...Wonder if they're done yet.
Yumiko's sister crept down the hallway and pressed her ear gently against the bedroom door.
She'd been standing here for a full two minutes. Not a sound from inside.
Probably over.
She opened her mouth to call them for dinner—and the door swung open right in her face. She barely caught herself before tumbling inside.
Her little sister stood there looking entirely composed.
"Ahaha..." She straightened up. "So, um—Mom said dinner's ready—"
She glanced past Yumiko at Mio. Yumiko looked completely fine. Mio, on the other hand—cheeks still flushed, hair just slightly out of place, clothes not quite settled. And there was a certain haziness in her expression, like she hadn't entirely rejoined reality yet.
To avoid being stared at any further by her little sister, she quickly added: "Oh, and Yumiko—you might want to keep the volume down next time. I don't care, but if Mom hears something—"
"I was tickling her! That is all* that happened!"
Sisters, honestly.
"Yep. Tickling. Absolutely. Got it."
She beat a tactical retreat before Yumiko could say anything else. Down the hall, under her breath: ...They literally already did the thing and she's still in complete denial. Incredible.
Yumiko sighed and let her go. Nothing was going to land right now. Better to explain properly later, when her sister was in a rational headspace.
While the two of them had been talking, Mio had quietly fixed herself up—hair back in order, clothes settled. She looked exactly as composed and effortlessly pretty as always, as if nothing had happened at all.
Dinner, as it turned out, was not a problem.
Yumiko had been a little nervous. She hadn't told Mio anything about her mom's interests or preferences—and yet within five minutes of sitting down, Mio had somehow picked up on exactly what those interests were and steered the whole table conversation in that direction, completely naturally, as though she'd just happened to be fascinated by the same topics.
Yumiko watched her with something that might have been wonder.
It was like watching a different person. The gremlin who'd been tormenting her all afternoon had been seamlessly replaced by a poised, warm, well-spoken young lady. The shift was borderline uncanny.
Her sister appeared at her elbow, voice dropped low. "...Yumiko. Where did you find that girlfriend?"
"She is not my girlfriend." Yumiko held her smile with effort.
"Your wife, then. Is that better?"
"...???"
She felt her fist closing. Her sister noted this and smoothly put more distance between them. Under her breath, just barely audible: "They already did the thing and she's still in denial. Wild."
Later, the rain still hadn't let up.
"Doesn't look like it's stopping anytime soon," Yumiko said quietly, listening to the soft, steady patter against the window.
"Perfect sleeping weather," Mio said from the bed. Then, as if it had only just occurred to her: "Oh—where am I actually sleeping tonight?"
Yumiko kept her eyes on her homework. Her ears were warm.
"...The bed. You can have the bed."
"Really? Fair warning—I move around a lot in my sleep."
"Same. We'll just suffer equally."
"If you insist~ Your bed's already all warm~"
She glanced over. Mio had burrowed herself into the blanket up to her chin and was watching Yumiko with a lazy, content expression, like a cat that had claimed the best spot in the room.
Yumiko turned back to her homework.
Thirty minutes. I can finish in thirty minutes.
It took longer than that, actually. She'd intended to get this all done over the weekend, but Saturday had gone to getting ready for the shopping trip, and Sunday had turned into an unexpected chain of events—running into Hayama, running into Megumi, getting caught in a rainstorm, and ending up here. The homework had not gotten done.
"Hey, Mio—" She looked up. "If you're staying tonight, what about your bag and textbooks for tomorrow?"
"I'll message Chihiro-sensei. She can bring them."
Right. Mio lived next door to Chihiro-sensei. And Shiina Mashiro lived there too.
She saw Mio walking to school with Mashiro pretty regularly. They were probably close.
Yumiko caught herself, pressed her palm over her face.
Not this again.
She'd been doing this all afternoon—tracking Mio's connections, thinking about her relationships with other people, wondering what those relationships meant. And now she was doing it at night too.
Focus. Homework. Finish.
She shook herself, pulled her attention back to her textbook, and ground through the last of it.
Half an hour later, she stretched and turned around.
Mio was asleep.
Curled up small, breathing slow and even. The last traces of the afternoon's color had faded from her cheeks. She looked... quiet. Peaceful.
I'm a really heavy sleeper.
Yumiko climbed carefully onto her side of the bed, moved slowly so as not to disturb anything, and reached for the lamp.
She hesitated for just a moment.
Then turned it off.
Okay. Dark. Can't see her. No more strange thoughts.
She was, as it turned out, completely wrong about this.
In the dark, she could still feel the warmth radiating from the other side of the mattress. Could still hear Mio's slow, steady breathing. Could sense, with total precision, that there was another person right there beside her.
...
She stared at the ceiling for a long time.
...