After clearing the misunderstanding we had dinner together. Kano was already winning over Grandma and Grandpa. Vintage communication powers.
“So — Yuki-san is Yuito’s childhood friend.”
“Yes. I’ve known Yuito and Ayato since we were small.”
“If Yuki-chan married Yuito it would put us at ease.”
“I’m working hard toward exactly that — please look forward to a good announcement soon.”
“You just un-misunderstood them — don’t make it new again.”
She was clearly self-promoting. Can’t let her run free or who knows what she’d plant.
After dinner and baths, she started leafing through the photo albums. Mostly childhood-visit photos.
”…Why is that so interesting?”
“It’s full of shota Yuito I’ve never seen.”
She flipped excitedly. (Embarrassing — please stop.)
“Yeah, you and Ayato fought constantly.”
“We did argue over silly things.”
Before the inferiority complex really took hold we’d argued over nothing all the time.
“Oh — Yuito’s bawling in this one.”
“Don’t look —”
“Aw — your crying face is cute, let me look longer.”
She was beaming. (The crying photo was from a Gion-festival shooting-game when Ayato grabbed the prize I’d been aiming for.)
Childhood dark history exposed — I felt like my face would catch fire. She started photographing the album with her phone.
“H-hey, what?!”
“Shota Yuito crying-face — rare, archiving forever. Print and frame for my room.”
“Mercy.”
(The thought of that photo on her wall was a nightmare.) She did the entire album.
We brushed teeth and went to the futons. We’d agreed to share a room — but the layout wasn’t what I’d hoped.
”…Do the futons need to be pushed together?”
“Grandpa and Grandma made a thoughtful arrangement.”
“Separating.”
She grabbed my shoulder as I started to slide one futon over.
“Denied.”
“Sharing-adjacent is bad.”
“It’s not bad for me.”
“It’s bad for me.”
(Pressed up against her overnight — cannot.)
“Fine, separate them.”
“Really?”
“On the condition that you sleep in my futon.”
That was worse.
”…Fine, leave them together.”
“If you insist, I’ll bear it.”
She’d hit me with the unacceptable-vs-tolerable two-option trick again. Cannot win.
“Sleeping.”
“Yeah — sightseeing tomorrow.”
I pulled the ceiling-light string to the dim bulb. I was almost asleep when she clamped on.
“H-hey?!”
“Body pillow — I can’t sleep without one, told you.”
“You handled it fine at the love hotel.”
”…Hmm. Don’t quite recall.”
(She’d absolutely forgotten the body-pillow setting that night, deflecting now.) Resistance futile. I let her hold on.