All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

Chihiro Sengoku sighed deeply once again, helplessly emphasizing that she was not a ”ghostly advisor” as she grabbed a can of beer from the fridge.

”Chihiro-sensei, it’s still work hours. You shouldn’t be drinking beer,” Hibiki Naegi reminded her.

”I know, I know. It’s just that the weather is so hot, and I’m so thirsty. I suddenly really feel like having a cold beer,” Chihiro responded.

”Are you sure drinking beer during work hours is fine?” Kotomi asked, tilting her head.

Chihiro popped open the tab, gulped down a large sip, and let out a satisfied sigh.

”Of course, it’s fine! Why wouldn’t it be? Just this afternoon, I was at a restaurant with your homeroom teacher, Shizuka Hiratsuka, enjoying some red lobster paired with wine. Absolutely heavenly!”

”Chihiro-sensei, maybe you should drink less. What if your boyfriend suddenly invites you out on a date after work?” Ruriya Hojo commented absentmindedly.

Kotomi awkwardly glanced at Ruriya. This poor girl... Such an innocent comment inadvertently stepped right onto Chihiro-sensei’s ’landmine.’

”Boyfriend? Boohoo... As if I could find one! Why is it so hard to find someone? I’m still a young girl in my twenties!”

Chihiro’s lament cut deep, though no tears fell yet.

Kotomi tugged at the corner of her mouth. Note to self: Don’t mention relationships around Chihiro-sensei. Fortunately, Chihiro hadn’t even finished her first can of beer. Otherwise, if she had a bit too much, there was no telling what kind of drunken antics she might get up to in the art room.

”Sensei, please calm down. Have some water instead. It’s not a good look to lose your composure in front of students. And as for everyone else—stop staring! Get back to your easels and keep drawing,” Hibiki sighed, pouring Chihiro a cup of mineral water. She inwardly regretted ever letting Chihiro touch the beer.

Chihiro waved dismissively, chugging down the rest of her beer.

”Buurp. One can of beer? That’s nothing!”

Chihiro Sengoku let out a satisfied belch, only then remembering why she had come to the art room in the first place. She walked over to Mashiro Shiina, who was silently engrossed in her painting.

As her cousin, Chihiro had always genuinely admired Mashiro’s talent for painting—not just because of Mashiro’s natural talent and skill but also because of her ability to fully immerse herself in her creative world.

For an artist, possessing such a quality was precious.

Though this trait often left Mashiro socially awkward and reluctant to communicate with others, Chihiro often rationalized it as: ”Genius is destined for solitude.”

However, she had noticed recently that Mashiro seemed to be opening up more, becoming a little livelier—likely due to Kotomi. It was often Mashiro and Kotomi who spent time together, much to Chihiro’s relief.

Last Saturday, when Mashiro made an international call to her parents, she mentioned that she’d finally made a friend at school. The name she gave? Kotomi. Her parents had been so thrilled they were nearly moved to tears.

Their daughter, who had never had friends, had finally made one. How could they not be overjoyed?

”Hibiki, Kotomi, Mashiro—how are your paintings for the art competition coming along?” Chihiro asked.

Hibiki Naegi stretched her wrists as she sat back down in her chair, lifting the cover off her easel. ”I took a day off yesterday, so I fell behind a bit, but it’s nothing I can’t catch up on today.”

”Well, keep at it. The competition deadline is next Wednesday at 5:30 p.m.”

”Eh?! That soon?” Kotomi exclaimed, startled.

”That’s right, so you two had better pick up the pace. I can see that Mashiro is nearly done.” Chihiro threw in a subtle compliment for her younger cousin.

Unexpectedly, Mashiro interrupted, ”It’s not finished. It’s just slightly more refined than a rough sketch.”

Chihiro nearly stumbled, barely catching herself before she fell. She suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of defeat. She had stared at Mashiro’s painting for ages, thinking it was nearly complete, even imagining it becoming the highlight of the competition. But to Mashiro, it was just a refined draft.

This combination of talent and skill—it was pure, unrelenting domination.

Maybe she should just stop commenting on Mashiro’s paintings altogether...

Chihiro glanced toward Kotomi’s station, only to realize her student wasn’t there.

”Where’s Kotomi?”

”She said she was going to the restroom,” Ishikawa Ruka answered.

”I see.” Chihiro nodded and glanced at Kotomi’s easel. A sheet covered her unfinished painting. While it might be a breach of etiquette, Chihiro found herself wanting to lift a corner of the cover to sneak a peek.

Kotomi had mentioned her theme was ”sunset.”

Sunsets were a common subject in oil painting. To stand out and win an award with such a theme would require extraordinary skill.

Though she was aware of Kotomi’s artistic talent, Chihiro still found herself doubting whether her student could truly achieve such a feat—especially in a prestigious competition hosted by Tokyo and Kyoto Universities.

After a moment’s hesitation, Chihiro refrained from lifting the cover, deciding to save her curiosity for the painting’s final reveal.

After lingering in the art room a little longer, she returned to the teachers’ office.

40 minutes later.

Kotomi set down her paintbrush, checked the time on her phone, and began tidying her supplies. Carefully covering her painting, she prepared to leave early.

Today was Megumi’s birthday. There was no way Kotomi would forget something so important. Her excuse about leaving early and not walking home with Megumi was all part of her plan—to visit the bakery and buy a birthday cake.

Hearing the commotion from Kotomi’s station, Hibiki Naegi looked up and asked, ”Kotomi, heading out already?”

”Ah, Hibiki-senpai, I was just about to tell you. I’ve got something to take care of today. Is it okay if I leave early? Pretty please?” Kotomi clasped her hands together in a pleading gesture.

”Well... I suppose it’s fine. Just be careful on your way.”

”Thanks, Hibiki-senpai! I’ll see you tomorrow!” Kotomi expressed her gratitude, grabbed her bag, and rushed out of the art room and the school building.

On her way to the bakery, she quickly texted her mom, letting her know she wouldn’t be home for dinner tonight because she was celebrating Megumi’s birthday.

Her mother’s reply came quickly: [Okay, have fun!]

Evening

Back at home, Megumi was lying on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, feeling utterly bored.

Ding!

The sound of a new message pulled her out of her daze. Picking up her phone, she saw it was a birthday greeting from her bank.

Megumi chuckled bitterly. Ever since she got her own bank card, the annual birthday messages were almost a ritual.

As she scrolled through her messages, she sighed. Among the various well-wishers, Kotomi’s name was conspicuously absent.

Megumi tossed her phone aside and covered her face with her hands, letting out a soft sigh.

”Even just a simple ’happy birthday’ from you would’ve been enough...”

Time slipped by, and as the sky darkened, she stood up, planning to head to the kitchen and cook herself some instant noodles.

Suddenly, a voice from outside shattered the evening silence.

”Megumi!!”

Recognizing the familiar voice, Megumi froze for a moment before running to her window.

Sure enough, there stood Kotomi at her doorstep, drenched in sweat and panting heavily as if she had just finished a marathon.

Her left knee bore a scrape, likely from a fall while running. The sight made Megumi’s nose sting as tears threatened to form.

But what caught her attention most was the cake box Kotomi was clutching tightly in her arms.

Inside was Kotomi’s birthday surprise for her.

***

”K-Keep it gentle, Megumi... Ow, ow, ow! It hurts, it hurts, it feels like I’m splitting apart! Don’t push so hard—it really hurts!”

Kotomi bit down on her sleeve, unable to hide the pain.

”Just bear with me a little longer, okay? I’m almost done,” Megumi exhaled softly, her voice tender yet resolute.

”But it really hurts... sniff, sniff...” Kotomi whimpered, her tone dripping with grievance.

Megumi let out a faint chuckle. Once she was finished, she carefully pulled her hands away.

And then—

She tossed the alcohol-soaked cotton ball into the trash and screwed the cap back onto the bottle of alcohol.

Although the scrape on Kotomi’s left knee wasn’t severe and likely would’ve healed on its own soon enough, Megumi wasn’t taking any chances. The moment Kotomi stepped through the entryway and removed her shoes, Megumi had eagerly dragged her upstairs to the bedroom. She’d pulled out a first-aid kit and set to work disinfecting the wound with alcohol.

There were other bottles of antiseptics in the kit, but Megumi wasn’t familiar with their use or effects. To err on the side of caution, she’d opted for the simplest and most direct choice: alcohol.

The result? Kotomi was now sitting there with tears streaming down her face from the sting of the alcohol.

Why are my eyes always filled with tears? Because Megumi presses way too hard when cleaning my wounds!

Thanks to her ”Queen of All Females” physique, Kotomi’s senses were exceedingly sharp—both a blessing and a curse. The hypersensitivity amplified the sharp sting of the alcohol, making it feel like a thousand tiny needles pricking her all at once.

She had tried her best to hold back. But honestly? If it hadn’t been for her sheer willpower, her cries of pain would’ve echoed through the entire house by now.

Wait a second... It’s just the two of us here today, isn’t it? I should’ve let myself cry out loud. Megumi might’ve felt sorry for me and been gentler...

Once the wound was cleaned, Kotomi collapsed backward onto the bed, lying limp and defeated, looking as though she had just survived a life-or-death ordeal.

”Does it really hurt that much?”

Megumi couldn’t help but giggle at Kotomi’s pitiable appearance. Her dainty fingers brushed away some stray strands of hair from Kotomi’s ear.

Her tears were like a flood, streaming down her cheeks. To Megumi, Kotomi’s pained expression was so exaggerated that it almost seemed as though her wound had been inflicted by a knife rather than an accidental scrape.

The mental image made Megumi laugh even more.

”What are you laughing at?”

”Was I laughing?” Megumi feigned innocence, her tone light.

”You totally were! And it wasn’t even subtle—you were laughing really loud!”

Still sprawled on the bed, Kotomi weakly raised her foot in protest, the gesture more adorable than intimidating.

”Fine, fine. I guess I couldn’t help it. When I was cleaning your wound earlier, I imagined how it must’ve looked—like I was stabbing you with a knife. The thought was so absurd I couldn’t stop myself from laughing.”

”Don’t imagine such scary things!”

Kotomi’s plea for mercy was immediate. After lying on the bed for a few more minutes, the sting from the alcohol began to subside, allowing her to sit up more comfortably.

It was at that moment that Megumi re-entered the room, holding a tray with freshly brewed tea.

”We’re out of lemon slices, so I just made plain black tea. Is that okay?”

”Of course!”

Kotomi nodded. Though she often added lemon to her tea, it wasn’t out of a love for the flavor—it was simply because she thought watching the lemon slices float in the tea was fun. If there wasn’t any lemon, plain tea was perfectly fine.

Taking a sip, Kotomi let out a long, contented sigh. ”Ahhh... that hit the spot. My throat feels so much better. I didn’t even realize how thirsty I was after running all over the place to get your cake.”

Kotomi had initially planned to buy the cake from the famous Dango Cake Shop, but to her dismay, the shop was temporarily closed. This meant she had to run to a bakery near the train station, only to find out that it had relocated two kilometers away to a department store.

With no other options, she hurried to the new location. On the way, she tripped over a step she hadn’t noticed, falling and scraping her knee.

Her stockings? Ripped.

Eventually, she managed to buy the cake and sprinted back to Megumi’s house without even stopping for a drink. Her throat felt parched, her energy drained.

”Your stockings are ruined—the knee is completely torn. I don’t think they’re salvageable.”

Megumi glanced at the discarded pair of stockings near the bed before adding, ”Just leave them here. I’ll toss them out with the trash tomorrow.”

”Are you sure? That’s such a big help—thank you!”

”No problem.”

Megumi shook her head lightly, then slid closer to Kotomi. She reached out and gently embraced her, inhaling the faint, soothing fragrance of her white hair.

”Thank you for going through all that trouble to get me this cake.”

”Were you feeling sad earlier because I hadn’t wished you a happy birthday?” Kotomi asked softly, her voice tinged with guilt. ”Silly. Even if I forget everything else, I’d never forget your birthday. I couldn’t, even if I tried.”

”Not hearing it from you made me feel so insecure...” Megumi whispered as she tightened her embrace.

Just then—

Grumble...

The sudden sound from Kotomi’s stomach shattered the tender moment.

Megumi blinked in surprise. Then, after a brief moment of silence, she burst into laughter.

”Hahaha! Kotomi, are you hungry? Didn’t you just eat a ton of braised pork for lunch? How is your stomach still making such a racket?”

”Uh... Stop laughing at me!”

”I can’t help it!” Megumi teased. ”What do you want to eat? Dinner’s still a while away—how about we cut the cake now?”

”Of course, let’s have the cake! But we need candles too—it’s your birthday after all!”

”Isn’t that a bit much?”

”No, it’s not! Come on, let’s light the candles, turn off the lights, and blow them out. It’ll only take a few minutes!”

With that, Kotomi dashed downstairs to rummage through a drawer, triumphantly returning with a lighter.

”How do you even know where we keep the lighter?” Megumi asked, incredulous.

”I asked your mom before coming over. She told me it’s in the second drawer in the living room.”

”My mom really doesn’t see you as an outsider, huh?”

Kotomi puffed out her cheeks in mock indignation. ”And do you see me as an outsider?”

Megumi couldn’t hold back a smile. Seeing Kotomi pout like that made her heart feel warm and fuzzy. She reached out to caress Kotomi’s cheek, murmuring with a teasing grin:

”How could I ever think of you as an outsider? I’d rather marry you and have you wear a wedding dress and...”

”Huh? Wear a wedding dress and what?” Kotomi tilted her head, her expression adorably confused.

Megumi didn’t respond—she just smiled, her expression brimming with mischief.

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