All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

When Megumi Kato arrived, Kotomi Izumi instantly felt her heart sink. Not fear—just... instinct. If she weren’t currently trapped in Mashiro Shiina’s arms, she would’ve waved and called out, ”Megumi, over here!”

This wasn’t even the first time she’d been hugged by Mashiro in front of Megumi. If anything, it was usually worse—she’d often find herself with Mashiro hugging her from the left and Yui Yuigahama from the right.

Being embraced from both sides like that wasn’t something Kotomi ever asked for, but afterward, she sometimes couldn’t help thinking... maybe she had the potential to be a bit of a playgirl.

”Ugh...”

Aimi Izumi followed the sound and frowned when she saw Megumi. Early in the morning, and already this annoying woman had to show up—what a pain!

Megumi, however, seemed completely unaware of Aimi’s irritation. She walked straight past her, heading toward Kotomi and Mashiro. Truthfully, she wanted to pull Mashiro off of Kotomi right then and there. It wasn’t that she was angry because Mashiro was hugging her girlfriend in public—well, maybe a little angry. After all, this was the school gate; such a scene could draw unwanted attention.

Honestly, public displays of affection like that? So inappropriate.

...Unless she was the one hugging Kotomi.

That was more or less what Megumi was thinking.

The only reason she didn’t act on it was because she wasn’t sure she could actually pry Mashiro off Kotomi. If she tried, Mashiro might just tighten her grip even more.

”Kotomi, good morning. Did you rest well last night? Or were you up all night rehearsing?” Megumi asked.

”I went to bed before midnight. Pulling an all-nighter would’ve been too exhausting—for me, for Yui, and for Yukino. None of us would’ve been in top condition afterward.”

”That’s good. I was worried you might not have rested properly. And this is...?”

Megumi had noticed the unfamiliar girl, Iroha Isshiki, since she arrived. She’d never seen her around Kotomi before. And honestly, the girl didn’t look like a Sobu High student.

More like... a middle schooler.

Did she get separated from her parents? No, wait—she’s in middle school, not kindergarten...

”She’s my sister’s friend, Iroha Isshiki. Iroha, this is my classmate, Megumi Kato,” Kotomi said, introducing them. As she spoke, she absentmindedly patted Mashiro’s head.

After Kotomi’s introduction, the two girls looked each other over before Iroha spoke first.

”Nice to meet you, Megumi-senpai. Please take care of me.”

”Senpai?” Megumi blinked.

”Yes. I’m taking my entrance exams in February next year, and Sobu High is my first choice. I’m confident in my grades—so I should have no problem getting in. So I figured, since we’ve met today, I might as well call you senpai in advance,” Iroha said with a bright, self-assured smile.

”Oh, I see,” Megumi said, smiling softly in return. ”So you’re a soon-to-be underclassman. That’s... kind of funny, actually. I’m still only in my first year, but I’m already being called senpai. Iroha Isshiki, huh? That’s a beautiful name—and you’re just as pretty as it sounds.”

”Thank you for the compliment, Megumi-senpai.”

”With a cute junior like you, Kotomi will definitely be thrilled. Good luck with your exams—I hope you make it into Sobu High,” Megumi said half-jokingly. Then her eyes flicked toward Kotomi, the smile still on her face but carrying a subtle message: How long exactly are you and Mashiro planning to stay like that? Did you forget your girlfriend’s standing right here?

The moment Kotomi caught that look, her internal alarms started blaring. She quickly patted Mashiro’s back—a signal for her to let go.

And sure enough, Mashiro did.

That little pat on the back was something of a code they’d developed back in Kyoto.

Mashiro wasn’t just expressionless—she had the full combination of deadpan, absent-minded, and adorably clueless. In short, she had no sense of personal space or appropriate force.

Back in Kyoto, Mashiro Shiina would often hold Kotomi for long stretches of time whenever she hugged her—mostly because she couldn’t gauge her own strength or timing. So the two of them made an agreement: if Kotomi ever felt uncomfortable or needed Mashiro to let go, she would give her a light pat on the back. No matter the situation, that would be Mashiro’s cue to release her immediately.

Mashiro, of course, nodded obediently. She always listened to Kotomi.

When Megumi saw Mashiro finally let go, her expression softened ever so slightly.

Iroha Isshiki had noticed Megumi’s sharp glance toward Kotomi and Mashiro earlier, but since she was still new to the group, she didn’t quite understand what it meant. Pretending she hadn’t seen anything, she simply followed Megumi’s lead and expressed her gratitude.

”Thank you for the encouragement, Megumi-senpai.”

Then, poking Kotomi playfully in the arm, Iroha beamed as if she’d just heard the best news ever.

”Senpai, senpai, did you hear that? Megumi-senpai said you’d be really happy to have such a cheerful, cute, clever, graceful, stunning, and refined junior like me! Senpai, really—if you think that way, you should say it directly! Or are you just a shy little tsundere who won’t admit her true feelings?”

When she came to the string of idioms, Iroha’s pronunciation in Chinese was clumsy but full of effort.

Kotomi couldn’t help but twitch the corner of her mouth. ”I’m not deaf, you know. Coming up with that many idioms on the spot... that must’ve been exhausting.”

She remembered that Iroha often told her she wasn’t very good at Chinese but found it fascinating and wanted to learn. So she’d asked Kotomi to teach her some vocabulary and idioms when she had time.

At the time, Kotomi’s novels were already several volumes ahead in draft form, so her schedule was relatively free. She agreed and occasionally met Iroha at a nearby café, finding a quiet corner where she would tutor her in Chinese.

Sometimes, they would even study together over the phone, Kotomi patiently teaching Iroha bit by bit.

To be honest, Kotomi thought Chinese was the hardest language in the world.

At Japanese high schools and universities where Chinese was offered as an elective, students often dreaded the subject each semester. The most difficult parts of the exams, according to them, were always the listening section—and the final essay question.

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