The sound of running water soon filled the room, mingling with the gentle clinking of dishes being washed. The scent of soap and freshly served food lingered in the air, evoking a sense of home that somehow made Marin feel even more at ease and, at the same time, curiously nervous.
"Yoichi..." Iyo called, in a gentle tone, without shifting her gaze from the sink. "You can go ahead and take Marin-chan's measurements. That way, I'll know what to adjust when we sew her uniform. I taught you the basics, right? Use the tape measure in the living room drawer..."
Isagi, who was gathering the glasses, paused for a second and blinked. "Huh? Me? But, Mom, don't you think... I mean, maybe it's better if you do it yourself. I'm just a beginner at this sewing stuff."
"Nonsense," Iyo interrupted, naturally taking the glasses from his hands. "You need to practice. And I trust you."
Then, she turned slightly toward Marin, her gaze soft and welcoming.
"Marin-chan, is it okay if Yoichi takes your measurements? It's just for the costume's precision. If you'd prefer I do it, give me about fifteen minutes..."
Marin kept a smile on her lips; she was already used to that kind of situation. In the world of cosplay, taking measurements was an essential step. Still, until then, she had never let a boy do it. In professional ateliers, women always took measurements for female clients—a matter of etiquette and comfort. And she wasn't the type of girl who minded a "little indecency"... Even though she had come prepared and was wearing a swimsuit under her uniform...
From the start, she had never been satisfied with entertainment considered "normal" for girls her age. On the contrary, she sought out what was provocative and eccentric: erotic games, characters dressed as bunnies, worlds full of exaggerations and fantasies. And instead of being ashamed, she talked about these things naturally, almost with pride, as if there were nothing wrong with her tastes. Sometimes, her passion bordered on obsession. She loved showing off her preferences to anyone nearby. If someone were in her house at that moment, they would certainly find a poster of Shizuku-tan hanging on the wall, and it wouldn't be unusual to see her wearing a T-shirt printed with one of the "ahegao" facial expressions of her favorite character. When talking with her friends, her fascination with other girls' appearances also became evident. She commented on the smoothness of their skin, the shape of their bodies, or the size of their breasts, always without any embarrassment. For her, these things weren't taboo; they were just part of a world she loved to observe, admire, and celebrate in her own intensity.
She even felt strange for having hidden her "passion" from Isagi's mother earlier, as if it were something to repress or be ashamed of. But she realized she no longer cared, especially upon learning that she didn't mind that sort of thing!
Besides, Isagi had learned to sew just to help her—he had spent the whole day learning from his mother and practicing with cheap fabrics just to not mess up with her. How could she say no to someone like that?
Still, when his gaze met hers—attentive, gentle, but focused—Marin felt a little flutter in her stomach that made her blush slightly... It wasn't embarrassment. It wasn't nervousness. It was something different...
"No problem at all, Iyo-san! Let Isagi-kun take my measurements to speed things up!" she replied enthusiastically, trying to hide the slight warmth rising to her face, clapping her hands lightly. "I trust Isagi-kun! He'll be a professional seamstress in no time, right?"
Isagi had a clearly resigned expression upon seeing the two women deciding everything for him as if his opinion were a mere detail. For a moment, he wondered if his mother had really thought about the implications; letting her own teenage son take an extremely beautiful friend to his room under the pretext of taking measurements didn't seem like the most prudent idea in the world.
I mean... she'd probably have to be in little clothing, right? And although he wasn't a pervert, he wasn't a saint either. He was still a normal boy, after all. Even though he had a more mature mind and avoided a lot of trouble because of his past life, he was incapable of controlling his hormones...
Maybe his mother simply believed he only thought about soccer or, worse, was trying to give him a "crack assist" to get a girlfriend. Either way, it all made him sigh internally, torn between the desire to see Marin in underwear and the inevitable feeling that he was about to get into trouble...
"Alright..." In the end, he said simply, drying his hands with the dish towel before stepping away from the table. "Let's go to the living room; it'll be easier to measure there."
"Ah—" Iyo interrupted him, casting a practical glance: "Better go to your room, Yoichi. If your dad came home now, it would be kind of... embarrassing. Besides... Marin-chan is a young lady. It's better to make her more comfortable."
Isagi froze for a moment, meeting his mother's gaze, and to his total despair, she seemed completely unconcerned about the situation. This had to be a joke... Because, honestly, all he could think was that she was basically giving him a crack assist to score a goal.
As a striker, should he take advantage and go for a hat-trick?
...Damn, what was he thinking?!
He shook his head, trying to push away the absurd thoughts. Japanese culture was much more reserved; it was obvious his mother had said that just to avoid embarrassing Marin in the middle of the living room if his dad suddenly came back. That had to be it...
Or... maybe not? After all, that same Marin was an admitted fan of "eroges," and although she pretended innocence, he was starting to suspect that deep down, she was a disguised pervert...
In the end, he sighed and nodded. "Okay."
"Perfect!" Marin exclaimed, almost jumping, enthusiastic. The natural sparkle in her eyes made everything about her a little more alive, more spontaneous, and somehow infectious to the surroundings—it was no surprise his mother liked her so much.
Isagi grabbed the tape measure in the living room, opening the TV stand drawer where his mother usually kept a bit of everything. Then, he picked up the backpack he'd left beside the sofa earlier. Marin followed him, also grabbing hers, her steps light, almost skipping, as if every movement reflected the excitement she felt.
Without exchanging many words, the two started climbing the stairs side by side. The air still carried the subtle aroma of dinner and the tranquil feeling of a welcoming home.
The hallway was silent except for the sound of their footsteps. Marin observed everything with a certain disguised interest—the walls, the family photos, the simple details of a well-kept house.
When they reached the bedroom door, Isagi opened it with a casual gesture. "Come in. Just... don't mind the mess, okay? I didn't have time to tidy up properly."
She blinked, amused, even before crossing the threshold. "Mess, huh? Let's see how messy a soccer star's room is."
But upon taking her first step inside, she realized the room was impeccably clean. Everything was in place: the bed made with taut sheets, the desk organized with neatly stacked books, even the bookshelves with perfectly aligned spines. The faint scent of detergent and clean fabric revealed he'd probably spent hours tidying.
"Wow... This is mess? My room looks like a battlefield compared to this!"
Isagi just smiled ironically at her comment while placing his backpack on the bed and setting aside the team uniform to wash later.
On the other hand, Marin started wandering around the room with a curious, almost childlike gaze.
She didn't say anything, but it was obvious she was examining everything.
"So this is his room... way different from what I imagined... I expected more posters of players or something."
She thought, discreetly observing as if pretending to be distracted. Her natural curiosity wasn't limited to trivial details; she peeked into half-open drawers, the corners of the desk, and even the space under the bed—half for fun, half out of pure instinct. Not that she really expected to find anything... but honestly, it seemed impossible for a boy her age not to have something suspicious hidden. No magazines, no forbidden games, no "compromising" items.
But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.
"Ehh?! How is your room this clean?" Marin exclaimed, her eyes shining with pure disbelief. "Like, not even ONE suspicious magazine? No erotic game hidden in the closet? Nothing?!"
Before he could respond, she literally knelt on the floor and stuck her head under the bed, her golden hair cascading like a curtain of light.
When she found nothing underneath, she exclaimed: "Isagi-kun, are you real? Or are you an NPC from a visual novel who forgot to program the H-route?"
Isagi almost choked on the question—not just because of the content, but mainly because of Marin's shamelessness in suddenly bending down to peek under the bed as soon as she entered the room. Strangely, he didn't find her action that out of the ordinary, since she was proving to be quite faithful to an "eroge fan." He took a deep breath, trying to regain composure, and said in a voice full of resignation: "Kitagawa-san, get up from there. There's nothing under the bed but dust."
"Dust?!" She jumped up, hands on her hips, her gaze sparkling: "Dust is what's left when you erase the evidence, Isagi-kun! I know that trick! I've used it to hide my Liz-tan Bunny Ver. box under my own mattress!"
She took a step forward and pointed her finger at his chest.
"Confess! You have an encrypted folder on your PC called 'Game Strategies' that's actually full of eroge, right? Right? RIGHT?!"
Isagi opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"I... Literally don't even touch the laptop I have..."
Marin froze for a second and then burst into laughter so loud that his mother probably heard it downstairs.
"Don't touch the laptop? Oh my God! Seriously?! You really don't have anything I mentioned then? Oh my God! You're the purest person I've ever seen in my life!" She doubled over, laughing so hard she could barely breathe: "Like, 'Sorry, senpai, I only think about soccer and sewing cosplay uniforms...' KYAAAA! So cute!"
Isagi rolled his eyes; he wasn't that naive, but Marin's "eroge" vocabulary seemed to come from another planet. Still, her laughter echoed through the room, and curiously, he didn't mind. On the contrary, there was something fun about seeing someone so full of energy trying to "corrupt" him with such excitement.
"Cute and pure, huh?" he murmured, finishing folding the team uniform he'd taken from his backpack earlier with almost military precision. The sleeves aligned, the shorts on top, every fold in the right place. He placed the stack of clothes at the foot of the bed, smoothing an imaginary crease with his finger. "I'm none of that, you know? I just... prioritize other things. But... thanks. I guess."
His pride took a small hit, yes... pure? Him, who had seen and experienced things in his past life that would make any teenager blush? What an absurd idea!
Hearing his words, Marin suddenly stopped laughing, as if someone had pressed her "mute" button. Her eyes, still sparkling with amusement, narrowed into a mischievous smile as her hands went to the buttons of her uniform and she began silently removing it.
She exclaimed excitedly to see his reaction: "Oh! If you're not pure, then let's prove it right now!"
"What did you mean—" Isagi turned toward Marin with a raised eyebrow, curious about what she meant, but froze mid-question.
Marin, with a boldness only she possessed, had already removed the top part of her school uniform. The skirt slid through her hands, gliding softly to the floor, while she used her feet to carefully push it aside. On top, only the white button-up shirt from the uniform remained, fully open.
"What are you doing...?" Isagi asked, his voice coming out lower than he expected.
He couldn't look away, no matter how hard he tried. It was instinctive—the kind of reaction no training, discipline, or morals could contain. His brain screamed to look elsewhere, but his eyes wouldn't obey. It was as if time had slowed down, every small movement of hers—the hair sliding over her shoulders, the short breaths, the glow of her skin under the soft light—etched into his mind with absurd clarity.
"Shit..." he thought, feeling his heart pounding in his throat. "Why does she have to be so...?"
He didn't finish the thought. He wouldn't have the courage.
The white shirt fabric brushed against her bare skin, sliding over the "floral bra." The yellow top with black flowers barely contained her full, round, high breasts, which rose with each slow breath; the deep neckline revealed the inner curve of the soft mounds, her fair skin dotted with a healthy blush... Her waist was slim and firm, where the shirt tapered before opening over her curved hips. The black panties, tied with thin side strings, formed a minimal triangle over the soft mound, the fabric clinging to her skin, outlining every contour with cruel precision.
Hearing his question, Marin responded as if it were the most natural thing in the world: "I'm just taking off my clothes to measure, obviously! You're not going to measure over the uniform, right? That easily gives a 2 cm error! I'm a pro, Isagi-kun."
Noticing his "blatant stare," Marin smiled widely...
"Oho~ Are you going to tell me you've never seen a girl without a blouse before, Isagi-kun? Are you shaking? Want me to lend you a fan? Or would you prefer I strike a pose to help you get used to it?"
Isagi opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Nothing came out.
Well, he tried to be a respectful guy, really. He took a deep breath, kept his gaze steady, and mentally repeated that sacred mantra of self-control. But let's be honest... if the meat falls on the plate, he's not going to pretend he's vegan and leave it uneaten, right?
He's human, after all... and a teenager, to make it worse.
No matter how hard he tried to maintain composure, the simple fact of having Marin there, so close, left his mind at war with his instincts. It was as if his hormones were laughing at him, mocking every attempt to behave. Damn hormones... always showing up at the worst moments...
Isagi swallowed hard, the sound almost audible in the sudden silence that took over the room. His eyes, merciless traitors, scanned Marin's body without permission, sliding from the generous neckline of the yellow floral bra, which barely contained the exuberance of her breasts, to the black lace-tied panties, which defied the laws of physics by covering only the essentials.
He blinked once, twice, trying to reboot his mind like someone waking from a dream, but it was too late. Her image was already burned into his retina and, worse, into his thoughts.
"Kitagawa-san..." he murmured, his voice hoarse, hesitant, as if each word fought to escape. "You... this is..."
Marin tilted her head, her mischievous smile slowly widening, as if savoring every second of his confusion, before taking a step forward and raising her arms in a theatrical gesture. She spun on her heels, making the yellow fabric catch the room's soft light. "Relax, dude! You look like you've just been thrown into a secret eroge route. See? It's just a bikini! I came prepared, you know? I'm not an amateur. Cosplay is serious business, and the measurements need to be perfect!"
She stopped spinning suddenly, staring at him with a fun and confident sparkle in her eyes. The white uniform shirt, which had been hanging loosely from her shoulders, slid completely off and fell to the floor with a soft, almost inaudible sound. Now, with no extra fabric to disguise, the yellow floral bikini with black details was the only thing between her and... well, Isagi's imagination, which was already working at full speed...
And then, to make the situation worse, Marin brought both hands to her chest, pressing her full breasts against the yellow fabric, lifting them a bit while saying with all the naturalness in the world:
"Look at this! There's nothing to it. Want me to strike a Shizuku-tan pose to help you get used to it? Like, kyaaa, I'm a little bunny lost in your room!"
She clasped her hands under her chin, blinking rapidly and tilting her body at an exaggerated angle, imitating a character from an "eroge" with startling perfection. Her breasts, still pressed from the previous movement, swayed lightly with the pose; the "top" fabric stretched to its limit, the neckline deepening even further.
"No need for that..." After taking a deep breath to calm his raging hormones, Isagi murmured, clearing his throat. "Just... stand still, okay? I'll start taking the measurements."
Marin raised her arms with theatrical obedience, stretching them out to the sides.
"Okay, okay, boss! Arms extended, neck straight, boobs in attack position... I mean, measurement position!" She winked, but this time she stayed really quiet, only the sparkle in her eyes betraying her excitement.
Isagi took a deep breath, approached with the tape measure in his right hand and, with his left, gently held her wrist to align her arm. Marin's skin was warm, soft, almost electric to the touch. He measured the arm length first, then the forearm, noting it mentally. Next, he passed the tape around her neck, keeping a safe distance but still feeling the floral scent rise to his nose.
"Relax your shoulder..." he murmured, and Marin obeyed, loosening her body.
Then came the bust.
He passed the tape around her back, carefully pulling it forward. The tape slid under her breasts, lightly brushing the bare skin beside the yellow fabric. His fingers, unintentionally, touched the side of her chest—just a touch, almost imperceptible, but enough to feel the softness, the warmth, the elasticity of that skin that seemed made of clouds. His heart beat faster; a slow fire rose through his abdomen, spreading as if someone had lit a match inside him.
Marin didn't move.
Isagi swallowed hard, finished the bust measurement, and moved to the waist. The tape slid over the slim curve, almost dancing on her skin. Then the hips. Marin's butt was... perfect. Round, firm, with a curve that seemed to defy gravity. He passed the tape around, maintaining composure, but his fingers trembled slightly.
"Now the legs," he said, kneeling on the floor with the tape in hand.
Marin blinked, surprised. "The legs too? Seriously? I've been to ateliers and they never measured that..."
"Seriously? I guarantee you've had issues because of it. One leg is usually slightly longer than the other. That can affect how the clothing fits, especially tight pants, stockings, bodysuits, cosplay outfits, or stage costumes. Measuring both legs prevents the fabric from 'pulling' on one side or the costume from looking crooked..." Isagi explained professionally, trying not to let his hormones rage.
Marin blinked, impressed. "Wow... You talked like you've done this your whole life."
"I just learned a bit..." Isagi said calmly: "I'm just trying not to ruin your cosplay, Kitagawa-san. But if you don't want to, we don't have to measure..."
"No, no. I want it to be perfect," she replied determinedly and said: "And you can start with the right leg again if you want. I don't complain about extra attention."
Isagi nodded and started with the right leg, from the ankle and slowly going up. The tape brushed against her smooth, soft, warm skin. When he reached the inner thigh, near the groin, his pinky finger, unintentionally again, lightly grazed the black panty fabric, right in the center. A quick touch, almost a whisper, but enough to feel the intense heat there, the thin fabric, the soft contour...
Marin froze. An intense blush rose from her neck to her ears, tinting her skin as if heat had taken over her entire body. Her eyes widened for a moment, and the air seemed stuck in her throat. She said nothing, just bit her lower lip, trying to stay still, as if any movement could betray what she was feeling.
"Oh God... He touched... It was accidental, right? Calm down, Marin, don't say anything... He probably didn't even notice! If I say something, he'll realize!"
Her mind became a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts, a turmoil between embarrassment, nervousness, and something she didn't want to admit. She opened her mouth once, then again, but no words came out. Just the soft sound of held breath in the air, while she tried to act as if nothing had happened.
Isagi noticed nothing unusual and finished measuring the left leg calmly. He stood up, putting away the tape measure and saying naturally:
"Done. I'll jot everything down now..."
When he turned to grab the paper on the desk and looked back, he saw Marin with her face red as a tomato:
"Hey, Kitagawa-san... are you okay? Your face is hot. Did I do something?"
Marin shook her head quickly, almost stumbling over her own words.
"N-no! Nothing big! It's just... the heat in the room, you know? Let's go downstairs already."
She tried to gather the shirt to get dressed, but in her haste, she tripped on the skirt still on the floor, tangled at her feet.
"Ah-!"
"Careful!"
In a reflex, Isagi reached out his arms to catch her. He pulled her forward, but the momentum was too strong. He lost his balance, fell back onto the bed, and Marin came with him, falling on top.
The two stopped.
Marin was on all fours over him, one leg on each side of Isagi's hips, her hands braced on the mattress beside his head. Her golden hair fell like a curtain around both their faces; her breasts nearly brushed his chest, the yellow bikini stretching with each breath. Their eyes met, wide, shining.
Isagi felt the light weight of her body, the warmth, the scent, his heart pounding so hard it seemed ready to burst from his chest.
The two froze.
Not a sound.
Not a movement.
Just the heavy silence, the rising heat, and their gazes locked on each other.
_________________
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