292 - Story About Buying My Classmate Once A Week

Chapter 292 The proximity of being next to each other—whether it's close or far—I can't tell. But in this confined space, a room that's not too big, it feels natural that Sendai-san is close enough that our shoulders might touch. Since then, the tablet remained in front of us, finishing a film we weren't sure we wanted to watch. I sighed, releasing a "haa," and splashed at the water's surface. Splash. The sound reverberated through the bathroom, wetting my face. I closed my eyes and shook my head, then murmured softly, "This is frustrating." After watching the movie to the end credits, we decided who would take a bath first with a game of rock-paper-scissors. I won, and so it’s me, on the verge of drowning in the bathtub. Sendai-san is still in her room. Opening my eyes, I looked at the blue-tinted water dyed by the bath salts. After pressing play on the movie interrupted by our kiss, Sendai-san's composure held fast, and didn't vanish away into nothingness—nothing happened between us. That meant we could watch the movie till the end peacefully and uneventfully, which I shouldn't feel dissatisfied about. I never intended to do anything more than watch the movie with Sendai-san, nor did I wish for something to be done to me, so I should have no complaints, yet it feels dull. "It's because the movie was uninteresting." Lacking enough interest to keep watching the screen, my attention drifted to Sendai-san beside me. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if Sendai-san did what she did to the penguin to me, or if I did the same to her. Such thoughts floated up from somewhere within me, only to fade away, repeating over and over. Even now, I find myself wondering what would have happened if I had followed Sendai-san’s lead then. A foggy uncertainty lingers within me, refusing to lift even in a bathroom without Sendai-san. Instead, it morphs into something heavier than the water, and denser than the blue surface, gravitating towards the "Sendai-san" in me. This formless desire threatens to solidify, prompting me to smack my cheeks lightly. What would Sendai-san do in this situation? That thought drifts into my mind, only to be hurriedly dismissed. This is not something worth pondering. After all, Sendai-san does it by— I forcefully erase the memory of the secret she once confided to me in the past. "Seriously, this is annoying." What I should be thinking about now isn't Sendai-san, but the place where the "penguins" we planned to see together over the break are located. Since I insisted I would decide, I need to choose our "destination" before the break ends. The aquarium we visited together. The zoo we visited together. Both places had penguins, so either would suffice. But penguins aren't exactly uncommon, so they can be found in many places if you look for them. So, another location could work too. If I'm undecided, we could even let a game of chance choose, or simply pick the closest place. For Sendai-san, penguins arguably don’t matter much; seeing them here or there doesn't make much of a difference. I suspect Sendai-san doesn’t particularly like penguins. It's not just penguins. Animals, and even things that aren't animals, seem equally indifferent to her. Simultaneously, nothing seems to make it onto her list of dislikes either. It might just mean that it's all inconsequential to her. Sendai-san's notion of "likes" and "dislikes" is like a fluffy cloud, prone to changing shape and vanishing easily, I think. Being with such a Sendai-san sometimes makes me feel like I might just be one of those things she doesn’t particularly like but doesn’t dislike either. At those times, Sendai-san, looking at me, touching me as if it were the most natural thing, feels like a mistake—like she’s mistakenly focusing on me. It's not an issue for a tutor's student to be like that, but it's not amusing for me to become one of those things. "It's all Sendai-san’s fault." I slap the blue surface of the water. Right now, Sendai-san's feelings don’t matter. I want to see the penguins during the break, and if we're going to see them, it's better to research before going. After leaving the bathroom, I change into sweats and head to the shared space. I set a glass on the table, pour orange juice from the refrigerator, and take a sip while eyeing Sendai-san’s room. The door remains closed. I take another sip and exhale. Having no reason to stay here, I’m about to return to my room with the glass when Sendai-san appears in the shared space, the door opening where it hadn’t before. “Just got out of the bath?” She asks softly. “You can tell just by looking.” “I can, but I wanted to confirm.” Saying so, Sendai-san steps closer and lightly tugs at my hair. “Miyagi, your hair’s still damp. Did you dry it properly?” “It's mostly dried.” Although it might fall short of what Sendai-san means by "properly," I did towel off after the bath. It may be wetter compared to usual, but since I did dry it a bit, there should be no issue. “What do you mean by mostly? You need to dry it properly, or you’ll catch a cold.” She sounds like a fussy parent from a drama or manga. “It’d be Sendai-san catching the cold. I won’t catch one.” Before coming to this house and even since moving in, only Sendai-san caught colds. Even if I haven’t felt well on occasion, I have never been bedridden. “That might be true, but you might catch one too. I'll get the hairdryer, so wait here.” “No need to go get the hairdryer.” “Then I’ll dry your hair with a towel.” “I don’t need a towel.” “Don’t hold back. Just wait.” Ignoring my words, Sendai-san disappears momentarily, only to return swiftly with a towel. “Miyagi, sit here.” She pulls out the chair, her smile warm and inviting. “Why?” I ask, looking straight at her. “To make it easier to dry your hair.” “I can dry my own hair.” I avert my gaze from Sendai-san. I don’t want to be touched by her now. The uncertainty I felt in the bathroom hasn’t gone away. I tried filling my head with thoughts of locations where penguins are, but it hasn’t worked too well. If she touches me now, the uneasiness might swell, squashing the thought of the penguins completely. “Do you not want me to dry your hair that much?” I can’t answer her question. I take a gulp of orange juice and offer it to Sendai-san. “You can have the rest, so give me the towel.” Sendai-san says nothing. The silence lingers too long, prompting me to glance at her, and she places a towel on my head, saying, "Here you go." Taking the towel and spreading it open, I catch a nice scent and turn my back to Sendai-san. While briskly drying my hair with the given towel, I mutter softly, "Tomorrow, okay." "What do you mean by tomorrow?" "The day we're going to see the penguins." "Isn't that a bit sudden?" "If you don't want to go, that's fine too." "I didn't say I didn't want to go. So have you decided where we're going?" Turning to face her after she nudged my back, I noticed the glass of orange juice was empty. "... I'll let you know tomorrow. We'll head out after an early lunch, so make sure to wake up properly." I don't want to admit that I haven't decided on a destination yet. Nor do I want to say I'll research it now. If I tell Sendai-san, she'd probably be annoyingly picky. And if she suggests deciding together and follows me to my room, it will just be troublesome. With her beside me, I doubt I could concentrate on the research. I hate the feeling that the destination of this vague unease would be decided before I decide where to go tomorrow. "You better wake up on time too, Miyagi. No canceling last minute because you overslept." "I won't oversleep." "Alright then." With that, Sendai-san handed me her empty glass and added, "I'll leave the washing to you."