Ding-dong~
Mio set her pen down and frowned. The doorbell?
She got up, walked to the door, and peeked through the peephole—
One adorable face, right on cue.
The moment Mio opened the door, Mashiro crashed into her with a hug. Her usually flat, emotionless voice carried just a faint hint of something warm. "Mio. I'm back."
"Welcome home. Wait—don't you have a key?"
"I left it in my room."
Mio poked her head out to check the hallway. "Where's Chihiro-sensei? I don't see her."
"Chihiro got called out for drinks. I came up alone."
"She really does love her alcohol." Mio shook her head with a wry smile and pulled Mashiro inside.
Mashiro moved through Mio's apartment with the confidence of someone who lived there. Shoes off, neatly arranged—and she was already making a beeline for the bedroom.
That's when Mio's survival instincts kicked in.
She abandoned all dignity, sprinted ahead, and bodily blocked the doorway.
"Uh—hey, Mashiro, wait here a second! My room's kind of a mess, let me just clean up real quick—"
She didn't wait for an answer. She slipped inside, shut the door behind her, and spun to face her computer screen.
What was currently displayed was not appropriate for company.
Heart hammering, Mio saved everything that needed saving, slammed every window closed, and pulled up her writing software. Just a normal person, doing normal writing.
She double-checked. Then opened the door.
Mashiro stood in the hallway, craning her neck to peer past Mio into the room with quiet curiosity. As far as she could tell, nothing looked different from usual.
Mio exhaled.
"Mio," Mashiro said, "were you looking at something weird just now?"
Every alarm in Mio's body went off at once.
"Huh? N-no? Why would you even ask that?"
Her years of professional acting kicked in automatically. On the outside: perfectly composed.
"That happens in manga sometimes."
"That's manga. I would never do something like that!" She didn't wait for Mashiro to respond. "Anyway—how was today? You got to see your parents for the first time in a while, right?"
"We ate a lot of good food, so I'm happy." Mashiro patted her stomach. Then: "...Mio, I'm hungry."
One second: she'd eaten a lot of good food. Next second: she was hungry.
Mio stared at her for a solid three seconds.
"...What do you want? I'll make it right now."
"Anything Mio makes. I like all of it." Mashiro said it the way she said everything—completely, quietly sincere.
Mio headed to the kitchen. Behind her, Mashiro padded into the bedroom, flopped face-first onto the bed, and buried her nose in the pillow.
That smell.
Her eyelids got heavy almost immediately.
Normally she would have given in. But not tonight—the snack was almost ready. She could sleep after.
...
Mio came back a while later.
"Mashiro, the snack's—"
No response.
A Mashiro-shaped bundle lay perfectly still on the bed, cocooned entirely in Mio's blankets.
Mio looked at her for a long moment, then smiled despite herself. She walked over, carefully extracted the hairpins from Mashiro's hair, and set them aside.
As for her clothes—nothing she could do about those tonight. Tomorrow's problem.
The snack was hers to deal with.
She ate it alone.
...
"The snack—!"
Mashiro's eyes drifted open. She stared at the familiar ceiling, still half inside a dream where Mio had laid out a gorgeous spread—and then all the food had sprouted wings and flown away.
The outrage of that dream galvanized her. She sat up.
Right. The snack. Was it—
She turned over.
Mio was lying beside her.
Outside, the sky was just beginning to lighten.
Mashiro blinked. It took a moment for reality to catch up.
...Oh. It's morning.
The sound of her moving must have woken Mio—or maybe she'd simply hit her natural wake-up time. Either way, Mio stirred, yawned, and looked up at her with lazy eyes.
"Morning, Mashiro."
"Morning, Mio."
Mio sat up and stretched. "Oh, right—I finished the snack last night and found you already asleep. So I ate everything."
She paused.
"But to make up for depriving my cute Mashiro of her late-night snack—dinner tonight will be a full spread. Sound good?"
Mashiro didn't say anything. She just leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Mio's cheek.
Starting the morning with a beautiful girl's kiss. That's genuinely the best way to wake up.
There's a saying, isn't there? Today is once again a day full of eighty thou—
—full of hope.
Provided the system didn't show up to ruin it.
Mio set the thought aside, checked the time, and dragged Mashiro toward the bathroom. The plan was simple: quick shower, get to school. Mashiro had come straight home last night and collapsed into bed without bathing at all.
Helping Mashiro wash was no longer the fumbling ordeal it used to be. Mio had gotten used to it.
That said—"used to it" didn't mean "unaffected." The view was still plenty distracting. Distracting enough, in fact, that Mashiro's conquest rating quietly increased by 1 point.
As for why that happened—Mio had a pretty good idea.
Look, if you're going to appreciate someone's figure, at least own it.
....