Ichika's hand shot out, intercepting Yotsuba's probing fingers mid-air.
"Yotsuba. Go on out. I'll be right there," Ichika declared, sitting up abruptly. She glanced at the suspicious bulge near her abdomen, then used her free hand to press down firmly on the lump.
The quilt flattened instantly.
'So itchy~!' A delicate blush colored her cheeks. She stared at Yotsuba, who hadn't moved. "What?" she prompted, her voice a touch too high.
Yotsuba's eyes remained fixed on the lower half of the duvet. "Ichika… have you seen Sakurai-kun?"
She'd just watched him walk in here. And there was nowhere else to hide on the second floor.
Nakano Ichika suppressed a shudder. "Mm No I haven't seen him." The strain in her voice was palpable.
Yotsuba tilted her head. Ichika was acting weird. Her voice sounded… strained.
Suddenly, Yotsuba lunged, grabbing a corner of the quilt and yanking it upward.
Nakano Ichika: "!!!"
In a panic, she wrapped her arms around the hidden lump—Sakurai Saki—and rolled, shielding him with her body.
Yotsuba, now holding a corner of the quilt aloft, peered beneath. She saw the length of Ichika's bare legs.
"Ichika… are you sleeping naked again?" It was an open secret among the sisters.
"Mm," Ichika nodded weakly, her face burning.
As Yotsuba spoke, she noticed the blush creeping down Ichika's neck. Processing the oddity of the situation, Yotsuba's expression shifted to one of dawning, horrified understanding. She stiffened, turned mechanically, and shuffled toward the door like a reanimated mannequin.
"Um… I'm going! You… hurry up and come out."
Click.
The door closed softly behind her.
The moment the latch clicked, Ichika's held breath escaped in a ragged sigh. She released her death-grip on Sakurai Saki.
"Hey! Sensei~ You can come out now." She flipped the quilt back, leaning close to his ear.
Sakurai Saki gasped for air, his face flushed from lack of oxygen and proximity to… everything. He felt like he'd survived a covert assassination attempt.
This was murder! Psychological warfare!
"You… get dressed first," he managed, still trying to steady his breathing.
"Did I… look good?" Nakano Ichika asked, the question seeming to slip out from some deep, sleep-addled part of her brain.
"S-So-so. I didn't get a clear look," Sakurai stammered, guilt twisting his words. To be brutally honest, the impression had been… staggering. A scale far beyond even Ai-chan's. But admitting that felt like crossing a line from 'unfortunate circumstance' to 'active pervert.'
After all, he'd been the one taking advantage, however unintentionally. A decent man didn't comment.
"Oh? 'So-so'?" Ichika's voice held a sudden, sharp edge. Your hands just now were not 'so-so' in their exploration. You left no stone unturned. And now 'so-so'?
"Care to say that again?" Would it kill you to give a girl a proper compliment in this situation?
"Hm?" Sakurai was baffled. Why was she angry?
Well, if she insisted on honesty over chivalry… "You look good. But I think women often look better in clothes. Fabric enhances mystery, builds allure. Complete exposure… loses a certain subtlety. I prefer a more veiled aesthetic. But that's just my personal taste." He delivered this analysis with the detached air of an art critic.
His clinical dissection finally ignited the full force of Ichika's delayed modesty. But a more pressing concern overrode it.
Huddled in the quilt, she whispered, "…Will you take responsibility?"
He'd seen everything. In the world she knew, this was the inevitable next line.
"I have a girlfriend," Sakurai stated plainly. There was no point hiding it.
"…It's okay… Eh?! Girlfriend? Sensei has a girlfriend?!"
"Yes. Though I suspect she might view me as a… backup option."
The admission strangely eased the tension for Ichika. A backup? That was… manageable.
Though, a girl who'd relegate Sensei to 'backup' status had to be something else.
"Why do you feel like a backup?"
Sakurai sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Our LINE chats. They're only ever four messages long."
Even with her limited romantic experience, Nakano Ichika knew what that meant. Four messages? That wasn't boyfriend territory. That wasn't even 'acquaintance' territory. She exchanged more than that with classmates she barely knew. With close friends, the threads could stretch for hundreds.
As a boyfriend, there should be a constant, flowing exchange. Four messages was a deliberate wall.
Ichika fumbled under the covers, locating and securing her underwear. "Sensei… it might be rude to say, but… you might genuinely be a backup." She said it gently, but the truth hung heavy.
Sakurai's face fell, a flicker of genuine disappointment crossing his features.
"Who confessed first?"
"She did."
"Then… she might have regretted it." Ichika pulled a beige knit sweater and white jeans from the clothing mountain beside her. "Girls regret things easily. Every time I buy clothes, I love them at first, then a week later I'm filled with doubt—wrong cut, wrong color. Even if the initial feeling was strong, it fades."
She dressed under the covers as she spoke, her voice taking on the tone of a theoretical sage with zero practical data. "Love… is probably similar, right?"
"I think our relationship is actually quite good," Sakurai Saki countered, stubbornly clinging to his own interpretation.
Nakano Ichika, her initial crisis of modesty now completely overridden by a more potent force—gossip—waved a dismissive hand. "Is that just Sensei's wishful thinking? Overconfidence isn't attractive, you know~" She wriggled under the covers, pulling her sweater over her head.
"So, how far have you two gone?"
"Do I have to answer that?"
"We've kissed."
"When? On your first date?"
"The day we started dating."
"That fast?" Ichika's eyebrows shot up as she shimmied into her jeans. "Ah, Sensei~ I'm afraid you're already doomed."
"Why?"
"A girl who kisses you on the first day you're officially dating? Do you think she's taking it seriously?" Ichika's tone was that of a seasoned, if entirely theoretical, relationship analyst. "If it were me, I'd consider it only after at least a month." Her logic was blunt: a girl that casual with physical intimacy couldn't be a 'good girl.'
(She was, of course, catastrophically wrong. Hayasaka Ai was, in fact, a 'good girl' of terrifyingly focused intensity.)
"…" Sakurai Saki fell into a heavy silence, the theory landing with the weight of a truth he'd been avoiding.
"Ah, well, never mind. You do seem kind of pitiful." A sly, sisterly smile crept onto Ichika's face. The gears in her head were audibly turning. "Let's just consider what happened earlier… a little bonus for you."
She paused, letting the moment hang before unveiling her true, opportunistic motive.
"When you eventually break up with that girl, you should consider me first. After all…" She gestured vaguely at herself, now fully dressed. "You've seen the whole package."
Sakurai Saki was, objectively, to her liking. While Miku got along well with him, it wasn't romantic. Nino's relationship with him was famously frosty. Yotsuba was… Yotsuba. Itsuki was in full study-mode. Logically, she was the only one who viewed their tutor as a viable romantic prospect.
And if he was already a 'backup,' the relationship was on borrowed time. She'd just be there to… catch him when he fell.
"You have a good impression of me?" Sakurai sounded genuinely baffled. "I don't recall doing anything particularly impressive." His romantic blind spot was a canyon.
"Rescuing a damsel in distress. I thought that was rather dashing," Ichika said, finally stepping out from the bed and striking a pose.
"I wasn't trying to save you that time," Sakurai replied with devastating honesty. "It was a tactical decision."
"…Idiot~!" Ichika's cheeks puffed out in a mock pout. "I don't like you yet, so don't get the wrong idea!"
And with a flawless, tsundere-esque hair toss that would have made Nino proud, Nakano Ichika flounced out of the room, leaving a thoroughly confused Sakurai Saki sitting on her bed, his romantic life now more complicated than the Nakano family tree.