Chapter 62
"These are all pure-text 'pure love' novels—no pictures, so it might be hard to imagine… C-can I read them aloud to you?"
"Sure."
Denji didn't reject Sumina's suggestion. Audio books? Actually kind of an interesting experience.
As soon as the book opened, a faint scent of aged wood and ink drifted between the pages.
The yellowed cover read: The Life of an Amorous Man — Ihara Saikaku.
Her opening was slightly awkward; she struggled, suppressing the faint tremor in her throat, her heart filled with a certain unspoken feeling as she slowly began to recite:
"The moon rabbit leaps free, the dragon plays with the phoenix. One finger traces a line, waves surge violently. Like lying in water, the turtle drifts. A thousand birds fly away, flowers wither to nothing. Long hair vast as the sea, scattering like smoke, The joy of fish and water, toes tightly hooked."
After finishing the short passage, Sumina's eyes flowed over, stealing a glance at Denji.
Denji showed no reaction—he hadn't understood a word of it, only felt that Sumina's voice sounded strange.
Did I not read it clearly enough?
She turned the page past an explicit description and chose another relatively suitable segment:
"The love between men and women is always beautiful. Scheming for wealth, lusting after beauty—as long as the means are proper, there's nothing wrong with it. The essence of sex has always been beautiful; it is instinct. It is also culture—the supreme pleasure and enjoyment of uniting body and soul."
This line actually got through to Denji, though he still had doubts.
"Is that true? But why is it that every time I get close to love, something really bad happens?"
"Maybe you just haven't met the right person yet?"
Hearing this, Denji looked at Sumina.
Sumina placed her hand on her chest and gently undid the very top middle button.
The button was tied so tightly—she had to press down hard first to create space before she could barely work it free.
But then—after that single button's liberation, the ones above and below it fell like dominoes, popping open one after another.
Until the opening was so wide it no longer needed to bear any tension…
Seeing this, Sumina first flushed with uncontrollable shyness; her hand froze in midair for a moment.
One perfect arc became two—bright enough to dazzle Denji's eyes. He didn't quite understand why this girl suddenly did that.
I get it—she wants to do me… uh, maybe not. Maybe this is just her way of showing she likes me?
Feeling Denji's gaze finally carry a trace of heat, she took two deep breaths.
Bold and open~
Then she continued answering:
"Or maybe… the way Denji loves is wrong?"
"The way I love… is wrong?"
Sumina saw Denji hesitate to speak, so she reached out and carefully took the hand resting on his knee.
She loosely held his fingers, her thumb gently pressing his knuckles in a feeling way, while her other fingers perfectly cupped the underside of his palm.
By instinct she placed herself in the lower position, looking up at Denji with eyes full of anticipation, longing, and curiosity.
Denji's gaze wandered, as though recalling:
"Someone once told me that dirty things only feel good when you understand the other person well enough."
"Does Denji feel that way too?"
While naturally asking, Sumina quietly extended her other hand and caressed Denji's wrist~
"I… I don't know. I just remember that when she taught me those moves, it felt pretty good."
"Pfft~"
Laughing… am I being laughed at?
Denji suddenly felt his teeth ache a little. He should have felt unhappy, but Sumina quickly explained.
"Sorry, I'm not laughing at you—I just think Denji is really cute~"
"…You mean I'm ridiculous?"
"No no no~"
Sumina shook her head in denial, then looked at Denji very seriously and said:
"Laughing is just me expressing my… love for Denji. But hearing the story you just told, what I feel most in my heart is heartache for you."
"Heartache?"
"Yes—because I feel the person Denji mentioned was probably a bad woman who liked to deceive people~"
"Ah… you guessed pretty accurately."
Seeing Denji agree with her, Sumina felt as though clouds had parted to reveal the moon—her clear, glistening gaze now carried even more clarity and "faith."
"Right? Right? And that bad woman who taught Denji those pleasurable moves… was it something like this~?"
With that, she grabbed Denji's hand and pressed it directly onto the place that "ached" for him.
"!"
Denji's heart jolted.
Th-this feels the same? Though it's a different kind of wonderful experience…
So the beautiful feeling I had back then had absolutely nothing to do with the "love" Makima talked about—this thing is purely about texture!
While Denji was lost in recollection and thought, Sumina's offensive didn't stop.
"Or maybe… like this?"
She slowly stood up, spread her full thighs, and softly straddled Denji's lap.
From the previous lower position, she shifted to the upper.
For some reason she felt Denji wouldn't like this angle, so she leaned sideways, arching her thighs to lower herself further, then gently kissed him~
Their body temperatures rose sharply…
This move—she really does want to do me!
Denji knew he hadn't guessed wrong.
The kiss broke, strings of saliva connecting. Her fair, delicate fingers twined around, pressing her own soft lips, squeezing them in…
"Mmm ya~"
The strength in Denji's hand seemed to increase unconsciously, making Sumina's obsidian-like eyes—wet beneath the water—even more watery.
Glistening, rippling.
Sumina taught Denji how to undress like she was teaching a child.
The slender ribbon bow tie came undone with just a light tug, falling into soft wavy curves.
"Denji, do you know?"
"What."
Denji's voice was muffled.
Sumina's voice carried happy laughter; her brows and eyes curved, her joyful tone flowing like song:
"I majored in literature at university—I'm very good at teaching 'little kids'~"
"Really? Then I want to learn!"
"Mmm Don't rush, don't rush This is Sumina-sensei's exclusive private lesson just for Denji~"
With that, Sumina-sensei couldn't wait any longer and rang the class bell herself.
...
Sumina-sensei's literary accomplishment was indeed beyond doubt. During the lesson, she truly cited classics and spoke pearls of wisdom!
Snow Country — Yasunari Kawabata "The snowlight and dawn in the mountains all seemed to focus on the woman in the mirror's skin. Her beauty was a futile beauty. The warmth transmitted through fingertips over clothing was more shuddering than direct nakedness. It was a kind of coldness and heat that felt as though it could pass straight through the skin to touch the soul."
"Can you feel it, Denji?"
Denji was dazed and confused.
No problem—Sumina-sensei had plenty of patience for Denji.
The Lover — Marguerite Duras "Too late, too early. For love, for us—it's the same. His fingers traced my arm; that feeling wasn't a caress—it was a confirmation—confirming the temperature of this body, confirming this heart was still beating. That touch carried an unquestionable possessiveness, as though he wanted to sign his name onto my skin."
Denji half-understood, half-didn't; Sumina seized the chance to intensify.
Love in the Time of Cholera — Gabriel García Márquez "It turns out that life, not death, is endless. The room was filled with the smell of his breathing—a masculine scent mixed with tobacco and sweat. That smell wrapped around me like vines, suffocating me, yet I craved the pleasure this suffocation brought. The distance between us was no longer a physical distance, but the distance between reason and desire."
"Denji's scent is countless times more intoxicating than what's described in the book~"
"Sumina smells nice too."
"Hehe Tickles Denji is too careful."
"?"
Sumina smiled slyly without answering directly.
"Man is a rope stretched between animal and superman—a rope over the abyss."
Next line tied to the theme.
The Temple of the Golden Pavilion — Yukio Mishima "I long to destroy that perfect thing—only in the moment of destruction does beauty truly belong to me."
Their bodies drew closer.
"It's a coldness like a snake, yet a warmth like a rose with thorns."
"Where's the cold? I don't feel it."
"Hate~ Denji is so bad—you know perfectly well I want more than just this level."
Huh? Do I know?
Whatever—Denji answered casually:
"I probably know."
Sumina secretly rolled her eyes in mock annoyance, then continued breathlessly naming the next theme.
Paradise Lost — Junichi Watanabe "Isn't it wonderful—the wish of two people in love to embrace naked, wanting to become one? Their bodies cling tightly, as though trying to knead the other into their own flesh and blood. This isn't simple pleasure—it's a near-grief-filled longing to disappear into the other's body. In this world, what proves two people's existence more than the fusion of flesh?"
"Put it in—let me teach you how to put it in, bad student who loves to torment with push-and-pull—Denji~"
...
"People will see us here—the room on the right upstairs is my break room. Let's go there~"
"No need to worry—this spot is fine."
"Eternal Domain"—separation. "Blood Authority"—concealment.
Within it, Sumina couldn't see Denji's power—she only thought he preferred it here.
So she could only pad her real-silk blouse underneath—to preserve something…
...
At the height of passion, Sumina could no longer distinguish reality from illusion.
Countless lines of poetry about love between men and women flowed through her mind—she didn't know whether she was teaching Denji or teaching herself…
Lolita — Vladimir Nabokov "I gazed at him, at that milk-smooth neck, those petal-soft earlobes. I longed to kiss every inch of that skin, to suck dry the youthful blood flowing within. This was an evil, shuddering beauty—beautiful enough to make one want to destroy it, or be destroyed by it."
Sumina gazed at Denji with eyes full of love.
Lady Chatterley's Lover — D.H. Lawrence "She heard the sounds in the forest—the sounds of life budding. His rough, warm palm bore her like the earth. In that contact, all language disappeared—only a primitive, instinctual trembling remained. She was no longer the lofty lady; she was soil, water, land waiting to be plowed."
Emotions kept rising.
The Wife of Plants — Samantha Schweblin "I felt countless tiny vines burrowing out from under my skin, twining around his wrist, his waist, his breathing. This wasn't an embrace—it was a gentle strangulation. We were like two symbiotic plants; underground in the dark soil, our roots had long been entangled, impossible to tell who was drawing nourishment from whom."
She hugged Denji even tighter…
Journey Under the Midnight Sun — Keigo Higashino "It was an embrace with thorns. Every thorn pierced my skin, bringing sharp pain—yet I craved the temperature that came from those thorn tips, the temperature that belonged to it. I would rather be pierced by these thorns than let go of this only warmth."
Tighter—but her body was already exhausted; this strength was still nowhere near enough to vent even a fraction of the love in her heart.
The Lover — Duras "He said he loved me. That voice didn't come from his mouth—it echoed from some hollow place deep in his body. I felt an enormous, unprecedented wealth pouring out from within me—and he was the only one entitled to receive this wealth. In that moment, I possessed nothing—yet I possessed the entire world!"
Sumina taught Denji how to love, then let go of all control—letting it flow together with herself straight toward Denji, falling into his hands…
The Unbearable Lightness of Being — Milan Kundera "What crushed her was not weight, but lightness. Everything had become too light—light like an illusion. She felt herself rising, escaping gravity, escaping reality. This lightness terrified her; she wanted to grasp something, yet could grasp nothing. It was a dizzying happiness—and a fatal loneliness."
This "fatal loneliness" made Sumina even more infatuated with Denji.
She was deepening her love for Denji in the process of exploring and being explored…
…
"How can I meet you at my most beautiful moment. April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire. Fear does not exist, nor does power—only flame, only burning, only pouring rain, flowers blooming, flowers falling, flowers in a daze…"
...
...
No one knew how much time had passed. The two simply lay peacefully on the floor, bodies overlapping—like two ships stranded after a storm.
Sumina gazed at the swaying dim yellow light on the ceiling; her chest still carried the afterglow of violent heartbeats. She remembered Murasaki Shikibu's The Tale of Genji, and recited in a dreamy, almost song-like tone:
"The night is deep, all around silent. That heartbeat seems loud enough for even the flowers by the pillow to hear. Dew wets the sleeves—that weight feels like carrying the sin and pleasure of the entire night."
"What are you saying? You're so exhausted you can't even hold yourself up—can you really last all night?"
Sumina froze for a second, then was amused by this scenery-ruining yet brutally honest comment.
She didn't argue—just buried her face in his neck, hiding the dark currents in her eyes.
She perhaps felt Denji's answer was avoidance—she had done something so absurd to him, yet he didn't blame her.
That only made her feel more guilty~
Though it was her first time too, it didn't change the fact that she was a "bad woman."
She had used this cunning method to luckily obtain a piece of Denji's love…
But so what?
That guilt existed in her heart for only an instant before it was crushed by even more surging love and desire.
She lifted her head again, messy strands of hair falling beside his cheek.
She looked at him; the corners of her mouth lifted into a smile she had never worn before—vivid, intoxicated.
"The book says, 'Only the dead stay forever seventeen.' But we're different, Denji…"
Hearing Sumina say his name, Denji also turned to look at her.
Those were eyes brimming with starlight.
All those obscure verses from earlier seemed to have turned solid; unknown beauty flowed in her pupils.
It was a soft warmth that felt both familiar and strange—strange because she was more transparent, familiar because it still lacked that innocent heat.
But no matter what, those eyes were truly too gentle—gentle like a pair of hands softly smoothing away all the remaining brutality in his bones.
Sumina leaned closer; her nose nearly touched his, breaths intertwining with lingering heat.
"We're still alive—and just now, we truly came alive. Not only that—in books, they need tragedy to barely describe that ultimate beauty. But here, as long as we're together, we can always…"
She paused; starlight danced in her eyes, reflecting Denji's innocent original heart. In a daze, her love gained a touch of maternal radiance.
"…always carry this burning heat and live together until eighty."
Saying this, Sumina drew even closer—foreheads touching, Denji could hear even more clearly.
She said: "Even if later days make us too ashamed to lift our heads because of what happened today—even if we become wrinkled and old—I want you to remember tonight—"
Denji smelled something, so he didn't deliberately say anything too free.
The smile at the corner of her lips softened; her affection deepened, carrying a trace of slyness, satisfaction, and lingering madness.
"Remember that you once turned a twenty-three-year-old foolish girl into a real woman."
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