“What is it?”

Mai turned his head, the towel draped casually over his shoulder. Bathroom steam artfully veiled what mattered most.

*He’s my son. He’s my son.*

Yukieda repeated the mantra silently.

“Sit. I’ll wash your back.”

Mai hesitated—like he suspected Yukieda of something.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Hurry up,” she snapped. “If not for this damn lie and Shizuku’s request, I’d jump out naked before helping you.”

*Ugh…* Yukieda’s heart sank. *All these years… only my late father. And Mai? Known him two days.*

Partners, sure—but was this too fast?

Irritation sharpened her grip. Slender fingers clenched the soft towel, scrubbing hard. *This isn’t cloth. It’s steel wool.*

Mai felt sandpaper grinding his back. A soft groan slipped out.

Flustered, Yukieda cranked the shower full blast. “Stop groaning! Shizuku might misunderstand.”

“Can’t help it,” Mai murmured, not turning. “Pressure’s… perfect.” He raised a thumb.

“Ah!”

Something snapped. Yukieda scrubbed like the towel had an electric motor—determined to scour skin raw.

Finally: soap time.

Mai stayed facing away. Yukieda remained wary. Boys his age? Minds full of questionable thoughts. Better safe than sorry.

*One soap rub. Rinse. Send him out.* The bath sponge sat nearby—she refused to offer it.

*Huh. Smooth skin for a guy. Modern boys are pampered. Rough would be weird.*

Lost in thought—the soap *plopped* from her hand.

*No big deal. Pick it up.*

But slippery tiles betrayed her. Slippers flew. Her bottom hit cold tile with a thud—sharp enough to make her grimace.

Mai stood and turned.

Scene: Yukieda seated on the floor. Mai before her. Towel on shoulder—the only covering.

Bathroom light cast shadows: shampoo bottle, stool… and on Yukieda’s upturned face—a long, cylindrical silhouette.

*Th-that… “Italian cannon.”*

An ordinary girl might scream. Yukieda wasn’t ordinary.

They emerged fully dressed, faces flushed—*just bath heat, obviously*.

Shizuku watched them, damp hair clinging. “Hairdryer’s on the living room table. Dry each other.”

“But Yukieda—you finished fast. Clean?”

“Of course… I bathe quickly,” Yukieda replied weakly.

A rare flicker of embarrassment crossed Mai’s usually cold face.

“Oh, Shizuku—the bathwater. Mai *accidentally* poured shower gel in. Had to drain it. Refill please?” Yukieda shot him a glare. Mai stayed silent.

Shizuku sighed. “Wasteful. I’ll just shower.”

Plan: wait for Shizuku, eat dinner, leave.

Mai wore Shizuku’s uniform. Poor Yukieda—stuck in dirty clothes.

*Next time, I’ll leave spare clothes here.*

Yukieda glared at Mai’s skirt. Both bent over homework.

Yes, even Magical Girls had homework. Even clowns, after outwitting Batman all day, still bought groceries. Not everyone was Master Wayne with servants.

TV news murmured—ignored, just ambient noise.

Mai stood.

Yukieda rose instantly. Snow-white hair brushed her skirt’s curve. Plump thighs shifted, then settled—casually poised.

“Why follow me?” Mai asked helplessly from the kitchen, tea kettle in hand. Yukieda trailed like a shadow.

“This is my house. I go where I please.” Her eyes stayed sharp with suspicion.

Truthfully? Uncomfortable. She knew his true self was a middle-aged man—but Mai looked like a middle schooler. Dress her younger? Some might mistake her for a developed elementary student.

This faux kid watched him like she’d pull an alarm lever any second.

“Want tea? I’ll pour you some.”

“…Sure. Thanks.”

Books packed. They sipped tea, TV glowing.

“Today, the U.S. President delivered a speech…”

Mai sipped, then glanced at Yukieda.

Her body faced the screen—but her head tilted slightly. She’d been watching *him*.

“Yukieda,” Mai said gently. “You wanted to say something?”

Tired of pretense, she blurted: “I’m scared you’ll peek at my daughter bathing. So… stay put.”

Mai’s eyelid twitched. Silence. Then: “Why would I?”

“Huh? *Reasons!* I was your age once…” She waved a hand. “And don’t play innocent. You’re just another guy who gets hard at a washboard.”

Mai drained his cup, steadying himself. “Not a pervert. Just… normal reaction.”

“Ooooh?” Yukieda drawled, sarcasm dripping.

Refilling meant leaving—and her following. He set the cup down. Done.

Seeing him still, Yukieda looked away. Mai exhaled. Being watched openly—even by a pretty girl—wasn’t pleasant.

“Dinner time,” Yukieda said, standing. Suddenly, she leaned close to his face.

Mai instinctively leaned back. Shampoo scent washed over him.

“Stay. Put.”

*Wait… am I too harsh? He’s helping me. Spilled tea, wet clothes, bathroom mess… all my fault.*

Shizuku involved = Yukieda’s nerves frayed. Guilt tightened her chest.

“Mai.”

“Yes?”

“Anything you like to eat?”

“Tamagoyaki.”

—

Later, Mai and Yukieda walked toward the station.

Autumn air carried a gentle coolness—pleasant on the skin.

Yukieda finally spoke: “Sorry, Mai.”

“Hm? For what?”

“You helped me… and I was awful.”

Two uniformed girls chatting near the station drew curious glances.

“You’re protecting my identity,” Mai said calmly. “We’re partners. Long road ahead. If I need help later… I know you won’t refuse.”

His face stayed neutral—but his eyes softened.

A graceful step down.

“Partners… yeah.” Yukieda nodded. “I’ll keep your secret too.”

Station lights glowed unreal. Train roared in. For a heartbeat—Yukieda *saw* Mai smile.

Then doors opened. Crowd poured out. Smile gone.

*Did I imagine it?*

“Hey, Mai,” she asked lightly. “Why wear girls’ clothes? Original look—you’d be a total hottie. The type everyone adores. Fulfilling high school life, y’know?”

She made a crude O-and-X gesture with her fingers—the universal guy signal.

“Sorry. I’d rather not say.”

*“Don’t want to”… not “can’t”?* Yukieda wondered. *What secrets hide behind that face?*

—

A shadowy alley.

A disheveled man slumped against the wall, beer bottle clutched tight. Reeking of sweat and regret.

“Damn bitch… dressed like that—*begging* to be touched? Humiliated me online…”

*Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.*

“Fired. Divorced. Ruined… Damn… my life.”

Bottle empty. He hurled it into darkness. *Clatter—silence.*

A foot emerged from shadows. Stomped the bottle flat.

“If you hate so much…” a voice murmured, “why not take revenge?”