Truthfully, ever since that night when she frankly admitted she couldn't go through with it yet, she had begun to feel much more at ease about the matter.
That's how many things are—no matter how clearly both parties understand each other without words, saying it aloud as open conflict is entirely different from harboring it silently as hidden resistance.
Besides, this wasn't even a conflict. It was simply turning her awkward, troublesome, and even—by her own admission—annoying sense of resistance into something visible: a waiting period.
That step alone completely changed her state of mind.
And once she gave up on her dream and decided to use her "body" as repayment, she had also, in her own eyes, severed any sense of moral transgression that came with a physical transaction.
It became a matter of repaying kindness.
Even if the end result was the same—losing her virginity—the meaning was fundamentally different.
These two shifts gradually dissolved the underlying tension that once existed between her and Akira.
What remained was a burdensome obsession with repaying the debt, and a bit of lingering awkwardness from their previous antagonism.
To put it simply, their unspeakable private tension had faded, but after so long spent keeping each other at arm's length, neither knew how to proceed.
This awkwardness began to ease during their shopping trip, when Akira questioned the nature of their relationship.
Then, after a strange string of complicated thoughts, she tried wrapping her arm around his as a girlfriend would, and accepted the gift he gave her—that marked a breakthrough.
Last week and this week, they finally confirmed that the debt could be considered settled.
What remained was just interest—extra, voluntary interest—and she had cast off her final worry.
In fact, had Akira come a bit later last week, just after Tomoya had approved the final draft, and she had put all her mental burdens to rest, her attitude wouldn't have been so stiff.
When Akira suggested she "get used to physical contact," she might've even responded proactively, signaling that "it's okay now."
But he'd come too early—and left too early.
Although she often claimed to be shameless, she wasn't shameless enough to drag someone back at that moment and ask them to do something to her.
After calming herself down, Utaha lightly knocked on the door twice.
Akira's voice came from within—not his usual direct "come in," but a slightly puzzled, questioning tone.
"…Miss Kasumigaoka?"
For some reason, Utaha felt something odd in his voice. It sounded… almost dismissive.
That tone triggered her sensitivity and made her suspect she had lost value—which would mean her "repayment" wasn't enough anymore.
A wave of unease surged up in an instant. More than the prospect of losing her virginity, what truly terrified her was the idea that she might fail to repay him.
She wasn't sure when her mindset had become like this.
It wasn't a sudden change—it was the cumulative result of long-term influences, debates, and countless events. In a way, it was subtle, almost unconscious.
But she didn't think it was wrong. Nor did she regret it. In fact, she felt she'd become a much better person.
Still… if she really wasn't enough, what else could she offer? Did she still have any value?
"…Ogiwara-san."
She addressed him in return, offering no other words, though she suddenly felt a stinging in her eyes and had to blink a few times.
Akira opened the door. His already odd expression grew even stranger when he saw her eyes—eyes filled with a hint of hurt.
Utaha was also taken aback by what she saw.
His hair was damp, as if freshly showered. But he wasn't wearing pajamas. He was dressed in casual clothes—normal clothes for going out.
Not his usual dark, work-related outfit. Just regular clothes for going out.
"…Are you going out?" Utaha asked.
Akira sighed, returned to his room, sat down in his chair, and gestured with his hand for her to shut the door.
After she closed it, he leaned on one hand and said, "Yeah, I'm going out."
Her heart skipped a beat. "It's late… and it's not for work…"
"Right. It's not for work. Every Saturday night is my scheduled time to go out and unwind.
Last week, Miss Kasumigaoka, you interrupted that. So if there's nothing urgent tonight, maybe let me enjoy it this time."
Unlike the flustered Nanami, Utaha took in the implication quickly and calmly.
Then she recalled what she had been doing around this time last week—probably finishing up the final revisions of the script.
With genuine confusion, she asked, "I interrupted you last week?"
Akira spread his hands with a helpless look. "I was afraid you were going to die in my house."
"…That's a bit dramatic."
"How would I know? You were working yourself half to death. There was a chance, however slim. Even just slipping and hitting your head on the floor or bed frame…"
Her expression softened. All her tangled emotions eased a little.
It was, without a doubt, excessive—an unnecessary worry.
But it was still worry.
"Then…" Utaha raised a finger and pointed to herself.
"Would you rather go out and play—or stay home and play?"
Akira's eyebrow twitched.
He didn't need to confirm what kind of "play" she meant—she had just pointed to herself.
He had assumed things still needed time to warm up, and yet here she was—ready and delivered.
"…You've really moved past the barrier? Don't force yourself. I'm not in a rush," Akira said, just to make sure.
"…Mm." Utaha nodded quietly.
Akira stood and approached her.
Even though she had mentally prepared herself and wasn't just passively accepting it, when the reality of what was about to happen sank in, she still instinctively closed her eyes.
Being scared was inevitable.
Just like at Eriri's place—he lifted her lightly and tossed her roughly onto the bed.
A hand pinned her down. It felt like the rough way he handled her when she tried to wake him up before.
Last time, she was too stunned to think and just panicked about how to escape.
This time, she kept her eyes tightly shut, made no sound, and her mind went blank.
All she could feel was her pounding heart and ragged, panicked breathing.
But once on the bed, Akira didn't move further. He simply held himself above her, looming like someone about to take her, and asked:
"I really want to know—why the sudden change? What are you thinking? Don't tell me you did something dumb again."
Utaha opened her eyes slightly. Faced with this overwhelming pressure and clearly dangerous position, it was hard to respond calmly.
Still, she forced herself to speak in a steady voice:
"Ogiwara-san, when a woman has already clearly expressed her intent, repeatedly pressing her like this isn't very gentlemanly.
Even if you enjoy making a woman say shameful things, this isn't the time, is it?"
That was as clear as she could be. Akira no longer had any doubts.
Who cares about reasons—those could come later. If he didn't act now, was he even human?
Just as Utaha widened her eyes in surprise, he suddenly got off the bed.
He grabbed his phone and fired off a quick message.
Then he opened the wardrobe, took out a thick coat, and stuffed it into the cat-door at the bottom of the door—the most sound-leaky spot.
She finally understood and teased, "I think, Ogiwara-san, you might want to reconsider your interior design choices."
Never one to lose her cool, even now, the proud Miss Kasumigaoka had to maintain her composure and seem completely unbothered.
"Good suggestion. I'll handle it tomorrow."
After blocking the door, Akira placed his hand on the light switch. "Do you prefer the lights on or off?"
Utaha smiled sweetly.
"As a lover, do I really get a say in that? Shouldn't it be up to Ogiwara-san's preferences?"
Good. She's feisty.
Akira swiped his finger outward.
"I like the balcony."
Her smug expression instantly froze.
"…As for location—Ogiwara-san, could you consider the fact that this is my first time?"
"Precisely because I'm aware it's your first time, I've been doing everything with your feelings in mind.
But I didn't expect you to be such a 'dutiful' lover—putting all my pleasures above your own. I'm truly touched. Yes, very touching."
With a mischievous grin, he asked, "So, Miss Kasumigaoka—bed or balcony? Lights on or off?"
She gritted her teeth, rolled herself into the blanket, and buried her face in it. "…Whatever you want!"
Akira chuckled and, in the end, turned off the light.
...
Meanwhile, elsewhere, Hayasaka Ai sat at her desk, headphones on, her face slightly flushed.
But her expression remained as lifeless and indifferent as ever.
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