back as he nibbled, kissed, and teased this part she kept hidden and covered from the world, moving slowly from the bulk of her breasts to her nipples. 

The capricious nature of his teeth, testing the pressure of his bite around such a precious part of her, caused an unintelligible stir. She choked on gasps of part protests and part admissions of pleasure (all audible nonsense) as goosebumps crawled all over her body. 

He sounded a hum, similar to when he observed Yoshino flip octopus in Takoyaki batter. That meant he learned something, something essential and intimate about her body. 

Pausing, he rested his chin between her breasts, looking up at her. She averted his gaze, swallowing. What other mind-numbing, unpredictable, sexy attack was he planning?

Finally, he said, "Your nails."

She gasped. Then, bumbling in Shouma's arms, Yoshino flung her palms off his shoulders. 

"Shit. I left marks." Yoshino inspected the extent of the damage she had done to his body--minimal compared to the keloid on his collarbone. But still enough to have her brainstorm how to keep it from scarring and creating makeshift shoulder pads for next time. If there would be a next time... 

He squeezed her waist, then reassuring, "It's hot. Keep doing that."

"What? Holdin' on for dear life?"

He nodded abruptly. In a flash, his tone and demeanour went from playful and in control to serious and animalistic. More importantly, the read she had on him disappeared. Though it was a joke, it obviously triggered something within him. He slipped a hand between her thighs in her probably flooded pants. She couldn't tell anymore. Mission control to that zone had lost communication long ago. 

He groped at his handiwork, assessing the damage. Her hips bucked, following the direction of his kneading at her inner thighs, widening her stance. Like he wanted, she clawed at his shoulders for stability, her knuckles turning white. 

Rubbing at her aching groin, He sucked and nibbled at her skin vigorously. Yoshino quickly learned that the moment of pain between his teeth was well worth the release of pleasure that soon followed with the sweep of his tongue, especially with combining his attention to the mess between her legs. 

And then she was on her back with Shouma swiftly undressing her as he peppered kisses down her abdomen. The click of her belt was barely noticeable. She sighed in relief upon his releasing the cinch at her hips, lifting them to help him slide off that denim prison. 

Panties came with the denim in a hapless pile on the floor. 

Fuck. 

Naked. She was fully naked.

Her body wasn't as tight as she'd like. She wasn't someone who exercised as often as she should. The love of food definitely showed around her belly and thighs. 

Those insecurities were blocked entirely by Shouma embracing her, pulling her on top of him. He pulled back from the kiss, tucking away locks of hair behind her ears. At that moment, she appreciated his erection poking her bare ass. Tempted to move down, Shouma grasped at her bottom, sliding her forward on his rugged front. 

"No fair," She groaned, nodding to his semi-clothed state. 

He wasn't paying attention, pulling her in to make out. Forced to lean onto her elbows for stability, Yoshino had no room for mischief. Moaning and whimpering in lip lock, she melted in his wandering touch that explored the apex between her thighs, massaging the folds and spreading her wetness. 

"Shouma…" She whimpered into his mouth, shuddering. His finger teased her entrance, in and out barely. It was enough for her to listen to the odd noise from his manipulation of her swollen pussy. She couldn't bring herself to be embarrassed, knowing she should've been, but the arousal was too far gone. Mind stirring, she mumbled a soft swear in his ear as she rested her head in the crook of his neck. In fact, it was the perfect opportunity to take revenge for all the neck torture. Shy and uncertain, she started with a few pecks on his neck, gradually becoming more comfortable learning his skin's flavour. Salty and spicy. Emboldened, she went in for a teasing nibble. He hissed, retaliating by inserting a finger. 

At first, she could keep teasing the spots she discovered with bated breath. But Shouma was relentless, fiddling, curious, eventually curling in her with the exact pressure to have her crumble into him. This wasn't a climax. Yoshino knew that. It was, instead, a nerve or literal switch to get her to a putty-like state. Working that spot was the guaranteed avenue to orgasm, an area she had difficulty reaching independently. 

Fuck.  She couldn't win. Of course not, a level one virgin going against a level who-knows-but-its-high in this sort of play.

He just gave her the advantage of being on top like a carrot, dangling on a stick, leading to being on her back, legs and arms rendered useless from his persistence. 

He moved to kneel between her legs, spreading her by the knees. His hands returned to exploring inside, seeing if that spot was still reachable. Of course, it was. He stopped abruptly, and she moaned in displeasure. Ah, he was chuckling. The bastard had full reign over this interaction while she remained drunk on his fingers at a serendipitously found sweet spot. 

Then he licked said fingers. 

She wanted to curl up and die. All the what-ifs flooded her mind, all drawing on negative scenarios. Taste, smell, sound... 

"I'm eating you out." 

"Ha... Okay. Um." The whole but-I-didn't-shower thing in the brainless smuts totally made sense now.

"Get over it, you're beautiful." Though Shouma said that so bluntly, it really did push any negativity she had towards her body.

The initial contact of tongue to inner thigh was a pleasant, further weakening move. Slowly, he moved to the other side. It tickled intensely in a way that she tried to fend him off in some futile, squirmy manner.

He continued his wry treatment of her inner thighs until she broke out into flighty, nerve-fading giggles, trying to shut access, but his arms were too stubborn. He kept tickling and tickling, and when she was utterly distracted, his mouth moved to the primary goal. A laugh midway halted, transitioning to a sigh of relief and then a few yelps, until finally, begging and praising Shouma incoherently. His hair tangled between her fingers, tongue flicking over her entrance and settling to her clit. 

Then his digits joined his tongue, sliding in effortlessly, finding that spot. She could only describe it as unexpectedly lifting and fluttery. No burning. No pain. She focused on that feeling for a little while, letting go of the world, and then her eyes opened to meet Shouma still buried between her legs. A tension built inside over the idea of Shouma, who'd been kind, funny, willing to listen, reciprocating, and thinking of how to treat her in his bed over the semester like she had been daydreaming--It set her over the edge. 

"I-I'm cumming..." Her body spasmed, he kept pace steadily until she laughed and implored him to come up and fuck her. 

He slid his tongue over her abdomen to her neck and then kissed her, carefully pressing his body on hers. She slinked legs and arms behind him, and he pushed that frustratingly covered erection on her lower belly. 

Shouma reached for his nightstand drawer. 

"Can I pull your pants off while you look?" 

He found the condom by the end of that sentence. But he obliged, taking Yoshino's wrist and guiding her to his waistband. 

The pants slid down. And Yoshino had a mix of feelings upon seeing her first hard dick. Mostly curious. Her fingers danced up and down the soft fleshy cover over the sizeable stiff shaft. 

"You have a nice dick? Or...?" 

"Cock?"

"Phallus?"

"Rod?" 

"Manhood?"

"See, but that implies that what makes a man is his... One-eyed snake, that's my favourite name for it."

"Nice One-eyed snake?"

"Thanks."

"What's the best way to touch you?" She asked, point blank.

He kissed her forehead. "How about a raincheck? I really wanna fuck you right now."

She remained firm in her sentiments. "Just a little bit, so I can have more ground to stand on next time."

"You stand on plenty of ground," He confessed, matter-of-factly.

"Please?" She pouted.

He set the condom beside her and pulled her up to kneel in front of her. Her focus remained on his erection. Gently, he wrapped her fingers over his length and kept his hand over hers. This was an intense curiosity for her, and she remained fixed on his instructions.

He cleared his throat. "Squeezing this much is good. Run your thumb along the bottom of the tip... Try not to put too much pressure on the soft part along the bottom."

"So if I start with the tip in my mouth and my hand wraps around... That should be the best way to start?"

Stunned, he removed his hand over hers. "Start what?"

Yoshino continued stroking him like he showed. She looked at him with mirth, cheeks raised. "My blowjob career."

He picked up the condom jerkily. Yoshino noticed a bit of precum escape, finding refuge on her thumb. Shouma stopped her hand, opened the wrapper, and rolled the sheath down. Yoshino watched innocently, taking in how he did it while sucking on her thumb to see how he tasted. 

Sweet, with a salty finish. 

Shouma replaced her thumb with his, pulling down her jaw to part her lips. 

He rested his forehead on hers, lips separated by the tip of his thumb, "Fuck, you drive me crazy."

She was at a loss, unsure of what she'd done to stir such a reaction. Suddenly, she was on her back, caged in Shouma's arms, his tongue in her mouth, demanding her to open further. He teased the idea of entering her, sliding his length between her outer lips. She writhed, begging—all futilely sounding into his mouth. Shouma pulled his hips away breathlessly, and Yoshino was dizzy from being engulfed by him so suddenly. 

Tauntingly, he quipped, "Ah, I got carried away. You okay?"

Looking him dead in the eyes, she affirmed, "I liked it." Thus, rendering his little move wholesome. 

He nuzzled the tiny space where the jaw met her ear, then sucked on her earlobe. It was surprisingly sensitive, and—

Ah! 

—She threw her head back, vocal cords failing, taking in his filling girth, his lower body grinding into her sensitive, swollen bits. 

"Fuck, you're tight." He grunted in her ear. She sighed yes, keep going, in response. 

He did it again, showing off his stupidly impressive mastery in the use of surprise. With free reign in thrusting, Shouma started slowly, checking in and ensuring she wasn't in pain. At that moment, Yoshino didn't dare tell him she had a box of well-loved sex toys tucked discreetly under her desk. She developed a sexually motivated study reward system. It's how she got her scholarships. 

Granted, this was an entirely different experience to toys. His strength in thrusting winded her to the point of seeing stars. Then there was the kissing, the warmth and weight of his body, and the natural twitch of his cock inside her that no vibration could ever mimic. Yes, the fucking was good. If they went straight to fucking without all that foreplay, she'd probably prefer the toys. 

She cried out a little with every push, repeating his name in his ear and how he felt so good. Slowing down to her lament, he reached behind him, separating her locked ankles at his waist, throwing them over his shoulder. Her hips twisted one way while her back remained flat on the bed. This level of penetration was new to her like he reached a whole new length she never chose to venture on her own. And, he took the liberty to nibble at her ankle, side-eyeing the mess he was making of her. 

As he neared his climax, Yoshino noted he grew silent. The stone face returned. The only indication of any arousal was the flush on his chest, heavy breathing, and sweat on his brow. 

Shouma said one deep fuck at that critical moment, looking down and slowing the pace. But he made sure to really slam those last few strokes, reminding her of how much strength he'd been holding back. And then came the sensation of a slight warm pumping inside her. He keeled over her, pressing lips to that corner of her neck he said he could stay buried in forever.

Shouma pulled out, causing a surprising amount of distress within Yoshino. Akin to separation anxiety. Her legs fell straight into bed, but she could only smile, caressing the back of his head.

"I. Uh. Thank you." She finally landed. 

He sighed, "That's the bare minimum, Yoshino."

"What do you mean, bare minimum?"

Deadpan, he listed other things he usually liked to do to someone before calling it finito. 

"So this is slow?"

"This is slow." He caressed her bare skin underneath him with the back of his hand. 

She shivered. 

...

The soft pressure from the weight of his bare hand on Yoshino's abdomen ran pillars of heat down her body to a numbing effect. Her mind replayed the events of last night, the orgasm, the sounds, the stunning man beside her… 

She gently rose from the bed, looking for her phone for the time. Good, not too late in the morning. She'd have a good chunk of Sunday to study some more. 

She then glanced at his nightstand. On it, a photo of a younger Shouma next to a familiar face. 

Her grandfather. 

Conveniently, he stirred awake. 

Yoshino picked up the frame of her grandfather and Shouma standing next to each other in front of the rest of the Somei group. 

He hugged her from behind, kissing her neck.

Yoshino stiffened, "how do you know Renji Somei?"

"He's my old man. How do you know Renji Somei—"

"Fuck—you're my uncle." She slipped out of his grasp, frantically putting her clothes on. 

"What?"

Her jeans were not pleasant to wear. "I'm his legit but disowned... Estranged granddaughter."

Shouma examined her as though trying to make sense of her. "I was adopted when I was fourteen. It's not incest." 

She paused for a moment, drawing a panicked conclusion. "It's still weird, you're still family." 

"I didn't know Renji had a granddaughter, just as you didn't know he adopted a completely biologically unrelated kid." 

"So you're okay with this?"

"I don't see why not." 

"So that means you're Yakuza?"

Her dad hated all things Yakuza. And surely, any affiliation Yoshino could garner would have her father dead on impact upon receiving the news. 

But what news?  She decided on the spot that this was a one-night stand. A learning experience. Easily erasable. She pulled at her hair. This is why people get to know one another for months before fucking. 

He mumbled some swear words, explaining, "I'm not Yakuza. Renji forced me to go to university. I'm just a regular law student." 

"The scars. The tattoos. The apartment… You still run a few errands…"

He remained silent. 

"Well. Uh. It was nice to get to know your body. I think. Let's never do this again." 

"Wait."

She stopped at his bedroom doorway, "what is it?"

"I get why you'd feel this way, so please take a little more time."

"I'm planning to reestablish ties with Renji, so I don't know how this'll work if I'm considered family." She remembered her younger brothers' faces, reminding herself of her long-term goals. "Maybe. Thank you for your company, Shouma, but I think we need to end things here. I need Gramps around, but I don't want to further go against Dad, since he'd probably suffer a stroke with what I'm doing, and then I can't imagine how he'd feel if he knew I was dating his brother, regardless of circumstance or relation, you're in that role."

He palmed his forehead, lips forming a thin line. "Fair enough."

"I'm sure we'll cross paths again... As family. So let's do our best to forget this." She rushed to the main entrance, putting on her coat. 

Shouma watched her, calm, and shirtless. He said plain-spoken, "Yoshino, I think yer' overreacting."

She muttered goodbye and shut the apartment door behind her. The word overreacting rattled in her brain. Even if Shouma disagreed with how she felt, it didn't stir an ounce of anger from her. 

Because he was right. 

When Yoshino got home, she was in another minor panic upon realizing that  fuck, she forgot her toothbrush.