308 - Story About Buying My Classmate Once A Week

Chapter 308 Yesterday, Sendai-san took the guidebook back to her room with her. However, she left the penguin here insisting, "Take care of this," so it remained, now looking at my skirt from the bed. "You could at least offer some advice," I mutter, sitting on the bed and giving the penguin's head a light tap. The skirt lay beside it. I'm debating whether or not to wear it. Despite it being a Sunday, my mood is cloudy. The reason is simple: I can't decide what to wear to the aquarium today. Plus, the penguin remains frustratingly silent. After spending all that time in Sendai-san's room, observing her, you'd think it'd have some tips. But no, the penguin is utterly useless, staring wordlessly at my dilemma. "I shouldn't have bought it," I scowl at the skirt. I didn't purchase it specifically for today. I bought it on a shopping trip with Maika. My closet contains skirts selected by Sendai-san, along with other outfits. Still, I found myself wanting something new. I could simply wear it since I bought it. But if I wear brand-new clothes, it might feel like I bought them just for today's outing to see the penguins with Sendai-san, and that bothers me. What should I do? The penguin is of no help, and my brain isn't working either. On days like this, I can't quickly decide what to wear. I think it's ridiculous to worry about this. It's not as if Sendai-san cares about what I wear. I sigh deeply. School uniforms are great, I think. They spare you the hassle of choosing an outfit. And come to think of it, school uniforms are skirts too. I tug at the hem of the new skirt lying on the bed. Since graduating, skirts have been a rarity in my wardrobe. Not that I dislike them; wearing a skirt every now and then is fine. But it's just that I never proactively chose to wear them. So, picking one for today feels like a special occasion, making it hard to decide. I'm overthinking this. I decide to wear the skirt on the bed, standing up to pull a shirt from my closet. Once dressed, I glance in the mirror. The newly purchased skirt doesn't seem to suit me, and the realization dampens my spirits. Thoughts of Sendai-san arise. "Since you went to the trouble of wearing a skirt, you might as well do your makeup," is something she might say, further worsening my mood. But she might have a point. Even if makeup doesn't drastically change how the ill-fitting skirt looks, it might be better than doing nothing. However, I'm not confident in my ability to do it well. So then, I would have to rely on Sendai-san, which prompts a new sigh. I don't want to go. I want to see the penguins, but I can't muster a positive attitude. Maybe a headache or a cold. I consider making up an excuse to retreat to my room. But if I mention feeling unwell, Sendai-san will make a big fuss, complicating my life further. I clutch the penguin and leave my room, walking around the shared space before stopping at Sendai-san's door. Inhale, exhale, inhale. I hold my breath, and reach for the door― But I exhale without knocking. I don't have to ask for help with my makeup.. I don't really need it. Right now, I'm standing in front of her room for a different reason. Resolutely, I knock twice on the door loudly. Hurried footsteps approach, and the door swings open, revealing Sendai-san's flustered face. "Is something wrong?" she asks, peering out. Despite being in a mundane skirt-and-top combo, she looks stunning, like she's wearing something special. I divert my eyes. "I'm returning the penguin." As I try to hand over the plush toy and retreat, she grabs my arm. "Is that all? Are you sure nothing's wrong?" "There's nothing." "You pounded on the door, so I wondered if something happened." "It wasn't that hard." I try to brush off the situation and pull my arm free, but her grip remains firm. "Did you buy that skirt recently? I don't recognize it." Sendai-san notices things she doesn't need to notice. "It was in my closet." "It suits you," she says softly, smiling, pulling my arm. "I was just about to call you. Good timing. Come in." "Call me? For what?" "I thought I'd dress you up and do your makeup. But since you're already dressed, we can just focus on the makeup." "What if I refuse?" "You're already here. You might as well let me do your makeup." "What do you mean 'might as well'?" "Well, you don’t have to, but wouldn’t it make it feel more like an outing?" Her reasoning makes me hesitate. Despite not having dressed up or done makeup much lately, she hasn't forgotten about those habits. Aquariums, school festivals, and more. Tracing back through my memories, I remember how persistent Sendai-san could be when it came to dress-up and makeup occasions. I hadn’t planned to ask her for help, but the truth is, I wanted to, and she pulls me into her room. "Sit here," Sendai-san instructs, tossing the penguin onto the bed. "I never said you could do my makeup." "Just say yes." Her voice is cheerful, but there's no room for refusal. Makeup tools are spread across the table, and I resign to sitting on the floor. "I don't want this to take forever," I complain, to which Sendai-san cheerfully replies, "Got it," pinning my bangs back with a clip. She then gazes at me earnestly. It's somehow uncomfortable. The applying of foundation and base feels strange. I don't know where to look, so my eyes fall to her neckline. "That…" I speak involuntarily. "You remember?" There's something on her neckline that I couldn’t possibly forget. "Of course. You didn’t throw it away." On the day of our high school graduation. I almost reclaimed it from Sendai-san, but ended up exchanging it for the key to this room. A silver necklace adorned with a small moon charm. Now tucked beneath her clothes, only the chain is visible, but she’s wearing it. "I didn't throw it away," Sendai-san pauses her hands, meeting my gaze. "Why now?" "I thought it would make it clear I'm yours." "Even without that, you're already mine. A simple mark would do. Shall I mark you now?" "A mark would work, but it might attract attention at the aquarium. It'd be troublesome at university as well. No one would believe me if I said Miyagi gave it to me." Sendai-san replies in a tone that leaves me unsure whether she's serious or joking. "...I mean, a necklace is fine, but if you choose something more stylish, that could serve as the mark instead." "If you want a new one, then pick it yourself, Miyagi. It wouldn’t feel like it’s yours if I choose it," she responded. "I find it hard to choose and I don't want to," I replied. Even though Sendai-san looks good in anything, I feel like anything I choose would diminish her appearance. I remember struggling to pick earrings for her. For her to remain beautiful, she should wear things not chosen by me. The earrings I chose did suit her, but surely there are better choices for her—same with the necklace. I believe there is a necklace more fitting than the one she's wearing, but I'm not the right person to choose it. "Difficult in what way?" she asks. "...I'm just bad at choosing for others." "Then let's go look for it together." I could refuse, but it'd be futile. If I do, she'll bring it up again, urging me to choose a necklace. "...I'll think about it," I reluctantly reply despite knowing it’s inevitable. The closer my bond with Sendai-san, the harder it is to pick something for her. "I'll be waiting," she says gently, continuing with, "Miyagi." "Did you choose that skirt yourself?" she inquires. "Does it matter? Just get on with it," I retort, irritated at her stopping. It's none of Sendai-san's concern or business who picked my skirt. "Why can't we chat a bit? If it's not you who chose it, was it Utsunomiya?" "I bought it when I went out with Maika." Upon hearing the truth, she surprisingly knits her brows. "I see." Her slightly lower tone scrapes against my eardrums, making my stomach clench. "I'd like to choose your clothes again," she softly but sharply suggests. Her gentle tone has a piercing edge that stings me. Unsure of how to respond, I mutter, "If I feel like it," prompting her to resume her halted actions. "I just need to put on some lip color. Close your eyes," she instructs. Sendai-san, who finished my makeup swiftly, unclips my bangs, and her fingers graze my lips. "Why do I have to close my eyes?" "It's hard to apply otherwise," she says seriously, prompting me to obediently shut my eyes. Her fingers leave my lips, replaced by something softer, unmistakably her lips, warm against mine. When I grab her shoulder, her lips press more forcefully. I didn't say she could kiss me. Yet, that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. Unable to push her shoulder away, her tongue slips between my parted lips. A mere brush turns into a deeper kiss, shared warmth blending between us. The warmth from Sendai-san is comforting. She enters me naturally, merging. Our tongues brush, intertwine. It fits naturally, making me want to stay like this indefinitely. But there are plans today that cannot be disrupted. A promise ought to be kept, so I push against her shoulder. "Isn’t it weird to kiss now? It has nothing to do with makeup," I voice my complaint about the unexpected act. "It does," she responds, unfazed. "In what way?" "It raises my spirits." "You're ridiculous. That’s enough," I retort. Sendai-san, despite her intelligence, spouts ridiculous things when she's with me. "My apologies. I’ll be serious now." Whether she's genuinely repentant is unclear, but she applies the lip color, shows me my face in a mirror, and comments, "You look cute." "Thank you." I lack a reply to being called “cute,” but I can express gratitude. "You're welcome," she smiles, tidying the table before standing up. "Shall we go then?" she suggests, acting as if nothing happened. Despite her pristine outfit, her actions contradict its elegance, further irking me. "Sendai-san," I call out. "Yes?" "...It suits you," I say. I don’t specify what, but she understands, her voice bright. "Thanks." Sendai-san beams with a delighted smile. Her smile is beautiful, annoyingly flawless. So, slowly, I stand up and step on her foot.