"Unfortunately, no response when I knocked." Kuroha Akira descended the stairs, now changed into his school uniform, the borrowed sportswear folded neatly in his hands. He shrugged with an apologetic smile. "Seems Tsuchikata-san's in full-on coma mode today. Won't be waking up anytime soon."
Tsuchikata's normal state was essentially perpetual manuscript rush—liver power maxed out, consciousness optional. The man worked like his life depended on it, which, given his circumstances, it probably did.
The rare gathering of three transmigrators would have to wait.
Tashiro Kurenai's smile turned wistful. "Is that so... Well, let him rest. We'll bring back something delicious for him."
Kuroha nodded, tossing the sportswear to Shinomiya. "What about Granny Kobayashi?"
"Checked her room and the yard. Doesn't seem to be around."
"Probably the usual—mahjong afternoon." Kuroha snorted. "Don't worry about Granny being lonely. She's busier than any of us—pachinko mornings, mahjong afternoons, occasionally hitting supermarket sales. Full schedule."
"What a delinquent old lady," Kurenai laughed.
But secretly, Kuroha envied her. That was the dream retirement—no financial worries, freedom to game, play when you wanted, buy what you wanted. The thought alone was exhilarating.
To reach Granny Kobayashi's level, he still had work to do.
"Guess it's just the three of us then." He grinned at Kurenai. "Family dinner postponed. At least your wallet gets a reprieve today."
Kurenai planted her hands on her hips, puffing her cheeks in exaggerated offense. "Akira-kun! Do you really think I'm that stingy? Money's meant to be spent! Hoarding just depreciates its value!"
"Ha."
He distinctly remembered this same sister crying drunkenly about wanting to quit working forever. If money truly didn't matter, why not walk away?
Because she lacked the capital to support herself without work. That's why she endured a job she hated.
But Kuroha didn't expose her bravado. Kurenai probably wanted to project reliable adult energy in front of them.
And hey—free meal, no complaints.
You might look pathetic crying about work, but you look beautiful when paying the bill! You're amazing, sis!
"Let's head to Ginza." Kurenai grabbed her bag with enthusiasm. "Lots of good shops there. Dinner's on me—don't worry about budget."
"I'm fine with anything. Shion, any preferences?"
"Ah! Yes!"
Shinomiya had been completely absorbed since receiving Kuroha's sportswear. Every fiber of her being screamed to bury her face in the fabric, inhale deeply, fill her senses with his scent.
Maidenly modesty barely restrained her.
Later, she promised herself. When alone. Not in front of Akira-kun. And definitely not while worried about... moisture issues.
Kuroha misinterpreted her hesitation completely. "If it feels dirty wearing a guy's clothes, you can borrow Kurenai's instead."
"That's possible," Kurenai agreed, then paused thoughtfully. "Though my clothes might fit strangely on Shion-chan. Especially around the chest—might feel a bit empty..."
Realizing she'd stepped into sensitive territory, she backpedaled frantically.
"Ah! Sorry, Shion-chan! I didn't mean it that way! Yours aren't small either! Really! Guys actually prefer your size! Right, Akira-kun?"
"Uh..."
Why ask me?! And you're just making this worse!
Kuroha tried silence, but Shinomiya's concerned gaze pinned him.
"Is that true, Akira-kun?"
"Well... I genuinely don't care about size."
"...Oh."
Shinomiya's eyes turned cold.
Big liar.
He stared at Tomita Haruka's chest plenty.
Akira-kun definitely prefers bigger.
"I'll wear this!" She clutched the sportswear possessively, shooting Kurenai's chest a resentful glance before heading to change.
Operation: fresh underwear first, sanitary pad second. Since she'd be wearing Akira-kun's clothes, absolutely no personal scent contamination allowed.
The precaution proved farsighted.
In her room, wrapped in his sportswear, head resting on his pillow, Shinomiya finally surrendered to impulse. She pulled the fabric over her face, inhaling deeply, drowning in intoxicating scent. For precious minutes, she existed in pure enchantment.
The sanitary pad? Complete success. No dam breaks. No floods. Not a single leak.
Descending stairs in post-bliss serenity, Shinomiya rejoined them as if nothing happened.
The three headed to Ginza.
During shopping, Kuroha functioned purely as bag carrier. He knew nothing about clothing brands, and this world's brands had shifted enough to leave him completely lost.
Fortunately, Kurenai's expertise was encyclopedic. She headed straight for target stores, bypassing sales assistants entirely, excitedly pulling armfuls of clothes.
Shinomiya transformed into each new outfit like a fashion magazine model, holding impromptu fashion shows in the fitting area. Every style suited her perfectly—she could apparently pull off anything.
Her radiance drew stares. Other customers froze mid-shopping. Sales assistants forgot their pitches. Someone tried requesting photos; Kuroha intercepted.
By fitting's end, Kurenai nearly impulse-bought all ten-plus outfits on her credit card. Only Shinomiya's desperate intervention prevented financial catastrophe.
They settled on three pieces:
An off-shoulder white camisole dress—young lady vibes, pure and elegant.
Two loose crew-neck T-shirts paired with hip-hugging denim mini-skirts—casual but dignified, highlighting Shinomiya's natural grace.
Kurenai's fashion sense proved impeccable. Cosmetics industry experience clearly cultivated excellent aesthetic judgment.
After clothes, Shinomiya voiced a small request: new socks. She wanted Kuroha's opinion.
As a connoisseur of such matters, Kuroha had thoughts.
Balancing his preferences, summer breathability, and compatibility with Shinomiya's new outfits, he selected:
15DD ultra-thin velvet black pantyhose.
30DD white pantyhose—slightly thicker.
Breathable black sheer over-knee socks.
Combined with her existing white over-knee socks, she now possessed complete black and white sets in both styles.
Different thicknesses, different materials—each would provide unique textural experiences during future foot massages. Like handling jade of varying qualities, the sensation would shift delightfully.
Maximum anticipation achieved.
The Class President's bento and Shinomiya's stockinged feet had become Kuroha's two greatest current pleasures.
Though once he started charging friend fees, such benefits would likely vanish.
Sigh.
While I can still enjoy them, I'll indulge fully.
Life was short. Fill it with joy. Live for the moment, lest regret follow.
Anyway.
Just enjoy it first.