321 Today's Sendai-san is Known Only to Me - Story About Buying My Classmate Once A Week

Today's Sendai-san is Known Only to Me Chapter 321 Sendai-san is always beautiful. Today, even while talking with Mio-san in this room, she looked stunning. However, I think she looks even more beautiful when she's doing things she only does with me, or when she's sitting next to me, gazing solely at me. I'm relieved that I didn't turn off the lights. I can see Sendai-san clearly as she lies down on the bed. Her collarbone, her chest, her stomach. Illuminated by the light, she looks truly beautiful. Though it concerns me that she can see my face as well, it's more important that I can see her. The Sendai-san here is exclusively mine, known only to me, so I must etch every detail, every part of her, into my memory. And since she's right beside me, I should listen to her voice and feel her warmth. "...Sendai-san." Hazuki. Perhaps I should call her that, but the time for calling her Hazuki has ended. It might not matter anymore, but if I were to call Sendai-san "Hazuki," then Maika would start calling her that too, and that is something I simply cannot allow. Mio-san also calls Sendai-san "Hazuki," but she's done so since before I met her. It's distinctly different from Maika's case. "Not Sendai-san; Hazuki," she corrects me with a dissatisfied voice. "I won't call you that." I could refrain from calling her Hazuki in front of Maika, but if I regularly called her that, I’d inevitably slip up in front of Maika one day. Thus, I want to reserve it for special occasions only. "Sendai-san, let go of my hand." She's been holding my hand the entire time. "Why?" "Because I want to wipe it." I glance at my hand, which was damp with a large amount residue earlier, but is now starting to dry. There's nothing dirty about the remnants left clinging to me from Sendai-san, nothing I feel the urgent need to wipe off. But if I touch her with this hand, I might sully her pristine form. "Sendai-san." I try to pull my captured hand toward me, but she doesn’t release her grip. "I won't let go." Her quiet voice drifts to me. It's rare to see this side of her, and it's adorable. "Why?" "Because it's proof that Shiori touched me." While looking into my eyes, Sendai-san openly states it, as if forgetting all sense of shame. From her perspective, it might be nothing more than "I answered because Miyagi asked," but there are moments when it's better to keep such thoughts locked away in one's heart. "Stop with the Shiori already. Also, aren't you embarrassed saying things like that?" "I am embarrassed, but if I don't say it, you'll wipe it off. If you find it unpleasant, you can wipe it, though." "It's not unpleasant, but as long as it's there, I can't touch you, Sendai-san." "I want to be touched like this." Her sense of shame, which seems to wander off frequently, is still absent; presumably, her common sense is on some extended trip as well. "I'll wipe it and then touch you." "...Miyagi, just touch me as is." It was I who banned the use of Shiori. Yet being called Miyagi stings as if leaving a small wound in my chest. I fear that if I ignore it, it will fester, rot, and ultimately become so corrupt I'll no longer feel the pain, so I silently call her Hazuki in my heart. Even though I see, hear, and feel this Sendai-san who is mine alone, it's not enough. "Then... rock-paper-scissors. If you win, you can wipe your hand." "I won't do rock-paper-scissors." "If you won't, then just stay quietly a little while longer." Rock-paper-scissors isn’t anything amusing. Sendai-san uses unfair tactics to betray me. Thus, it becomes impossible for me to trust her. "I'll stay here, so let go of my hand." Saying so, I gently kick her foot, and my trapped hand is freed. I extend my hand and softly place it over her heart. My own heart thumps loudly. But I can't hear Sendai-san's heartbeat. If I were to press my ear against her chest, I might hear it, but that would feel too much like coddling. Instead, I opt to press my hand firmly. "Should we do it again?" Sendai-san smiles gently. "No." "You're stingy, Miyagi." I trace my hand from her heart up to her throat. When I quietly call out "Sendai-san," she replies "What," making her throat vibrate. The sensation of her voice on my fingertips is so delightful that I call out "Sendai-san" once more, prompting her to murmur "Miyagi" as her throat quivers beneath my caress. "Miyagi, that tickles." "Don't you want to be touched?" "I want to be touched. I like it when you touch me, Miyagi." Sendai-san states clearly, while watching me. This kind of “like” from her is appealing, yet it also makes me anxious. Her expressions of like are usually vague, making me doubt if she genuinely feels that way. "Please, say something, Sendai-san." "Like what?" "Anything is fine." "Saying ‘anything’ is the most difficult, so make a specific request." "Then, how about the recipe for hamburg steak?" "Miyagi really loves hamburg steak, don't you?" "What about you, Sendai-san?" "I find it delicious, so yes, I like hamburg steak." Sendai-san says she likes what I like, and wherever we go, she sees only me. She doesn't look at the fish at the aquarium, or the animals at the zoo. If asked, she would, but I don't believe that counts. She never seems genuinely interested by what surrounds her, and sometimes that scares me. Sendai-san doesn't show much interest in her surroundings, no matter where she is. She looks at me as if to prove she’s solely mine. I wish for her to be this way, yet I believe she shouldn’t always be like this. "Sendai-san, tell me again how to make hamburg steak." As I quietly trace the line of her throat, Sendai-san begins narrating the recipe, starting with the ingredients. Her voice vibrates along her throat, resonating through my fingertips. It's delightful to feel her throat vibrate for my ears alone. I think Sendai-san should pick me from a wider selection of options. Having likes and dislikes. Having friends she cherishes. Among several choices, she should choose solely me. Otherwise, it frightens me. The thought of being deemed uninteresting or insignificant by her makes me worry for the future. Sendai-san isn't like my mother. I know this well, but the thought of being abandoned one day fills me with dread. I take my hand away from Sendai-san and lick my drying fingers. "Hey, Miyagi. Stop, that's dirty." Her explanation of the hamburg steak recipe pauses, overtaken by her complaint. "It's fine, isn't it?" "It's not." At that, Sendai-san tightly grasps my hand. "Let go." "No way." With a small voice, she brushes her lips against my fingertips. It would be better for her to become a little more "normal." Creating choices shapes who Sendai-san is. "You’re always up to something strange, Sendai-san." "So are you, Miyagi." Just like I have my likes and dislikes, she should too—and she deserves to have friends. Having Maika in my life has been a great comfort to me. I believe I should allow someone to occupy a similar place in Sendai-san's life. However, I worry that if she becomes more "normal," she might find less value in me, and cease to be my Sendai-san alone. While I am denying the Sendai-san that I desire and that only I can see, I am also denying the normal Sendai-san. "Sendai-san, close your eyes." "I don't have to close them for a kiss, do I?" "I didn't say I was going to kiss you." "Is that not what you're doing?" "Just close them." Compliantly, Sendai-san closes her eyes. I suppress the dissonance within my heart and press my lips to hers.