Kuroha Akira felt, inexplicably, like a husband being interrogated by his wife about suspicious smells on his clothes.
Guilty.
He felt guilty, even though there was absolutely nothing to feel guilty about.
But perhaps it was the class monitor's expression at that moment—so serious, so penetrating—that created an invisible psychological pressure. Under that pressure, a lie simply blurted itself out.
"Oh, I remember now. I did change to a new shower gel yesterday. Maybe I used the wrong one."
"Hmph..." Asato Hitomi's eyes narrowed slightly. "We'll take that as the truth, then."
She released his shoulder, and Kuroha Akira breathed an internal sigh of relief. Surely now she'd return to class?
No such luck.
The class monitor showed absolutely no intention of leaving. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed and used her hip to push against Kuroha Akira's shoulder, nearly shoving him off the narrow infirmary cot.
Kuroha Akira reluctantly sat up and turned to face her, complaint ready on his lips.
"Class monitor, can you please let me get some proper sleep?!"
"I'm preparing a pillow precisely so you can get a good night's sleep." Her smile was infuriatingly serene. "Isn't that obvious?"
"Preparing a pillow?"
Asato Hitomi didn't answer verbally. Instead, she gracefully removed her indoor shoes, drew her legs up onto the bed, and shifted into a kneeling position. Then, with practiced modesty, she lifted her skirt just enough to reveal her fair thighs without exposing anything improper. Finally, she patted the front of her thighs invitingly.
"Yes. Please rest your head here."
"..."
A lap pillow.
A beautiful girl's lap pillow.
And not just any lap pillow—this was the fundamentalist version, direct thigh contact with no fabric barrier. The real deal.
Kuroha Akira didn't immediately surrender to temptation. Suspicion flickered across his face.
"What's the price for this service?"
Was the class monitor about to extract another favor? What kind of trouble would it be this time?
Asato Hitomi laughed softly, tucking the excess skirt fabric behind her as she settled more comfortably.
"Oh, Kuroha-kun, you're far too suspicious." She shook her head. "There's no price. This is an extra service for a friend—a 'benefit,' if you will."
"Hmph." He eyed her dubiously. "So there are benefits to being friends with the class monitor."
"Indeed." She nodded with mock seriousness. "I used to give Shiori and Moe-chan lap pillows quite often. They both said they could sleep very soundly on my thighs. So you see, my thighs have an excellent reputation—certainly better than this flat, cotton-less infirmary pillow."
"That's true..."
Hospital and infirmary pillows were universally pathetic. Paper-thin, flat as pancakes, usually requiring two stacked just to avoid waking up with a stiff neck. Even then, they weren't comfortable.
Since the class monitor had prepared such a perfect alternative, Kuroha Akira decided not to be polite. He lay back down.
The back of his head settled perfectly into the gap between her thighs. The soft flesh on either side cradled his head with gentle support. The angle was just right—no neck strain, no discomfort.
Oh, this is wonderful. He closed his eyes briefly. Thighs really are more fragrant than I remembered. Before, I was temporarily blinded by big breasts, but from now on...
Well. He'd reserve judgment. One shouldn't speak too definitively about such matters.
He was incredibly sleepy. Sleep tugged at his consciousness like gentle waves.
But the class monitor wasn't quite ready to let him drift off.
"So, Kuroha-kun." Her voice was soft, conversational. "Why did you stay up so late last night?"
"Hmm..." He forced his eyes open slightly. "Working on the outline for the light novel I want to submit. I made that bet with Shirai, so I have to show some initiative..."
"I see." A pause. "So you really want to strip Shiori naked, Kuroha-kun. You're such a lecher."
"Uh..." He blinked. "That's not the main goal. I just can't stand her looking down on people like that."
"Kuroha-kun." Her tone shifted slightly. "Don't bully Shiori too much."
"Me bullying her?" He snorted weakly. "I'll be lucky if she doesn't bully me. The way she looks at me, she probably wishes she could kick me out of the Literature Club entirely."
"Shiori targets you so much because of me, actually." Asato Hitomi's voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "She probably thinks I've been tricked by you. That because I like you, I'll go along with anything you say. That's why she's so angry and said those offensive things."
Of course the class monitor knew. Someone as perceptive as Asato Hitomi, so skilled at understanding people's hearts—how could she not understand her own club member's thoughts?
But she hadn't stepped forward to mediate. Why?
"Shiori wasn't wrong, though." She continued. "I do like Kuroha-kun. But it's the kind of liking you have for a friend." She looked down at him. "Kuroha-kun feels the same, right? Otherwise, you wouldn't have accepted my panties."
"..." Kuroha Akira found his voice. "Class monitor, I think even the best of friends don't usually give each other their worn underwear."
"You already accepted them." Her smile was knowing. "And now you're saying this?"
He had no comeback.
He'd accepted them partly because he agreed with her "leverage" theory—keeping something valuable to ensure mutual trust. But also... there was a small, shameful part driven by baser instincts.
They were original-scented panties, freely given, not obtained through theft or purchase. What normal man could refuse such an offering?
"It might sound like I'm making excuses," Asato Hitomi said quietly, "but I'll probably never do something like that again. It was a once-in-a-lifetime act. I discarded all shame and went for it with everything I had."
She was a girl, after all. Of course she felt shy. She'd agonized in the bathroom for a long time before making that decision.
"It was precisely because I was facing Kuroha-kun that I thought of giving you something that could prove my worth." Her voice was soft. "I don't think anything else could have achieved that."
"Actually, there is..."
"You're thinking of money, aren't you?" She laughed. "Kuroha-kun, you're really lecherous and greedy."
"That's just who I am..."
"Honestly, if I could earn my own money now, giving you cash would be better." She nodded thoughtfully. "You'd probably be happier receiving money than my underwear. Unfortunately, I'm not financially independent yet. If I used my parents' money, it wouldn't be a contract between you and me—it would be between the Asato family and Kuroha-kun. I can't accept that."
"...You really distinguish things clearly. Impressive."
It reminded him of Shinomiya refusing to use her stepfather's money. Some people were particularly clear about matters of principle—a manifestation of strong self-esteem. Financial independence first, then ideological independence.
"Speaking of which, Kuroha-kun." Asato Hitomi's voice took on a curious tone. "Have you used them since taking them home?"
He hadn't used them personally, but Shinomiya had—for the most correct purpose possible. After buying new underwear yesterday, the class monitor's panties had been thoroughly washed.
Unfortunately, that meant the original scent couldn't be preserved. The holy attribute enchantment had been washed away, reducing them to ordinary lower body armor.
Sad.
"Don't worry." He kept his voice neutral. "They've been washed and stored."
"That's truly a pity."
I didn't wash the handkerchief, though. Asato Hitomi kept that thought to herself.
"A pity, you say?"
"Because washing them proves Kuroha-kun thinks I'm dirty, doesn't it?" Her tone was light, teasing. "From a cleanliness perspective, fabric that's contacted the urinary system does give a 'dirty' impression. But from what I understand, boys should feel some strange temptation from 'slightly dirty' things. Develop sexual fantasies."
You understand men far too well! You've completely exposed the perverted fantasies of adolescent boys!
"So even if Kuroha-kun actually licked them, I wouldn't think less of you." Her smile widened. "On the contrary, that would be proof of health, you know?"
"I didn't wash them because I licked them..."
"Then that means Kuroha-kun doesn't see me as a member of the opposite sex." She sighed dramatically. "That hurts a little, as a woman."
"I just feel... I can't do anything to let the class monitor down..."
The real reason, of course, was that Shinomiya had already used them first. Even if he'd wanted to enjoy them himself, it was too late.
Though honestly, it was a bit of a shame. He hadn't even properly smelled them.
But dwelling on it wouldn't help. Some things were better left undone anyway—otherwise, he might fall into depravity.
"Hmm..." Asato Hitomi nodded approvingly. "As a friend, I feel very relieved. Kuroha-kun is someone who values his friends' belongings."
"That's right..." His voice was growing thick with sleep. "After all... we... are good friends..."
He couldn't respond properly anymore. Sleepiness swept over his brain like a tide, consciousness losing sync with his body.
Asato Hitomi looked down at his drowsy face, smiled gently, and leaned a little closer.
"Have a good dream, Kuroha-kun."
"Mmm... zzz..."
Enjoying his good friend's lap pillow, Kuroha Akira finally surrendered to sleep and drifted into sweet dreams.