Having successfully slipped through the clutches of Haruno and Argo, the two were now bound for Rosalia's apartment. Rosalia provided the address to Kit, the vehicle's AI. Hachiman, looking genuinely exhausted, had surrendered the controls to the car; the two of them sat in a comfortable, albeit slightly awkward, silence as the city lights blurred past.
Watching Hachiman's profile out of the corner of her eye, Rosalia replayed the night's earlier drama in her head.
(Ugh... I can't believe he hauled me off like a sack of grain, totally exposed to the world! Luckily, it was at an angle where the other employees couldn't see anything, but still! I want to make him sit in a formal seiza and demand to know why he didn't go for the Princess Carry!)
(But... as much as it kills me to admit it, it wasn't... all bad. Actually, it was kind of great! Why? Because no matter the form it took, that was the first time Hachiman ever held me! I was in Hachiman's arms in front of all those people! Of course, I doubt a single one of them interpreted it as romantic... Being a maiden is so complicated. But more importantly!)
Rosalia shot Hachiman a look of lingering resentment.
(This man! My skirt was flipped up right next to his face, and I didn't feel a single glance! How is that possible?! You're the poster child for "Lucky Pervert" moments! A hero is supposed to be a little bit of a scoundrel! You could have at least looked once!)
She vented her irrational frustration at him silently. Just then, Hachiman spoke.
"Is your ankle still hurting? You okay?"
"Eh...? Oh, u-um, yeah. I'm fine."
(Ugh, and here I am thinking such impure, greedy thoughts...)
Rosalia felt a pang of guilt, her internal spirits sinking slightly.
(Wait... "impure"?)
Suddenly, a realization of a different kind of danger struck her like a lightning bolt.
(AAAAH! My room! My room right now is—!)
Because of how busy work had been lately, Rosalia's apartment was a disaster zone. The sink was a mountain of unwashed dishes, and her laundry basket was overflowing. While the living room where she usually spent her time was mostly presentable, the kitchen was visible from there. It was absolutely not the kind of place she could invite Hachiman into.
(S-stay calm. It's not like he's coming inside. I just need to get through the drop-off and I'm safe.)
"We are arriving at the destination," Kit announced.
Rosalia blinked and looked out the window. Her familiar apartment building stood before them. She felt a twinge of regret that the ride was over; they had barely spoken. Hachiman parked the car, walked around to the passenger side, and offered her his hand.
"Alright, I'll get you up to your room. Stand up slowly, Rosalia. Don't put any weight on that foot. Easy does it."
(He really is so kind...)
Blushing, Rosalia wondered if he was going to hoist her over his shoulder again. Despite her earlier anger, she found herself secretly hoping for it. Instead, Hachiman gently let her lean on his shoulder for support. He guided her toward the entrance with the care one might afford a fragile antique.
"There are too many eyes out here," Hachiman muttered. "Carrying you might cause a scene."
(OOOOOH! That was a calculated move! But I'll take it!)
They passed through the lobby's security zone and arrived at the elevator.
"Looks like you live in a place with decent security," Hachiman noted. "If you were in some run-down studio, I'd have forced you to move by now."
"Y-yeah, well, thanks to you, I get paid a pretty good salary."
Rosalia tested her ankle; it throbbed, but she could hobble. "Thanks for walking me this far. I can take it from here..."
"Huh? Why the modesty? I told you I was getting you to your room."
"Eh? Ah, um..."
(Wh-wh-what do I do?! I want to spend more time with him, but... but... No, wait! Just to the front door is safe! It's fine! And if he sees where I live, maybe he'll come back again!)
"U-um... okay. Thank you."
Her desire won out over her common sense. She let him guide her to her floor, fully intending to draw the line at the threshold. But the moment they stepped off the elevator, Hachiman's next move shattered her composure.
"Alright, we're out of public view. This should be fine."
"Eh? Wait—"
"Hup."
In one fluid motion, Hachiman scooped her up into a proper Princess Carry and began walking toward her door.
(KYAAAAAAA! I am shining! I am at my peak! I am in the arms of my beloved! I am a PRINCESS!)
"Putting too much weight on your good leg isn't great either," Hachiman said, his voice level. "Considering you're injured, I doubt you'll get mad at me for this."
"N-no! Not mad at all! No problems whatsoever!"
"O-oh... okay."
Hachiman, a bit taken aback by her sudden intensity, carefully carried her to the door, mindful not to bump her legs against the walls. Rosalia clung to him for dear life; Hachiman simply assumed she was scared of falling.
"Here we are. I'll set you down so you can get your keys, Kitten."
"I-it's okay! I can reach the lock from here! Keep holding me! Just... just keep holding me!"
"Uh... s-sure?"
(I am not letting go of this moment! Not yet!)
Rosalia deftly unlocked the door while still in his arms. Hachiman carried her straight into the living room and set her down gently on the sofa. The moment her feet touched the ground, reality came crashing back.
(I screwed up! I let my thirst get the better of me and now Hachiman is INSIDE MY HOUSE!)
Hachiman didn't seem to notice her panic yet, but the kitchen was right there—a monument to her laziness. She had to act fast.
"Maybe you should change into something more comfortable?" Hachiman suggested. "Want me to carry you to the bedroom?"
(THE BEDROOM?! There are bras and socks scattered everywhere from yesterday!)
"N-n-no! I'm fine! I can manage on my own!"
"If you say so."
"Just sit here! And... and don't look around too much, okay?!"
"Of course. It's rude to gawk at a lady's private living space."
Rosalia fled to her bedroom and began a frantic search for an outfit.
(Normally I'd just wear a tracksuit, but not tonight! I have pride as a woman! I have to pick something cute, something that will make Hachiman's heart skip a beat! And the skirt has to be short—a true 'Lucky Pervert' special!)
After a considerable amount of time spent on her appearance, she emerged back into the living room, only to freeze at the sight before her. Hachiman was standing in her kitchen, elbow-deep in suds, washing her dishes.
(KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!)
"Oh, you're finally finished?" Hachiman looked over his shoulder. "Wait, why are you dressed like you're going to a party? And that skirt is way too short. Don't you have a tracksuit or something?"
"I... I do, but..."
"I mean, you look cute, but you're at home. You should relax."
"Oh... okay."
(C-cute? Did he just call me cute? But I already answered, so now I have to go change... Argh! I missed my chance to yell at him for touching my kitchen!)
She retreated to the bedroom, hung up her fancy clothes, and put on a jersey top. However, she stubbornly kept the mini-skirt on.
(It's actually more comfortable this way! Yeah, that's my story and I'm sticking to it!)
Armed with that logic, she re-entered the living room. Suddenly noticing a stray dust bunny, she grabbed a lint roller and began a frantic, "casual" cleaning of the carpet.
(The chances of Hachiman staying the night aren't zero... so I should at least do this! Even if the probability is nearly zero, it's still not zero!)
In truth, this was a subconscious displacement activity to avoid talking about the kitchen, but Rosalia was far too overwhelmed to realize it.
"Phew... okay, that's better. Now I just need to get this laundry into the machine without him seeing..."
She peeked into the living room and saw Hachiman was still at the sink. She tried to sneak toward the bathroom, but Hachiman called out to her without even turning around.
"Finished changing, Kitten? I noticed the laundry was piling up in the bedroom. This building is thick enough that a late-night load won't bother the neighbors. You should go ahead and start the machine."
(HOW DOES HE KNOW EVERYTHING?!)
"U-um, okay!"
She did as she was told. When she finally returned to the living room, the kitchen was sparkling, and two cups of tea were waiting on the table.
"Hey, why are you still wearing that tiny skirt?"
"E-eh? Well, because I hurt my ankle, it's actually easier this way! Leggings or track pants would be too much of a struggle!"
"Oh. When you put it that way, I guess it makes sense."
(Yes! That was the perfect spur-of-the-moment excuse!)
She sat down next to him and took a sip of the tea. "Wow... this is really good."
"Really? I just used whatever leaves were in your cabinet. It's the same as always."
"Is it...?"
"Must be your imagination."
(Could this be... the 'Affection Filter' at work?)
Rosalia looked at the clean kitchen and then at him. "Um... the kitchen was a mess, wasn't it? Th-thank you..."
"Nah, I should apologize for barging in. I've been working you too hard lately; it's no wonder you didn't have time to clean. I figured that was probably why the laundry was backed up too, and it looks like I was right."
(I'm so sorry! I was actually just being a lazy slob!)
Unable to admit the truth, she just gave a vague, sheepish nod. "Ah... yeah."
"I've never seen you in a jersey before," Hachiman mused. "It doesn't quite suit you. Maybe it's because your facial features are so striking? It might look better if you took off your makeup."
(Wh-what?! Is he asking to see my bare face?! But I can't... but wait, Hachiman isn't the type to say something mean. I kind of want him to see me like that... Is this the moment? Is this where I make my move?)
Just then, the washing machine beeped.
"Do you have a dryer?"
"Y-yeah."
"You should probably use it tonight instead of hanging things out. Go ahead, don't worry about me."
"I'll be right back."
Rosalia went to the laundry room. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she hesitated for a long moment before quietly washing off her makeup. She took a deep breath, stepped back out, and sat down beside him. Hachiman looked at her, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before softening into a gentle smile.
"So, you took it off. This is the first time I've seen the real you."
"Y-yeah. What... what do you think?"
(Come on, Hachiman! Give it to me straight!)
"Hmm. You look a lot softer. I like it."
(YESSSS! He didn't say 'cute,' but I'll take 'I like it'! Victory!)
"Well," Hachiman said, standing up. "It's getting late; I should head out. Don't worry about logging into GGO for the next couple of days. Take a break like everyone else and rest up."
(And there goes the dream of dragging him into the bedroom... Oh well. I should have expected that. It's fine! Today was amazing. I'm happy.)
She scrambled to her feet to see him off, but her ankle buckled. She lost her balance and tumbled toward him.
"Whoops—!"
"Careful!"
Hachiman caught her in a firm embrace, holding her against his chest to steady her. Rosalia felt like she was floating on clouds. Even with her chest pressed firmly against him, Hachiman only looked slightly flushed, maintaining his composure. She felt a tiny bit of disappointment—likely because the jersey hid any cleavage and the physical "sensation" settings were dampened.
He sat her back down on the sofa and began worriedly massaging her ankle. Suddenly, his head snapped up.
"Whoa—! I mean... is your leg okay? Does it still hurt?"
Rosalia was confused by his sudden shock, but she nodded. "I-I'm okay."
Hachiman squeezed his eyes shut and looked back down at her foot, his voice sounding a bit strained. "Right. If it feels worse tomorrow, go to the hospital. Call me if you can't drive; I'll take you."
"Th-thank you."
(Thank you, God! I've officially used up a lifetime's worth of luck today!)
Hachiman turned and walked toward the door, giving a casual wave. "It's an auto-lock door, right? I'll let myself out. Don't bother getting up."
"Wait...!"
"Hmm?"
(I need something to remember this day... Oh! I know!)
"U-um! I won't show anyone, I promise! But since it's the first time you've been here, can we take a photo together? To commemorate it?"
"A photo? Well... I guess that's fine."
"Wait there! I'll get my camera!"
Rosalia grabbed her digital camera, set the timer, and stood in front of Hachiman. At the last second, she boldly took his hands and wrapped them around her from behind.
"...I thought we were just standing side-by-side."
"I-it's fine! The camera is already set!"
"Well... you do a lot for me, so I guess I can't complain. I'm sure the others would forgive me if it's with you."
"R-right."
(That makes me feel a little complicated, but whatever!)
The flash went off. Hachiman said his goodbyes and left. As he walked out, Rosalia thought she saw him glance briefly at her skirt, but she didn't think much of it.
"See you later, Kitten."
"Yeah. Thanks for everything. Bye."
Once she was alone, Rosalia looked at the display on her camera.
"Eh...?"
The photo showed Hachiman with a face that was bright, beet-red.
"He didn't look like this when we were hugging earlier... and I can't imagine just holding me from behind would do this to him..."
She thought back to the moment of her fall.
"Whoa—! I mean... is your leg okay? Does it still hurt?"
"He looked shocked then too... and he looked at my skirt on his way out..."
Rosalia looked down at her own lap.
"W-wait... was he looking up my skirt that whole time?! Is that why his face is so red?!"
Looking at Hachiman's flustered expression in the photo, Rosalia let out a scream of joy that probably woke the neighbors.
"YEEESSS! God, I finally did it! I made Hachiman blush with my womanly charms! This photo is a family heirloom!"
She fell asleep that night in a state of pure bliss. She had no idea that three days later, Haruno and Argo would be waiting to tease her relentlessly about the "date."
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