Under Shirakawa Natsu's questioning, Yazhikui didn't feel the slightest bit of pressure and told him everything that had happened on the day he delivered the lunch box.
She had learned that Kimurahama had successfully divorced, so she had asked Hashimoto Arina to meet tonight—wanting to know her true feelings about it.
Shirakawa Natsu wasn't angry that she hadn't told him immediately.After all, his childhood friend had been worried about him.
"Thank you," Shirakawa said sincerely. For a moment, he wondered if his childhood sweetheart secretly had feelings for him after all.
"I'm leaving," Yazhikui licked her lips. "She should be waking up soon."
"Who?" Shirakawa asked.
"The woman you just gave a massage to," she replied with a smirk.
"The girl who sat next to me during the meal," Yazhikui's grin widened. "She looks so pure—but her obedience and acceptance are shockingly high."
"..."
Shirakawa immediately dismissed the thought of Yazhikui harboring any secret affection for him.
This guy was a total womanizer—his only hobby seemed to be seducing women. And despite being "brothers," he had never once invited Shirakawa along to share in his pursuits.
Still, a bold idea slipped into Shirakawa's mind: if there really was a man who fell in love with Yazhikui, wouldn't that be the same as getting access to countless girlfriends?
He kept mulling over this absurdly "serious" thought on his way back to the Japanese-style room, where he ran into Hashimoto Arina at the door.
Seeing him return, Arina let out a sigh of relief, puffed her cheeks, and asked, "Where did you go?"
"Oh, I woke up at night and noticed Sister Youcai wasn't here, so I went for a walk," Shirakawa immediately shifted the topic toward her quietly leaving earlier.
As he expected, Arina didn't ask further. She quickly grabbed his hand, tucked it under the quilt, and said, "It's late. Go to sleep."
"Mm." Shirakawa nodded—mission accomplished—and obediently lay down under the quilt.
After all the fuss earlier, sleep came easily.
Once again, he dreamed.
In the dream, his body had fully recovered, and he was marrying Hashimoto Arina. She was wearing a doctor's uniform, squatting before him, blushing as she pressed her chest together in her hands—offering herself to him directly.
At that moment, his phone rang.
It was his mother-in-law's voice: "Sorry, Natsu. You're actually my son. That makes you Hashimoto Arina's younger brother."
Shirakawa lowered his head. Arina, eyes brimming with springlike warmth, fell into deep thought.
By morning, Arina stirred awake. Seeing the unfamiliar hotel room, she remembered coming to the hot spring with Natsu yesterday.
Her cheeks flushed lightly. She turned and saw Shirakawa lying peacefully on the bed beside her.
She leaned closer and softly called, "Natsu, wake up…"
But midway through calling, she stopped. Instead, she squatted down, gazing at his sleeping face—so delicate, almost childish, yet with a faint smile lingering at the corner of his lips.
"He must be dreaming something wonderful," Arina thought gently. She couldn't resist reaching out, placing her hand close to his cheek—but she didn't touch.
Yazhikui's words from yesterday about S and M suddenly resurfaced in her mind, and her face grew hot.
She looked down at Shirakawa as he slept. If she kissed him, no one would ever know. Maybe, if she kissed him, she'd know whether she truly liked him.
If she didn't kiss him, she'd never know whether her resistance was simply because she still saw him as her brother.
In that moment, her feelings mirrored Yazhikui's metaphor—if she didn't try, how could she know whether she was being perverse?
"No…" Arina shook her head quickly. "I said he's like my little brother. As an adult, I can't be so reckless."
But then Shirakawa murmured in his sleep: "Sister Youcai~"
Arina leapt up like a startled rabbit, scrambling clumsily into the corner.
When Shirakawa opened his eyes, he saw Arina sitting a meter away, eyes wide, staring at him.
As soon as he woke, she scolded sharply, "Idiot! Why did you sleep so late?!"
"?" A question mark practically appeared above Shirakawa's head. "Sister Youcai, what's with that stern fatherly tone?"
"Don't talk back to your elders!" Arina barked, staying in character.
Shirakawa rubbed his head. Forget it—too much trouble to argue. Women were impossible to figure out anyway.
At least, in the dream just now, he had talked back plenty.
When they arrived at the meeting spot, their pudgy editor was already waiting. He didn't scold Shirakawa for being late; instead, he kept addressing him as "Sensei" with affectionate respect. The overly sweet attitude made Shirakawa instinctively keep some distance.
Meanwhile, Yazhikui stood arm-in-arm with the pure-looking glasses girl. Their cheeks were flushed, their bodies full of energy—as if they hadn't spent all night exhausting themselves in bed.
Shirakawa couldn't help but wonder: maybe women were different from men—able to generate energy through some friction-like power source. Otherwise, it was impossible to explain why those two weren't dead tired.
The atmosphere of the second day's gathering was just as lively. The chubby editor had a knack for stirring things up.
After several rounds of games, everyone grew more familiar with each other. Shirakawa even made a few new friends in this world.
Hashimoto Arina stayed by his side the whole time. To outsiders, she looked like a gentle older sister taking care of her younger brother.
But Shirakawa couldn't read her heart, and he wondered whether the seeds planted yesterday had begun to sprout.
The hot spring trip ended smoothly. Shirakawa returned to the hospital and resumed his usual life of painting.
Arina returned to work after her short vacation—still the bright, cheerful "little sun" of the hospital.
A week passed like this.
As usual, Yazhikui came by the hospital to collect the manuscript. After reviewing it, she neatly slipped it into an envelope.
"Any progress with that cow lately?" Yazhikui teased.
"Don't give people such random nicknames," Shirakawa muttered. "It's the same as before. We've gotten a little closer, but from her perspective, it feels like she's completely settled into treating me as a brother."
"Wouldn't that make things even more exciting?" Yazhikui grinned wickedly.
"Idiot! I told you, this isn't a novel." Shirakawa held his head. "Once that kind of role is established, it's hard to change."
He eyed her. "Has she been talking to you lately?"
"Once," Yazhikui nodded. "Just like you said—she asked me about relationship issues."
"You really are every woman's best friend," Shirakawa sighed. The nickname "King of the Seas" really did suit her.
Yazhikui shrugged. "So you're not doing anything about it?"
"I've already done everything I can. If I force things now, I'll just ruin it."
"Kimurahama officially signed the divorce papers yesterday," Yazhikui said with clear interest. "He's back to being single. As promised, he gave up the house completely. Until his ex remarries, he'll even provide her with monthly support."
"So that damned Porsche won't be parked outside anymore," Shirakawa said, gazing out the window.
Though he had never seen that Porsche, he admired Kimurahama for sticking to his word. At least the man's actions matched his principles.
Still, Shirakawa couldn't help but dislike him.
He'd asked Yazhikui to investigate Kimurahama's reputation back in school. The man wore morality like a mask, and his behavior was so predictable it was unsettling.
He was the textbook definition of a "perfect" person—a model of virtue in the eyes of others. But to Shirakawa, it felt unnatural.
It was like watching another creature imitating humanity. True selfless saints didn't exist; if they did, people wouldn't need to praise morality in the first place.
"You don't seem worried," Yazhikui tilted her head. "Kimurahama will probably approach Hashimoto Youna soon. Your first love's finally reaching a conclusion, and yet you're just sitting here, confident she'll reject him?"
"Who knows," Shirakawa shrugged. "This isn't a novel. Feelings are the hardest thing to predict. People are people."
Yazhikui licked her lips. "If Hashimoto Arina says yes to Kimurahama, I'll NTR him just to avenge you."
It took Shirakawa a long moment to process. After they got together… NTR… Kimurahama…
"Bastard! You'd actually steal your own brother's woman?!" Shirakawa roared, throwing his manuscript at her in fury.
Shirakawa had originally planned to find an excuse to ask Arina out himself, but this time, she was the one who suggested it first.
"Go to the shrine for the festival eve?" Shirakawa held his bento, surprised.
He knew the cliché all too well. In manga, childhood sweethearts always got separated at festivals. The heroine would vanish, only to be found walking with the hero's flashy blond friend, smiling brightly.
Then, beneath the fireworks, the hero would finally confess his love.
And, of course, they'd live happily ever after.
"No." Shirakawa almost refused outright—but then he caught himself. He was the one who had intruded into her childhood sweetheart role, so maybe it was fine. "Sister Youcai, I've never been to a festival eve before. And I don't own a yukata."
"That's fine. I always went every year… until three years ago." Arina suddenly cut herself off mid-sentence. Back then, she had gone with Kimurahama. Saying it now, in front of Shirakawa, made the implication obvious.
She quickly glanced sideways at him. Seeing no change in his expression, she cleared her throat. "I'll help you get one."
"Alright." Shirakawa nodded, pretending not to notice.
"Is today's bento to your liking?" Arina changed the subject quickly.
Shirakawa glanced down. Unlike the messy attempts from before, her cooking had improved enough that the dishes were recognizable.
Taste-wise, though… he hesitated. "It's edible."
By the weekend, Arina arrived at the hospital with a yukata.
Since Shirakawa didn't know how to wear it, she carefully dressed him. Despite his exposed body, Arina's eyes remained calm—whether because of her doctor's training, or because she truly saw him as a younger brother, he couldn't tell.
"There are so many people," Shirakawa muttered as soon as they stepped off the tram, the crowd pushing them forward.
Turning, he found Arina smiling at him. "What?" he asked. "Is there something strange about me?"
"No," Arina shook her head. "You look very handsome today."
"Only because the yukata you picked fits so well." Shirakawa scratched his head, scanning the crowd. His figure was on the thinner side, but his fighting spirit gave him presence.
Among the men here, only Kimurahama might be considered more handsome.
Which meant he might actually be the best-looking guy at the festival.
Shirakawa's expression stiffened. Not far ahead, Kimurahama stood in a yukata, smiling.