The library on Saturday afternoon smelled faintly of paper and cold coffee. The rustle of turning pages was as soft as falling snow. Only one person sat at the long table by the window. Kamuro Masumi was already there.
A half-open reference book lay before her, and fine droplets of condensation clung to her iced coffee. Sakayanagi's seat was empty. She had messaged that morning to say she was unwell and would not be coming today.
He sat across from her and pulled out his textbook. Kamuro did not look up. Her fingertips turned a page, and not even her eyelashes stirred, as if he did not exist at all.
Kiryu Yume lowered his head to take notes, but ten minutes later, his gaze still drifted beneath the table against his will.
Beneath the hem of her dark gray pleated skirt, black pantyhose wrapped around her crossed legs. The light fell over the thin fabric, casting a faint soft sheen over it. He abruptly dragged his eyes back to the page, but before he had finished three lines, his gaze slipped over again.
"If you look again, I'll gouge your eyes out."
Kamuro still did not look up. Her voice was kept level and low. The tip of her pen paused for half a millimeter on the paper, leaving a tiny blot of spreading ink.
Kiryu Yume's heart skipped a beat. He nailed his eyes back onto his notebook, though the tips of his ears quietly grew warm.
Five quiet minutes passed. He finished a problem, and when he looked up, his gaze sank downward again without his control.
This time, she did not warn him.
She simply slipped her left foot out of her canvas shoe. Her black-stockinged ankle emerged from beneath her skirt, the arch of her foot lifting gently. The outlines of her toes were faintly visible through the thin fabric. The next second, her toes lightly prodded his calf.
The force was light. Rather than a kick, it was more like she had hooked the fabric and brushed against him, like a cat's paw giving a soft scratch. She did not pull away immediately, leaving her foot by his leg as if waiting for him to respond.
Kiryu Yume looked down, then reached out and firmly caught her ankle.
The stocking brushed against his palm with an almost inaudible rustle.
Kamuro's back instantly stiffened. Her fingers clenched around her pen, her knuckles turning white as she drew a crooked, wavering line across the page.
His fingers closed around the narrowest part just above her ankle bone. The silky fabric was so slippery that his fingertips could barely hold it, yet the warmth of her skin beneath seeped through the thin layer into the lines of his palm.
He did not tighten his grip. He merely let his fingertips slide lightly half an inch upward along the inside of her ankle.
Kamuro shuddered all over and tugged back hard, but could not pull free.
"Let go..."
Her voice was extremely low, yet its ending wavered uncontrollably, edged with a breathy tremble.
Not only did he fail to let go, he gently followed the force of her pull and drew her foot forward half an inch, settling it securely on his knee. Her skirt slipped down slightly with the movement, revealing the slenderer line of her calf.
The instant his thumb pressed down, Kamuro's breathing abruptly stopped. Even the rise and fall of her chest froze for half a second.
He began to knead slowly, his fingertips moving over the sole of her foot. Every motion came with the fine, taut rustle of stretched threads, like fingers brushing across the softest silk.
He could feel the shallow dip of her arch, and he could feel her toes gradually curling beneath the fabric from tension. When he rubbed the softest part of her sole, her toes suddenly curled into a tight knot. Fine patterns stretched across the stocking beneath his fingertips, releasing a faint hiss.
"You... don't touch there..."
Her voice shook like a string trembling in the wind, so thin it seemed ready to scatter into the air.
He did not stop. Instead, he lightly brushed that soft spot again with his fingertip, and the rustling grew denser.
"...Mama Kamuro."
He called softly, almost in a whisper, with deliberate, unhurried teasing. His warm breath fell upon the edge of the table, only inches from her hand.
She did not answer, but the foot in his palm suddenly began trembling even harder, and even her calf shook faintly.
"The sound of your stockings tightening when you curl your toes is really nice."
His voice was low, but his gaze never left her face. He watched the redness at the tips of her ears spread down to her jawline. "Curl them tighter, Mama Kamuro. I want to hear it."
Kamuro's breathing completely fell apart. She bit her lower lip and tried hard to pull her foot back, but he gently caught her arch with his fingertips. Every time she struggled, the threads stretched beneath his fingers in a string of tiny hissing sounds.
It was as if something had been pulled to its limit, ready to snap but unable to. She could not break free. Instead, the movement made the sensation in her sole even clearer. Even she could hear the faint sound of fabric rubbing together. Flustered and ashamed, she lightly kicked at the leg of his chair with her other foot, so softly it was like cotton.
"You fucking... pervert..."
The words squeezed out through her teeth, but there was no force behind them. Her voice trembled badly at the end.
Just then, footsteps sounded nearby. A student carrying books was walking this way.
Kiryu Yume's hand did not stop, but he looked up at her. Kamuro instantly held her breath, her entire body taut as a drawn string. She even forgot to struggle. Her toes instinctively curled inward against his palm, as though seeking somewhere to hide. Only after the footsteps had passed did she let out a long breath. Her chest rose and fell faintly, and a thin sheen of sweat appeared at her temple.
"Afraid someone will see?" Kiryu Yume gave a low laugh and pressed his thumb in another circle. "Then keep your voice down, Mama Kamuro."
Kamuro glared at him, the corners of her eyes tinged a faint red. Her lower lip was pink from biting it. Her gaze was fierce enough to bite, yet she did not dare make a sound for fear of disturbing the people reading nearby.
"...Pervert."
The two words drifted lightly toward him.
Kiryu Yume's heart thudded heavily in his chest, as though those words had burned him. Not only did he not let go, he leaned lower, his voice drawing nearer until it nearly brushed the tabletop.
"Yeah. I always was."
The foot curled in his palm loosened its toes slightly, then immediately clenched them tight again, as if even she could not decide whether to push him away or let him continue.
In the silence, only the soft rustle of stockings and their overlapping, quiet breaths remained.
Kiryu Yume did not press her further. He merely brushed her sole once more with his thumb and called softly,
"Mama Kamuro."
She did not answer, but her tightly curled toes quietly loosened a little again.
"...If you don't let go, I'm really going to get mad."
She suddenly yanked hard. This time, Kiryu Yume loosened his hold, and she pulled her foot free at once. Her toes struck the table leg, making her frown in pain, but she did not have time to rub them. She hurriedly slipped her foot back into her shoe, moving as fast as though she were fleeing something.
Then she lowered her head, buried her face in the crook of her arms, and lay motionless on the table.
Kiryu Yume looked at the fluffy crown of her head. The tip of her exposed ear was red enough to drip blood, and her shoulders still rose and fell faintly.
"...Mama Kamuro."
He called again, lightly tapping the tabletop with his fingertips close to her arm.
There was no response from her side, but the shoulder buried in her arms shrank slightly, as if that form of address had burned her.
"I'll look again next time."
"...Shut up."
Her voice was muffled by her arms, soft and without the slightest heat, carrying a faint nasal tone.
Kiryu Yume watched the tips of her ears turn an even deeper red. He gently rubbed his fingertips together. The place where he had held her ankle seemed to retain the rustling sensation of her stockings and the warmth of her skin.
He pulled out a tissue and pushed it beside her arm.
"Your face is all red from being buried like that. Wipe it."
She did not look up, but quietly reached out. The moment her fingertips touched the tissue, they recoiled quickly before slowly pulling it over. When her fingertips brushed past his, they were hot as fire.
Kiryu Yume lowered his head and opened his notebook, the corner of his lips lifting ever so slightly. Next time, he would get a little closer.
Before you continue