"They're both out of town on business and won't be back tonight," Eri shot her childhood friend a half-irritated glance, cheeks puffing out like a sulky chipmunk. She was clearly annoyed at Hayashi Shuichi's excessive caution. "Now will you finally sit down and relax?"
"Really?" Hayashi Shuichi blinked, still sensing something off, but the girl had already laid it out so plainly—he couldn't exactly refuse.
"I'm going to change," Eri said, tossing her bag aside and stretching languidly. "Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge."
"I'll just boil some water for tea," Hayashi Shuichi replied, heading into the kitchen.
Eri watched his retreating back, biting her lip as if steeling herself for battle, then turned and hurried into the bedroom.
In the kitchen, Hayashi Shuichi stared at the kettle while his mind raced: What exactly is Eri up to?
He hadn't figured it out yet when soft footsteps sounded behind him.
He turned instinctively—and froze.
Eri had changed into a sky-blue nightgown printed with tiny cats. The soft fabric clung to her body, tracing every elegant curve. She stood quietly in the doorway, eyes flickering with nerves, head slightly bowed, strands of hair spilling over flushed cheeks.
"What's wrong?" Hayashi Shuichi asked, bewildered.
"N-nothing." Eri's gaze darted away; a stiff smile tugged at her lips. "Shuichi, the water's boiling."
"Already? That was fast—" He turned back to the stove.
That split-second distraction was all she needed.
A rush of air whipped past the back of his head.
Years of martial arts training kicked in. Hayashi Shuichi spun, arm snapping up to block the incoming chop with pinpoint precision.
Eri's first strike failed. Without missing a beat, she lashed out with a sharp side kick—clean, fierce, deadly.
It, too, was effortlessly parried.
Hayashi Shuichi caught her right leg mid-air and chuckled. "I taught you every move you know. Sneak attacks on me?"
"Don't get cocky!" Eri snapped. Then her brows knitted, lips trembling as if in pain. "Ow—my calf's cramping!"
"Bad?" Hayashi Shuichi immediately released her leg and crouched to check the left one.
"It's cramping, right? Feels normal to me…" His words trailed off as a sudden, searing pain exploded at the side of his neck. The world went black; his body crumpled like a marionette with cut strings.
"Shuichi, you're mine. Your first everything has to be mine. I'm done giving those vixens a chance!"
Eri knelt beside him, eyes blazing with manic possession. She brushed his cheek tenderly, then giggled—soft, unhinged.
"You won't blame me… right?"
What the hell is this?
Has tsundere Eri gone full yandere?
Hayashi Shuichi's stomach dropped, thoughts racing. He wasn't actually unconscious. The blow had caught him off-guard, but a lifetime of training meant he didn't go down that easily.
He'd played dead to see what she'd do next.
And the first thing he heard? That deranged little monologue.
He considered "waking up," but the fallout could torch their friendship forever.
Fine. Wait it out. See where this goes.
While he wavered, Eri struggled to hoist his shoulders, half-dragging him toward the bedroom. Hayashi Shuichi was tall and solidly built; even with her martial arts training, she was soon panting, face flushed crimson from exertion.
Feeling her strain, his heart softened. Subtly, he shifted his weight, easing the burden without revealing he was awake.
She didn't notice. She hauled him into the bedroom, dumped him on the bed, and planted her hands on her hips. "Heavy as a pig," she muttered, catching her breath.
After a moment, she sprang into action again, arranging his limp body into a spread-eagle "大" shape.
Hayashi Shuichi was still debating whether to "wake up" when—click—a cold ring snapped around his right wrist.
His eyes flew open. Handcuffs. Bedpost.
Shit.
He yanked his left arm back—too late. Click. Both wrists were locked.
"Eri, what the hell are you doing?" His mouth twitched; helpless shock painted his face.
"Doing?" Eri sneered, looming over him like a victorious general. "You heard everything, didn't you? Pretending to be knocked out while suddenly getting lighter—I'm not an idiot!"
"I just… felt bad for you. Wanted to see what you were planning," Hayashi Shuichi said weakly, rattling the cuffs. "Eri, this joke's going too far."
"Too far?" She snorted. "You hanging out with other women isn't too far for me?"
"I—" He started to explain, but she'd already pulled a pair of scissors from the nightstand drawer. The blade glinted coldly under the light.
She advanced, step by deliberate step, eyes burning with resolve.
"E-Eri, don't do anything stupid!" Panic surged. He thrashed against the cuffs—clang, clang, clang.
Eri's face was stone. She lowered the scissors toward his waist. "Hold still. I don't want to nick anything important."
"STOP MESSING AROUND!" Desperation overrode caution. He kicked wildly, twisting on the bed.
"Give up now? After coming this far?" Eri muttered, almost to herself. She yanked a belt from under the mattress, eyes flashing with ruthless determination, and swiftly bound his legs.
"You're not actually serious—" Cold sweat beaded on Hayashi Shuichi's forehead. Terror filled his eyes. "Cut that and my life's over!"
"Over?" Eri plopped onto his thighs, rolling her eyes. "Just get a new one."
"You think this is a movie? You can't just replace it!" he roared, frantic.
"It's just clothes—why not replace it?" Eri snapped, genuinely confused.
"Clothes?" Hayashi Shuichi gaped. "You're not… going full Abe Sada on me?"
"Huh?"
Her mouth fell open like she'd swallowed an egg.
A beat later, she burst out laughing, cheeks flaming. "Idiot! If I cut that, what am I supposed to do later?!"
With swift snips, she sliced his shirt clean down the middle and ripped it off.
Only then did it click: the handcuffs made undressing impossible. Scissors were Plan B.
Relief flooded him—until his belt loosened. Pants next.
"Eri, snap out of it! Think about what you're doing!"
"I've never been clearer!" she huffed, eyes blazing with stubborn fire. "That foreign woman got to take your pants off—why can't I?"
Resistance was futile. Soon he lay stark naked save for his boxers.
"Eri, I'll be late getting home—Reiko will—"
She stood, eyes squeezed shut, fingers trembling as she unbuttoned her nightgown one by one.
Hayashi Shuichi's eyes bulged. He couldn't move.
In moments, she matched him—down to her underwear. Cheeks scarlet, arms crossed over herself, body quivering with nerves and shame.
She bit her lip, hesitated… then steeled herself and climbed atop him, pressing her burning face to his chest. His heartbeat thundered beneath her ear.
"You heard what I said earlier, didn't you?" Her voice was muffled, raw.
"Eri…" He swallowed hard. "Why do this?"
"If you're worried about Miss Vina, I swear—nothing like that happened in the car."
"Just nothing like that?" Eri's arms tightened around him; her nails dug in. "You dare say you two didn't kiss?"
"I…" A guilty chuckle escaped. "She started it, I—"
"If Yukiko hadn't interrupted, you'd have gone all the way, right?" Eri lifted her head, fury in her eyes.
"More likely," Hayashi Shuichi sighed, "if Yukiko and the others hadn't shown up, Vina and I would've suffocated in that car."
"Don't change the subject!" She pinched him hard enough to make him wince. "Since kindergarten, you've never known how to say no to girls. Anyone asks—you're there. No questions."
"Have I?" He gave a sheepish laugh, knowing she wasn't wrong.
He couldn't help it. His past-life upbringing drilled into him: boys protect girls, carry the heavy stuff, always say yes. Old habits died hard.
"Middle school—you handed me all those love letters to 'deal with' because you couldn't bear breaking their hearts, but made me the villain."
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Another pinch.
"Thanks to you, every girl loved you. I became public enemy #1. Besides Ruri, I don't have a single female friend."
"You can't blame all that on me…" He smiled wryly. "You're kind of intense—"
"I don't care. It's your fault!"
Eri's fists pounded his chest—thump, thump, thump—tears brimming.
"Fifth grade… you said you'd marry me. Don't tell me you forgot."
Did I?
Hayashi Shuichi blinked, racking his brain. Nothing.
Fifth grade—she was eleven. If he'd said it, it was just to calm a scared kid. Who takes that seriously?
"Hmph. Of course you don't remember." Eri's lips trembled; her eyes dimmed. "Spring trip to the mountains… it started raining…"
"Teacher called everyone back. You were off in some corner reading, didn't hear. Kojiro and I went looking. On the way back, you slipped and tumbled down the slope."
"I was terrified you'd leave me," Eri whispered, voice softening like she was back in that storm. "But you jumped after me without hesitation—rolled through the mud just to reach me."
"Then you sent Kojiro for help and carried me under the bridge to wait out the rain."
"You thought I was scared silent, so you kept joking, promising the teachers would come soon…"
Hayashi Shuichi scratched his head. He remembered bits, but not like this.
Eri's cheeks flushed. Her voice dropped to a shy murmur. "That's when you said you'd marry me… that we'd have lots of kids…"
"I've been waiting ever since. Waiting to grow up. Waiting for us."
"But high school—you started getting all tangled up with other girls…"
Seeing he still wouldn't commit, panic flashed in her eyes.
"Hayashi Shuichi—are you reneging? Taking back your word?"
"Eri…" he said carefully. "Back then, I just didn't want you to cry—"
"I know you were comforting me," she cut in, fierce. "Maybe you didn't mean it. But I did. From that day, I decided… when we grew up… I'd marry you."
Her voice cracked. She leaned down, lips brushing the corner of his mouth, tears spilling.
"Shuichi… don't make me hate you. Please?"
(End of Chapter)
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