Sakiko's smile grew even more dangerous. Anyone else would've flinched at the sight of it, but unfortunately, Kikukawa Kyo's once keen instincts barely picked up on the warning signs.
"Kyo, it's time to get up. You're seriously interfering with Miss Oga's and my work."
The moment Sakiko switched to her formal tone, Kyo realized something was off. Does she really not want to hear about Taki that much?
"Are you mad? Because of Taki?" Kyo blinked at her. She knew Sakiko wasn't upset just because of Taki, but sometimes, the best way to get someone to open up was to play dumb. She also didn't forget to offer a peace offering.
"Want some milk pudding? I bought orange and chocolate flavors."
Unfortunately, Sakiko had no intention of explaining herself. She stood up, putting intentional distance between them, and deliberately avoided looking at Kyo.
"I'm not mad. It's perfectly normal for you to keep in touch with the others from CRYCHIC. Why would I be upset about that?"
Still, despite her best efforts, she couldn't resist sneaking a quick glance at Kyo.
Of course, Kyo, who had been watching her the whole time, caught it immediately.
"If anything, I should be angry at you," Sakiko continued. "You made a mess of the lounge and interrupted Miss Oga's work."
Oh, so she's mad at me instead?
Kyo knew from experience that when someone threw out a surface-level excuse like this, it usually covered up their real feelings.
Sakiko was mad at her—but why? Hadn't she just said there was nothing wrong with Kyo keeping in touch with Taki?
Kyo quickly decided to play along. Without hesitation, she rolled off the pile of cushions and let herself drop onto the floor with an exaggerated thud.
The noise was loud enough to make Sakiko whip her head around.
Then, before Sakiko could react, Kyo started to roll across the floor. She barely made it half a turn before Sakiko grabbed her.
For once, Sakiko lost her composure. In a rare display of urgency, she lunged forward to stop Kyo's ridiculous antics. She planted one hand and both knees onto the cushion pile for balance, while her other hand firmly caught Kyo's arm.
"What on earth are you doing—?"
"I told Oga I'd do my duty as a cleaning cloth and wipe the floor spotless," Kyo declared matter-of-factly.
Sakiko was caught between exasperation and disbelief. "You're definitely doing this on purpose."
"I'm not mad anymore, so get up already. The bookstore's about to get busy," Sakiko sighed, admitting her loss in yet another battle of wits against Kyo. "And I brought that drink I promised you. If you don't get up, I won't give it to you."
"But I really don't have the energy to move. I've been lying here so long my whole body feels weak..."
Kyo remained sprawled on the floor, then suddenly stretched out her arms toward Sakiko.
"Sakiko, carry me."
"Don't be unreasonable. Besides, I don't have the strength to lift you off the ground," Sakiko said, trying to steady herself. She refused to let Kyo mess with her again. To Kyo, physical contact was casual, meaningless—but to Sakiko, it was something else entirely.
"Hmm, I guess that makes sense." Kyo thought for a moment. "Maybe Taki's just that strong from playing the drums."
The offhanded remark didn't escape Sakiko's ears.
"Lift your upper body a little."
"Huh?"
Sakiko's voice carried a sharp authority that made Kyo instinctively comply, raising herself slightly off the floor.
Then, before she could react, Sakiko stepped over her—her legs positioned on either side of Kyo's body. Looking down at her, Sakiko's piercing gaze felt almost predatory.
Then she bent down, sliding her arms under Kyo's back, gripping her just beneath the arms.
With her body leaning forward, Sakiko's long blue hair fell like a curtain, softly brushing against Kyo's face.
Kyo reflexively wanted to push it away, but she hesitated. If she moved too much, she might throw Sakiko off balance. So instead, she stayed still, feeling each delicate strand graze against her skin.
The cascading hair also created a narrow, private space between them. Their vision was filled only with each other. Through the strands of hair, Kyo could clearly see her own reflection in Sakiko's deep, focused eyes.
Sakiko's grip wasn't particularly strong. The moment she tried lifting Kyo, Kyo could feel the faint tremble in her arms—the only barrier between their bodies being the thin fabric of her shirt.
"Don't push yourself too hard, Sakiko," Kyo murmured.
Her soft voice carried warmth, her breath brushing against the strands of hair that had fallen between them—like a fleeting spring breeze that stirred Sakiko's already unsteady breathing.
That was the final straw.
Sakiko's strength gave out, and they both started to fall.
But Kyo had anticipated this.
The moment she noticed Sakiko's breath hitch, she wrapped her arms around her, shifting her weight to control their fall.
Instead of crashing to the ground, they tumbled sideways—landing in the cushions below.
The softness of the cushions swallowed them, pulling them deeper into their embrace. The only sound left was their breathing, quiet and close.
"I told you not to overdo it," Kyo teased, her voice lighthearted as always.
She wasn't the type to dwell on moments like this. But the clear, sweet smile she gave Sakiko carried an almost intoxicating warmth—like the air itself had been infused with the scent of something soft, something unbearably sweet.