COTE :  Oh No, I've Become the Substitute

Half an hour later, inside Fuyuji Mikage's room.

"Beep—!"

Fuyuji sniffled miserably and pulled out the electronic thermometer.

Tch... 38.3 degrees. I really did catch it.

Damn it, how could a superpowered being like me actually get sick?

All I did was cling to Morishita-sama all night, then spend an entire afternoon stroking her black-stocking-clad thighs, and finally kiss her rose-pink lips until they swelled up, our little tongues sparring a few times. Was that really enough to do this?

At least there was a silver lining—for now, Fuyuji had temporarily escaped that wave of judgment. But this was obviously not a long-term solution.

He wasn't sure if that recovery buff from his superpower had kicked in, but he could feel the viruses in his body being gradually routed and driven back. It wouldn't be long before he was fully restored.

The moment he recalled those three gazes—sharp as knives scraping across him—that Shiraishi Asuka, Kamuro Masumi, and Yamamura Miki had fixed on him as they left, Fuyuji began pacing the room.

Next, he'd have to gauge their reactions. If they were a little less angry tomorrow, he'd use the remaining days of summer break to smooth things over with them as best he could.

If their mood was still foul, he'd have no choice but to resort to that method—the one he least wanted to use...

Fuyuji's footsteps gradually halted. A cold gleam flashed through his eyes. He whipped his head around, clenched his fist, ground his teeth, and stared toward the bathroom with unshakable resolve.

I wonder if the Bocchi-style Aggravate-the-Illness Cold Water Bath actually works.

You bastard, you'd better hold it together and take two more days to heal. Otherwise your host is done for—chopped into eight pieces!

Ding-dong~

A leisurely doorbell chime rang out, followed immediately by a string of clearly impatient knocks.

"Oi! Fuyuji Mikage," Kamuro's distinctive voice drifted faintly through the crack of the door, "are you dead or not? If not, hurry up and open up."

Bro?

A rush of warmth surged through Fuyuji, and he gazed at the door with eyes brimming with emotion.

I never thought the first one to forgive me would be you. I knew you cared about me deep down!

But that being said, both in reason and sentiment, Fuyuji couldn't open the door and let her in.

Through the door, he lowered his voice, making himself sound a few degrees feebler. "Bro, is there something else? If not, I need to rest."

"Cut the chatter. Open up." Kamuro spoke without the slightest courtesy.

"Uh... you really shouldn't come in. It'd be bad if I passed this on to you."

A few seconds of silence came from the other side, and then a mildly exasperated voice followed. "What kind of sweet dream are you having? I left my phone on your bed. Hurry up and give it back."

Fuyuji unconsciously curled his toes a couple of times, turned his head, and in 0.01 seconds locked onto the clearly feminine-styled phone on his bed.

"Found it yet? If not, open the door and let me find it myself." Kamuro continued banging on the door, urging him on.

"Found it. One moment."

Fuyuji walked back into the room, grabbed the phone, casually put on a mask, and headed back to the entryway.

The door handle turned, and in the next second, the room split open a crack.

In that flash of lightning, before the metallic reverberation of the latch springing open had even faded, Kamuro's little leather shoe was already wedged into the gap.

She surged through, carrying the corridor's cold air with her, her knee precisely bracing the shuddering door panel, slipping inside as smoothly as a nimble little cat.

"Wait, wait—!"

"You're pretty good at putting on a show for yourself."

Kamuro swung the door shut behind her, kicked off her shoes, and advanced on Fuyuji with an imposing, aggressive air, a white plastic bag stuffed with all sorts of square medicine boxes dangling from each hand.

His lower back hit the edge of his desk, his face above the mask beaded with nervous sweat. "I thought you said just the phone..."

"Shut up."

After firing a fierce glare at him, Kamuro suddenly leaned in, the ends of her hair brushing past his burning earlobe, and reached straight out to press her hand against his forehead.

"I'm only here to see if you're dead yet. If you're not, that's going to be very troublesome for me."

After feeling for a moment and sensing it didn't seem too serious, Kamuro thrust the plastic bag into Fuyuji's hands, then pulled out an ice pack and smacked it onto his forehead.

"Take care of yourself. If the fever gets bad enough to fry your brain, message me on Line. You hear me?!"

"Where did these come from?"

After a brief, stunned pause, Fuyuji finally caught up, lifted the plastic bag, and looked up at her with a trace of a smile.

"Leftovers from when we prepared the medical supplies last time. Perfect timing to make use of them." Kamuro folded her arms and turned her head away, exposing the faintly flushed, rounded lobe of her ear.

That made sense...

Last month, before the uninhabited island, it was Kamuro who had led the girls in preparing the medical supplies. But considering the bulk and the number of potential patients, they'd only brought a small portion with them. The rest should still be with the girls.

"Got it..."

Fuyuji crouched down halfway, reached out to wrap his arms around her slender waist, closed his eyes, and pressed his forehead against her back, murmuring softly.

"Thank you, Masumi."

The moment she was embraced, Kamuro trembled from head to toe, pink instantly spreading across the snow-white nape of her neck.

"Let go of me, you pervert! How disgusting can you get?!"

The heat transmitted through the thin white fabric of her school blouse still made it perfectly clear just how smooth and fair the girl's back was.

"Can't help it. I didn't want to pass this on to you, but I really wanted to be close to you, so this was the only way I could hold you." Fuyuji kept his eyes closed, continuing to nestle his forehead against her, though something suddenly poked him—probably the clasp of her bra.

"Who wants you to hold them, you ridiculously troublesome—nn!" Kamuro's thighs instantly tensed, and a sound escaped uncontrollably from her throat. Gritting her teeth, she seethed, "What the hell are you sniffing, you pervert?!"

"Cough, cough, sorry." Fuyuji gave an awkward laugh. "My nose is stuffed up, so I was unconsciously breathing harder."

"That's not what I was asking about!"

"Alright." Reluctantly, he released her and took her hand. "Let's go. You shouldn't linger here too long."

"Why are you in such a hurry? It's not like I'm afraid of catching it." Kamuro muttered under her breath, then composed her expression and repeated once more, "Anyway, if you have any problems, contact me. Message, call, or Line—anything's fine."

"Alright, alright."

Fuyuji nodded repeatedly as he led her toward the entryway. "Get to bed early tonight. I'll be fine."

"What are you, my mom? So naggy. Who asked you to worry about me?" Kamuro was thoroughly displeased.

"We're pals, bro~"

"Piss off!"

Ding-dong~

The abrupt doorbell rang out once more, and the two, still mid-bicker, stopped at the same time.

"Mikage, open up," Yamamura Miki's gentle voice sounded. "I made you something to eat."

Miki this time?

Fuyuji stared at the door, took a deep breath, and reached out his hand. "Oka—"

Before he could finish, Kamuro pulled him back with a sharp tug.

"What's wrong?" Fuyuji asked, confused.

"Well..." Kamuro's face was somewhat flushed, her gaze starting to wander. In a small voice, she said, "I can't let Yamamura know I was here."

"Why?"

"Just because, that's why!" Kamuro's volume rose slightly, and she glared at him, threatening fiercely, "Wait a bit before opening the door!"

There was no way she could tell this guy that, just earlier when she'd left, she'd said a ton of bad things about him—things like "leave him to fend for himself," "none of you go looking for him, let him reflect on his mistakes," "let that bastard know just how serious it is to deceive us," and so on. And then to turn around and...

At any rate, she absolutely couldn't let them find out.

With that, Kamuro bent down and grabbed her shoes. "I'll hide in the bathroom for a bit. You handle Yamamura." She turned toward the bathroom. "Don't let her find out. If you slip up, I'll kill you!"

"Fine..."

Fuyuji raised his hands in surrender. Fortunately, he hadn't gone into the bathroom since the cold started, so it should be safe.

Hearing no response, Yamamura's voice rang out once more, this time tinged with urgency.

"Mikage, are you okay?"

"Ah, oh, I'm fine."

Fuyuji hurriedly opened the door. "It took me a moment to find a mask."

What met his eyes was Yamamura in casual home clothes, her hair tied in a side ponytail, a thermal container in her hands, and faint traces of fine sweat on her face.

She must have started preparing the moment she got back to her room.

At that thought, Fuyuji's gaze softened a few more degrees. He took the thermal container and used his sleeve to gently wipe away the fine sweat from her temples.

"Alright, I'm fine. I'll probably be better by tomorrow. You should go back and rest."

"No. I'm going to keep an eye on you."

Yamamura shook her head stubbornly and stepped into the room, drawing close to him. "Mikage is the type of boy who doesn't take good care of his own body. He might even think up some crazy scheme."

Ah... Miki, you really do know me too well...

Fuyuji's mouth twitched imperceptibly as he recalled his own earlier brainwave about the cold water bath.

As she spoke, Yamamura bit her lip and suddenly rose on her tiptoes, closing in on him. Her forehead pressed against his mask without any warning, her soft crown brushing against his burning jaw, the scent of shampoo and sweat instantly intertwining. "Over thirty-eight degrees," she murmured, her lashes lowered as she stepped back. "Where's the electronic thermometer?"

"I already took it, already took it." Fuyuji retreated two steps. "38.3. It's not that bad."

"Then you should drink the congee first. Ginger and lean pork congee. I'll watch you drink it." Yamamura walked into the living room, crouched down, and with practiced ease pulled out the tableware from the kitchen and began washing it.

Miki seems so assertive today...

Before long, the bowl and spoon had been washed and set on the low table. The moment she lifted the lid of the thermal container, the sharp, spicy fragrance of ginger mingled with rice congee slammed into his clogged nasal passages.

"You have to finish it all, okay."

Yamamura scooped up a spoonful of steaming congee and suddenly leaned forward. "Ah—"

"Wait, wait!" Fuyuji leaned back, dodging the approaching spoon. "I can do it myself..."

"A patient has no right to refuse."

Yamamura's spoon hovered steadily half an inch from his lips, her lashes trembling faintly in the steam. "Or is it..." Her cheeks puffed up slightly. "Does Mikage want Morishita-san to feed him instead?"

Still upset about this afternoon, huh. As expected... even Miki gets jealous...

The cold gleam of the thermal container's metal lid stabbed into Fuyuji's eyes. His Adam's apple bobbed. Resigned, he pulled off his mask, clasped Yamamura's small hand, and said softly, "Next time... let's go together too, just the two of us. We'll keep it from Morishita..."

Yamamura's face went red in an instant, and the hand holding the porcelain spoon began to tremble. Stammering, she said, "K-keep it from Morishita-san?"

"Yeah, keep it from her." Fuyuji nodded, a smile in his low voice. "We'll sneak away too, and leave Morishita at home, just like last time on the uninhabited island..."

"But I remember Mikage had to placate Morishita-san for a really long time after that, right?" For a moment, Yamamura's heart gave a sudden leap. She didn't know why, but she could feel a faint, tingling thrill coursing through her.

"So this time, we can't let her find out. Let's go on a date too, just the two of us. What do you say?"

By now, Yamamura's face was red enough to bleed. She lowered her head, her soft side ponytail falling forward over her chest, and murmured in a voice as faint as a mosquito's whine, "Okay..."

"Then it's settled."

"Thump~"

Just then, a faint bumping sound came from the direction of the bathroom.

"Hm? Was that a noise?" Yamamura tilted her head, the ends of her side ponytail brushing across her collarbone.

"A r-rat!"

Fuyuji's grip on her wrist suddenly tightened. "It must be a rat! Miki, stay away from the door!" He snatched the spoon and downed two huge mouthfuls of congee, scalding the tip of his tongue numb. "I'll finish it right away! You should head back!"

For a moment, carried away, he'd forgotten that Bro was still in there.

"How could there be a rat?" Yamamura tilted her head. "Didn't I just clean Mikage's room a few days ago?"

"Ma-maybe it snuck in from another room?" Fuyuji gave two dry laughs.

Ding-dong~

The doorbell rang out once more, yet again.

No way, again? Who is it this time?

"Hmph hmph, boyfriend-kun, are you okay? As a being immune to viruses, Morishita-sama has come to keep you company~" Morishita Ai's voice, tinged with a hint of smugness, drifted in from outside.

"Mo-Morishita-san!"

Yamamura shot to her feet, visible panic spreading across her face. "I-I can't let Morishita-san find out I'm here." She snapped the metal lid of the thermal container shut with a clatter. "Mikage, stall Morishita-san for me. Don't let her find me." With that, she rushed headlong toward the bathroom.

Fuyuji's expression changed. He hurriedly stretched out his hand. "Wait, the bathroom—"

The bathroom door clicked open, revealing Kamuro Masumi hiding inside.

On the tiled wall, the reflections of the two girls were stretched long by the ceiling light. Yamamura froze in the doorway and saw Kamuro, who was attempting to cover herself with a bath towel.

In the damp air, the sweet fragrance of body wash and the sharp, spicy scent of ginger congee waged a silent battle.

Fuyuji slapped a hand over his forehead.

The two of them stood staring at each other, embarrassment written across both their faces.

"Hey, Yamamura..." Kamuro's ear tips were as red as agate.

"G-good evening, Kamuro-san."

...

Author's Note: The pacing of these last few chapters may have been a bit too slow. The next chapter will wrap up summer break and officially start the new semester with the Sports Festival.

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