269 - Story About Buying My Classmate Once A Week

Chapter 269 “It hurts.” I gently rubbed my stomach, feeling stuffed with pasta. Miyagi had cooked enough for more than three people. We had divided it equally between the two of us, yet I was so full there was no room left for dessert. “You should’ve left some.” Miyagi, who had come over to my room, spoke in a somewhat displeased tone. When I glanced at her sitting beside me, she seemed oddly unbothered despite having eaten quite a lot. “It would’ve been wasteful.” “But it’s better than being too full to move. If you’re uncomfortable, why not lie down?” “It’s not that I can’t move.” I wasn’t so stuffed that I wanted to lie flat on the floor, though I wouldn’t jump at the chance to run a marathon right now. I was content leaning back against the bed, still capable of sitting comfortably. “So, what movie are we watching? Or do you prefer a drama or anime?” After the meal, we would watch a movie in my room. It was a promise I hadn’t forgotten with Miyagi. Still, I was open to doing something else if she wanted a change of plans. “Hmm.” Miyagi wrapped her fingers around the strings of her hoodie absentmindedly, mulling over her choice. “Isn’t there something you want to watch?” When I pressed her, she unknotted the tangled strings and glanced at me vaguely, tugging at the hoodie strings before looking away. “Miyagi?” “Yeah.” Her response was brief, and silence ensued. The strings of her hoodie drooped, her hands pressed against the floor, eyes fixed downward instead of on me. I wasn’t sure why, but Miyagi seemed off. Perhaps mentioning Mio’s name earlier was a mistake. Although it was true, maybe it wasn't the right moment to bring it up. “If there’s nothing you’re interested in, maybe we can do something else?” I offered her a smile as she continued staring at the floor. Naturally, she didn’t look back at me. Instead, she murmured softly. “...Could you get the nail clipper?” “Eh, nail clipper? Why?” Though it seemed we ruled out watching a movie, I couldn’t fathom why nail clippers were suddenly mentioned. “I want to cut some nails.” “Now?” “Right now.” Miyagi declared it firmly. I didn’t understand why she suddenly brought it up, but since it wasn’t something worth refusing, I fetched the nail clippers. “I got them, so give me your hand.” Reaching for her wrist, Miyagi shot me a visibly irritated look. “No, Sendai-san, you should give me your hand.” “Why?” “Because I’m going to cut your nails.” “...Why?” There wasn’t any significant meaning to cutting nails. As people, our nails grow, and when they do, we cut them. I appreciated having them a certain length, but if they were too long, cooking and everyday life became burdensome. Hence, I cut them. It’s a simple notion, without depth. Yet, when Miyagi suggested cutting my nails, I found myself with unnecessary thoughts. “Remember at New Year's, Sendai-san, you trimmed my nails.” Miyagi spoke in a low voice. “I did.” Back then, I had ulterior motives. I was aware of what such an act might lead to. I wondered if Miyagi shared any similar thoughts. “...This is to return the favor.” Her quiet words eradicated everything between us, even the heavy feeling in my stomach from all the eaten pasta or the slight regret I felt when mentioning Mio’s name. The air in the room, set warmer at Miyagi’s preference, buzzed audibly. Sounds usually unnoticed now seemed exaggeratedly loud. I figured it must’ve been nerves. A temperature suitable for Miyagi that would normally feel hot now went undetected. “I don’t need any payback. I’ll trim Miyagi's nails.” I gently laid my hand over hers, pressed against the floor. This wasn’t something I should expect. Even though I understood, I hoped Miyagi shared the same thoughts as mine. “No need to cut mine. Like I said, I’m cutting yours.” Miyagi’s voice was low as she held my hand firmly. “I bet you’d cut them too short.” “I won’t do that.” She defensively retorted while showing her own well-manicured nails. I inspected them; indeed, there were no deep trims, neatly cut. “Okay, I get it, but you’d probably be terrible at clipping someone else’s nails, and it scares me.” Having trimmed Miyagi's nails during New Year's made me realize cutting other people’s nails wasn’t as simple as handling your own. “It’s okay. Just give me the clippers.” “...You’re definitely going to hurt me.” “I promise I won’t. Now hand them over.” “Miyagi, you’re clumsy and genuinely scary.” “Sendai-san, be quiet. Just give me the clippers.” I clutched the nail clipper in my grip, unable to discern the reason behind her unhappy expression. “Sendai-san.” Her firm voice prompted me to hand her the nail clippers. Miyagi wasn’t the type to convey a desire for intimacy through mundane gestures like nail clipping. Yet, her words suggested an inclination towards a shared longing. She took the clippers, inspecting them as if seeing them for the first time, before carefully clipping my nails—starting with my thumb, pausing between each nail. Logical thinking indicated I was the one entertaining these thoughts alone. Watching as she neatly clipped down each nail to the sound of precision, I couldn’t help but wish she felt as I did. A final click severed the last piece. Even without comprehending Miyagi’s intentions, my nails had been reduced to neatly pressed lengths, with all the white edges trimmed. “See, now they're too short.” I complained to Miyagi, who placed the clippers on the table. It didn’t hurt, but I’d never had them this short, and it felt peculiar. “This isn’t too short, and even if it were, nails grow back quickly.” “Well, that’s true…” As I looked away from my overly short nails, I met Miyagi’s gaze. Leaning in, I planted a kiss on her ear. She pushed my head away. I grasped her wrist, lightly nipped her neck, pressing closer. But Miyagi wouldn’t lie back. "Sendai-san." She called my name with dissatisfaction while resisting, pressing her hand against my stomach. The pasta’s presence returned, asserting itself within. “Miyagi.” I whispered beside her ear, caressing her waist. Her reaction, stronger than before, showed her disapproval, pushing me back firmly. “Why does Sendai-san do things like this?” “...Aren’t you inviting me?” “I'm not. Step back.” Having asked me to “step back,” Miyagi tugged at my clothing anxiously. Could it be— Could it be, something like that? —Really? "...Do you think I would say no, Miyagi?" I asked directly, trying to avoid hearing she didn’t mean it that way, and so my question came out somewhat indirect. "That doesn’t clarify anything... I need a clear answer on whether I’m allowed to or not." Miyagi's grip tightened on my clothes, pulling me closer until the distance shrank to half the space of a pen. "Before I answer, I’d like to ask one thing. Was there a reason for cutting my nails?" "Not really." "Not really... You know, normally in situations like this, isn’t it the one who does the touching who trims their nails?" "...I just wanted to touch you first, and I don't know what's considered normal." Miyagi’s response was unexpected, making me want to confirm what I’d heard. But before I could, she interjected, "So, what’s your answer? If you don’t want to, we can just watch a movie." "This isn’t the kind of moment to switch to a movie." "That doesn’t help." "I'm yours, Miyagi. Do as you like." "What do you mean by that?" "Do I really need to explain?" "Yes, you do... You always ask me before we continue." Miyagi was being diligent, following the proper steps, and trying to move forward. It felt like proof I was being treated better than a mere pet. It seemed to confirm that she truly cared for me. It would be easier for her to simply proceed without considering my feelings, yet she was choosing to seek them out, which could only mean one thing. I looked at Miyagi. Her grip loosened, and she averted her gaze. In a quiet voice, she muttered something about not needing to watch a movie, and I could predict what she'd say next. She would likely suggest returning to her room, and I wanted to prevent that. So I chose not to ask the obvious question. Right now, if I pressed Miyagi to articulate her feelings into exact words, she'd probably escape from me and avoid processing those emotions. "Miyagi." I held her arm, ensuring she wouldn’t leave. "I want you to do it." These were the only words I could manage to say, but I made sure they were clear and unmistakable. Then, I kissed her fingertips, conveying what words alone couldn’t fully express.