"I do. I still feel cold all over, so I can't take a bath," Kusanagi said, her body burning hot as she leaned against my chest with a light laugh. "Unless Miss Nozawa wants to help me?"
"..."
It seemed the bath was unavoidable tonight.
From outside the door, I could see the warm amber light glowing, steam billowing and fogging the glass window. The faint sound of rushing water was audible—the tap was turned on high.
I went back to her room, poured another glass of hot water, and placed some acetaminophen on the bedside table (the most commonly used antipyretic in clinical practice, very safe with few adverse reactions). I had brought it back from the hospital.
After making sure the air conditioner and heater were working properly, I finally felt a bit relieved.
The drunkenness still hadn't subsided, and drowsiness was creeping in. I glanced at the time—it was already 2 a.m.
Kusanagi's voice came from the bathroom, "Miss Nozawa."
"What's wrong?" I was worried about her fever and hadn't left the doorway.
The girl inside let out an intentionally disdainful sigh. "You should go take a bath too. You reek of alcohol."
"...Alright." I felt slightly sullen and sniffed my own scent, my cheeks growing warm. Was it that obvious? I only had a few drinks...
Hearing the woman's departing footsteps, the girl in the bathroom silently tightened the faucet, her slender shoulders dripping wet.
She stared at herself in the mirror for a while, her gaze sliding over her slightly flushed shoulders, lips, and other areas. She pursed her lips, making them redder, and the tips of her ears turned red as well.
The girl fell silent. She hastily dried herself, took the white tank top she had changed out of before the bath from the laundry basket, and was about to put it on when she paused.
She tossed the white tank top back into the laundry basket and returned to her room wrapped only in a towel.
I took a quick shower, nearly falling asleep in the process. The increased blood circulation, racing heartbeat, and steam brought the alcohol's effects surging back, leaving me lightheaded and dizzy.
In my dazed state, my mind was unusually active. Fragmented images flashed by unexpectedly—the girl's pale arms and thighs appearing without warning.
Her soft nape, with its adorable fine hairs, neatly arranged in a cluster.
How could it be so... I couldn't find the words.
It was a kind of beauty unique to a girl—the tender, unripe loveliness that inadvertently reveals itself, making it hard to look away.
The back of her hand brushed against it, pale and translucent, with faint blue veins clearly visible. She was so fair, with dense black in her eyebrows, eyelashes, and hair, yet the fine hairs on her arms were light, tinged with a faint hue.
When I helped her out of the room, I was a head taller than her. I tried my best to avoid touching her skin, but she was burning up and kept leaning her weight against me, making contact with her waist unavoidable.
The slender, delicate waist of the underage girl was still tender, with a slight curve that lightly pressed against my palm. Through the thin fabric, I could feel the resilient youth of her skin, her cool and clear aura unmistakably present. In just an instant, I quickly moved my hand away.
"Miss Kusanagi, if you don't have the strength, don't push yourself," I heard my own stiff voice say.
Kusanagi paid no heed, pressing her burning body even closer.
Worried she couldn't stand, I had to brace her body with effort. She was practically hanging onto me.
The height difference allowed me to see a vast expanse of milk-like skin on her chest, along with a softly swelling curve.
Realizing what it was, my gaze had nowhere to hide and fled to her calves like a refuge. She wasn't wearing slippers again, her feet bare, with black nail polish on her small, grape-like toes. Further up were her snow-white thighs.
This kind of attire didn't suit her. She really shouldn't be wearing so little fabric in the middle of winter.
I simply closed my eyes—out of sight, out of mind.
But the sensation in my hands had clearly imprinted that moment, now abruptly resurfacing in my mind, impossible to erase.
I splashed my face vigorously, trying to wash away this strange feeling. The water seemed to have grown hotter, scalding my face. I turned the temperature down a few degrees.
The light in Kusanagi's bathroom was off. Only her room showed a warm sliver of light through a crack in the door—it wasn't closed tightly.
I tiptoed to peek through the crack and saw the medicine on the bedside table was gone. Relieved, I was about to close the door and return to my own room.
"Miss Nozawa." Perhaps my footsteps were a bit too loud. She noticed I was at the door and mumbled something, her words unclear.
I had to pull the door open a crack and asked softly through the gap, "Why aren't you asleep yet?"
"I'm so cold, I can't sleep," the girl said weakly, her face buried in the blankets.
"Maybe the bath took away your body heat. Let me check." Fighting off drowsiness, I knelt by the bed and felt her hands and slender ankles. They were indeed icy cold. The room's air conditioner was cranked up to a sweltering degree, yet the bedclothes held no warmth. This was unusual.
"I've always been like this since I was little. When I'm sick, I get so cold I can't sleep all night," the girl explained slowly upon seeing my worried expression, her words tinged with loneliness and desolation. "I must have frozen to death in my past life."
"Nonsense." My expression darkened, but my heart softened with sympathy. "Do you have a hot water bottle at home? I'll go fill one up."
For now, this was the only method I could think of. I had no experience treating chills and had always relied on the clumsy method of using hot water for warmth. I didn't know if it would work for Kusanagi.
"No," the girl said. "I don't have anything like that."
"Besides what's in this room, is there anything else for warmth?"
Kusanagi's gaze drifted over my face. She looked at me for a while, silent and still.
The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Her silence made my drowsiness come and go. My attention began to scatter, unsure whether it was the alcohol or sleepiness. The scene before me blurred and overlapped, struggling to focus as the world flickered between light and dark.
I was really about to fall asleep.
I don't know how much time passed. I struggled against the drowsiness, unable to let go of my concern for Kusanagi's condition. The two forces battled within me, leaving me in a state of internal conflict.
Even my ears felt heavy with fatigue until I heard the girl's barely audible whisper: "Can you sleep with me?"
My eyes widened, all drowsiness vanishing. I felt my head spin. "Together... sleep together?"
"Is that not allowed?" The girl buried her face in the pillow, creating a soft, alluring indentation.
In my twenty-three years of life, I had never encountered such a difficult question to answer. I was stumped. I had always slept alone since childhood and had no experience sharing a bed with anyone. During university, a boyfriend I was dating once suggested staying overnight at a hotel. But men always drink to bolster their courage, and in the dead of night, I couldn't stand his snoring and strong body odor. Disheveled, I went to the hotel front desk and booked another room, not waking up until the next afternoon. It was a rare experience in my life.
Having had such a terrible experience sharing a bed, I was extremely resistant to the idea of sleeping alongside someone else. Everyone has their own sleeping habits, and familiarizing oneself with another person's habits, temperature, and scent is difficult to achieve in a short time.
I instinctively wanted to refuse and was pondering how to phrase it when I inadvertently noticed the girl gently rubbing the edge of the pillow, looking deeply attached.
I froze.
That was my overcoat. She caressed it for a while, her cold fingertips clutching the hem, wrapping herself tightly in a posture seeking warmth.
...Defeated. I closed my eyes in resignation.
"Sorry to disturb you tonight."
I closed the door, then turned off the light with a soft *click*, plunging the room into a sea of darkness.
Gently lifting a corner of the blanket, I felt the soft, smooth texture envelop my skin—a completely unfamiliar bed. I lay down carefully.
The girl obediently turned on her side, making space for me to slip in, but she still clung to the overcoat, not letting go, her back turned to me.
She seemed very tense, gripping the overcoat tightly. From my angle, I couldn't see her expression, only noticing her lips were pressed together tightly, tinged with restraint.
I felt inexplicably nervous too. The moment I lay down, a clear, gentle scent filled my nostrils, and I instinctively inhaled.
It was the scent of Kusanagi's black hair. She had just bathed, and a moist, misty freshness lingered around the spot where she lay on her side.
There was also her unique scent, a youthful fragrance that playfully circled the tip of my nose.
I adjusted my sleeping position, instinctively lying stiffly straight. The bed was sized for the girl's height. Being so much taller than her, I immediately occupied most of the space, feeling like I was about to push her off. I didn't dare move.
"..." I wanted to tell her to move in a bit, but I didn't dare speak.
Kusanagi occupied only a small edge of the bed, her slender body unmoving. From the corner of my eye, I could see the dark, glossy crown of her head.
Just be a living hot water bottle, Nozawa.
Being under the same blanket with a girl was a completely unfamiliar and novel experience, filled with a suffocating atmosphere. Where had my drowsiness gone? I really wanted to sleep, but this feeling was unprecedented.
A girl's blanket felt like this—fragrant, soft, fresh, and comfortable. Compared to lying with an ex-boyfriend, snoring like thunder, reeking of alcohol and smoke, this felt more like floating on a light, pleasant cloud.
After lying there for a while, I felt the blanket grow warmer. Drowsiness swept over me, my eyelids growing heavy.
Suddenly, the girl sniffled and curled up, hugging herself. She still seemed very cold. She was sleeping too far from me; I couldn't warm her at all.
I tried to find Kusanagi's hand to warm her up too. I naturally run warm; my hands and feet are never cold in winter. I've even been jokingly called a "hand warmer" by classmates, making me quite popular in winter. Feeling the chill from her side, I shifted, turning to face her while lying on my side. With my long limbs, I quickly found her hidden hand.
"Miss Nozawa?" The girl's voice trembled slightly in the darkness.
Feeling her still-cold hand, I murmured helplessly, "Why are you still so cold?"
I gently covered her palm with mine, feeling the warmth from my hand rapidly transferring. Her hand finally began to show signs of warming up.
"I don't know," the girl whispered softly.
Her hand curled into a small ball, obediently resting in my palm, instinctively drawing warmth, her fingertips occasionally trembling slightly.
"The other one, come here too." I held her left hand; her right hand was on the side facing away from me.
Kusanagi obediently turned over. In the narrow, warm blanket, we faced each other, and she placed both hands in my palms. Her fingers were slender, even the knuckles beautifully smooth, lying quietly extended. That youthful fragrance grew closer, faintly seeping into my senses.
I felt dazed, my eyelids blinking incessantly.
The girl's slender, delicate shoulders leaned closer, her jade-white jawline moving slightly. "My feet are cold too."
Did she mean she wanted me to warm them as well?
Cold starts from the feet; warm feet mean a warm body. But to warm her feet, I'd have to bend my legs. In this face-to-face position, it would almost be like holding her in my arms.
I felt a bit awkward and hesitated to act.
"So cold, so cold," the girl murmured, urging with a barely perceptible urgency.
I stiffened subtly for a long time—perhaps a few seconds, or maybe several minutes—before saying, "...Okay."
The back of my foot touched the girl's cold, tender sole, rubbing and warming her youthful feet. She responded eagerly immediately, her still-developing, tender limbs—like a fledgling bird not yet ready to spread its wings—fluttered and clung tightly to me, burying herself in my embrace.
As if she had made a difficult decision, she rested her head on my shoulder and resolutely nestled into my arms.
Only then did I notice Kusanagi wasn't wearing the tank top from before her bath, but a very thin, sheer camisole.
Wait, wasn't this about warming her feet?
This camisole was far too revealing. Her slender frame, her fair, smooth skin—all were clearly visible, impossible to avoid. Even worse, her incredibly soft body pressed lightly against me, her smooth, snow-white thighs touching my skin.
I practically gasped, stiffening painfully. My ears suddenly burned, and my body temperature rose several degrees.
The empty silence made me feel an even more subtle, tense restlessness. My Finally calmed emotions suddenly spiked again.
Caught off guard by her embrace, my mind filled with tangled, improper thoughts. Pushing her away felt wrong; I desperately needed something to distract myself.
Fortunately, this position did seem to normalize Kusanagi's body temperature. I began trying hard to shift my thoughts—to tomorrow's classes, surgeries, and the drowsiness I had Finally accumulated earlier.
"So warm," the girl murmured after a while, her arms wrapping around my waist, her head nestling into the crook of my shoulder, softly nuzzling.
I closed my eyes imperceptibly, ignoring that softness.
"So hot, so hot." She buried her face in my neck, arching her back, her body growing increasingly pliant.
I remained motionless, letting her sink into me, trying to keep my breathing steady.
"Like a hot water bottle," she mumbled softly. "Don't even need the electric blanket."
"What... electric blanket?" My voice wavered slightly, tinged with embarrassment. "If you have an electric blanket, wouldn't that be warmer?"
Compared to an electric blanket, my body heat was probably insignificant, right?
The girl fell silent for a few seconds, a barely detectable hint of embarrassment at being found out.
"So sleepy... Goodnight, Miss Nozawa." She said nothing more, finding a comfortable spot in my arms as if it were made for her. Soon, her breathing grew long and even—she was asleep.
I couldn't figure it out. Something felt off. Why not use the electric blanket? Was it broken? Something was strange, but I couldn't pinpoint what.
Come to think of it, this girl hugged me with practiced ease. She was just talking, and now she's already asleep. Probably the medication was taking effect.
Seeing her asleep, my own tense nerves finally began to relax, softening gradually. I had thought it would be a sleepless night, but my body, enveloped in her scent, relaxed strangely. A light, floating drowsiness washed over me, mingled with the girl's clear fragrance.
I unconsciously whispered softly, "Goodnight, Kusanagi."