The Day Before the Weekend
A restless energy filled the school on Friday afternoon. With a two-day break looming, students buzzed with plans, their voices overlapping in the hallways as they arranged weekend outings and finalized weekend club activities.
Amidst the excitement, Masao made his way to the Service Clubroom for his usual training session.
"Yukinoshita-san," he began, "tomorrow is Saturday."
Seated at her desk, Yukinoshita Yukino looked up.
"What's the matter, Masao-kun? Looking for extra training?" A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. "I was actually planning to give you the weekend off to rest. But if you're insisting, I suppose we could arrange for something."
"Ah, no, that's not it," Masao hurriedly clarified. "I actually have plans in Tokyo this weekend. I won't be able to train."
He felt a twinge of regret. If he'd known she was going to offer him a break, he wouldn't have mentioned it at all.
"Tokyo?" Yukinoshita's curiosity was piqued, but true to her nature, she didn't pry further.
"Very well. You may skip training, but remain mindful of your diet." She paused, granting a small concession. "However, you are permitted one cheat meal. You may eat whatever you wish—but remember, only one meal."
"My cheat meal? I didn't expect you to be so understanding, Yukinoshita-san."
The mention of a cheat meal made Masao's eyes light up. After weeks of disciplined eating, forgoing sweets and snacks, his cravings had built into a powerful hunger.
This trip to Tokyo was the perfect opportunity to indulge. The desserts at the Sawamura house are incredible...
'And with the money I've earned, maybe I can finally visit that maid café…'
He became so lost in his gastronomic fantasies that a bit of drool escaped the corner of his mouth.
Witnessing his entranced, borderline-lecherous expression, Yukinoshita regarded him with pure disdain.
"Masao-kun," she said, her voice cold. "Please wipe your mouth. And kindly discard that unsightly expression. Being in close proximity to you when you look like that makes me fear for my personal safety."
For effect, she crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, putting a few more inches between them.
Snapping back to reality, Masao flushed and quickly complied. Embarrassed and flustered, he spoke without thinking.
"Yukinoshita-san, this weekend, would you like to come with me–"
He cut himself off, the reason for his trip—the lewd doujinshi launch—crashing back into his mind like a bucket of ice water. Inviting THE Yukinoshita to such an event was unthinkable
"Come with you how?" Yukinoshita pressed, her head tilted.
She had no idea of what he'd been about to ask, and his sudden silence intrigued her.
'Was he too embarrassed to finish the invitation? He doesn't usually seem the type to be so shy.'
Masao's eyes darted away, unable to meet her gaze.
"I-It's nothing," he stammered. "I just... I have something important to take care of on the weekend."
Yukinoshita let the matter drop. She wasn't one to dig into others' secrets.
Their training session concluded soon after. At their usual parting point on the street, Masao waved.
"See you next week, Yukinoshita-san."
"Mm. See you next week."
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Saturday Morning
Masao caught an early train to Tokyo, navigating the complex transit system until he stood before the elegant Sawamura villa just after nine o'clock.
He rang the bell.
The door was opened moments later by Sawamura Sayuri, who greeted him with a warm, knowing smile.
"Masao-kun, you're here early! Please, come in."
"Good morning, Sayuri-san. This is for you—a small token of my appreciation." He offered a tastefully wrapped box containing specialty sweets from Chiba.
"My, how thoughtful of you, Masao-kun." Sayuri accepted the gift gracefully, without any false modesty. "I won't stand on ceremony then"
He stepped inside and was led to the spacious living room. Glancing around, he noticed the absence of the person he most expected to see.
"Sayuri-san," he ventured, "is Eriri not here?"
"Eriri? Oh, that night owl," Sayuri sighed with theatrical affection. "She was up until dawn finishing a manuscript. She's still fast asleep."
Her eyes then sparkled with mischief.
"You could always go up and wake her, Masao-kun. Who knows? You might be rewarded with a delightful view~"
Before Masao could even process the suggestion, a mortified shriek echoed from the top of the stairs.
"Mom! What are you saying?!"
They looked up to see Sawamura Eriri, her face flushed a brilliant scarlet, standing on the landing like an angry cat with its fur on end.
She had, in fact, stayed up late, but had set an alarm specifically because Masao was visiting today.
To descend the stairs and immediately hear her mother offering him a "delightful view" of her bedroom was the height of humiliation. What kind of mother says that?
She shot a venomous glare at Masao, a silent warning to erase any such notions from his mind.
Masao felt a wave of helplessness.
'The idea might have crossed my mind, but your mother is clearly joking. She can say these things, but if I ever agreed, my life would be over.'
Facing her furious daughter, Sayuri remained unruffled.
"Well, since you're up, Eriri, why don't you keep Masao-kun company? I'll prepare some tea and snacks." With a final cheerful smile, she glided out toward the kitchen.
Grumbling under her breath, Eriri stomped down the stairs and threw herself onto the sofa opposite to Masao, her arms crossed tightly.
"You," she seethed, her voice low and accusatory. "You finally decided to show up."
Masao was taken aback by her hostility.
"What's wrong? Did I do something to upset you?"
"Don't play dumb with me!" she snapped, her cheeks flushing even deeper. "You know exactly what! Do you have some kind of... of oyakodon fetish (mother and daughter fetish), you hopeless, perverted, ultimate otaku?!"
While they were both artists in the same genre, the memory of reading that specific doujinshi—and worse, the recollection of looking at it with her mother—filled her with a cringing horror that revisited her in the dead of night.
Every time she remembered those pages alone a fresh wave of rage would burn through her.
And all of it was Tanaka Masao's fault. The grudge was personal.
Hearing her accusation, Masao could only look away, guilt written on his face.
If this was about the doujinshi, he had no defense. Even he found its particular themes somewhat embarrassing.
"W-well... you know," he stammered, "A doujinshi is just a doujinshi. It's all fantasy..."
Seeing him squirm, unable to meet her eyes, Eriri let out a contemptuous "Hmph!" and turned her head away, deciding she had made her point.
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