Lingering Bites and Budding Blushes
I have no idea if it's some contrived device for melodrama involving the hero, heroines, and regular folks in this story, but despite all the yokai and over-the-top tech like AI maid robots in this world, there's no technology to quickly heal injuries. Healing arts exist, sure, but they're barely better than nothing—no miracles to be expected. The conclusion? Even after Hanasaki's treatment, my left hand, bitten and clawed, and my right hand, tainted by that evil spirit's foul aura, were far from okay.
Especially the left one. Since it was physical damage, they just slathered it in ointment and wrapped it in bandages—that was it.
"Looks like a black flame dragon possessed it or something."
They said the medicine was top-notch, so no scarring, but the pain and burning heat were unavoidable. Inuyama had snapped back to her senses and looked ready to bite her own tongue off in guilt the moment she woke up, so I'd told her it was fine—but honestly, it wasn't. Anyone who's been bitten by a wolf or dog knows there's no need to explain.
Anyway, Mom flipped out when she saw her son come home at night with his hand all bandaged up, but I bought some time by promising to cut back on training and skip some walks until it healed.
"...I called Manatsu too."
I rang the Manatsu house and explained I wouldn't make it for a while due to a training injury. The voice on the other end sounded deeply disappointed, but what could I do? We'd bump into each other anyway, and since our schools weren't far, we could meet anytime.
Mom wanted me to skip school for the day too, but it wasn't like I'd been bitten by a rabid mutt or had a raging fever, so I decided to go.
After washing up, applying Hanasaki's ointment, and rewrapping the bandages, my sister barged in without knocking.
"Bet you can't last a week."
"Stuff happens when you're alive."
She soccer-kicked my back, then stomped out. Fair enough—she'd worried about me just the other day, and here I was with a mangled arm already. But if the story kept barreling forward, this wound would seem like a scratch in comparison. Getting chomped by a briefly berserk underage werewolf had left me like this—what would real threats do?
I slipped on gloves to hide the bandages, gave a wry smile at my sulking sister's trail as she left without a word, put on my shoes, and opened the door. There stood a familiar face.
"Oh, hi."
"Hey. But why are you here?"
"Well... you got hurt because of me. I was a little worried."
Inuyama... how to put it. In broad daylight like this, she just looked like an ordinary girl. Her gray hair was nearly black, nothing flashy, and without ears or tail, she passed for human. Yesterday she'd seemed a bit down and tired; today, she was blushing furiously, stumbling over her words, giving a totally different vibe.
"You're heading to school, right?"
"Yeah. I just came to ask something too."
"Then let's go."
In 20th-century galges, guys often wore gakuran uniforms, but by the '80s, high schools—especially private ones—were ditching them for trendier, semi-formal styles. Neckties with standard uniforms became a mark of wealth or elite privates. That's why I wore the standard uniform with a tie. Private school perks. Run by a vampire conglomerate that's been in business since before WWII.
"Wearing gloves, huh."
"Don't want people staring at the bandages."
"Sorry..."
"I told you, it's fine."
Teaming up with Inuyama was my choice, Hanasaki sent the mission, and stepping in front of her rampage was on me. Blaming her would be gaslighting. Once she realized I meant it—no real grudge—her tension eased a bit.
"Um, I've got something I'm curious about."
"Yeah?"
"Last time... at the end, how'd you undo my transformation?"
"Figured it'd work, so I tried."
I gave a quick rundown of my abilities and what happened as we walked. Whether she felt indebted or was amazed I'd calmed her uncontrolled power, she trotted along, hanging on my every word. When she bit my arm, I thought I was done for—but now she was all puppy-eyed. Ears and tail out, she'd probably wag them like crazy. It felt oddly endearing.
After hearing me out, Inuyama started sneaking peeks at me.
"W-We were gonna team up anyway, right?"
"Yep."
"It's dangerous, so I hate to ask, but... could you help me practice?"
Figured it'd be that. Truth be told, I wasn't thrilled—being attacked sucked. But if I could protect myself, it'd be doable.
"I've been thinking I'd like to help if I could."
"Really?!"
"I was even wondering if I should wear armor or something."
She giggled at that, then looked at me still smiling—before dropping her gaze.
"You can treat me casually, y'know."
"No, it's just... you're helping me, so I'm grateful and sorry. Makes me wonder why you're so nice to me."
Why? Nothing grand. Helping those I've bonded with live better lives was goal one, and plugging plot holes from the protagonist's absence in the heroines' arcs. I didn't know who'd end up romancing Sendo, but the others' happiness mattered too.
"Do you have a girlfriend, Tsukino?"
"Been hearing that a lot lately. Nope."
"Well... if you're helping with my training, we'll be together a lot. Wouldn't it be easier to just pretend we're dating publicly?"
"Hmm. That feels off, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, thought so?"
"Totally. Fake dating's not my thing—unless it was real."
She jolted, ears and tail popping out as she shhh-slid to stick against a stone wall.
"Date?!"
"Just a figure of speech. We barely know each other."
"R-Right?"
"Obviously." "But I wouldn't mind..."
She muttered that last bit to herself, then clapped a hand over her mouth, glanced at me, and bolted red-faced toward school. Same class anyway.
"Inuyama, huh..."
One-on-one, she was likable enough, but romantic feelings? Nah. And werewolf traits made qualifying as a mate no easy feat.
"What's there to mull over now?"
Nothing decided yet.
Inuyama Shino sprinted to school and checked her face in the mirror. She'd run hard, but the flush covering it wasn't from exertion.
As a werewolf, she knew the agony of full transformation—the crushing pain wringing her body, blurred vision, endless blood-scent assaulting her nose. But yesterday was different. She'd bitten a human arm. Shredded it to rags. Yet that person had pulled her from the frenzy.
And that soft, warm sensation as he did. She'd been stunned someone so grievously harmed could channel such spiritual energy at his attacker.
Then the dream: a friend, partner, lover who'd stay until she grew strong and proper.
But voicing it was another matter. She'd tossed it out casually—and nearly imploded.
"Inuyama-san, don't block the back door."
"Hanasaki."
"Did you check on Tsukino Takuya's condition?"
"...He wrapped it, but didn't seem too bothered."
"Impressive he endures it so well. Especially in front of you."
"What?"
"You know your own bite force. Muscles and bones were damaged."
Inuyama paled. Lovers or not, she hadn't even begun repaying that debt.
"From what I saw, Tsukino doesn't sweat the small stuff."
"...How would you know?"
"Even with his arm in shreds, he asked if you were okay, if there were other victims."
His mindset was utterly ordinary—petty bourgeois thoughts filling his head. But at critical moments, his decisiveness and courage shone.
"I think he'll get strong. Strong enough to break long curses."
"I..."
"Just do what you want."
What she wanted. What she yearned to be.
"For now... I'll stay by his side."
Friend. Lover. Partner. Pet. Things her clan had half-exiled her for lacking control over her werewolf power.
Once she pinned down the fuzzy feeling in her chest, she could decide. No rush.