Chapter 75 – Utaha Kasumigaoka's Nimble Silk-Clad Feet (Patreon)

"Hello? Is this the police? There are two thugs fighting each other on Block 15, District 3."

"What's the situation? Looks like they might be dying..."

"Please send someone over right away!"

Nao Tomori hung up the phone and took one last look at the punk slumped against the wall, his face completely blank. A thoughtful glint flickered in her azure eyes.

"Hmm... it lasted about ten seconds?"

"Was it forced control... or hypnosis?"

"Even though he's just a little boy, he's awakened quite a dangerous superpower."

Nao lifted the camera hanging around her neck and scrolled up through the shots she had snapped earlier. The images clearly captured the little boy's figure and face in full detail.

"He really is cute... And willing to step in and save a high school girl being harassed by thugs... Seems like a good kid."

Gazing at the little boy's face in the photo, Nao murmured her praise.

But for some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that in the photo, those eyes of his seemed to be looking straight back at her...

"He probably didn't notice me..."

Nao tilted her head.

"Well, let's focus on finding yesterday's mission target for now."

She saved the photo of the little boy. Then, after one final, lingering glance at Shuchiin Academy, she departed.

...

At that moment.

Miko Iino, whose brain had nearly shut down entirely, had been pulled along by Kouma for several dozen meters before gradually recovering her senses.

"W-wait..."

"My legs are too weak... I can't run anymore..."

Once the adrenaline from the intense panic had run its course, a wave of exhaustion suddenly washed through her body. Miko spoke between ragged gasps. Before the words even finished, her knees buckled, unable to support her. Her whole body pitched forward, taking Kouma down with her as they tumbled directly into the bushes by the roadside.

Miko squeezed her eyes shut and wrapped her arms tightly around Kouma on instinct. An indescribable, never-before-experienced pleasure surged up from deep within her body and mind.

"Nnn~"

The girl let out an involuntary, kitten-like whimper.

A familiar sound reached her ears—only this time, it was coming from her own mouth. In an instant, Miko's face flushed crimson with sheer mortification.

"S-sorry!"

Miko's voice trembled slightly. She opened her eyes and pushed her arms against the ground.

Kouma was lying underneath her. At this angle, her face was barely ten centimeters from his. She could clearly see his jade-smooth skin, his practically flawless features, even the fine, almost invisible downy hairs on his face.

As Miko met Kouma's innocent eyes, a sudden urge to thoroughly tease and torment him welled up in her heart.

His hands, his feet, his armpits... pushing the bullying to its very limit before stopping, watching that fair, jade-smooth little face twist into an expression of flushed, mortified humiliation...

Rich theoretical knowledge flooded into her mind at the worst possible moment. Miko jolted upright.

Her face burned even redder. Hurriedly, she braced her arms and lifted her upper body off him, collapsing into a bashful sitting position.

"Th-thank you for just now..."

"By the way, was Fujiwara-senpai actually looking for me?"

Miko recalled what Kouma had said earlier and asked.

"Nope. I lied to them."

Miko paused. Then her thoughts turned to the two punks who had stabbed each other in the chest over a single sentence from Kouma.

"So when you said that about their girlfriend..."

"I lied about that too."

"Didn't expect him to believe it so easily!"

Hearing this, Miko's eyes widened with pure disbelief. A street punk would actually stab someone over just one sentence like that...?

If those two had been so violently unhinged, then if Kouma hadn't shown up, the one getting stabbed could very well have been her.

Miko didn't dwell on it too deeply. Or rather, the pleasure still coursing through her body and mind was relentlessly battering her rationality—she simply couldn't think too deeply about anything right now.

"Mi-chan-nee, could you get up? You're sitting on my legs..."

The girl was firmly planted on his thighs, pinning him down so he couldn't get up.

When Miko heard Kouma's words, her face instantly went a shade of red so deep it looked like blood. She tried to rise, but her legs were numb and disobedient, refusing to budge.

"My... my legs seem to have gone to sleep..."

Miko's voice came out thin as a mosquito's whine.

Just as those rich theoretical knowledge reserves in her mind began churning to life once more, a voice suddenly sounded from above her head.

"Iino-san. What are you doing here?"

A familiar voice, carrying a hint of chill, reached her ears. Miko's entire body trembled. She stiffly tilted her head upward and found herself meeting a taut, beautiful face.

It was one of the very people she had no idea how to face: Shizuka Hiratsuka-sensei!

"H-Hiratsuka-sensei..."

She could already see that fake, skin-deep smile plastered across Hiratsuka-sensei's beautiful face. Miko weakly offered a strained smile of her own.

Before the words could even leave her mouth, her entire body was suddenly lifted into the air. As she was pulled away from Kouma, a hollow sense of loss abruptly surged in her heart.

"Iino-san, care to explain to your teacher what exactly you were doing with Kouma-kun?"

Hearing the faintly dangerous edge in Hiratsuka's tone, Miko's throat moved as she swallowed hard. Before this, she had walked in on Hiratsuka-sensei and Kouma in an intimate moment in her office. Now, the situation had been reversed!

Even though that compromising position just now hadn't been intentional on her part, it still gave Miko the unmistakable sense of being caught red-handed.

"Hiratsuka-sensei, you're misunderstanding..."

Miko took a deep breath and quickly recounted what had just happened. Hiratsuka's expression immediately turned serious.

Outside thugs attempting to harm a Shuchiin student was not something that could be taken lightly. She promptly called Shuchiin's security department and sent a report to the administration.

"The area around the school will probably be more tightly controlled from now on. But still, be careful after school. Best to walk home with a companion."

Hiratsuka cautioned.

Miko nodded meekly, still not quite daring to meet Hiratsuka's eyes.

Just as she thought Hiratsuka would seize this chance to talk to her about the matter of Kouma, she instead heard her say coolly, "Alright. Be careful heading home."

With those words, she took Kouma's hand and walked away without looking back.

Are you kidding? She finally got off work early today to fulfill the shopping-and-clothes-trying promise with Kouma from the school festival. Every extra word spoken to someone else meant several seconds less of time with Kouma. Hiratsuka couldn't bear it!

"Bye-bye, Mi-chan-nee!"

Seeing Kouma turn back and wave goodbye, Miko's heart suddenly skipped a beat. That strange flutter surfaced through her body and mind once more. An entire day's gloom was swept away in an instant. Her mood gradually lightened, growing easy and bright.

"M-maybe I shouldn't... leave the student council just yet..."

"Now that I think about it, Shinomiya-senpai and Fujiwara-senpai might not have fallen completely. Just leaving like that would actually be irresponsible of me toward them."

"No investigation, no right to speak... In order to guide them back onto the right path, I must take certain actions."

"Mhm. It's all for Fujiwara-senpai's sake!"

Miko watched Kouma's figure fade into the distance and silently thought to herself.

...

A dessert shop.

Fujikawa Editor Sonoko Machida had finished reading the draft Utaha Kasumigaoka had brought with an expression of utter seriousness. Then a look of excitement surfaced in her lovely eyes, and she praised her directly.

"Kasumi-sensei, this ten-thousand-word draft is remarkably high in quality! Not a bit inferior to the bestsellers!"

Hearing this, Utaha's breathtakingly beautiful face curved into a slightly smug smile.

The quality of this ten-thousand-word draft was so high that even she, the original author, was shocked she had been capable of writing at this level.

"Kasumi-sensei, compared to Volume One, your skill has improved by leaps and bounds... Did something happen recently? Like... falling in love?"

Seeing the suggestive look on Sonoko's face, Utaha's expression instantly froze. She reflexively lifted her milk tea and took a slow sip, using the motion to hide the blush creeping onto her cheeks.

That ten-thousand-word draft—she had written it all in a few hours after her encounter with that little boy, riding a monstrous wave of creative fervor.

Utaha's full, shapely thighs pressed tightly together beneath her skirt.

There was no way she could say that this manuscript had been born out of a little boy sending her inspiration flooding through her veins, now could she?

"I'm not in love! Writing is way more fun than romance!"

Utaha said softly.

Sonoko, however, cast a deeply skeptical gaze at those faintly flushed cheeks and let it linger for a moment.

After all, the plot in Volume One of Love Metronome had been rather unpolished, the romantic descriptions in particular so obviously immature. Yet now, this opening ten thousand words for Volume Two flowed with incredible smoothness.

The interactions between the male and female leads weren't even that abundant, but that teasing, sticky-sweet, ambiguous atmosphere was crafted with masterful ease. If it weren't for the fact that her writing style had barely changed, Sonoko would almost suspect someone else had ghostwritten it.

Such massive improvement without ever having fallen in love? Sonoko was deeply skeptical. But prying into an author's private life was unethical. Utaha didn't want to talk about it, and Sonoko certainly wouldn't force her.

"If you maintain this level all the way through Volume Two, Love Metronome won't just escape cancellation—it'll definitely be a hit!"

After piling on a mountain of encouraging words, Sonoko left the shop.

Once she saw her editor's back disappear through the door, Utaha finally let a look of distress show on her face.

"Maintain this level... easier said than done..."

It had only been during that half-day after her contact with the little boy, while that tingling, heart-pounding sensation still lingered faintly within her body, that she had been capable of reaching such a level.

After that feeling faded, no matter what she tried, she couldn't get back into that state. Not even her first attempt at... self-help... had brought back that golden zone.

While searching for inspiration materials, however, on a whim she had searched for images and stumbled across an account called Eri Kashiwagi. The moment she saw that name, Utaha was certain—this was Eriri's alias. On the surface, she was Shuchiin's Art Club ace, the super-level high school beauty, while in secret she was a doujinshi artist.

And furthermore...

After looking at Eriri's latest work, Utaha fell silent. She had an intuition in her heart: Eriri had definitely drawn that after having tried it with Kouma. The label of "depraved sho[ta]con pervert" was now firmly stamped upon Eriri in Utaha's mind.

Utaha looked at this newly acquired inspiration material. Her mind filled entirely with that beautiful little face of Kouma's. That night, Utaha felt her writing state was noticeably better than usual.

Only, after having tasted true creative fervor, she was no longer satisfied with just "better than usual."

That was when Utaha finally understood. The key factor wasn't the pleasure itself. It was the person who brought her that pleasure.

"Could it be... I'm actually a depraved sho[ta]con too...?"

Utaha thought back. From childhood until now, only one person had ever given her this feeling—Kouma.

Passing by a clothing store, Utaha's gaze suddenly fell upon a pair of ultra-thin black pantyhose printed with letter designs on a mannequin's legs. Her heart wavered.

She glanced down at her own fair, long legs, and the contents of Eriri's work surfaced in her mind. She walked into the clothing store and bought a pair of black stockings without hesitation. After a moment's pause, she bought a pair of white ones too.

"Excuse me, do you have a fitting room?"

"Straight ahead to the right, all the way at the end."

Utaha arrived at the fitting room at the very back and slipped the soft, smooth, ultra-thin black silk over her jade-like feet. She gazed at her own pair of nearly perfect long legs, then opened Eriri's latest work saved on her phone. Looking at those clumsy legs depicted inside, a gleam of eager anticipation sparkled in Utaha's beautiful eyes.

"I'm definitely more nimble than Eriri..."

Utaha gazed at the soles of her feet, tightly wrapped in the clinging black silk. She hooked one long leg around the pillar meant for balance and support.

...

"Kouma-kun, these outfits will definitely look so handsome on you!"

Inside the clothing store, Hiratsuka was holding up several sets of clothes against Kouma's frame, her beautiful eyes already glittering with impatience.

Kouma felt a bit helpless. This was supposed to be accompanying her to buy clothes—how did it turn into buying clothes for him instead? And judging by Hiratsuka's excitement, he had no idea how many outfits he'd be forced to try on today.

"Kouma-kun, go try these on first."

Hiratsuka urged, pulling Kouma toward the fitting rooms.

"Want your teacher to help you change?"

A glint of anticipation flickered in Hiratsuka's beautiful eyes. Come to think of it, she still hadn't seen Kouma's body yet. As the mental image surfaced in her mind, Hiratsuka felt her own breathing grow heavier.

No, get a hold of yourself, Shizuka Hiratsuka! You can't act like some full-blown pervert!

Hiratsuka forcibly reined in her emotions.

"Hiratsuka-sensei, I can handle it myself."

Kouma's voice reached her ears, and she let out a slightly disappointed sigh.

"Then be careful, Kouma-kun. If anything comes up, just call for me. I'll come in and help."

Kouma didn't want to expose Hiratsuka's true intentions. It wasn't that he was resistant to her. It was just that if he actually let her come in, who knew how long it would take to try on even one outfit.

Carrying the stack of clothes, Kouma pushed open the door to the fitting room at the very end.

Instantly, a pair of long, slender, and exquisitely nimble legs clad in black silk, mid-practice, entered his vision.

Kouma and Utaha Kasumigaoka's eyes met. The air froze solid in that instant.

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