Yūto Shō wore a face as unbothered as a protagonist during a filler arc, casually handing his phone over to Sato Ruri to search through. But then he caught it—the girl's lips curled into a delighted smile, like she'd just pulled a rare SSR pull and found dirt on him she could hold over his head forever.
"What are you smiling about?" Yūto Shō frowned. There shouldn't be anything incriminating on his phone.
"Nothing." The girl swiftly wiped the smile off her face, handing the phone back with a breezy tone. "I'm done looking. Don't worry, I didn't find any of your dirty little secrets."
Still saying 'nothing,' huh—your grin's practically breaking containment.
Watching the corners of her mouth twitch up against her will, Yūto Shō mentally roasted her, but he was one hundred percent certain there was nothing damning on that phone. At the very least, nothing she could weaponize against him.
So why was she looking like she'd just unlocked a hidden achievement?
Yūto Shō turned it over in his mind and decided to trust himself.
Taking his phone back, he shot her a meaningful look. "Then—see you after school."
Sato Ruri's cheeks bloomed a slow, deepening pink. She chewed her bottom lip, wrestling with something, then finally lifted her eyes to his like a heroine steeling herself for the final boss battle, and nodded with earnest resolve. "I'll show up. I promise."
"I'll be counting the minutes." Yūto Shō gave her one last long, weighted look, then turned and walked off.
The moment he was out of range, Sato Ruri's whole frame collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, her shoulders sagging, her face flushed crimson as she gasped for breath in short, ragged pulls.
Her heart was going full BPM-drop mode, eyes glazed with a wet sheen, the picture of a girl in the grip of something dangerously close to love.
Her lower belly and thighs itched with a slow, gnawing heat—like her skin was begging for a big warm hand to smooth it down. The feeling had spiked to unbearable levels while Yūto Shō was standing right in front of her.
Facing this traitorous reaction from her own body, Sato Ruri made a face of pure embarrassment. All she'd done was talk to him, face-to-face—nothing more—and her body had already gone rogue like this.
Was this what people called being smitten? Doki-doki?
She pressed her palm over her full, swelling chest, trying to feel through the thick, soft cushion of it for the heart pounding hot and frantic underneath, her expression drifting off into that distant, dazed look you see on shoujo manga covers.
...
Evening rolled around fast.
After the last bell, Yūto Shō didn't bother rushing home. He knocked out dinner in the school cafeteria, then wandered over to the basketball court to watch some pickup games, planning to kill time until dark before bringing Sato Ruri back to his place.
Tonight, his agenda was simple: bully Sato Ruri and absolutely nothing else on the itinerary.
When he judged the timing about right, Yūto Shō pulled out his phone and texted her: Where you at?
The girl sent back a pinned location—a bus stop just outside the school gates.
On my way. He typed the reply and was about to head over when a private message pinged in. He checked the sender tag—Kirei Ryu.
I made plans with Ruri this morning to do evening study together in the classroom, but she suddenly bailed with some excuse. Did she go find you?
Yūto Shō had been waiting all day for this rendezvous and was already itching for a proper springtime tumble with the girl, so he had zero intention of replying. But before he'd even taken a few steps, Kirei Ryu pinged again:
Ghost her. Come find me instead—let's go on a date.
Damn, how much do you hate Ruri? Yūto Shō thought, mildly impressed by the pure venom radiating off the screen. But standing someone up wasn't his style. He pocketed the phone and hustled out to the school gate, spotting Sato Ruri waiting at the stop.
Right on cue, a bus was pulling in.
"Wrong direction. We need the one across the street."
Yūto Shō walked up beside her, pointing out that the bus on the opposite side of the road was the one that ran past his apartment.
"Nope, this one's right. I want to go somewhere and clear my head tonight. Come with me." Sato Ruri flashed a mischievous, sly little smile—full Kaguya-sama tactician mode—and hopped straight onto the bus.
Yūto Shō's brow furrowed. He'd been played. But she was already on board, and there was no realistic way he was going to grab her by the collar and drag her back off. He'd have to tag along and hunt for an opening en route.
It was already past seven; the bus wasn't packed. There were two seats still open together toward the back. Sato Ruri made her way over and sat down, and Yūto Shō, never one to stand on ceremony, slid in right next to her.
The bus rumbled to life and set off toward the city outskirts.
Yūto Shō remembered this direction—it led out to the new high-speed rail district. They were building a 300-km/h bullet train line out there, and around it a bunch of new residential towers had sprouted up along with a big central park. At night, plenty of people would be out walking, jogging, doing the whole suburban wholesome thing.
So Ruri wanted to go there, huh. Looked like she was banking on public space to skate through the night unscathed.
But she was underestimating who she was dealing with. This was Yūto Shō—the guy who could pop a rock-hard erection on a bus jammed shoulder-to-shoulder with square dance aunties. A little park? Please. Small potatoes.
Still, this whole scared-of-getting-railed mentality of hers had to go. They'd already crossed the line together—if she stayed this jumpy, how was she ever going to become his stable, low-maintenance scumbag-point farm?
An idea flickered behind his eyes. He glanced around: every passenger on the bus was face-deep in their phone, thoroughly checked out of reality. So he casually laid his hand on Sato Ruri's thigh, and not shy about it either—up high, near the crease of her leg. Right on the exact spot on her thigh where his signature was inked.
The girl's whole body gave a soft, involuntary shudder, a flush racing up her cheeks. She glanced down at that villainous hand parked on her leg and muttered, unimpressed, "Even riding the bus doesn't stop you?"
Yūto Shō leaned in close to her ear, voice low and coaxing. "Doesn't this make it more exciting? Just don't cry out, okay? There's people everywhere. Wouldn't want anyone to overhear."
As he spoke, the hand on her thigh started to knead with slow, deliberate wickedness. The tender, feverish heat of her thigh burned through the thin fabric of her skirt straight into his palm, and it took real willpower not to grip harder, dig deeper.
Sato Ruri's full chest rose and fell in uneven surges, her face flushing a deeper and deeper shade of rose. Suddenly she leaned in close to his ear and hissed through clenched teeth, "Let them hear. I'm getting the feels already—you keep touching me, I'm gonna let out some really weird noises, and I won't be able to stop them."
Yūto Shō froze mid-motion, staring at her in genuine shock.
The girl was carefully regulating her breathing, eyes locked on his with a challenging glint. She whispered, barely audible, "Keep going. Don't stop. It actually feels kinda good—ahn~"
Yūto Shō hesitated. No way she'd actually make a sound in public. So his palm resumed its slow, kneading circles on her thigh, though this time his eyes stayed glued to her face.
The instant his hand started moving again, her cheeks flooded a deeper crimson, breathing accelerating into visible, shallow pants. Her lips parted, drifting open of their own accord, on the verge of releasing a helpless, breathy little "hah~"—a proper, telltale moan.
Yūto Shō's heart lurched—ba-dump—and before he could think, his hand shot up and clapped over her mouth.
The nearest passengers, jolted by the sudden movement, all turned their heads toward them.
Yūto Shō's brow furrowed as he stared at her, and she stared right back—her eyes brimming with unmistakable, gleaming laughter.
Noticing the attention his little panic move had drawn, Sato Ruri gently took hold of Yūto Shō's wrist and pulled his hand down, laughing sweetly, "Stop messing around, there's so many people here."
The other passengers watched the little scene play out and softened, exchanging knowing, indulgent smiles before turning back to their phones—young love, how cute.
Yūto Shō's face went a shade tighter, forced to lower his hand and put on the whole flustered-boyfriend act for the audience. His other hand, the one that had been on her thigh, had already retreated ages ago.
Watching him squirm through the aftermath, Sato Ruri's eyes glittered with even richer satisfaction. Of course she was never actually going to let out some indecent sound on a public bus—it was all a bluff, pure UNO reverse card psychology, purely to spook Yūto Shō. And spooked he was.
This one's a pure-love scumbag, she thought, half-amazed at her own discovery. And I've just found the perfect method to counter a pure-love scumbag.
Right at that moment, though, a treacherous flush of deep pink crept back up Sato Ruri's delicate cheeks. From those few minutes of Yūto Shō's kneading on her thigh, she'd just noticed the fabric of her underwear—the fabric pressed intimately against her most tender, hidden skin—had gone damp. Slick. Traitorously wet.
All he did was rub my leg for a minute, she thought, mortified, and my body's already this shameless. The itching in her lower belly and along her inner thighs had built into a slow, burning throb she couldn't dismiss anymore, and the humiliation of it made her feel utterly lewd, blushing hot with private, shivering shame as the bus rumbled deeper into the fading evening light.