When I placed my hand on Ichika’s forehead, her eyes fluttered open. “Riku…didn’t you go to the info session?”
“It’s over. I just got back.”
Having just woken up, she gazed at me, head still foggy. Her high fever made her eyes pinkish, almost like a rabbit’s.
“Still got a fever, huh? I bought you drinks and jelly snacks. Want some?”
“Thanks. My throat’s completely parched.”
Sitting up, she gulped down one plastic bottle’s contents in one go. As she lifted her chin to finish it, I saw beads of sweat glisten on her neck. Her sweat-drenched pajamas didn’t look the least bit comfortable. I knew Ichika’s closet like the back of my hand, so I grabbed her a change of clothes while she ate the jellies.
I picked out fresh undergarments and soft cotton pajamas as well as a warm compress. She’d spent the whole day sleeping rather than going to see a doctor, but she seemed to be over the worst of her fever.
“I got you some fresh pajamas,” I said. “Why don’t you get changed?”
“It hurts to move…”
“All that sweat’s going to make you clammy. Let me wipe you down.”
Ichika obliged dutifully as I helped her undress; she probably didn’t have the energy to struggle thanks to her fever. Even when I began wiping her down with the warm towel, she didn’t object.
Large drops of sweat dotted her pale flesh. She squeezed her eyes shut as I wiped away the moisture that pooled between her breasts. Maybe the compress felt good against her skin. I wanted to wash her hair too, but it seemed a little soon for her to take a bath.
I was quite familiar with Ichika’s body from touching it so often, but I’d never actually taken a good look at it until now. I noticed that her breasts had grown slightly since we’d started becoming intimate.
“Sorry I couldn’t go with you today,” she murmured.
“Don’t worry about it. I ran into Iguchi, and we ended up going around together.”
“Oh. So, you weren’t all alone?” Ichika smiled, heaving a half-exhausted sigh of relief as she pulled on a t-shirt. I’d offered to wipe off her lower extremities as well, but she’d politely declined.
As I gave her a rough overview of the beauty school’s curriculum, she turned her back and began getting dressed, slipping her panties over her dainty ankles. Her t-shirt wasn’t long enough to fully cover her shapely butt. I was annoyed at how my eyes seemed automatically drawn to it.
“Do you think Iguchi-san wants to go there too?” she asked.
“No, though she said she’s also interested in fashion design. I didn’t see anyone else from our school at the info session, either.”
“Then it would be all right if you enrolled there, wouldn’t it?”
“I haven’t made up my mind to go there yet.”
I was certainly interested, though. I’d always curled Ichika’s hair and styled it in updos. And cutting hair with scissors had been terrifying yet exhilarating. In addition to granting cosmetology licenses, the school offered exams for makeup qualifications, and I could study both hair and makeup in depth there. Maybe I could further accentuate Ichika’s charms if I became a licensed beautician.
I ran my fingers through her sweat-drenched hair, which prompted Ichika to suddenly glance backward. “You aren’t getting undressed yourself?”
“I’m not interested in seducing someone running a fever.”
“That’s not what I meant. You’re not going to change?”
She pulled on her pajama pants, studying me quizzically. Her closet door was still ajar, so I shut it before I helped her back into bed.
“You aren’t going to put any makeup on?”
“No.” The last time I’d cross-dressed or put makeup on was the night of the post-festival celebration.
“Why’d you stop?” she whined like a sleepy child, nestling into her comforter. “You’ve still got lots of clothes here. And everyone’s coming home late tonight—no one will see you.”
“It’s fine.”
“How come?”
“I don’t need to do it anymore,” I replied, softly patting her chest in an attempt to lull her to sleep. Her listless condition made it hard for her to stand her ground. “As long as I have you, I’m fine,” I added.
I’d decided not to wear women’s clothing anymore, but I didn’t have the heart to throw away everything I’d stored in Ichika’s closet. Still, I visited her room less and less often. We always slept together in my room. It felt wrong to touch her in here, with the pastel comforter and curtains and the dolls surrounding us on all sides.
I could just barely make out the outline of her soft, supple breasts under the comforter. She moaned so sweetly when my tongue teased her nipples, but part of me detested the thought of hearing those sounds in this room.
As she finally drifted off to sleep, I gave her a soft kiss. There was something I hadn’t been able to tell her about: meeting Miyake-san at the beauty school. If only we’d had an opportunity to talk again.
✦ ✦ ✦
As soon as Ichika recovered from her cold, it was my turn to come down with a fever. It was clear as day that she’d passed her bug onto me. She’d been fortunate enough to recover over a weekend, but I had to miss school. There was no one around to take care of me, so my only option was to visit the local clinic and see a doctor on my own.
The clinic shared space with a pediatrician’s office, so there were a bunch of kids in the waiting room. Only a handful sat peacefully on their mother’s laps while the rest ran amok. Their screams rang in my head, loud enough to make you wonder whether the kids were actually sick.
“You all right?” At first, I thought a nurse was talking to me; my fever made me feel as if my head was stuffed with cotton. It was a man peering in my direction, though.
“It might be best if you lie down for a second,” he suggested. “I’ll get up.”
“Thanks, but I’m okay.”
The man wore a mask, so I gathered he had a cold too. His hair was tied into a ponytail; it looked like he was in the process of growing it out. His ankles stuck out of his rumpled sweatpants. I met his gaze, and his neatly manicured eyebrows twitched upward.
“Wait. Are you…” he cut himself off.
“Sorry?”
“Never mind.” The man shook his head. Because of his mask, I couldn’t make out most of his face. Something about his eyes seemed familiar, but I was feverish, so my vision wouldn’t focus.
I was still peering at the man, trying to recall where I’d seen him, when a nurse’s voice echoed through the waiting room. “Miyake-san. Miyake Atsuhiko-san. Please come to the consultation room.”
The man next to me rose to his feet. As he walked away, realization hit me like a ton of bricks. “Mike-san…?” I murmured under my breath. Apparently, I was audible; he—Mike-san—smiled wryly as he glanced back in my direction.