Was she seriously planning to assassinate me with a pen from behind…?
It sounded absurd, but he couldn’t completely rule out the possibility. He had thought their relationship had softened, that the emotional distance between them had closed, but that had all been his own naive assumption. Akane had only pretended to lower her guard, just to make him let his own guard down.
What a master tactician…!
This house was, after all, still a battlefield. Lower your guard, and you lose your head. Saito renewed his vigilance with grim determination.
He could not possibly stay in such an unguarded shared space, so he retreated to his study. Of course, studying was out of the question. He made himself comfortable and immersed himself in his favorite pastime—reading.
But once again, the air around him turned tense with hostility.
Saito quickly scanned the room. Akane wasn’t there. He even checked under the desk and deep inside the closet, but of course, she wasn’t there either. Ever since they moved in, not even for cleaning had she once set foot into his study.
And yet—the hostile air didn’t disappear. Akane must have been watching him.
But from where?
At a loss, Saito happened to glance out the window—and saw her.
Akane was standing out on the street, peering into his study through a pair of binoculars. She had gone to the trouble of pulling a hood low over her head and covering her mouth with a scarf to hide her face, but all it did was make her look more suspicious. The ribbon braided into her hair was still clearly visible.
Without a word, Saito closed the curtain.
My wife is stalking me—what do I do?! Saito considered asking the police for help, but he figured they probably wouldn’t take him seriously. Besides, he couldn’t even say for sure if this actually counted as stalking. He had thought he was starting to understand Akane’s feelings just a little—but that may have been pure arrogance on his part.
This girl is utterly incomprehensible!
That truth hit him hard as evening fell, and soon it was time for dinner.
“What’s wrong? Hurry up and eat before it gets cold,” urged Akane, though she hadn’t touched her own meal. Instead, she was pointing her smartphone at Saito.
“…Are you filming me right now?”
“Yes,” said Akane calmly. “I’m filming you.”
“Should we talk about my right to privacy?”
She replied without flinching. “Oh, come on. It’s a home video. You’ve got no legal ground for interference.”
“You’re trying to record my last supper, aren’t you? You’re going to send that footage to some intelligence agency as evidence of my assassination. Then, they’ll wire the payment to your bank account… That’s what this is, isn’t it?”
Saito was now so steeped in paranoia that he had fallen deep into conspiracy theory territory.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you okay?” asked Akane, her voice calm.
“I could say the same—I have no idea what you’re after.”
“No need for you to understand. Now hurry up and eat. I have to measure how many times you blink while you’re eating.”
“…Wait. Have you been observing me this whole time…? What for…?” Saito was confused and alarmed.
“Well, that’s…” Akane’s eyes darted away, looking troubled. “There was no way I could ever tell you the real reason—not even if your mouth were torn open!”
“Why would my mouth get torn open?” Saito was even more confused now.
“Well, who knows? He he he…” said Akane with a lilting chuckle. Her damp, shadowy smile was terrifying Saito. Saito readied his knife and fork like weapons, entering full combat mode.
Perhaps having given up on filming, Akane finally began eating her hamburger. She sliced into the meat with precision, as if symbolically cutting open Saito’s mouth, then brought the piece to her lips and bit down. The silence was suffocating. The tension was unbearable. Saito could barely swallow his food—it lodged in his throat, and he had to force it down with water.
Akane suddenly broke the silence.
“…Do you prefer bigger breasts?”
Saito couldn’t believe what he just heard. “B-breasts?! What kind of question is that?”
Akane’s cheeks flushed a deep red. “No special reason. Just making conversation!”
“You can’t say something like that and then pretend it means nothing!” Saito had no choice but to protest.
Akane let out a long, heavy sigh. “Fine, I’ll rephrase. From bra cup sizes A to Z, which do you like best?”
“That’s…not much better. And wait—size Z? Does that even exist?” challenged Saito.
It sounded more like a code name for a final weapon: A chest that could kill someone just by existing. Saito was at a total loss for how to respond. Maybe the right move for a peaceful household was to say Akane’s size was his preference. But there was a real risk she’d explode—“So, you’ve been looking at me lasciviously?!”
On the other hand, if he named a smaller size than hers, she might look at him like trash and call him a pedophile with a Lolita complex. On the other, if he named a larger size, she might glare at him like filth and call him a MILF lover.
What…the hell…am I supposed to…do?! Saito clutched his head, tormented by an impossible interrogation.
“You’re so indecisive. If you’re a man, just pick one already,” blurted Akane. She watched him squirm at the table with eyes that said, in no uncertain terms, that he was human garbage. Judging by her expression, his approval rating had taken a sharp dive.
“Then what about you? Could you answer right away?” Saito shot back, glaring at her.
“I like bigger ones, like Himari’s,” replied Akane calmly. “It feels comforting to be wrapped in them.”
“Tch…must be nice. Girls can say whatever they want, and it’s never considered sexual harassment,” grumbled Saito. If Saito, a guy, had said the same thing Akane just did, she would have flipped the entire dinner table, relayed his comment to Himari, and the resulting rumors would’ve spread through the school like wildfire—leading to his social death.
Akane switched the inquiry. “Um…in that case…what kind of girls do you like, Saito?”
“Huh?” Saito was stunned.
It was a question just as unexpected—maybe even more so—than the one about bust size. Akane wasn’t the type to indulge in romantic gossip, and she certainly wasn’t someone with whom Saito ever imagined having that kind of conversation. There was no romance between them—none at all. And yet, here she was—blushing, avoiding his gaze, and waiting for an answer. Her hands rested awkwardly on her lap, and she fidgeted shyly.
Is she…interested in me?
No way, Saito thought, quickly shaking off the fleeting suspicion. There was no way Akane was thinking anything like that. She and Saito were natural-born enemies. He couldn’t forget the two years of constant conflict that defined their high school life.
“Um, let’s see…I don’t really have a specific type,” he said.
“So, any girl is fine with you?”
“That’s…absolutely not what I said!”
“So, you’re fine even if it’s not a human, right? How about a guppy?” said Akane.
“I absolutely cannot date a guppy.”
Akane raised an eyebrow and continued. “That’s rude. You’ll hurt the guppy’s feelings.”
“Guppies don’t have feelings to hurt.”
“Even if they smile all the time and people think they’re strong, they might actually be fragile on the inside.”
“Wait, we’re still talking about fish, right…?” Saito found himself feeling more and more confused. He knew discrimination was wrong—but empathizing with a guppy seemed a bridge too far.
“Then, I will switch the question again. What kind of food do you like?” Akane asked Saito.
“Favorite food? I guess…steak, or sushi. I also like chirashi sushi loaded with salmon roe on top.”
“Pretty fancy for a student.”
“It’s not like I order stuff like that on my own. My grandpa takes me out to eat a lot,” explained Saito.
When it came to Saito’s grandfather Houjou Tenryu, you couldn’t underestimate him—despite his age, his appetite was even greater than Saito’s. The moment the two stepped into a restaurant, his grandfather would order a sixteen-ounce steak and polish it off in no time.
“You get along well with your grandpa,” commented Akane.
“We don’t necessarily get along. I just can’t say no to him.”
“Because deep down, you love him?” said Akane with a teasing squint.