It was a title that should have been unbearably embarrassing just to imagine—yet when she said it out loud, it came effortlessly. No stutter. Smooth. Natural.
The difference between thinking it and voicing it was so slight, and yet it felt like the cursed words in a fairy tale—once spoken, irreversible. A tremor bloomed from the depths of Aizono Momo's heart and spread through her entire body.
Her talent, the skill she had painstakingly accumulated, her exceptional imagination—everything surged into overdrive in that instant, composing a vivid scene in her mind.
She was kneeling on the ground at his feet, prostrate, looking up at him from below.
She couldn't see his expression.
And yet there was no fear. No unease.
Only a sense of belonging. Of surrender. Of being held in place.
"Master…"
In her daze, Momo said it again.
This time she hadn't even realized it herself. The sound of her own voice startled her, and she hurriedly bent forward, burying her face in her arms.
Haaah…
Calling a friend "Master"…
What on earth am I thinking?!
It has to be because I've read too many master-and-servant doujinshi!
And besides—how could Kuroba-kun ever become my master?
Even if I wanted to be one, he wouldn't necessarily want a useless maid like me…
A useless maid who can't even color properly…
Without realizing it, Momo had already cast herself in the role of servant.
They had been friends. Equals. But after today, she had placed Kuroba Akira on a higher pedestal.
And that shift made her fantasies swell out of control. All kinds of "play" and little props flashed through her mind—collars, handcuffs, leashes, vibrating beads, rings and chains hidden beneath clothing…
"Mm—! Stop…!"
No… I can't think about this anymore…!
This is school! Not my room!
I won't be able to handle it… But I have to endure!
And SM and all that… normal people wouldn't accept it, right?
Images of restraint and pain flickered across her mind. The moment she imagined those special acts and scenes, her cheeks burned hotter, her heartbeat quickening.
Raised with strict, proper values, Momo believed that love and intimacy were supposed to be warm and gentle.
And yet, precisely because her home environment had been so upright, so excessively proper, she'd grown curious. Curious about the "taboo" niches. The slightly extreme, slightly unconventional forms of intimacy she'd secretly researched.
It wasn't exactly healthy. It wasn't exactly wholesome.
But… she was a little interested.
If Kuroba Akira ever learned what was going through Aizono Momo's head, he might find it surprising—and yet, somehow unsurprising.
People in the illustrator circle tended to have… personality. They were capable of accommodating all kinds of fetishes. To put it bluntly—
Most of them were a little bit perverted.
She might be painfully shy in everyday life, but when it came to drawing, Momo could calmly discuss what kind of panties the heroine should wear. That alone proved she'd done more than a little "research" in private.
Meanwhile, Akira was busy cleaning up the "crime scene."
Erasing the visible traces wasn't hard. A mop would do.
The problem was the smell.
Maybe because Momo had held it in for a while, there was a faint… well. A hint of ammonia.
The small drips in the corridor weren't a big issue. The real problem was the puddle by the vending machine. If he just mopped it directly, the mop would definitely retain the odor.
If it had been his own mess, Akira wouldn't have cared. But considering that the one who'd left behind that little puddle was a shame-prone, currently-enrolled JK—and the thing she'd care about most would definitely be lingering smell—he couldn't just handle it roughly.
After thinking it over, Akira decided on a camouflage strategy.
He'd only drunk half his beverage anyway, so he poured the rest into the puddle.
Light yellow plus orange… became orange-yellow.
Then he used the empty can to fetch water from the nearby tap, diluting it further.
He repeated the process seven or eight times. The small puddle became a large one, spreading toward the edge of the walkway. Then he guided the flow toward a nearby drain grate, letting it run down into the gutter until it completely washed away.
Perfect. Problem solved.
Now all that was left was to pray for a sunny day tomorrow so the ground would dry quickly.
Though rain would be fine too—then there'd be no need to worry about traces or smell at all.
The slight residue in the corridor had also been wiped up with a mop from the boys' restroom. He even rinsed the mop afterward. Thorough work. Something he could claim credit for later.
After going this far, she'd definitely be moved to tears, right?
And then she'd work even harder on his illustrations.
That settled, it was probably time to check on Aizono Momo.
He'd taken care of everything else for her. What remained was something only she could handle herself.
Thinking back to her condition earlier, when he'd carried her, he had felt warmth—but at the very least, from the outside, her school skirt hadn't shown anything obvious.
Since she was wearing a long skirt that reached mid-calf, he probably didn't need to worry too much about flashing, either.
The Class Rep could go commando under a short skirt and even walk up the stairs ahead of him without a shred of embarrassment… Truly, fearless active-duty JKs were impressive. The more the better.
Then he thought of Shiroi fulfilling their bet. At first, she'd been bright red, looking like she'd suffered ultimate humiliation—but later, whether she'd decided to just roll with it or had completely let go, she hadn't even bothered covering up… Active-duty JKs really did have strong adaptability. More, please.
He'd thoroughly enjoyed the live view at the time. After all, seeing it in person was very different from looking at pictures or videos. It felt especially real.
Still, Akira's personal stereotype was that JKs were best paired with purity, so he wasn't particularly into the gyaru-type JK.
If it came to embarrassment, Shiginomiya did have that maiden-like quality… but most of her shy expressions were probably an act.
He might be susceptible to it, but that didn't mean he hadn't noticed she was acting.
It wasn't even about whether her acting was good or not. It was that her behavior and her facial expressions were completely mismatched.
What kind of embarrassed maiden actively presses herself against someone? That's way too free. Shouldn't she be running away?
Still, he hadn't pointed it out to Shiginomiya.
If anything, it would be better if she kept acting. Act until even she believed it.
Let that shy, maidenly aura embed itself into her soul and become part of her everyday behavior. Then the pure persona would feel completely natural.
All in all, the timid Aizono Momo fit his JK stereotype much better. The other would be Tomita Haruka, whom he'd been seeing every morning lately—she also had that youthful, awkward sweetness of a student-era girl.
Come to think of it, both of them had pretty big chests…
No. It's just pure coincidence. I'm not a big-boobs guy!
While mentally arranging a tier list of girls by embarrassment level, Akira had already arrived at the entrance to the girls' restroom and called inside.
"Momo, are you done?"
"Ah! Y-yes! I'm here! I'll be right out!"
The response came immediately, and she rushed out at once.
But the moment he saw her, Akira's composure shattered.
The skirt!
You're not wearing your skirt!
And not just the skirt… you're not wearing anything!
No—wait. That's not entirely true.
At least she still had the rolled-up black pantyhose.
But that didn't count as coverage!
If anything, it made it even more lewd!
---
T/N: one fetish i dont have is watersports
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