Episode 26: We’re Not Friends Anymore.

The moment her cold fingertips slid away, Hiyori’s hot lips were pressed against the same spot.
The wet sound of skin being drawn on hard, a tongue dragging across it, rang through the discipline room.

“Ah — it hurts — hh — Hiyori—”

Sucked hard, bitten softly, licked over in slow, clinging circles.
The fine capillaries beneath the skin felt like they were bursting one by one, a pain like blood rising to the surface — and yet from that exact place a sweet numbness spread, seeping outward.

One mark.
Then another.

From the collarbone to the throat. Then to the soft place behind the ear.
Without pause, Hiyori’s lips went on blooming red stains across my white skin.

“Mm — ah — ah — no, not there — it’ll show—”
“I’m doing it somewhere it’ll show. So that every time you look in the mirror tomorrow, you’ll think of me.”

With every breath Hiyori let fall against my throat, the kiss marks just made throbbed with their own heat.
One more button of my blouse undone, and her cold lips crawled all the way down to the very edge of visible — the line just before the valley of my chest.

“Ah, here — the heart is going so fast. …Does it feel good, being marked?”
“It doesn’t — ah — mmh—!”

The denial was painted over yet again by a sharp searing pull and a sweet exhale.
Again and again.
Red bruises too many to hide beneath a uniform blazed into my skin — branding deep into this body the fact that I was Hiyori’s possession.

◇◆◇◆◇

Ding dong, ding dong—

Without warning, the flat electronic chime of the warning bell came over the school broadcast.
The signal for the end of lunch.
At that instant, Hiyori’s lips pulled away as though a switch had been thrown.

“Aww, time’s up already.”

Hiyori lingered to run her tongue once along my throat in farewell, then slowly sat herself upright.
And right in front of me, she smoothed her dishevelled blouse and the pleats of her skirt back into place with practised ease.
In a matter of seconds, she was back to being “the usual Asahina Hiyori, uniform slightly undone.”

“Right, see you after school.”

Hiyori looked down at me and waved with a sweet smile.
The door closed with a light click, and only I was left behind in the discipline room.

“Ah — haah — hh—”

Still collapsed on the sofa, I looked slowly down at myself.
The undone buttons. The ribbon soiled with saliva.
And across my collarbone and chest — a scattered bloom of red bruises, smeared all over the exposed skin.

I tried to do up my blouse buttons with trembling fingers, but the skin where she’d sucked flushed with heat, and every brush of the fabric made my shoulders flinch.

Five minutes until fifth period.
I had to drag this body — plainly, unmistakably abnormal to any eye — back to the classroom.
Concealing beneath a white blouse this red curse that burned and throbbed as though it might never fade.

◇◆◇◆◇

The following day.
School was wrapped in its usual noise.
The bruise on my throat that stung against the collar of my blouse, the events in the discipline room with my tongue — the world turned as though none of it had ever happened.

“Mm, ugh, so tired. Maya, where’s the next class?”

Along the corridor, Hiyori was curled around my arm as a matter of course.
Airi and the others were watching with fond smiles — “those two are so close as always” — but to me, it was nothing but a restraint now.
The day after all of that, and she had the nerve to look this unbothered. I couldn’t fathom it.

“Next is the physics room. …Hiyori, let go a little.”
“I’m just making sure Maya doesn’t get lost.”

Laughing, Hiyori traced a finger along my upper arm.
That sensation alone — and the sweet musk drifting faintly to my nose — was enough to bring back yesterday’s memory of her tongue and the heat at my throat, and my body went rigid.

That was when it happened.

“Ah…”

Coming toward us from ahead: a familiar girl.
Sasaki-san.
She’d been laughing and chatting with a friend as she walked, but glanced up by chance, and our eyes met.

Still.

Her feet stopped.
I heard her friend’s puzzled voice beside her — “what’s wrong, Saki?”

“Senpai…”

A voice barely above a whisper.
On reflex I tried to pull free of the arm twined around mine.
But Hiyori tightened her grip instead and drew me pointedly against her, making a show of it.

“Hey. …Morning, Sasaki-chan.”

A provocative greeting.
Sasaki-san’s gaze dropped to Hiyori’s hand, curled around my arm.
Then she looked at my face.

She’ll look at me with contempt.
She’ll call me pathetic.
I braced myself and looked away.

But—

“…………”

Sasaki-san said nothing.
Only bit down hard on her lip, and at her side clenched her fist so tight the knuckles went white.

“…Sorry, go on ahead.”

She said it shortly to her friend, turned on her heel, and walked away from us at a quick pace, disappearing down a different staircase as though in flight.

“Well, well.”

Hiyori watched her go and laughed through her nose.

“Eye contact and then a U-turn. …So easy to read.”

Of course she’d avoid me. After witnessing a scene like that.

“Anyway, good — now it’s peaceful. The nuisance is gone.”

Hiyori prodded my cheek with cheerful ease and started walking again.

“Come on, shall we?”

I said nothing, and only let myself be pulled along by Hiyori, moving heavy feet.