The moment he felt the bite on his neck, Takashi already knew who it was, even without looking.
Of all the girls he knew, besides Narii, only Nagisa could be this aggressive.
"Damn, stop sucking on my neck, you'll leave a mark."
Takashi hurriedly pushed her away.
He was going back to the Aoba stands later. If he showed up with a hickey on his neck, he figured he wouldn't live to see another day.
At the very least, Narii and Hitomi would never let him off.
As he forcefully pushed Nagisa away, their lips and his neck made a loud, reluctant smooching sound.
"What are you doing here?"
Takashi was genuinely surprised to see her.
She hadn't told him she was coming.
He hadn't prepared at all.
Nagisa wrapped her slender arms around his neck, raised her head, and stared at the dazzling boy who dominated the court, her gaze dreamy.
From the shock of their first meeting, to the curiosity about his background, to the thrill of sneaking into a movie theater with him, and now being captivated by his unmatched confidence on the court—the longer she knew Takashi, the more addicted she became.
Takashi was like a drug—dangerous and irresistible. Even knowing getting close to him would end badly, she still couldn't help but crave the fleeting pleasure he brought.
"You never come to see me, so I had to come find you~"
She pouted in dissatisfaction, acting like a girlfriend sulking at her boyfriend.
"I've been busy lately, didn't I tell you?" Takashi said helplessly.
"Busy setting off fireworks with other girls?"
Nagisa knew exactly where he had been.
She had even hired a private investigator using her allowance to follow him around almost 24/7.
"You should know I have nothing going on with Kato Megumi. I just owed her for helping keep my identity secret."
Takashi knew she had someone tailing him.
At first, it annoyed him.
But then he realized it wasn't all bad—like when he forgot his wallet, someone would show up to pay for him.
Nagisa nestled her face into his chest, rubbing against him happily.
"Otherwise, I would've taken care of her already."
What a terrifying thought.
Why were all the girls who liked him so abnormal?
"Takashi, since you wouldn't come see me, I had to come see you."
After showering Takashi with affection, Nagisa raised her head, her eyes now filled with desire.
Seeing her expression, like a cat in heat, Takashi knew things were about to go south.
No doubt—this woman had entered her ovulation period and was in heat.
If this were an anime, her eyes would've turned into ♥ shapes by now.
Her warm breath with a faint scent drifted onto his face—tempting, teasing.
"I want—" "Stop. Don't even think about it."
Before she could finish, Takashi cut her off coldly.
He knew exactly what she was thinking.
"I absolutely will not touch women during a competition."
Takashi might be a pervert, but during his own matches, he never touched a woman.
Because it made his legs weak.
If he were Superman, girls would be his kryptonite—equally devastating.
Sex definitely affects athletic performance.
He didn't bother citing reports or studies—just try working out the day after and you'll notice the difference.
For athletes, especially professionals, abstinence during competitions is essential.
Of course, he was talking about his kind of thirty-minute aerobic session. If you're a few-second sprinter, no need to panic.
Nagisa was about to object when she suddenly felt something under her start to react. Her complaints faded, and a teasing glint entered her eyes.
"You're all talk. Your body is much more honest than your mouth."
She could feel how "alive" Takashi's little brother was.
Takashi scratched his head awkwardly and chuckled. "Can't help it. When you like someone, you can't exactly hide your… excitement."
Nagisa blinked in surprise, then lowered her head and laughed.
After laughing enough, she leaned close, bit his ear lightly, and whispered, "Then you have to give me something in return. Takashi, I'm burning up."
Feeling his now wet ear, Takashi knew if he didn't give her something, she wouldn't let him go.
He raised his right hand, middle and index fingers together. "Have you heard of the Great Desolate Heaven-Imprisoning Finger?"
Kashiwagi Nagisa: "?"
Five minutes later, Nagisa walked away satisfied and relaxed.
Takashi went to wash his hands.
He kept pumping soap and scrubbing each finger, his mind wandering: The Japanese Yang Guo role doesn't suit me anymore.
Next time, call me Japanese Lin Dong or Mr. Goldfinger.
Just as Takashi was meticulously washing his hands, he felt a tap on his back shoulder.
He turned around—no one was there.
He turned to the other side and found Hayasaka Ai standing there, hands behind her back, looking prim and proper.
Takashi beamed with surprise!
Okay, it was mostly an act.
Calling Hayasaka Ai "Master" was just a joke.
But a joke like that helped close the gap between them.
"So? How was your disciple's performance? Handsome, right?"
To be honest, when he strutted onto the stage like an unbeatable king, Hayasaka Ai felt every male protagonist's entrance in movies and dramas paled in comparison.
She did think he looked cool—but couldn't help retorting: "Meh. Not bad, I guess."
"Not bad? Master, you didn't see how many girls asked for my contact info after the match."
"And did you give it to them?"
Her voice suddenly rose several octaves.
But just hearing that girls had asked for his number irritated her.
"Of course. They asked, why wouldn't I give it?"
"They asked, and you just gave it?"
"What else was I supposed to do?"
Hayasaka Ai's expression turned cold, her gaze like looking at garbage.
A dog can't stop eating poop.
Lady Kaguya was right all along.
Takashi really was trash.
He probably flirted with those girls because he's just that kind of guy.
She couldn't believe she used to defend him. Clearly, Kaguya saw through him better.
Takashi grabbed her hand.
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