282 - Story About Buying My Classmate Once A Week

Chapter 282 At the end of our clasped hands, Sendai-san is chattering away. I'm trying to gather my thoughts, unsure of what to say, but she keeps rambling on, making it hard for me to focus. She's talking about that calico cat she often sees, or about the unsweetened French toast we had for lunch. Filling in the silence with safe topics chosen from countless possibilities, she leaves my mind feeling numb, and all I can do is make small acknowledgments. We get on and off the train. The sun loses its strength, and the color of the sky changes. We walk the catless sidewalk, and home draws near. Sendai-san continues with her safe conversations, unchanged. There's no obligation for me to speak, but with nothing else to do but nod, I find myself distracted by thoughts about the face I saw that I didn't need to know, and about this other student I have yet to meet. Sendai-san's voice doesn't linger in my head. All that remains are feelings I want to turn away from. Even in front of the entrance, as I unlock the door and take off my shoes, Sendai-san keeps talking about trivial things. "Are you listening, Miyagi?" As we step into the shared space, I hear Sendai-san's gentle voice. While debating whether to head to my room, I reply with a simple "Yeah," and she naturally places her bag on the table. Then she starts boiling water with the electric kettle. Two mugs are set on the table, and I sigh before preparing tea bags. "Miyagi, you know..." Before sitting down, Sendai-san comes over, looking at me. Her voice feels heavy, and I want to cover my ears. I sense if I respond, it might lead to something unpleasant, but I've already missed the timing to retreat to my room. "...What is it?" I reluctantly speak, staring intently at the mugs. "I'm sorry about today." She doesn't specify what she's apologizing for, but I have a vague idea. "There's nothing for you to apologize for, Sendai-san. You don't need to apologize twice." She's likely referring to the "student of Sendai-san" we encountered at the store. "I should apologize." "Why do you think that?" "Because you're upset, Miyagi." "I'm not upset." "Not even about me sharing things about you?" "I don't care about that." I'm curious about the details of the various "things," but asking would inevitably lead to her talking about that student. Hearing about topics I don't want discussed in her voice is simply unbearable. "Do you dislike Kikyō-chan, Miyagi?" "It's not like that." She's not someone I categorize as liked or disliked. I don't want to sort her into either box, nor do I want to think about her. "...Then, perhaps," her voice drops slightly. It gives me a bad feeling, prompting me to shift my gaze from the mugs to her. "Are you upset because... you're jealous—" "I'm not, so go to your room." I interrupt her unfinished sentence and deny it. Her tutoring job doesn't concern me. Therefore, the students don't concern me. Her part-time job is not something I should interfere with, so there's no need for her to be noisy or to apologize. When she brings up matters I'm trying to forget, I find myself at a loss for words again. It's like the enjoyable and unenjoyable parts of the day are stirred together, making my emotions feel lost. Continually mixing feelings I want to separate leaves a bad taste. "How about the tea?" Sendai-san quietly asks. "I'll make it." "For both of us?" "I'll make it and leave it in front of your room." "Why not drink it here together?" "I'm not drinking." I reply coldly to her gentle smile, but she doesn't change her expression, speaking to me in a soft voice. "I want to drink together with you, Miyagi." "If you're here, I'll go to my room." "Don't say that, just sit down." Before I could turn away, she grabbed my arm, pulling me. Though it wasn't a strong force, her intent not to let me go to my room was clear. But even so, there's no need for me to follow her words. "No." I briefly respond, peeling off her hand attached to my arm, but she doesn't give up. She pulls out a chair, taps its backrest, and smiles again. "If you sit, I'll do something you like." "What do you mean?" "You like having your feet licked, don't you?" Accusingly, Sendai-san says it, looking at me. "I don't like it. Rather than that, the water is ready. If you want tea, then make it." "You don't have to hold back since you're wearing a skirt." Sendai-san, who said she wanted to drink tea with me, abandons her task and redirects the conversation to an unnecessary place. "The skirt has nothing to do with it." "It does. It's easier to lick your feet if you're wearing a skirt." As she says this, Sendai-san presses on my shoulders, forcing me to sit in the chair. Infuriating. Truly infuriating. I attempt to rise from the chair I didn’t wish to sit in, but Sendai-san quickly kneels down before me. This is something that has happened many times before. I've had Sendai-san sit on the floor and lick my feet. Even if my mind seems stirred, it's a memory easily retrieved, one I cannot forget. "Stand up; don't do unnecessary things." It's not an order, but I tell her and nudge her leg. "It's fine if I don't stand." "It's not fine." I nudge her again, and she grips my leg with a painful firmness. This is nearly unprecedented, so I assertively say, "Let go," yet instead, she lifts my skirt above my knees. "What are you planning to do?" Instead of a response, her lips meet my knee. The warmth and softness surprise me with how naturally they meld into my skin. Still, I cannot accept her lips. "Stop it." On a day like today, I don't want to be touched by Sendai-san. Yet she doesn't stop. With her lips pressing against my knee, I feel the tip of her tongue. She licks, retreats, and then presses on again. "Sendai-san!" I strongly call her name, pulling at her bangs, which makes her lips retreat. She raises her face and smiles. "You're too loud. You don't need to shout that much for me to hear." "If you heard, then stop." "If you want me to stop, beg me by saying, 'Please stop'." "Absolutely not." "I figured you would say that." "Just stop it." "Absolutely not." "Sendai-san!" Calling her firmly again, her fingers touch my knee. Her fingers trace the places her lips were, as if declaring possession, then she languidly licks. "It's disgusting." "You mean it feels good." Without lifting her face, she states this, placing another kiss on my knee. Her fingers unroll my socks, caressing my ankle. "Why do you do these things?" As I push against Sendai-san's head, her body moves away, but she quickly grabs my leg again. Her fingers trail along my calf, her lips brushing against the top of my foot, soon followed by the tip of her tongue. Kisses are repeated countless times, her tongue tracing over my skin. It's both unsettling and strangely pleasant. The warmth of her body brings back unwanted memories, tangled with the orders of the past. Sendai-san on the bed. Our mingling warmth. —No. This is not something I should be recalling now. "Sendai-san, give me an answer." I still haven't heard the reason for these actions. "...Because you're in a bad mood, Miyagi." She murmurs, lifting her head. "I'm not in a bad mood. Just not in a good one." "It's the same." "It's not the same, and whether I'm in a good mood or not shouldn't matter to you." "I want things to be better for you, though." "Licking my feet won't improve anything." "Then, what should I do?" Sendai-san's voice isn't particularly soft or harsh; it's somewhere neutral.