What would happen if the sun suddenly appeared at night?
Sakurai Saki gazed at the deluge beyond the balcony and pondered. While he liked rainy days, torrential rain was another matter.
I should have just canceled today.
It was already 10 PM. Getting back would take at least half an hour in this. Getting drenched wasn't the issue; his main concern was the inevitable scolding from the Nakano quintuplets. In their eyes, anyone venturing out in this would be labeled with one word: idiot.
To preserve his dignified tutor image, he'd wait it out.
Today's ability was Solar Summoning. Controlling it was simple—this was the third time he'd drawn this particular power. No side effects. The only drawback was its conspicuousness, which was a pain. The mechanics? Child's play. On a rainy day, just push the clouds aside. At night, speed up Earth's rotation to align his location with the sun. It was as easy as putting an elephant in a refrigerator.
Any Superpower User could do it, right?
Footsteps approached from behind.
"Where will Teacher-chan sleep tonight?" Nakano Ichika materialized beside him, her gaze not on the dark, water-streaked window, but on his profile.
Sakurai's focus remained on the storm. There was nothing to see in women. Especially ones who'd just showered and were clad in dangerously thin sleepwear.
"The sofa," he replied flatly. The rain's roar filled the silence.
"I got the highest score on the practice test just now~" Ichika noted his avoidance and leaned in, her breath a warm, intimate whisper against his ear, as if tracing the shell with her tongue. "Any… reward?"
"I'll reward you with an extra set of problems tomorrow. A chance to shine." He turned, his expression one of weary irritation.
Ichika had her hands clasped behind her back, leaning forward slightly. The snowy expanse of her cleavage was distractingly pale against the dim room.
"Ara~ What are you looking at?" she teased.
"Ichika. Have some self-respect." Sakurai raised a palm, a physical barrier against her advance. "Ours is a pure teacher-student relationship. I regard you as a student. I expect you to regard me as a teacher."
"Hmm Is that so"
To his shock, Ichika slid a hand into her own cleavage and produced several 10,000-yen notes. "Teacher-chan~ You do rent-a-boyfriend gigs, right? Your teaching duties are over for the day." She fanned the bills.
Sakurai pulled out his phone, opening the agency app. "Read the company's terms of service."
"It is not permitted to undertake private arrangements through company channels…" Ichika read aloud, then handed the phone back. "Your company is so strict."
Sakurai let out a quiet breath of relief.
She then produced her own phone. "But if I book a session through the app right now, I should still make the cutoff."
"…Huh?"
"What's wrong? I want to experience the rent-a-boyfriend service too. Is that not allowed?" She blinked, finally registering his palpable reluctance. Admittedly, pretending to be a couple with an acquaintance would be far easier than with a stranger.
"Fine, fine~ I get it. You don't want to."
"Even if you book, I have the right to refuse suspicious clients," Sakurai stated. He remembered past requests with meeting points suspiciously clustered around love hotels. Boys had to protect themselves outside, or risk being taken advantage of with no recourse.
"The rain doesn't look like it's letting up~ It's chilly at night. Wouldn't want you to catch a cold."
"There are only five bedrooms in this apartment," Sakurai reminded her.
"You can have my bed." She was dead serious.
"I'll take the sofa." So was he. He'd already endured one social execution during Golden Week. He wasn't volunteering for another.
Seeing his repeated refusals, Ichika finally relented, preparing to leave.
"Oh, and Teacher-chan," she added, pausing at the doorway. "You got soaked on the way over. Don't forget to take a shower. You'll catch a cold otherwise."
The plan had been a simple one: get him to wash up first. A tactical error, she now realized, born from forgetting a crucial variable—he had no change of clothes here.
Now, Sakurai Saki stood in the living room dressed only in his dried uniform pants and a thin white undershirt. His jacket, finally free of the rain's chill, lay discarded over the arm of the sofa. A strategic concession to comfort.
"Nino's still in the bath, right? We'll talk once she's finished." He didn't turn, his gaze fixed on the relentless downpour outside the window.
"Don't go getting any ideas with the bathwater, now~" Ichika's voice was a melodic tease, her laughter hidden behind her hand.
"I don't make a habit of baths." Showers were superior. Efficient. Less… complicated.
"Ara What a shame. Us five sisters… oh, wait." She paused, a masterful actress feigning recollection. "The water was changed partway through. If I remember correctly, it's just Miku's and Nino's in there now." Her tone was a carefully crafted sonnet, designed to imply everything and state nothing. "Better hurry if you're going to" With a final, knowing chuckle, her presence faded, retreating to the sanctuary of her room.
Sakurai Saki remained on the sofa, a patient sentinel waiting for the storm to break. Heavy rain rarely lingered. A statistical fact. Today was an outlier—a downpour that had begun the moment tutoring ended and had stubbornly refused to cease for nearly an hour.
I shouldn't have extended the session.
His internal critique was interrupted by the silent passage of time. Another ten minutes bled away.
A soft sound pulled his attention. A figure emerged from the steam-clouded bathroom.
Hair, dark and damp, fell freely around her shoulders, stripped of its usual ribbons and pins. Without prior context, identification would be a challenge. But Saki had context.
It wasn't Yotsuba—the legs were wrong, less athletic, more slender. Not Ichika, whose hair was a signature bob. Miku's movements carried a thoughtful hesitation absent here. Yotsuba's energy was nowhere in this quiet, slightly disoriented posture.
If you observe carefully… he mused, the thought clinical. Their habits betray them. Personality manifests in physiology.
Nino blinked at the blurry world. The lengthy, hot soak had left her lightheaded, the edges of reality soft and indistinct.
"Ichika?" she ventured, squinting at the shape on the sofa.
She moved on autopilot, navigating by muscle memory to the socket, plugging in the hairdryer with practiced ease. The mechanical whirr began to fill the room.
"It's me."
Saki's voice acted like a remote control hitting pause. Nino froze, the hairdryer droning pointlessly in her still hand.
"Why are you… only in a towel?" His question was flat, devoid of accusation, which somehow made it worse.
Her mind, fogged by heat and steam, scrambled for logic. No boys home. Just sisters. Habit. The answer was pathetic even to her.
"…You've seen it before. So it doesn't matter." She forced the words out, her cheeks betraying her with a tell-tale warmth. Retreat is defeat! If the first glance was free, the second is just… confirmation.
"Did you forget your contacts again?"
"The cabinet by the tub. Second shelf, middle section. I left them." A grateful pivot.
Saki rose and went to investigate. He scanned the shelf, his fingers brushing past bottles and boxes. "Not here."
"Still can't find them?"
He heard her approach from behind, felt the slight dip of the floorboards. She stretched onto her toes, her arm reaching over his shoulder, her scent—soap, steam, and uniquely Nino—briefly enveloping him.
Click.
Her aim, compromised by myopia, was off. The wrong cabinet door swung open, precariously overloaded with a tower of neglected books.
Time compressed. Saki's arm snapped around her, pulling her back against him as his free hand shot out, bracing against the avalanche. He held the wobbling structure firm, his muscles taut.
"Eh—?!" The sound was a small, surprised breath against his collarbone.
She didn't comprehend the cause, only the effect: the sudden, solid circle of his arm, the firm pressure of his palm on her shoulder, the heat of him seeping through the terrycloth.
My heart… it's beating so fast it's loud.
A few suspended seconds, then the danger passed. He released his hold on the cabinet, his arm beginning to withdraw from her.
The motion was swift. Unthinking. The towel, its security tenuous at best, had no chance.
A first, fleeting sensation of cool air on her skin. Then, understanding.
With a gasp that was pure instinct, she didn't retreat. She pressed forward, closing the gap he'd created, burying herself against his chest, her arms locking around him in a desperate, full-length embrace.
"What's wrong?" His voice was low, closer to her ear now.
Her reply was muffled, fierce, and trembling, spoken directly into the fabric of his shirt.
"…Don't you dare look!"