The shower hissed to life, filling the small bathroom with a cloud of steam. Konoko stepped under the stream, the hot water tracing over her slender shoulders, running down the curve of her back, clinging before sliding away.
Her hands moved slowly over her skin, trying to soothe herself. Beads of water rolled over her breasts, her fingers brushing over the soft swell, grazing her side as she lifted her arms to lather. The warmth eased her muscles, but it couldn't quite chase away the tight knot in her stomach.
Why… do I feel like this? she thought, pressing a palm against her belly. A faint wave of nausea rolled through her, sharp enough that she closed her eyes and leaned against the tiled wall, letting the spray cover her face.
It has to be that drink… that fermented milk. Just thinking about it… The memory of the taste hit her, thick and bitter, clinging to her tongue. A shudder ran through her. Ugh, I can almost feel it in my throat again…
She breathed slowly, trying to push the thought away. Water streamed down between her thighs, caressing the line of her inner seam trailing along her inner legs. Her body felt sensitive under the touch of water, but the nausea dampened any trace of comfort.
Konoko rinsed her hair, tilting her head back, droplets coursing down the length of her neck, dripping from her chest, sliding over the tips of her peaks that stiffened slightly against the cool air when she stepped back from the stream. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering faintly despite the heat, her mind circling that drink, that strange flavor she never wanted to taste again.
Konoko stayed under the spray longer than she meant to, her body heavy, the heat loosening her limbs but not her thoughts. Each breath carried a faint taste of nausea, and the water that traced over her belly only reminded her of the churn inside.
She forced herself to move. Her fingers slid down her thighs, rinsing the last foam away, the stream of water parting over her center before dripping down to the floor. The sound was steady, rhythmic, almost calming, though her chest tightened again when the thought of that drink resurfaced.
Next time… I'll say no. I don't care if he insists, I can't— I just can't drink that again.
With a sigh, she turned off the faucet. The silence after the rushing water was almost startling, leaving only the patter of droplets slipping from her hair, rolling along her collarbones, down between her breasts, over her abdomen. She reached for the towel, pressing it against her skin, absorbing the sheen of water before it could chill her.
She wrapped it tightly around her body, padding softly back into her room. Her reflection in the mirror caught her eye briefly—flushed cheeks, damp strands of hair sticking to her face, her skin still stiffened faintly from the contrast of air. She looked away quickly, as though ashamed of noticing herself like that.
Dressing slowly, she pulled on fresh underwear, then a simple shirt and shorts, her movements sluggish. Even clean, even clothed, the heaviness in her stomach lingered, each memory of that thick "fermented milk" enough to twist her insides. She sat on the edge of her bed, towel draped across her lap, and pressed her hand to her lips.
I should eat something light later… but gods, I hope he doesn't bring it up again.
The morning at the café dragged in a way it hadn't before. Konoko had thought maybe she was just tired from not sleeping well, but as the hours stretched on, the exhaustion deepened into her bones.
The bell above the door kept jingling—customers shuffling in, out, in again, each one leaving crumbs, smudges, and requests that blurred together. She balanced trays with trembling wrists, the heat of the coffee machines only making her head heavier. Every time she bent down to wipe a table, she felt a swirl in her stomach, that faint nausea reminding her of the thick, sour taste from the night before.
She smiled anyway, her lips twitching with effort, bowing politely, repeating the greetings and thanks her coworker had drilled into her. A couple of customers even commented on her "sweet" service, but Konoko's ears buzzed too much to register the praise.
When she finally got a five-minute break, she leaned against the back wall near the supply shelf, wiping sweat from her forehead. Her shirt clung to her back, damp. Her thighs ached from the constant back-and-forth. She glanced at the clock—barely past noon.
How am I supposed to keep this up every day? My body feels… wrong. And that drink… I can still taste it. Ugh.
The manager's voice snapped her back, calling for another set of plates to be run. She straightened, took a shallow breath, and pushed herself back into the floor, tray balanced in her sore hands, bowing again as if nothing was wrong.
The rest of the day stretched endlessly, each step heavier, her smile thinner, her thoughts dimmer. By the time the sun began to dip and her shift neared its end, Konoko felt like she was floating—like her body wasn't entirely hers, just moving out of habit, her mind locked somewhere between nausea and fatigue.
When the shift finally slowed, Konoko dragged herself into the back room, fingers trembling as she untied her apron. Her whole body felt heavy, her stomach in knots. She leaned against the counter for a moment, almost afraid her knees would give way.
That's when a soft voice piped up.
"Konoko-chan, are you okay?"
It was Aya, the other girl who had trained her. Aya tilted her head, concern flickering across her face as she watched Konoko rub her forehead.
Konoko tried to smile, but it came out weak, her cheeks pale. "I… I'm fine. Just tired, maybe."
Aya frowned, stepping closer, lowering her voice so the manager in the front couldn't hear. "You've been off all day. You look pale… almost sick. Did you eat something bad?"
At the mention of food, Konoko's stomach twisted. That drink from Gramps flashed into her mind, thick and strange, and her throat tightened as if remembering the aftertaste. She quickly shook her head. "N-no, it's nothing like that. I'll be okay."
Aya didn't seem convinced. She reached out, gently resting a hand on Konoko's arm. "If you're pushing yourself too hard, you'll collapse. It's okay to tell me. I can cover for you a little."
The warmth of that gesture startled Konoko. For a moment, she almost let herself lean into it, but instead she bowed slightly, voice soft. "Thank you, Aya-san. Really. I'll manage. I don't want to cause trouble."
Aya gave her a small smile, though her eyes stayed serious. "You're not trouble. Just… promise you'll take care of yourself, okay?"
Konoko nodded quickly, clutching her bag against her chest. Her thoughts swirled—shame for feeling so weak, worry about seeming unreliable, and that sickly memory she couldn't shake.
She walked out with Aya's voice lingering in her ears, a mix of comfort and warning, making her heart heavy as the night air touched her skin.