All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

What the—?!

The only thought running through Kotomi’s mind at that moment was those two words.

After ending the phone call, she had assumed that Yukino and Megumi wouldn’t arrive so quickly. That was why she had so nonchalantly agreed to Yui’s request.

But the moment Yui had just rested her head on her lap, Megumi Kato and Yukinoshita Yukino appeared! How were they so fast?!

The main entrance to the gymnasium was locked. To get in, one would have to circle around to the back entrance or go through the second floor of the main building, take a half-loop, and enter via the small door leading to the second floor of the gym.

Either route would require some time, which was why Kotomi had planned to leave 15 minutes early.

Yet seeing the light sheen of sweat on Megumi’s forehead and Yukino holding the staircase railing, panting slightly, Kotomi realized something.

Did they run here?!

”You didn’t… run all the way here, did you?” Kotomi asked, her tone a mix of embarrassment and disbelief.

”That’s right,” Megumi replied without hesitation, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes spreading across her face as she walked forward. ”Kotomi and Yui sure are close, aren’t you~?”

”Ah, Megumi! Yukino! You’re here!” Yui called out enthusiastically, still oblivious to the tension. She waved at Megumi like someone excited to share a good meal. ”Let me tell you, Kotomi’s lap is super comfortable! She even said her little sister at home often gets to use it as a pillow.”

Megumi’s smile remained calm and warm as she approached. Then, without a word, she sat down beside Kotomi and leaned sideways.

Now, Yui rested on Kotomi’s right thigh, while Megumi claimed the left.

”It really is comfortable~,” Megumi murmured, her eyes closing in contentment. She lightly rubbed her head against Kotomi’s lap, as though marking her territory, savoring the moment with visible delight.

Two beautiful girls lying on her lap—was this a new form of indulgence? Kotomi chuckled softly, then turned toward Yukino, who stood at the staircase with a hesitant expression.

”Yukino, want to join us?”

”J-Join you?” Yukino stammered, her gaze flickering between the trio and the floor. She seemed torn between curiosity and propriety.

To join or not to join.

The two thoughts collided in her mind like clashing swords, leaving her paralyzed with indecision.

In the end, rationality prevailed.

Yukino shook her head, suppressing the envy and desire that briefly flickered across her face.

”I-I’ll pass. I wouldn’t want to trouble you, Kotomi. Besides, doesn’t your lap hurt?”

Yukino’s concern struck Kotomi like a bucket of cold water. Her carefree expression suddenly stiffened, morphing into one of discomfort as she realized the truth.

”Owww… It hurts! I can’t feel my legs!”

”You didn’t notice until I mentioned it, did you?” Yukino asked, exasperation written all over her face.

”Uh… yeah, you could say that… Ouch! Yui, get up a little slower! It hurts!”

Tears pricked Kotomi’s eyes as she gently massaged her numb right thigh. She didn’t dare to bend or move her legs for fear of worsening the pain.

Every time she gave someone a lap pillow, Kotomi ended up with some level of numbness or soreness. It made her wonder: How do the girls in anime stay so unfazed after hours of doing this? Were they superhuman?!

”I’m so sorry!” Yui apologized profusely, guilt written all over her face as she watched Kotomi’s teary expression.

”It’s… fine, really.”

”Does it hurt a lot? Let me massage it for you,” Megumi offered with a mischievous smile, her hands already moving toward Kotomi’s leg.

Knowing full well what would happen if Megumi got her hands on her, Kotomi acted fast. She twisted her body, shielding her legs with her torso to protect them from Megumi’s ”demonic hands.”

”No! Mercy, please!”

After lying flat for a few minutes, Kotomi’s legs finally regained feeling. She wiped the cold sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand, utterly drained.

”Class is about to end. We should probably head back to the field,” Yukino reminded, glancing at the time on her phone.

”Good idea. Kotomi, do you need me to carry you?” Yui offered, looking worriedly at Kotomi, who was still propped against the wall.

Yui felt personally responsible since she had been the one to request the lap pillow, only for it to end in Kotomi’s suffering.

”No need! It’s just a little soreness—it’s already much better. Honestly, as long as I don’t think about it, it’s fine. My sister does this all the time at home, and I never feel this bad.” Kotomi gave a thumbs-up, trying to reassure them.

”So if I hadn’t mentioned it, you wouldn’t have felt the soreness?” Yukino mused aloud.

”Pretty much~”

”Your body works in strange ways,” Yukino remarked, a rare smile gracing her lips.

Back at the field.

The bell rang just as they returned, and the PE teacher began roll call. After confirming that all the 1-F students were present, he dismissed the class.

As they walked back to the classroom, Kotomi sighed in relief. She glanced at Yukino with gratitude and said:

”That was close. If we’d been two minutes later, we might’ve missed roll call. Thanks, Yukino!”

”I just reminded you about the time. It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Yukino replied, her tone cool but not unkind.

Though Yukino usually maintained a frosty demeanor, it had softened somewhat among her close friends. Her unique blend of aloofness and warmth was a stark contrast to her usual icy front.

Kotomi recalled her earlier conversation with Haruno and couldn’t help but smile. Without even realizing it, she had subtly influenced Yukino, making her a touch less cold.

To Kotomi, this level of change was perfect. Yukino remained an ”Ice Queen,” but when it came to Kotomi, there was a gentle warmth in her demeanor—like a patch of soft snow that didn’t chill the touch.

No need to change anything further. This is just right.

As Kotomi mulled over this thought, she failed to notice the subtle, conflicted gaze Yukino cast her way.

Meanwhile, Megumi silently observed the entire exchange, taking everything in.

And then there was Yui, who seemed more preoccupied with what Kotomi might buy for lunch at the school store.

After returning to the 1-F classroom—

Mashiro Shiina, who had stayed behind instead of attending gym class, looked up from her desk where she had been bent over her sketchbook. Her usually expressionless and absent-minded face lit up with a faint smile when she saw Kotomi return.

”Kotomi, you’re back.”

It sounded like the greeting of a wife welcoming her partner home. Even though Kotomi knew Mashiro meant nothing by it, her heart couldn’t help but soften and flutter at the words.

”Yep, gym class was fun! Yui and I even discovered a great place to slack off. It’s too bad you couldn’t come with us, Mashiro!”

Kotomi grinned as she strolled over to her desk, resting her hands on the backrest of her chair as she leaned forward to chat with Mashiro.

While Mashiro was in good physical health—unlike Arisu Sakayanag, who had been dealing with a heart condition since childhood and couldn’t participate in intense exercise—she rarely had the stamina for strenuous physical activity. Perhaps it was because she spent most of her time indoors drawing.

Even the two warm-up laps around the track before gym class were enough to leave her gasping for breath. As a result, she routinely skipped gym class with the permission of Hiratsuka-sensei.

Knowing Mashiro’s condition—and having been asked by Sengoku Chihiro to look after her—Shizuka-sensei would cheerfully write her an exemption note for every class, allowing her to remain in the classroom for ”independent study.”

But instead of studying, Mashiro always spent the time drawing in her sketchbook. In the past, her sketchbooks had been filled with her practice renderings of various world-famous paintings. Any of these sketchbooks could have fetched a high price as an art collection at auction.

Now, however, Mashiro was fully focused on drawing manga.

She worked on it not just during breaks but also during class, making no effort to hide what she was doing. She would simply sit at her desk and draw, completely ignoring the teacher’s presence.

Some teachers, seeing this blatant disregard for classroom etiquette, wanted to scold her. But faced with the sheer talent and reputation of Mashiro Shiina, they found themselves at a loss for words.

”You think you can make a living drawing pictures?”

That common admonishment directed at students overly fixated on art couldn’t be used on Mashiro.

Because she could make a living drawing.

Before even entering high school, Mashiro’s works had been celebrated as masterpieces, displayed in art galleries, and sold for astronomical sums. She had already made a name for herself in the art world.

Her ability was undeniable—even her peers acknowledged that Mashiro’s drawings deserved a place in art history textbooks.

With such talent and renown, teachers had little choice but to turn a blind eye when Mashiro doodled in class.

It was much the same as Kotomi sleeping in class or secretly playing games on her phone.

When your grades and abilities were unparalleled, even teachers couldn’t help but let things slide.

”Is this your latest manga project?” Kotomi asked in a hushed voice, glancing at the sketchbook on Mashiro’s desk.

At present, only Kotomi knew about Mashiro’s manga-drawing endeavors.

When Mashiro had first decided to share this secret, she chose Kotomi over anyone else. And out of respect for that trust, Kotomi had kept it to herself, treasuring the secret as something special between them.

Mashiro nodded, gently pushing the sketchbook toward Kotomi. ”It’s my latest manga. It’s almost done—just needs some finishing touches to the details.”

Kotomi flipped through the pages, her eyes widening with amazement. As expected, Mashiro’s art was stunningly beautiful and strikingly detailed. If serialized, Mashiro’s illustrations alone would likely elevate her to the top of the manga world.

Even more astonishing was the improvement in her panel layouts. From just this one page, Kotomi could tell how much progress Mashiro had made compared to her previous work.

The improvement was akin to a leap from ground level straight into the sky.

For many mangaka, mastering panel composition required years of practice and study. But Mashiro’s growth in this area had been extraordinarily rapid and comprehensive.

The layouts she’d drawn here were so polished that even Kotomi herself, despite her skills, would need at least thirty minutes of planning to recreate something of similar quality.

”Mashiro, have you been secretly studying how-to books on manga paneling?” Kotomi asked, genuinely impressed.

”Huh? There are books like that?” Mashiro’s wide-eyed reaction was one of genuine surprise. ”I had no idea there were books that teach you how to draw manga or design panels. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

Judging by her reaction, Mashiro wasn’t lying—she truly hadn’t known such resources existed.

Kotomi’s gaze returned to the manuscript. She hadn’t started from the first page, so she wasn’t yet sure about the story. But based on the page she was looking at, the paneling was so immaculate that it would put many professional mangaka to shame.

”How do you decide on your panel layouts when you’re drawing your drafts?” Kotomi asked, genuinely curious and eager to learn.

Although Kotomi had access to exceptional artistic skills herself and had earned high praise for her innovative paneling in Chainsaw Man, she was always open to learning more.

Mashiro furrowed her brows, clearly trying to come up with an explanation that could help Kotomi. After a long pause, she sighed softly, looking apologetic.

”Sorry, Kotomi. I really want to explain it to you, but… I can’t seem to put it into words. When I start drawing, the panel layouts just come to me naturally. I don’t think about it—I just draw what feels right. I don’t know how to teach you.”

Hearing Mashiro’s explanation, Kotomi realized that this was the difference between talent and hard work.

For Mashiro, creating flawless layouts was as instinctive as drinking water. It was a manifestation of her innate artistic ability—something she couldn’t fully articulate, let alone teach to others.

Talent can be infuriatingly unreasonable sometimes, Kotomi mused to herself.

She closed the sketchbook and gently handed it back to Mashiro. ”When you finish it, let me be the first to see it, okay? I can’t wait to read your new manga!”

Mashiro nodded enthusiastically, her rare display of determination shining in her eyes. ”Of course! You’ll be the first to see it!”

The morning classes passed quickly, and soon it was Kotomi’s favorite time of the day—lunchtime.

As soon as the bell rang, Yui leapt from her seat as if by reflex, ready to dash to the school store with Kotomi.

”Kotomi, let’s go!” Yui said, brimming with energy.

But when she turned around, expecting Kotomi to be right behind her, she froze in surprise.

Kotomi wasn’t moving. Instead, she was leisurely taking a large bento box out of her bag.

Thunk!

The massive bento box landed on her desk, taking up nearly half its surface.

It was unmistakably a special bento, made just for Kotomi.

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