Studying doesn't just make people smarter—it also makes them sleepy.
Despite not having finished her homework, Miko's eyelids began to droop, her head bobbed once, twice... and soon, she had quietly fallen asleep at the table.
"She's asleep," Yurikawa Hana whispered, looking up. "Let's not wake her. Let her rest a little, okay?"
"Mm." Amamiya Natsuki nodded.
It wasn't an exam room, and he had no intention of waking her up.
"Miko's been really out of it lately," Yurikawa added softly. "She spaces out in class, always looks exhausted, and no matter how many times I tell her to nap, she refuses, like she's forcing herself to stay awake. Now that she's finally gotten some sleep, let's let her rest properly."
Amamiya looked over in surprise.
You actually noticed that much? And here I thought you were the class idiot.
"You're looking at me weird, Natsuki-san." Yurikawa puffed out her cheeks in protest. "You're definitely thinking something rude!"
You're right—but no reward for guessing.
Amamiya stood, walked to the closet, and pulled out a soft blanket. With careful hands, he gently draped it over Miko's shoulders.
It was still spring, and as the sun began to set, the temperature dropped quickly.
"Natsuki-san, you're surprisingly gentle."
Yurikawa gave a quiet thumbs-up, her voice full of admiration.
Putting a blanket on someone is gentle now? No wonder male protagonists in Asian romance are falling out of favor.
Amamiya sat back down. "Let's keep studying."
"Roger!"
"… …"
To avoid disturbing Miko, Yurikawa quietly shifted her seat to Amamiya's side and whispered pitifully:
"Natsuki, look at this question. It says: 'There are nine lit candles in the room. You blow out five. How many are left?' I wrote four—but the answer key says five. Why?!"
"I don't get it. I don't get it at all!"
A mysterious gravitational force filled the air again, drawing Amamiya's gaze downward—away from the worksheet—and toward the blonde girl's chest.
She had unknowingly leaned forward, pressing herself against the desk. Most likely, she was used to doing that at home to reduce the… burden on her shoulders.
Girl, sit up straight when you study!
Also, this desk can't take much more pressure!
As the sun sank further into the horizon, the room dimmed gradually.
"…What time is it?"
Yurikawa blinked and looked out the window.
Amamiya glanced at his phone. "It's 5:10."
"Perfect—time to head home."
Yurikawa stretched her arms above her head, humming lazily. "We had P.E. today, and my shoulders are so sore… I'm gonna take a long bath when I get home."
Your shoulder pain has nothing to do with P.E. class. It's the weight on your chest that's to blame.
Amamiya lowered his head to organize his worksheets.
Then—A small cry rang out.
Startled, he looked up—just in time to see something dark flash through the air and smack him in the face.
A projectile attack?!
He flinched instinctively, trying to dodge. But he wasn't fast enough. It struck his cheek and bounced to the floor.
"What the—?"
He clutched his face and turned to Yurikawa, confused.
And then he realized.
The "projectile" was one of Yurikawa's buttons.
The blonde girl was clutching her collar with both hands, her face flushed bright red. Her school uniform had popped open—leaving her pale neck, slender collarbone, and the vague outlines beneath clearly visible.
The protective seal of modesty had been undone.
"S-Sorry!" Yurikawa stammered, covering her chest with both hands. Her voice trembled with embarrassment. "I stretched too hard, and the button flew off again!"
Again?! Wait—this isn't the first time?!
"I'm so sorry, please forgive me!"
Amamiya rubbed his cheek and muttered instinctively, "When you apologize, you should show—"
"Show what?"
Yurikawa blinked innocently. Clearly, she'd never driven a metaphorical car down the mountain roads of Akina.
"…Nothing. Never mind." Amamiya changed the subject. "Your button bounced under the bed."
"I can get it myself! I don't need help from Natsuki-san!"
Still shielding her chest, Yurikawa knelt on the floor and bent over to peek under the bed.
Amamiya couldn't help but recall a saying: Guard the head, but don't forget the butt.
You can't just focus on what's in front—you also have to be vigilant about what's behind.
As everyone knows, school skirts in elite Japanese private schools are very short. Shuchiin Academy was no exception. Normally it wasn't an issue—but when a girl crouches down to search under a bed…
Let's just say Amamiya got a glimpse of pink.
A Peppa Pig print? Seriously? Are you a high school student or a first grader?!
Yurikawa quickly sat up, glancing at Miko—still asleep—and blushed hard.
"Um… it's dark under there, and I can't see clearly. Can you shine your phone light for me?"
Amamiya nodded, turned on the flashlight, and aimed it under the bed.
"I see it! It rolled way back…"
Yurikawa's voice echoed faintly from below.
Amamiya peeked under. Sure enough, the button had landed deep in the corner.
"Don't move, Natsuki-san!" Yurikawa called out. "I'll crawl in and grab it."
"Actually—"
Before Amamiya could finish, the girl had already wriggled under the bed like a determined caterpillar.
"What were you going to say?" her muffled voice asked.
"…It's nothing now."
Honestly, we could've used a stick to knock it loose. You didn't have to crawl in there yourself.
"I got it!" she chirped triumphantly. But just as she tried to wriggle back out—she stopped.
"Natsuki-san, my clothes are caught on something. I can't move…"
"Want me to take a look?"
"Please."
Amamiya crouched and used his phone to take a picture, but the lighting wasn't great. He couldn't make out what was snagging her clothes.
"I'll check by hand."
"Okay."
He reached out and placed a hand on her waist.
"Ah…!"
The startled squeak escaped her lips like a frightened little animal stumbling into a trap.
"Don't move," Amamiya said calmly. "You'll tear your clothes if you do."
"O-Okay…" Yurikawa's voice wavered. "It just… tickled a little. Um… Natsuki-san, p-please be gentle…"
I barely touched your waist, and you're already reacting like that?!
Still… her waist really was slim. So slim that his fingers could probably wrap all the way around.
"Hold still."
Amamiya worked quickly and found the culprit—a bent nail sticking out of the baseboard.
"It's a nail. Your uniform got caught on it," he explained as he carefully freed the fabric. "Okay, you can move now—just slowly."
A minute later, Yurikawa finally crawled back out. Her hair was a mess, her face flushed, and her eyes glistened with faint tears as she collapsed onto the bed, panting.
"…I made it."
"Good job."
Just as Amamiya breathed a sigh of relief—
A familiar, ice-cold voice cut through the air.
"…What are you two doing?"