When facing someone important, one must be sincere.

The weekend sunlight slipped casually through the curtains, scattering across the bedroom. The alarm clock rang incessantly, and in a daze, the boy reached out to silence it, grasping nothing. He rolled over lightly and bumped into something soft. Blinking sleepily, he realized he was lying on the floor.

Not far from him, the girl was still fast asleep. The comforter had trailed from the bed and, by the time it reached her, covered only one of her legs. The boy glanced at the empty bed, then at his childhood friend sleeping beside him, and rubbed his brow with resigned exasperation.

“If I’d known, I would’ve just slept on the bed and let you have the floor.”

“Mya-mmm~ mya-mmm~ Tsuki~~ heehee~~”

The girl hugged her pillow, mumbling incoherently. For some reason, the T-shirt that should have covered her body had bunched up around her waist, revealing a startlingly slender midriff—her skin so pale it was almost astonishing, and flanking a navel like a vertical line were the faint lines of muscle unique to athletic girls.

Below that, she wore sky-blue underwear.

Staring at her waist, Tsuki Jinguuji couldn’t help but reach out and poke the area that looked like well-defined abs. It was unexpectedly firm and soft—a truly wondrous sensation.

“Whoa—” he couldn’t help but exclaim. “No wonder you’re so athletic.”

Suddenly, the sleeping girl let out a laugh and curled up as if bewitched by some mischievous spell. She abruptly woke, locking eyes with the boy, not even pausing to wipe the drool from the corner of her mouth.

Tsuki now remembered how ticklish she was and withdrew his hand rather sheepishly.

As her laughter faded, so did her drowsiness. Sakura Aikawa propped herself up and rubbed her eyes.

“Morning, Tsuki.”

“Oh… oh. Morning, Sakura,” Tsuki replied, scratching his cheek and averting his gaze a little.

Sensing his awkwardness, Sakura glanced down at herself—the white T-shirt had ridden up, barely concealing her modest chest, leaving her waist and thighs exposed. She quickly tugged it down and shot him a flushed, indignant look.

“Honestly, have you stared enough?”

“I wasn’t looking.”

“You so were.”

“Well, it’s your fault for sleeping like that, with your shirt all the way up.”

“What can I do? It’s your shirt, it’s obviously too loose for me.”

“If you were a little bigger up top, then… ah, forget it, sorry.”

Seeing the friendly smile on his childhood friend’s face, Tsuki swallowed the rest of his sentence before it could lead to disaster.

…

After going downstairs, they headed to the bathroom to wash up. While Sakura tied her hair into a ponytail, Tsuki squeezed toothpaste onto her brush. She dampened her hand and smoothed down the stubborn cowlick in his hair.

As expected, their mother hadn’t come home last night, leaving just the two of them in the house.

Tsuki went out to the garden for a round of radio calisthenics—not out of any particular love for exercise, but simply to stretch. Apparently, Sakura had used him as a pillow the previous night, leaving his shoulder numb.

Sakura, meanwhile, donned an apron and busied herself in the kitchen, looking for all the world like a newlywed high school wife.

Returning inside, Tsuki sprawled lazily on the living room sofa, reaching for "Norwegian Wood" on the coffee table. His fingers brushed the corner of the book, knocking it to the floor, and he finally had to bend over to pick it up.

“Tsuki, are you going out today?” came Sakura’s voice from the open-plan kitchen.

“I have work this afternoon,” he replied, blowing dust off the book’s cover.

“So you’re free this morning?”

“That depends on what you’re about to ask.”

“Why do you have to say things like that?”

“Because every time you ask, you want something from me.”

“Don’t want to?”

“That depends on what you want.”

“There isn’t really anything in particular…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… if I had to say, I’d be happy if, when I asked you just now, you’d simply said ‘sure.’ That alone would make me happy.”

“You’re not just being manipulative, trying to trick me into being touched, are you?”

“I’ll get mad, you know.”

“I’m joking. I’m free this morning anyway—your call.”

“Then come shopping with me. I want to buy some clothes for the coming season, just at the shops by the station. Of course, if you help me carry my bags, that’d be even better.”

“Give me back my moment of sentiment, you…”

“Oh, come on—I’m making you breakfast, aren’t I?”

…

To be honest, Sakura’s cooking left much to be desired. It wasn’t exactly inedible, but there was a considerable gap between “edible” and “tastes normal.” She’d never been good at delicate, meticulous tasks—not because she didn’t try, but because the effort she put in rarely matched the results, a trait perhaps linked to her easygoing personality.

“Why do you look so disgruntled?”

“I do not.”

“You always say my cooking is delicious and that you wish you could eat it every day.”

“If I’m not mistaken, that was during kindergarten when we played house, and your ‘cooking’ was made of blocks and sand.”

“Don’t sweat the details, hahaha.”

Well… since she seemed so happy, Tsuki let her be. It seemed giving in last night and not insisting on the sofa had put his childhood friend in an excellent mood.

Naturally, Tsuki had no desire to upset her—he followed along with what she said, did what she wanted, and never left any of her food unfinished, no matter how it tasted.

After breakfast, the two of them went out together.

Tsuki mused that all girls in this world seemed to share a few common traits. Among all the girls he’d dated, those uninterested in shopping were rare indeed.

Following behind Sakura, hands empty, he watched as she flitted from store to store like a butterfly, constantly turning back to ask him how this or that looked, or whether something suited her.

For moments like this, Tsuki had an arsenal of lines prepared just for girls. He’d lost track of how many times over the past three years he’d said the same things to different girls—it was nearly a reflex.

[This color really suits you, Sakura.]
[Maybe this one would look even better on you.]
[Ah, sorry, I was staring without realizing… you look beautiful.]

But whenever Sakura asked, he only nodded or shook his head, which soon left her pouting and ignoring him after a few shops.

Still, Tsuki didn’t change. He couldn’t stand the thought of using those lines with her.

Even if his own heart was battered and bruised, he understood the simplest truth:

With someone important, you shouldn’t use lines. You should speak from the heart.