"Sou… Sousuke-kun… forget it, forget it. I can't argue with you."
Tomoko's slender fingers pressed against her soft lips like she was trying to physically keep my words from sneaking in.
I smirked—half because she looked cute like that, half because I'd just remembered something.
"By the way, Tomoko, I remember learning in biology class that dopamine secretion can relieve pain."
Her head tilted slightly, her warm brown eyes blinking. "Eh? What can I do to help Sousuke heal?"
"Obviously," I leaned in just enough for the corner of my mouth to curl, "we should do some exercise together. You're the perfect exercise partner."
There was a pause. Then her cheeks ignited like someone had flipped a switch.
"Sousuke-kun… you're talking nonsense again…"
"Not nonsense. Science," I replied, deadly serious. "We can verify it right now. My finger is really hurting again."
I took a step closer, and the air between us warmed.
"Is it… really okay to do this?" she murmured. "Won't it make your injury worse?"
Her voice softened with every inch I closed. My breath reached her ear, and I swear her shoulders trembled.
"Only thing it'll affect is my grip," I murmured. "Guess I'll have to put up with you for now, Tomoko…"
Her gaze flicked downward, maybe accidentally, maybe not—either way, my eyes followed hers and landed on the dangerously snug shirt wrapping her upper body. The curve of it almost seemed to defy structural physics.
"You really are…" Her words faded, replaced by the quiet surrender in her touch as she leaned into me.
The sofa dipped as we sank into it.
Outside, the clear sky clouded over like the heavens had been spying on us and decided to set the mood. A wind howled, raindrops pounded the glass, and lightning flashed like a camera shutter snapping proof of our crime.
A storm came down in full force—nature's own fade-to-black.
When the thunder softened and time slipped away, I realized the rain hadn't let up. Evening light had nearly vanished.
"Still raining," I said, glancing outside. "Guess it's already this late."
"I have to hurry and make dinner."
I wrapped my injured finger in plastic, rinsed it, dried it, and headed to the kitchen—only to be shooed out like a stray cat.
"Your fingers are already like this, so stop being stubborn. Sit down, Sousuke-kun."
Defeated, I sank into the sofa. My phone pinged—LINE notification.
[Ginjo-san, how is your finger now? Have you taken your medicine on time?]
Lisa Shiraishi. Still worrying over me, huh?
I typed back with my middle finger—because why not—
[I'm fine now. Just did some rehabilitation exercises. Please don't worry, Shiraishi-senpai.]
Her reply came instantly.
[That's good. Please be careful not to strain it again. I'll visit you at school tomorrow.]
I could practically feel her concern seeping out of the screen.
Dinner was ready soon enough, the air filled with warm, mouthwatering aromas. After a certain… workout, my appetite had doubled.
"Eat more, Sousuke-kun. Nutrition will help your wound heal faster," Tomoko said, scooping rice into my bowl.
Afterward, I retreated to my room. Tomorrow was a school day, after all. Evening medicine down the hatch, I sprawled across my bed and opened the system panel.
[Target: Shiraishi Lisa's favorability +10, reward: 10,000 yen]
[Current target: Lisa Shiraishi, favorability 90]
[Current target: Matsumoto Tomoko, favorability 100]
[Daily fixed output reward: 5,000 yen]
The rain's patter turned into soft white noise, lulling me toward sleep.
By morning, the storm was gone. The world outside my window gleamed as if someone had scrubbed it clean—fresh, wet earth in the air, sunlight pooling over puddles.
I took my usual path to school, still dotted with reflections of the blue sky.
"Hey, Ginjo-san, what happened to your finger?" Ryuichi Okamoto asked the moment I sat down.
"It's fine. Just an accident yesterday," I replied.
That, apparently, was the cue for every male in the room to gather like vultures.
"Accident? More like something unspeakable happened, right?" Ryuichi grinned, and the rest laughed.
"Hey, hey. Clean up the garbage in your heads," I said.
"That garbage is our spiritual sustenance," Ryuichi countered, solemn as a monk.
Soon they were talking about some anime.
"Have you watched The 100 Girlfriends Who Really, Really, Really Love You? My food supply is overflowing."
"Eh? You too?"
"Of course!"
I sighed. These guys were hopeless. I wasn't like them… mostly.
Still… a hundred girlfriends, huh? Weird name.
Noted. I'll appreciate it later—purely for research purposes.