2.46: Coming Around

The next morning came fast.

I woke up hugging my pillow like it was a life raft, my hair a mess, my heart racing. For a few seconds I lay there, half-lost in a haze of memories. Shirasuna’s salt-filled air, the hostel’s soft futons, Aoi-chan’s warmth beside me, her naked body pressed against mine, the way she’d looked at me like she didn’t want to blink.

…And I still couldn’t forget the way she’d ended up sleeping, her face resting at my waist, in our futon after the first night. I’d felt her breath down below through the thin fabric, close enough that the sensation lingered even after I woke.

My waking thoughts drove me crazy.

I sat up so abruptly I fell out of my bed with the pillow that I snuggled against at night, my face burning and my heart racing wildly.

There were faint drool spots all over my pillow.

For a moment, I thought that was the worst of it but then…

I nearly immediately noticed that my pajamas were extremely damp around my thighs… Damper than sweat alone accounted for. Checking myself, I discovered something embarrassing. My panties were totally soaked! I shivered, hoping that I hadn’t wet the bed.

I panicked, sitting up and staring at all the large wet spots where I was laying. My bedding looked like a crime scene. My face turned a crimson red.

I carefully smelled the spots, especially the largest one where my waist had rested.

No pee smell… a heavier and different scent. I sighed in relief.

Thank the kami for that, at least… but then…

I sighed, my head hanging over.

I had a wet dream? Was I dreaming about Shirasuna…?

My heart hammered in my chest.

I had to wonder whether the dream had gone farther than it actually did. It must have been very exciting for my heart to still be pounding.

It was going to be hard to hide the warzone my bed had turned into. I worried about what mom might think if she saw.

Then I buried my face in my hands and groaned.

…Just get moving and pull yourself together, Sumire!

I tore apart my bedding, ripping off the sheets and stuffed them deep in my laundry bin, those scents still thick in the air.

Maybe they’ll dry in there… but there’s nothing to be done about the smell… but if I spray a little perfume on them it might help… except…

I clapped my hands to my face and shook, thinking about what Mom might say.

Taking deep calming breaths, I fetched a new set of sheets from my closet and carefully remade my bed, smoothing out all the wrinkles and heaved a sigh of relief. The mattress was a little damp where the biggest spots were, but I wasn’t too worried about that.

I changed my pajamas quickly, tucking them carefully against the dirty sheets and slapped my cheeks with both hands and darted to the bathroom and quickly used the toilet. Once I was cleaned up and smelling normal, I rushed back and carefully dressed myself in my seifuku, smoothing it in places that needed it. Then I sat down at my desk and brushed my hair until it behaved the way I wanted it to.

It was Tuesday! The big voting day.

Downstairs, the kitchen smelled different than usual.

Mom wasn’t making grilled fish for a change.

Dad was reading something on his phone at the table with a worried expression that vanished the moment he saw me and he set his phone down.

That still surprised me, how he welcomed me every morning with a warm smile. My heart fluttered.

Mom smiled at me, her eyes bright. “Good morning, Sumire.”

“Morning, Mom,” I mumbled, sliding into my seat, faintly blushing. If they asked, I’d just blame it on Dad.

Haru was already at the table, eating like he was in a speedrun.

Dad cleared his throat. “I have an announcement, now that we’re all here.”

Everyone’s eyes fell on Dad.

“Your mother and I… We decided last night that we’ll be taking a short trip this weekend.”

Mom nodded. “Just the two of us.”

My brother gagged theatrically.

Mom flicked a finger toward Haru. “You’ll be fine.”

Dad looked at me. “Sumire, would you be okay with cooking for Haru?”

My stomach dipped. That would involve cooking for us. I could make some simple recipes. Rice. Eggs. Instant miso soup…

Then, like a curtain being yanked open, memories tumbled in. Mom’s hands guiding mine on the knife’s handle as I worked over a cutting board. Showing me how to stir a pot. Her voice scolding me gently for almost burning something we were going to eat that night. The smell of soy sauce simmering with mirin. The warmth of our kitchen. The scent of cooking rice filling the air. The joy I felt at being taught by Mom.

I blinked hard. My chest tightened, not with doubt, but with sudden clarity.

“Yeah,” I said, quieter. “I can.”

Mom studied me for a second, then smiled warmly. She reached out and rested her hand over mine, just briefly.

“You’ll be okay. You’re a good cook. I’m sure that you’ll make a lucky boy happy someday,” she said. “I know it’s a lot of responsibility to take care of your brother.”

I nodded, the tension easing a little. “Yeah… but I can handle it.” I smiled genuinely.

“Although, I must say that you’ve been really distracted lately, not helping me cook. It was almost like having two boys in this house,” Mom observed thoughtfully.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I haven’t helped you much with cooking for the last month. I—”

Mom waved a hand, still smiling. “Don’t worry about it. That’s what I’m here for. Just focus on your… Self Improvement Club.”

Dad’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Speaking of those club activities… You move really well… so much so it makes me wonder whose child you are…”

Mom glared at Dad. “I move gracefully too,” she said primly.

“True…” Dad laughed, scratching his head. “I meant me, not you.” He bowed over the table almost low enough for his tie to land in his plate of untouched food.

Mollified, Mom looked at me with pride in her eyes. “She’s much less clumsy. Maybe you really could be an idol now.”

I nearly choked on my tea. “What?! But you were against that!”

Mom laughed softly, almost giggling. “I think that your dancing would probably be much better now and the way you carry yourself reminds me of a model I once knew in college.”

“Wow…” I blushed.

Dad leaned forward, having recovered, now that Mom’s attention was back on me. “Show us what you’ve been learning, Sumire.”

My brother’s eyes lit. “Yeah. Show us, Nee.”

I froze.

Then I sighed and shook my head, letting my shoulders drop. I could do this. I knew I could show them a few things.

“…Okay,” I said, standing.

I moved carefully at first… then more surely. A stance. A step. A block. A straight punch, controlled, not snapping wildly. A kick chambered and placed back down with discipline. I showed them as many things that Aoi taught me as I could think of and for some weird reason, their eyes were open wide, fixed on me.

I tried to wear Aoi-chan’s seriousness like a mask the whole time. The effect was more than I expected.

Haru stared at me like he’d never seen me in his life, his jaw dropped.

Mom’s brow rose. “Are you learning all that so you can become a delinquent?”

“No,” I said quickly. “It’s just for self-defense.”

Dad’s face softened with so much pride that made me want to melt on the spot. “Our Sumire…”

Mom tilted her head. “Our daughter is a cute girl that wouldn’t hurt a fly. Why all this now?”

“I still wouldn’t hurt anyone,” I said, smiling despite myself. “Not unless I had to. I just… I don’t want to be someone who needs to be protected anymore.”

My brother’s expression went intense in a way that was almost embarrassing. Like he’d just decided something important.

Dad clapped once, loud. “That’s our girl!”

Mom’s eyes shimmered like she was about to cry, then she sniffed hard, betrayed by her own emotions. “Eat your breakfast.”

Mom had made us a modest breakfast today. Bowls of fresh rice and miso soup with tofu and green onion were already set out, along with a little dish of spinach dressed with sesame, pickles, and natto topped with chopped scallions and soy sauce. The soup was gentle and salty, the rice still gave off little swirls of steam when I lifted my bowl, and the sharp, earthy smell of the natto mixed well with everything else. It was simple, but it felt careful, like she’d put it together to steady all of us before the day really started.

As I ate, something in my chest felt stronger than it had when I woke up.

Haru kept staring at me like he was recalculating.

Aoi-chan was waiting outside for me like always.

She looked at me once, and her eyes softened, just a fraction.

Like the sight of me brightened her day.

I gazed into her eyes for a long moment before walking forward, smiling.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Aoi smiled back, but her gaze dipped for a moment. “Today’s the big day.”

“Yeah…” I nodded, my fingers wrapping around my bike’s handles as I eased it away from the side of the house and wheeled it to the gate. “I’m anxious about it. I hope you get picked as princess, Aoi-chan.” I got on my bike’s seat and waited for her to get on. “That would solve everything that worries me… But do you think we could hold back on stage?” My cheeks were pink.

“Who knows.” Aoi’s smile turned wry. “That’s up to you. You’re the one most likely playing the prince, unless someone wrote you back under princess.”

She paused, then added more lightly, “Anyway, I don’t think anyone would vote for me as princess.”

“I would,” I said immediately… then quickly flushed deeper. “…And I will.”

Aoi nodded, smiling again. “That’s what matters.” She glanced ahead, filled with thoughts. “Besides, I don’t see the class voting for Riko either. It’ll probably be some guy putting a ‘funny’ twist on the roles.” Her mouth twitched. “And then I’ll have to resist the urge to smack him if he gets too full of himself.”

I giggled softly. “Yeah… I gave myself a headache thinking about if Daichi ended up with the princess part… But that’s only a problem if they choose me to be the prince.”

“They will definitely choose you for a leading part.” Aoi said, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Most of the class has a good opinion of you, especially lately.”

“Really?” I asked, chewing my lower lip. “And then I’ll have to figure out how to deal with kissing whoever it ends up being.”

Aoi didn’t answer right away. She just nodded once, then hopped onto the rear bolts.

We took off.

Aoi-chan rode behind me like that, her hands resting lightly at my waist, fitting there naturally. I smiled as I pedaled. We let the ride carry us forward the way it always did, the morning air rushing through our hair.

I loved the warmth of her body against mine, the feel of her hands on me.

We passed the small corner store on the way.

Oba-chan was outside sweeping as usual. She looked up, saw us, and waved with a knowing smile that made my face heat up instantly.

Aoi-chan didn’t even flinch. She lifted a hand and waved back with a big smile.

I tried very hard not to be too embarrassed.

At the bike racks, we locked up quickly and slipped into the flow of students heading inside. Shoes off. Indoor slippers on. The familiar rhythm of the school swallowing us whole.

At the shoe lockers, Riko and Yuna were already there.

Riko’s gaze slid to my face, her usual unreadable composure intact. “Did you sleep well, Sumire-chan?”

“Yeah,” I said, immediately regretting existing. “I kind of… messed up my pillow last night.” That was an understatement.

At least I didn’t blurt out how bad the damage really was.

Yuna blinked. “How?”

“Ehhh…” I squeaked, panic clawing its way up my throat.

Aoi-chan’s mouth quirked. “Maybe it was GariGari-kun.”

I froze.

Maybe it was that. She had turned me on way more than she should have doing that. But why would that have—?!

Riko’s eyes narrowed.

Yuna’s eyes widened, then she lifted her fingers lightly to her lips, her cheeks pinking as a small giggle escaped her.

I wished the floor would open up and swallow me.

Riko leaned closer, just enough to be dangerous. “You know, Sumire-chan… even though Aoi will hate me for saying this…”

“Stop right there,” I begged, putting up a hand between us.

Riko sighed and fell silent.

Aoi-chan looked pleased with herself in a way that should’ve been illegal.

I took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze and she squeezed back.

We were both feeling anxious.

We made it to homeroom, though the warmth of that moment lingered. I was still buzzing with embarrassment, my thoughts a step behind my body as the noise of the classroom swallowed us up.

As usual, our classroom was chaotic in the best and worst ways.

The boys were loud.

The girls were even louder.

Everyone was excited.

“Sumire has to be the princess!”

“No, she should be the prince! She kept her name there, didn’t she?”

“Prince! Prince!”

“Princess!”

“PRINCE!”

I sank into my seat, half-terrified, half-thrilled, my stomach fluttering like I’d swallowed a living thing.

Kurosawa-sensei walked in like a judge entering her courtroom.

“Alright,” she said, clapping her hands once like a gavel landing on a desktop. “Voting time. Keep it fair. And if anyone tries to submit a joke vote for ‘Pon-chan as the princess,’ I will personally bury you.”

The class erupted in laughter. Even despite how nervous I was, I couldn’t help laughing with everyone.

“Pon-chan the princess!”

“You have my vote!”

“LONG LIVE THE PRINCESS!”

Kurosawa-sensei watched with amusement as everyone joked for a while, but seriousness took over as everyone thought about who they would really vote for.

Daichi Kondo, our class rep, passed out sheets.

I couldn’t help flinching when he walked past me, unable to forget my daymare while doing homework last night.

He looked at me, seeming offended by my reaction.

Pencils scratched on the slips of paper that he’d passed out and votes were collected.

I wrote Aoi’s name under princess, but I wasn’t sure who the prince should be, so I didn’t vote on that.

Daichi, stiff as a board and visibly sweating under Kurosawa-sensei’s gaze, tabulated our votes with the tension of a man disarming a bomb.

When he was done, he passed a paper to Kurosawa-sensei. She examined the results and turned to the chalkboard, and dragged the moment out like a villainess would.

“By universal acclaim,” she announced, “Yuna Arisugawa will be playing Maleficent.”

Yuna’s expression barely shifted. Then she giggled, soft and wicked, loud enough for everyone to hear. The room couldn’t help applauding.

That sound chilled and impressed me deeply.

After a short while, Yuna performed a couple of seated bows in each direction.

Kurosawa-sensei tapped the chalk against the board.

“And Princess Aurora will be…”

The room held its breath.

“…Tachibana Riko!”

A roar went up, both in support and denial, although those who approved were louder than the dissenting ones.

Riko blinked once, then her mouth curved into a slow, intrigued smile, like she’d been handed a challenge she’d already expected would be given to her.

Aoi-chan’s face did something very complicated.

I started at Aoi-chan, chewing my lip.

Kurosawa-sensei lifted the chalk again.

“And Prince Phillip will be…”

My heart slammed.

“…Shinohara Sumire!”

For a second, I didn’t move.

I didn’t breathe.

The classroom exploded.

I heard my name like it belonged to someone else.

Aoi-chan turned toward me, the conflict of heat and ice filling her eyes. She glanced at Riko, her mouth tightening.

Riko’s gaze fixed on me too, thoughtfully, like she was already imagining how to test me in that role.

Yuna’s smile warmed, gentle and sure. She leaned closer. “I know you can handle it, Sumire-chan.”

Kurosawa-sensei kept writing, assigning supporting parts, names that would matter later, voices threading themselves into the story whether they realized it or not.

But all I could hear was the pounding of my own pulse.

I’d ended up the prince.

I wasn’t sure how I felt to be chosen. I was glad that Daichi wasn’t made the princess, but I wished that Aoi had been. I could tell that everyone’s choice was hitting her strangely.

I stared at the chalkboard, my throat dry, a strange, thrilling dread coiling in my chest.