Fling (10)
“Sakuya.”
“...”
“Sakuya.”
“...”
“Sakuya.”
“What.”
Even Buddha's smile has its limits after three times.
Sakuya shot him a sharp glare at Tae-il's repeated calls. Yet Tae-il just kept grinning ear to ear, like there was nothing wrong with the world.
He flashed that innocent smile and casually corrected her slip-up.
“That's not it.”
“...”
What a rascal.
Come to think of it, it had been the same when Tae-il started calling her Sakuya with that “yoroshiku” vibe.
Even when she was openly embarrassed and yelled that nicknames were off-limits until official transcripts came out, Tae-il ignored her and called her by name anyway.
As if he'd predicted she wouldn't really get mad.
“You know, Tae-il, you're sneakily sly. Like a fox.”
“Am I?”
“Totally. Especially when you say it in that raspy voice—it's straight-up foul play. Are you trying to kill me with laughter or embarrassment? Pick one.”
“Didn't think it was that weird. Is my voice really that off right now?”
“Yeah.”
Tae-il cleared his throat.
From his perspective, it was just a bit weaker and thinner than usual—hard for him to grasp Sakuya's agony.
Not for her.
When a fresh-faced kid belts out a baritone or bass that rumbles like it's echoing in a cave, it's the kind of gap that makes you burst out laughing without thinking.
Tae-il's dying-grandpa rasp had the same destructive power.
His usual gloomy-boy voice created such a hilarious contrast that you wanted to get mad but ended up cracking up instead.
“When's your voice gonna go back to normal, anyway?”
“Hm. Probably stuck like this all day.”
It had recovered a few times mid-session, letting him sing again, but he'd push too hard each time, shredding his throat before he could finish a full song.
He'd chugged water like crazy to hydrate, but vocal cords take time to soak it up.
And no amount of hydration helps if you're belting nonstop without rest.
By the final 30-minute extension, when Tae-il started hacking up a lung, Rena straight-up climbed onto his lap to sabotage his singing.
Even after she snatched the mic, he kept going a cappella—so this was her drunken special measure.
Having a girl on his lap blocking him from singing was a wildly novel experience for Tae-il.
“Ahem. Ahem! Ahh. Ahh. Ahhhh.”
Tae-il cleared his throat again, but his voice showed no signs of recovery.
Sakuya hurriedly stopped him from trying vocal exercises.
“Shhh! Enough already. You'll wake Honjo.”
“Right, forgot about her 'cause she's so light.”
“She's out cold even in this situation.”
The two shared a soft, couple-like chuckle as they checked on Rena, piggybacked on Tae-il's back and breathing evenly.
“She must've been wiped.”
“Honjo's small-framed. Probably less stamina than us.”
“Hm. If she's got less than you, Tae-il, that's kinda serious...”
“Hey.”
“Payback.”
Sakuya stuck out her tongue with a pout, brushing off Tae-il's glare.
Today, Rena had been like a car with busted brakes, accelerating wildly down the highway.
She'd discovered the joys of karaoke.
And since she wasn't used to this kind of fun, she'd gone all-out like it was her last chance ever.
A normal person might've reined her in, but unfortunately, Tae-il was the type who matched her frenzy—if not exceeded it.
“Not heavy?”
“Nah. Light as a feather.”
Ayane would've thrown a fit, but Tae-il felt way more at ease now than when he'd carried her in Akihabara.
Tae-il gave a light bounce to readjust Rena on his back.
“Mmm.”
She scrunched her face at the jostle and hugged his neck tighter. More skin contact, but unlike with Ayane, Tae-il didn't feel embarrassed.
“You sure you're good?”
“Aside from the heat? Manageable.”
No matter how light she was, human body heat was unavoidable.
Tae-il silently mourned his sweat-soaked, rag-of-a-shirt.
Hope it'll be okay...
Sakuya worried about Tae-il's trash stamina.
Even with food for fuel, karaoke right after the match had worn her out.
Tae-il had to be beat too.
He hadn't crashed like Rena, but he'd tambourined, jumped around, and sung for over four hours straight.
Despite the AC, he'd been drenched—proof of the inferno he'd unleashed in that tiny room.
His reassuring grin looked fatigued; no illusion there.
“Seriously, you okay? I can take Honjo if you want.”
“No thanks.”
Tae-il shut down her offer firmly.
His legs trembled faintly, but he wouldn't budge.
“Another one of those 'can't yield as a guy' pride things?”
“You get it, so leave me be.”
“Men...”
Sakuya sighed, arms crossed at his stubbornness.
To change the mood, she looked up—the clear sky had clouded over, shifting from deep navy to a purple like her eyes.
“Definitely summer. Sun sets late.”
Still bright out, but clock-wise, office workers were heading home for dinner.
Street carts were popping up at the road's end.
Sakuya sheepishly rubbed her neck.
“Guess we sang too long.”
“Duh. Normal people don't do four hours at karaoke, Sakuya.”
“Did I force it? You and Honjo agreed!”
“No comment.”
Plan was two hours, then chill at a cafe and split.
But somehow, four nonstop hours flew by.
Rena rode the hype wave with eager eyes—hard to say no.
Now timing was awkward.
Back to dorms for a shower, and it'll be dinner time...
In other words, time to part from Tae-il was closing in. Sakuya eyed Rena on his back with subtle regret.
If it was just Tae-il, I could've offered he crash at the dorm...
Volleyball team was back at school except her—dorms empty till the next team.
One guy? They'd let him in with a “no funny business” warning.
Whatever, can't be helped. I had a blast too.
Crowds thickening on the street.
Sakuya shrugged, gazing at Rena sleeping soundly amid the noise, piggybacked on Tae-il.
She'd surprised Sakuya plenty today.
“Honestly, I was a little shocked.”
“About what?”
“Honjo.”
Sakuya smiled softly, stroking Rena's fluffy hair.
“Hated singing at first, but once she started? On fire.”
“Yeah.”
Tae-il took in the softly mumbling Rena with warm eyes.
Sakuya was right.
Rena nailed BARD's “If It's With You” clean through.
Tae-il was floored.
Nothing like the character song in her seiyuu's acting tone—a deep, solemn timbre instead.
Un-Rena-like, yet the most Rena ever. Tae-il had teared up a bit.
Problem: Rena saw it, thought he was moved by her singing, and unleashed a BARD barrage.
Maybe I've got real musical talent?
Misreading his tears, she butchered half-remembered tracks to completion.
Some became trio harmonies—the vibe was electric.
By the end, Rena was fully adapted—even unknowns, she'd hum along from the sidelines.
Like Tae-il, she had an ear for melodies and jumped in eagerly.
Unlike Tae-il's paced stamina management, she went full throttle, no mercy.
Result: Battery dead, crashed first on Tae-il's back.
Sakuya's long hand gently stroked Rena's hair and slender back.
“Honjo looks like an angel asleep.”
“Cute, right?”
“Wait, Tae-il, are you... into that?”
“Wanna die?”
“Eek. That rasp threatening me is weird as hell.”
“Wanna die?”
This time, Tae-il raised his volume too much.
“Gahk...!”
Sakuya burst out laughing, calling a timeout.
Moments later.
Recovered Sakuya cleared her throat, cooling her flushed face from the giggles.
She asked.
“What're you gonna do now, Tae-il?”
“Hm.”
A plain question, but Tae-il hesitated.
With Rena out cold, he couldn't plan freely.
Even transit needed her input.
“Gotta kill time till Honjo wakes, somewhere...”
Japan's lodging options were plentiful—crash anywhere for a quick rest.
But better not risk misunderstandings from the start.
Fearing Rena's reaction, Tae-il wiped all accommodation info from his mind.
“Net cafe for now? They let minors in.”
“Dragging in a dead-asleep girl solo? Might get blocked.”
They might pass as couple or friends if peer-looking, but Rena screamed elementary kid.
Plus her Western features—no sibling vibes with Tae-il.
Conveniently, a semi-famous, school-identifiable lowlife was right here.
“Sakuya.”
Tae-il fixed her with puppy-dog eyes.
Sakuya nodded in horror.
“O-okay! I'll come too! Happy?”
“Saved...”
With Rena aboard, they headed to the net cafe.
Entertainment hubs clustered, so it wasn't far.
As streets noisied up, they reached a quiet one without waking her.
“Welcome...?”
“Big room for an hour, please.”
The clerk eyed the odd duo-plus-girl combo weirdly, but stone-faced Tae-il paid for a spacious private room fitting three.
As Tae-il quietly pulled out his wallet, the female clerk leaned in and whispered.
“O-Our soundproofing's top-notch...!”
“Huh?”
“Still, we clean, so... keep it moderate...!”
Tae-il reeled from the misunderstanding, squeezing his eyes shut. Only sharp-eared Sakuya snickered softly, Rena still aboard.
After clearing it up.
They navigated clean, hotel-like halls to their room.
Door labeled with two numbers—twin rooms merged.
Sakuya gasped softly entering.
“Whoa. Way bigger than pics.”
“Roomy for three.”
Gym mats piled plush, AC, ample hangers, wall TV, PC.
Worth the cash, Tae-il swallowed tears quietly.
“Magic cushions too. Oh, haven't showered yet. Shower here?”
“Saw a communal one. Toiletries?”
“Packed.”
Sakuya dug out towel and kit from her huge sports bag.
“Free?”
“Not full-day flat; like 100 yen.”
“Cool. Be right back—shower and change.”
Still in her jersey.
Underneath, her match uniform reeked.
She'd resisted unzipping in front of Tae-il despite the heat, now bolting up.
Sakuya laid Rena on the mat, grinned mischievously at cushion-leaned Tae-il.
“Don't sneakily grope Honjo while I'm gone.”
“I won't!”
Tae-il ground his teeth, not daring yell lest he wake Rena.
“Pfft. Back soon, Dang Shin?”
“Yeah yeah, go.”
Tae-il shooed her teasing nickname with waves.
Door nearly shut, Sakuya peeked back—thought she was shower-bound.
“Drinks on the way?”
“Melon soda.”
“Haha, carbonated fan? Got it.”
Real exit this time—lock beeped.
Room plunged silent sans chatty Sakuya.
“Quiet.”
Clerk wasn't kidding on soundproofing.
Tae-il lounged against the round cushion, zoned on the ceiling, then checked his smartphone late.
“Hm?”
No Ayane spam today—unusual pile-up absent.
“Busy...?”
Knew Iris practice this morning; checked time.
Nearly 6 PM.
Ayane, who reported every triviality childlike, silent post-practice? Suspicious.
Things between them were iffier than canon—Tae-il worried inwardly.
Call? But Rena... Settled for texts.
Phone down, awaiting reply.
But lounging idle, eyelids drooped, mind fogged.
Partied too hard...?
Eyes shut—heavy lids made reopening a chore.
Cool air, plush cushion, fatigue piled on—sleep dust sprinkled over him.
“Yawwwn...”
Shifted to full recline.
Sakuya'll wake me when back.
Trusting her, Tae-il drifted off.
“Snoooore.”
Steady soft breaths.
“...”
A pair of blue eyes stared at Tae-il, wide and rabbit-bright.