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In Japan, making eye contact is considered rude, leads to discomfort, and can be construed as a sign of aggression

❀❀

Warm blue light glowed from nearby streetlights, aiding the task of the twinkling stars and moon above in illuminating a path through the dark street, attracting buzzing moths in its quest. A lone figure ambled down the road, a moving shadowy stretching ahead of him and moving against the closed shops stacked at every corner of the dark street the person passed. Crickets faintly chirped in the distance and interrupted the otherwise silent atmosphere, but anything was better than the silence at that point.

With one hand stuffed into the spacious pockets of his navy blue track pants and the other holding his phone by his side, Yuuto continued down the lonely street, head held high as he tucked his flushing nose into the cold sky. Another shadow followed him as soon as he'd stepped under the next flickering streetlight at an intersection, and suddenly feeling overwhelmed with how the whole evening went so far, Yuuto's steps came to an abrupt halt.

He glanced at the time.

7:00 p.m.

Alongside 2 unread messages from Kaito, both sent an hour ago.

Knowing that he'd see Kaito at school the next day, Yuuto didn't bother conjuring a response to the texts that read, 'what u up 2 man' and 'I won't bug you with Soejima today. Study yet?'. Darkness enveloped the once bright screen as Yuuto clicked the power button and tucked the device away into the safety of his jeans pocket.

Another sigh and Yuuto suddenly looked up, staring at the twinkling stars scattered against the multicoloured night sky. His mind left him and drifted on its own accord, looping through time and bringing him back into that lightly populated ramen shop.

A while ago,

"Shojo? What do you mean 'shojo manga'?"

Sitting across from Yuuto was none other than Yamato, who barely glanced in his direction as he gazed at the chefs at the front instead, a thin line of drool forming at the corners of his lips as he watched the men expertly whip up bowls after bowls of piping hot pork ramen. "Yeah," he absently responded, tapping his nails along the weathered wood on the table separating them. He peered down at his food ticket. "I mean shojo manga man. That's all there is to it."

"But—"

"Hey, can't we talk about business after we eat? It's been a while since we hung out anyway, so there's no rush, right?" Yamato suddenly said as he turned to Yuuto, clasping his eyes before his face and attempting to pull off the most desperate puppy dog eyes of the century.

Yuuto opened his mouth to protest, but a booming voice cut through the small shop.

"Order number two hundred?"

"Ah, here!" Yamato waved his ticket as he called out, and not even a second later a tall, burly man whisked by, two bowls of ramen in either hand. He loomed over their table, smiling at each patron appreciatively before placing down a bowl before either of them. All eyes fell to the contents of the bowls, which amounted to regular, thin strands of noodles burrowed in golden broth, stacked underneath thick cutlets of reddish-purple pork, egg cutlets and green onions to garnish the whole look. Steam rose from either bowl like smoke from a forest fire, twirling and dancing in the air until they eventually thinned out and vanished, distributing the spicy, sweet scent everywhere in the shop.

The server bowed once he'd stepped back.

"Enjoy your meal."

"Will do, thanks!" Yamato cheered, parting his chopsticks and capturing a piece of pork between the tips. He blew on it then opened wide, shoving the morsel into his mouth, stars for eyes as he began munching in blissful delight. "I told you this place had the best ramen."

Thirty minutes later three bowls that previously held ramen contents were then pushed to the side of the table, away from Yamato and Yuuto as they got down to business.

"So as I was saying, it's a shojo contest. That was the condition for the internship this year."

"Yeah, I get that, but why?" Yuuto asked, hands rolling into balls on his lap. "Why shojo? We've been working on Kiba since last year, and that's Shounen. It's what fans watch the show and read for, isn't it? How does a shojo contest mesh into all this?"

Yamato considered Yuuto's words for a moment. He sighed and pushed his elbows off the table, untangling his meshed fingers as he flipped through Yuuto's portfolio again, closely looking at the thick, confident lines etched into the page that presented his characters in all sorts of static and dynamic poses. "Oh I hear you, and I agree. Kiba is our best Shounen to date, but Crush has busted through the roof two months in a row now, so the supervisor decided we should focus on making that better quality and speed up the postings of not only the show, but the manga too,"

"Of course we'll have another team working on the Shounen, but with that losing popularity and coming to an end anyway, that's not our main focus, do you understand? We need more people to help with the shojo for now. There's a lot more volumes and materials to cover," Yamato explained, closing Yuuto's portfolio once he reached the final page. Leaning back in his chair, he unzipped his shoulder bag and pulled out a manga book before passing it to Yuuto, the cover glistened in the harsh lighting.

Yuuto's stomach tied in knots as his eyes brushed over the cover page that, of course, featured a girl and a guy, the main characters, illustrated in a love-hate pose where they stood back to back, arms folded, glaring at each other over their shoulders. Of course, the girl was short and shy. Of course the guy was taller. Of course, the girl wore glasses and was referred to as a nerd while the guy was drop-dead gorgeous jock who was also popular and had a plethora of other girls he could pick, choose and refuse.

But of course, they'd eventually fall in love.

"So basically, all you have to do is submit an excerpt of your original manga and wait for the big bosses to make the decision. Before you say 'why don't they just pick people that apply' — which is a valid point — you of all people should know that being a mangaka isn't a walk in the park. Most times we don't even sleep or eat," Yamato pointed to the dark bags hovering under his tired eyes. "We get a ton of applications for internships every year, but we need serious people. People that can work, not just put out one or two drawings then call it a day."

"Besides, the comic that wins has a chance of getting published in the summer issue, so you'd gain popularity for your own work and have something as big as that on your resume. We get talent, you get experience and recognition. The way I see it, it's a win-win." Yamato said, smiling. "We know you produce quality work but you have to enter like everyone else."

Yamato stopped talking but Yuuto still hadn't fully assorted his thoughts yet. He stopped looking through the manga and returned his curling hands to his lap, his black bangs falling over his forehead and hiding his eyes and he lowered his head. "I can't."

"Huh?"

"I can't do this. I do shounen, not some dumb shojo. Those aren't my style," Yuuto mumbled, keeping his head down a while longer. "You know I purposely applied here because I wanted to work on Kiba like last year. Why can't I just do that instead?"

Clueless about how to comfort the boy Yamato remained silent for a moment, weighing his words. He knew how much being a mangaka meant to Yuuto. It was fulfilling the dream he carried ever since he was a boy, to make anime and manga that brought smiles to people's faces if even for a millisecond.

"Hey, I know that, come on," Yamato began. "But it's not a big shock why people love shojos too. People like happy endings. They love being in love or fantasizing about the idea at least. Why are you so against it?"

Rip, rip.

"Make something more realistic this time, like a comic people would actually read and not this stupid romance junk you always draw."

Yuuto's fist tightened.

"Love is overrated. It only happens to those pretty lead characters in Hollywood movies, sweety, not to ordinary side characters like us."

Then loosened.

"Love makes you weak."

He looked up at Yamato. "No reason."

"Then do it. It's a great opportunity, Masayuma."

Present

"What a pain in the ass," Yuuto murmured to himself as he kicked at a pebble idly laying on the road. The interaction from earlier relayed in his head against his wishes. The idea of pouring hours into some sappy, unrealistic love story made Yuuto want to scoff. Why were people so obsessed with the ideas of happy endings? Why did they read shojo manga and hope for that to happen to them despite knowing those things happened to one person in a million if not none at all?

Yuuto shoved his hands back into his pockets and walked off, still stuck on his head.

Sure, in most shounen, the protagonists had superpowers or the whole premise of the idea was set in another dimension — so those were unrealistic too, but at least those didn't blow smoke up people's asses. People didn't yearn for superpowers because of course that didn't exist. They watched it for the art, the storyline, the fun. Shounen was the best.

But now, wham! Shojo wended itself into the equation, grinning smugly at Yuuto.

He wanted to scream.

The sound of footsteps on the pavement nearby prompted Yuuto to get out of his head and pay attention to his surroundings, just in time to notice that he wasn't alone anymore and so screaming probably wasn't the best mode of venting. Looking to the left of the street, Yuuto noticed a shadowy figure emerging from the dark, a bag tucked under the person's and their hair bouncing from side to side with every movement as they hurried up the lonely road. The light rolled over the person once they'd stepped into the light and suddenly, everything felt a bit more familiar.

The neighbourhood, the environment, the person, the girl.

The girl hurried along, time seeming to slow down as she stepped right past Yuuto.

Tat, tat.

She glanced up at Yuuto, but the light reflecting off her glasses made it hard to discern who she was. But her scent, her long dark hair, the way she grasped her bag by her side as she walked — it all sent off bells on Yuuto's head, but before he could even think to discern anything she'd already walked past him.

Soejima?

No, it couldn't be her. That street was different from the one Soejima took home to get home.

Yuuto stood rooted in that spot for a while longer, eyebrows creasing together as he curiously watched the shrinking figure. What was a girl doing walking by herself so late in the night? Otsu was a safe city for the most part, but even with that said, caution was still in order. How about taking a cab?

Why did Yuuto even care?

He brushes the thought off, thinking nothing of it. As he turned to walk down the way the girl came, another figure emerged from the shadows and into the streetlight, making Yuuto stop once again to analyse the person. This time it was a tall middle-aged man donned a washed-out brown business suit, possessing greasy hair that messily flopped down before his beady, shifty eyes. He glanced at Yuuto and tipped his head a bit but didn't stop, only kept walking.

...

Further up the street, a frantic girl walked alone on the lonely stretch of road, quickening her pace as she frequently glanced over her shoulder. The man from the Café earlier was still behind her, walking several feet away. As a precautionary measure, Chiho took an alternative route home that evening, because she knew better than taking the same way home that evening, so maybe the man lived that way? Was she just being paranoid?

Just up ahead, lights from a 24/7 store neighbourhood caught Chiho's attention, prompting her to accelerate her pace until she was right behind the doors. She lifted her hands to open it but the doors already slid open with a low jingle, causing the girl at the front table to peer up from the textbook she was reading.

"Welcome!"

"Thank you, goodnight," was the only thing Chiho said before she turned and vanished into the closest aisle. Cool air from the refrigerator flowed across the ground, relaxing Chiho's nerves a little, even more so as she tuned in to the other sounds around her, like the buzzing from the fridge and the light jazz music exuded from the overhead speakers. Shelves stood on each side, stacked with ready-made bento boxes and other ravenous food items that made Chiho's stomach growl in protest. On look at the prices was enough for her to repress her urges and take something cheaper, like two trusty cups of ramen noodles and milk pudding.

Chiho floated around the small store for a while longer to pass some more time before ultimately proceeding to checkout. The girl at the desk flashed a small smile as she began scanning the items, leaving Chiho no choice but to wait. Subconsciously, her gaze drifted to the doors, and what she saw outside made her heart fall and plummet to her stomach.

The man.

He stood outside on the other side of the road, hands stuffed into his pockets as he leaned on a wall, assumably trying to blend in the darkness but failing miserably because of his brown suit and bright red tie. Again, Chiho shook off the dreadful feeling as she let her mind roam into more positive territories, like the possibility that the man had to buy something in the store too, or that he was waiting for a cab, or—

No.

He was there for her.

Chiho backed away from the counter and casually walked back into the food aisle she'd previously been in. Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened her canvas bag and dipped inside, retrieving her phone and navigating through the colourful interface until she pulled up her contacts. Because she only had two numbers saved into her phone, it wasn't hard to find who she was looking for; Ryoko.

Tapping the bright green 'call' icon, the screen switched, bringing up the caller ID along with the call status, outgoing.

Chiho pressed it against her ear, pressing her thumb into her mouth and nibbling on her uncut fingernail as she paced back and forth. The phone rang once, twice, thrice.

"Come on, come on," she muttered to herself as it rang for the fourth time.

"The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please leave a message at the tone or try calling again later—"

Beep.

"For God's sake," Chiho exclaimed in annoyance as she moved the phone and glared at her sister's image and number on the screen. Of course she wouldn't answer. It was only 7:56 pm. anyway, so she was probably out drinking with her friends again, the deafeningly loud music from the bar drowning out all the other sounds and making her oblivious to her buzzing phone, especially at a time Chiho needed her for once.

Chiho clicked off that screen and went back to her contact list, where she weighed her other options.

The police.

No, that could turn messy fast. Not to mention making a mountain out of a possible molehill.

Chiho groaned as she tapped her cheeks, forcing herself to remain calm and focused, tuning out the myriad of negative outcomes that could result from it all. She dropped her phone into her bag and relaxed her shoulders, taking several deep breaths to quell her rattled nerves. Be a man! It would be okay. The man would be gone and she would peacefully walk home and spend the rest of her night studying whilst chugging two cups of spicy ramen. She would go to bed after that then go to school, work, and repeat.

Clutching the frail sense of self-assurance she'd managed to work up, Chiho returned to the front and paid for her items. The automatic doors slid open for her and the night engulfed her once more as she stepped outside, shivering from not only the cold as she looked around.

The man glanced up from his phone. He shoved it into his pocket and braced himself off the wall, walking off when a comfortable gap opened between him and Chiho, though this gap was smaller than before. Chiho consciously looked over her shoulder for the last time, eyeing the nearby convenience store and the man when a sudden welling of courage within her made her stop abruptly. She let her head hang for a while longer as she sucked in calming deep breaths, mentally preparing herself for what was to come.

"Leave me alone!"

The churning gravel ruptured Chiho's plans and startled her, making her hop away in surprise, almost dropping her bags, losing her footing or unceremoniously toppling in her haste to turn around. Her bags noisily crinkled as they wheeled around behind her, smacking the back of her weakened knees as she finally came to a stop, a standstill which had her mere inches away from the tall man who effortlessly loomed over her at his height of 6ft 3 inches in comparison to her measly 5ft 6.

Somehow, Chiho found her voice amidst the whirring in her head. "What do—"

"Soejima-san!" the man exclaimed all of a sudden, his voice booming, echoing into the stillness of the night. He straightened his back and let his hands dangle by his side pin-straight before he lowered his whole upper body in an exaggerated bow. "I love you! Please go out with me!"

At first, Chiho stood there speechless, the words the man spoke swirling around her and ramming into the sides of her head without absorbing properly for interpretation. Her lips parted in surprise and she blinked twice, the moment dragging along for a while longer just until she fully comprehended the extent of the situation and exactly what the man was trying to tell her.

A confession.

A love confession.

Chiho hopped back with a startled squeak. "E-eh?" she stuttered, heat rushing to her cheeks. "Love?"

The stranger rose from his humbled position and stared at her, his mouth parting in a wide smile that seemed too broad for his slender, bearded face. "I love you. I know you've seen me at the Café for a while now, and it's for you, Soejima-san. All for you," more gravel churned as he took a step forward, forcing Chiho to take one back subconsciously. "It would make me happy if you were my girlfriend. Please go out with me!" he repeated bowing lowly once more.

"Oh no, you have the wrong idea," Chiho said, frantically waving her free hand in dismissal. The man rose at once and Chiho gulped silently and pressed her bags tighter to her sides as she glanced at the convenience store that suddenly seemed to be so far away. When had she walked so far from it?

No, she hadn't. All those backward steps led her further and further into the dark. Her brain began buzzing at once, for her prior plan to yell at the man didn't seem like such a great idea now especially since something about him rubbed Chiho the wrong way. Stomach churning with unease, she quickly considered her options anyway, which amounted to using politeness to wend herself out of the situation; there was no other way. One, she didn't know how dangerous the man was or if he was carrying a weapon, and two, there was no way on earth she would take the man up on his offer, for a myriad of reasons.

Things could get ugly quick.

"You may have misunderstood. I'm not looking for a boyfriend right now," or ever. She swallowed her nerves and smiled, hoping to seem less rude that way. "I appreciate your confession, though, but I must be on my way now." she stepped back one last time and lowered her head in a curt bow before lifting her head and turning away without even looking at the man's reaction to her rejection.

She walked off.

She took at least ten steps before becoming cognizant of the man's presence directly behind her.

"Soejima-san, please," the man continued in a voice that broke and wobbled, as though he would burst into tears and second. "Just give me a chance to see how deeply I care for you. Please!"

This time when Chiho stopped, the feeling of unease melded with her sudden sympathy for the man, and turning around made her feel even worse. Eyebrows bunching together and lips wobbling from the cold or intense emotions (who knew), the man extended vibrating hands to her, his eyes twitching. It must have been hard to confess your feelings and get turned down, but nevertheless, Chiho wouldn't waver. She knew she had to firmly turn him down, perhaps not as lightly as before.

"I'm sorry," she affirmed, more coldly this time. "Please don't follow me anymore."

Chiho turned away and walked off, this time for real. She wouldn't turn around again, no matter how the man begged or cried. The situation was getting more complicated than she originally foresaw, so now her main goal wasn't to comfort the heartbroken man; with no sight of anybody around for a while now her main goal was to get out of there as soon as possible. The sooner she got home, the sooner she could wrap herself into a futon burrito and dive into textbooks or waste the night sleeping or reading manga, not lying in a ditch somewhere.

But as she tried leaving for the last time, that seemed to be the last drop for the man. He quickly uprooted himself from his frozen position and shoved his hands in his pocket, a muscle popping in his jaw and temples from where he clenched his teeth too tightly. Going there, following Chiho, he had a goal set in mind. It wasn't his fault that she was playing hard to get, so enough with the nice guy act. Maybe she preferred it when guys act rough.

He reached out and latched onto Chiho's forearm, this time making her flinch in surprise. Stricken with fear, she tried to yank her hand back but the man's grip tightened, to the point his nails bore into her delicate skin, a sharp sting bolted from the area his nails eventually broke the skin. His hand didn't loosen even then, the dull intensifying into a sensation that felt like a stake was being hammered into her numbing arm.

"Let go," she said in a tone that came out as the stark opposite of what she'd intended; it was as though her jaw had refused to comply with the appropriate movement that would have a confident demand. Instead, it came as a weak, whiny whimper that made it seem as though she would break down in tears any second. "L-let go of me!"

She hauled her hand back, but again the man effortlessly overpowered her, yanking her in impossibly close, so close that she could smell his musky, sweaty smell, greasy unwashed hair, and see the layers of haphazard ingrown hairs poking out from under his chin. "You're coming with me." he calmly told her, the nauseating scent of wet cigarettes and bacon rolling over the entirety of her face and clogging her nostrils. Overwhelmed, she recoiled in absolute disgust.

Abruptly shoving herself away from the man, she lost her footing and roughly stumbled back before collapsing face-first, her bags dropping to the ground. She whimpered lowly as her elbows and forearms began stinging from where they dragged along the tarmac, but now wasn't the time for that. She had to get up, she had to get away and run back to the convenience store.

Get up.

But for some reason, her body refused to cooperate. Her weakened muscles trembled and ached from falling, and she still had a sharp headache as a result of her stupid decision to not eat during her shift. The word blurred and spun around her, but at the same time, she was conscious enough to feel the man's sweaty hand wrap around her bruised forearm. He easily hauled her to her feet.

Fight back.

"Soejima-san! Did you hurt yourself? I'm so sorry! I'll get you home right away!" the man cried. His voice suddenly sounded far away to Chiho, but his disgusting hands were still touching her, burning holes into her skin as he held her close.

Be a man.

"Get away from me!"

The man stumbled back at an unexpected blow to his face, a pinch that possessed more force than he could ever see coming from such a small girl. Pain exploded in his jaw, the metallic taste of blood quickly rushing into his mouth and filling senses, making him know that it wasn't his imagination. Chiho, the girl he loved, had hit him in the face, splitting his lip and almost knocking out his teeth. Chiho, the girl he would lay his life out for.

Tears came at first, but anger quickly replaced that. "You bitch!" he screamed, barreling towards her.

Chiho saw it coming; the man's raised fist, the hatred in his eyes, but she couldn't dodge. She flinched and lifted her hands in front of her face at the last minute to block the hit.

...

Seconds passed.

The blow never came.

In fact, she wasn't even standing in the same spot anymore. Someone had jerked her out of the way and wheeled her into a new reality, which had her face burrowed into the person's chest, impossibly close. Close enough that she felt the person's steady heartbeat against the side of her face, close enough that she became fully immersed in the floral scent of fresh fabric softener. Gentle hands coursed through her hair, the simple touch sending a ripple of butterflies awakening in her stomach, their fluttering wings easing the dread that had settled inside her.

On a normal occasion, Chiho would have torn herself away, but there was something about the familiarity of the moment that made her limbs slacken even further until she was completely slumped over into the person's comforting hold, melting tight into it. All traces of fear vanished as comfort and serenity poured into her, to the point she was slipping, losing herself.

Yuuto held Chiho closer, his brows furrowing together as he glared, almost challengingly, at the lecherous man, who blankly stared back. His hands faintly trembled and he swallowed thickly, but despite all the red flags that went off in his head, he remained in that protective stance, shielding Chiho.

"She's with me. Back off."

❀❀

It was a little past nine o'clock when the to Yuuto's tiny apartment studio flew open, two figures stumbling inside the dark genkan, Chiho and Yuuto, who grunted as he struggled to keep his body upright. Supporting Chiho's surprisingly heavy bodyweight with one side of his body, Yuuto's free hand roamed the wall, quickly feeling for the light switch. A click resonated through the quiet space, immediately followed by the deluge of light that poured in, illuminating the room that was the same as he'd left it before he went out and found himself in a predicament.

Neko lifted her head from her position on the mat, lazily blinking as she assessed the two figures. She yawned, stretching her legs as far as they could go before she stood and sauntered over, brushing her silky coat against her master's leg.

"Goodnight, Neko," Yuuto greeted the feline, his face softened into a smile.

He glanced down at Chiho, who was leaning the entirety of her body weight against him, her messy hair tickling his cheek as her head comfortably settled on his shoulder. Her cheeks were flushing from the cold, her rounded lips parted to facilitate the soft breaths that flowed in and out.

Yuuto gently bumped her head with his shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?"

Chiho's head fell back to his shoulder, but of course, no response came. It had been like that ever since he saved her from the man. Like a flipped light switch she was completely off, reduced to nothing but a helpless snoring mess in Yuuto's care even long after the man had walked away and left them alone.

Yuuto usually didn't get himself involved in other people's business, but how could he not step in, especially when the girl of Kaito's dreams was involved? Now, however, after recalling the tiring experience of going to Chiho's house and facing a locked gate and nobody at home, having to walk through the city and flag down a cab whilst holding a heavy, unconscious girl and now having the said girl in his room, as his responsibility, Yuuto wasn't sure if it was worth all the trouble.

What a pain.

"What kind of idiot falls asleep in the middle of something like that?" he mumbled to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose, irate.

Quickly kicking off his shoes, he neglected to put on indoor shoes or take off Chiho's as he hoisted her into his arms, hooking one hand under her knees and wrapping the other across her back as he brought her into the house. A curious Neko closely following behind, he white-tipped tail ejected into the air as she tagged along, all the way to Yuuto's room.

The door swung open and the lights flipped on, Yuuto carefully walking through his tiny room that consisted of a single double bed and a computer table that was already cluttered with papers and books from studying or drawing. The bed dipped and creaked under Chiho's weight as Yuuto lay her down on the unmade sheets, unfurling his hands from her back and knees before he moved back, wiping at the sweat that accumulated on his forehead.

Next, he knelt, popping off her blue loafers and discarding them at a remote location in his room, not caring where they went as long as it wasn't on the tatami mat because that was always such a pain to clean or replace. Yuuto then stood and walked over to his desk, putting down his bag and grabbed the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head. He stopped at the last second, consciously glancing over his shoulder at Chiho.

For the first time that night, for the first time in forever, Yuuto looked at Chiho. This time, for some reason, his eyes lingered.

Not because he had brought a girl into his room for the first time, nor because she was pretty, because he could clearly see that. She was easy on the eyes, everyone knew that. Kind-hearted too, Yuuto could see why Kaito took a fancy to her. Currently, sprawled across his bed on his sheets, Yuuto didn't know why his heart fluttered when he remembered earlier, how small and delicate she felt nestled his arms, her pillow-soft locks as they spilt through his trembling fingers, or her fragrance—

No.

"Idiot, just what are you thinking?" Yuuto chastised himself, knocking his palm against the side of his head to regain focus and clear-headedness of the situation. He looked at Chiho again, biting his lip in frustration at his own brain, on the verge of running rampant with useless ideas. "Pull yourself together."

That was when Yuuto remembered that she was injured. Angry bruises grazed her arms and a small portion of her cheeks, the crimson colour glowing like a Christmas bulb against her pale white skin. He approached her again, shoving any uncouth thoughts to the back of his head because this time he had a reason to go near to her and touch her.

He hovered over her for a bit, staring at the cuts on her cheeks and arms. "He did a number on you, didn't he?" what if Yuuto hadn't stepped in when he did? What would have happened? Furthermore, why was she walking alone, as a girl, so late in the night? Did she like throwing caution to the wind, or was she just plain stupid or oblivious?

Did she even eat that day? She was pretty thin, not to mention the fact that she flat-out passed out after being wide awake just seconds before. Reckless much? It would do her well to take care of herself.

She and Kaito hadn't even met, yet they already had something in common. And like always, Yuuto couldn't resist helping someone so stupid; Chiho was no different.

Sighing, Yuuto stood and went to his desk, rummaging through the accumulation of markers, papers and pencils inside until he found a pack of bandaids and a brown bottle of disinfectant he used on Kaito far too many times. He sat on the bed again and spent the next few minutes applying cool disinfectant, slowly cleaning the bruises and layering thin rolls of bandage across her skin, shielding the wounds to limit the chance of infection. Chiho lay still the whole time, not even flinching or stirring as the disinfectant stung.

As if the situation couldn't be more bothersome, Yuuto looked at her clothes and noticed that most of the white on her blouse was speckled with lines and smudges of brown from where she fell. Her jeans were also dirty. She couldn't sleep in that, at least not on Yuuto's bed. Yuuto wasn't a clean freak, but he'd already washed the sheets a week ago and having to do it again sounded like an even bigger pain, especially when he already had so many things piled onto his plate; exams, Kaito, the internship at Kowakawa Publishing.

It would be easier if she changed into something cleaner. Waking her up already failed thrice in a row.

Yuuto's cheeks heated at the realization.

Would it be okay to undress an unconscious girl?

Ugh, of course it wouldn't! But aside from tossing Chiho out on the couch, what other choice did he have? Despite how everything turned out, she was a guest, and guests were treated with respect no matter what.

It was just clothes and furthermore, Yuuto didn't feel anything for Chiho.

So, swallowing the thick accumulation of saliva in his mouth, Yuuto extended a shaking hand to the first button keeping Chiho's top together. His hand paused midway. An image popped into his head of Chiho waking up right then and there, her grogginess slowly fading away until she became cognizant of the situation. She'd open her eyes and look around, then at Yuuto, then at his hand, then to her unbuttoned blouse.

"P-pervert!"

Yuuto shook the thought away. The quicker he undressed her, the faster he'd get to sleep and leave her in peace. He'd explain everything in the morning.

Despite knowing all that, it didn't make the task any easier. Maybe he'd leave her pants on to make it better.

Sucking in one last long breath, Yuuto exhaled sharply, readying himself.

Here goes nothing.

One button popped open after the other, the material of her blouse easily sliding apart. Yuuto begrudgingly glanced down for a second, only to count the button remaining before his eyes bounced away and focused on his bland white bedroom instead.

Four more.

Two more.

The last button at the top unfurled from the lock, and the cotton material easily slid apart.

Yuuto didn't mean to look. He really didn't, and he dearly wished he hadn't, because what he found made him stop dead in his tracks.

No bra, only a flat chest stared back at Yuuto.

But that wasn't what made Yuuto's jaw slacken in shock.

Even if Chiho was just a girl who wasn't blessed with voluptuous assets frequently seen in anime or in magazines, surely she would have something, right? But no. With sharp shoulders and tiny pink nipples where lumps should have been, Chiho's chest was barren of anything remotely feminine. Zero.

Because Chiho wasn't a girl.

Yuuto's brain stuttered for a moment and his eyes took in more light than he expected, every part of him going on pause even after reality caught up with him and smacked him in the face. He scrambled to make sense of everything all at once, but all his explanations were revoked by the fact that was quite literally lying out right in front of his eyes.

Soejima Chiho, the pretty maid girl Kaito fell head over heels for, wasn't a she, but a he. Not a girl.

She was a guy.

!!!!!!

❀❀

So finally, in the fifth chapter, it's revealed that Soejima is actually a guy posing as a girl. Trap character? Hehe

Kudos to those who realziedbefore it was said...although, I'm sure everyone must realize that boyxboy is in the tags.

Don't forget to vote, and I'll see you next week :3