After sobbing inwardly and venting the last traces of regret over transmigrating, Kuroba Akira pulled himself together once more.
And with that, his obsession with making money grew even stronger.
Once I have cash—AVs, onee-sans, I'll buy a whole warehouse full! Turn thirst into motivation! Let's gooo!
Pumped up with renewed determination, Akira completely shoved aside the recent embarrassment of having his secret stash of sexy underwear discovered. He turned to Shion with a straight face and said,
"Well then, if you're ready, let's head out."
"We're going out?"
"Yeah. For a run… oh, right—are you feeling okay? Can you manage a jog?"
He remembered Shion might be on her period and hesitated. Maybe we should skip today...
"A run, huh…"
So it was just morning jogging. Shion had imagined some sort of elaborate training plan—this was surprisingly… basic.
Akira noticed her lukewarm reaction and asked again.
"You sure you're okay? I don't want you pushing yourself and getting hurt. If you're not feeling great, we can start in a few days."
That concern warmed Shion's heart. The last person who'd shown her this kind of care was her stepfather—the man who gave her the Shiginomiya name.
He had treated her like a precious daughter, gently and meticulously. Thanks to that, Shion had made it all the way to high school without facing any real hardship.
Ironically, it was also that same overprotectiveness that eventually triggered a crisis at home…
Which was why Shion often felt uneasy receiving kindness, but also compelled to respond to it earnestly.
"I'm really fine now! No problem at all!"
She clenched her little fists in front of her chest, doing her best to look like someone totally ready to go.
She'd already washed her soiled underwear, and the discomfort down below was gone. No hindrance to movement.
And surprisingly, that flashy pair of panties she'd borrowed felt incredibly comfortable. The fabric was high-end, smooth against her skin—it had to be expensive. Probably cost tens of thousands. Where would a broke guy like Akira even get something like this?
He didn't steal it, did he?
No no, Akira's not that kind of person… I'll trust him. Trust first!
Seeing her energized, Akira stopped nagging.
"Alright then, stretch out a little, loosen your legs. I'll go change into gym clothes."
Right now, he was still wearing the jinbei Kobayashi-obaasan had loaned him—an heirloom from her late husband. She treasured the old man's belongings like sacred relics, and if Akira dared sweat all over them, she'd definitely go nuclear.
Also, while jinbei were short-sleeved and shorts, wearing one to run looked ridiculous. Like going to class in pajamas. Though, back in college, Akira had done exactly that—and his professor had made a point of calling on him repeatedly, forcing him to stay awake and letting the whole class gawk at the pajama-clad oddball.
Anyway, since his summer gym uniform had just dried, it made sense to change into that.
By the time Akira returned to the living room in proper workout gear, Shion was already waiting at the front door.
He walked over and started putting on his shoes, casually asking,
"So, Shion-san, did you use to exercise regularly?"
"Not really… hey, Akira, why do you keep calling me 'Shion-san'?"
"Hm? Well, we're partners now, so I figured a little professional respect was in order."
Akira understood how sensitive Japanese people could be about interpersonal distance. Calling someone by name could mean different things depending on context—being too familiar too quickly might rub someone the wrong way.
You couldn't just barge in like Kobayashi-obaasan and start calling her Shion-chan from day one. She could do that because she was the elder and the young ones had to deal with it.
Compared to -san, -kun added a slight sense of familiarity, while -chan was even more affectionate and casual. Then there was -sama—an ultra-honorific usually heard in places like maid cafés, where you'd be greeted with "Goshujin-sama~"
Maid culture… truly a wonder of the modern world. Having a personal maid was one of Akira's life goals. With enough money, that dream could become reality.
Anyway, to avoid standing out as a weirdo, Akira had studied this thoroughly.
That said, both the class rep and Shion had called him Akira-kun right from the start. That suggested they were outgoing and had a good first impression of him—otherwise, they wouldn't be so familiar.
"Mm…"
Shion didn't say much. She understood that she and Akira weren't in a romantic relationship—getting too chummy would just be weird.
It helped her gauge the actual emotional distance between them.
Yes, they lived together. Yes, they slept in a bunk bed. But there was zero ambiguity.
…At least for now.
It was just me overthinking things.
He's really not that kind of guy.
"I see. Well, that's fine then. It's just a normal morning run, not some kind of hellish bootcamp. You won't be collapsing from exhaustion."
Once Akira finished lacing up his shoes, he straightened up and looked Shion in the eye.
"But don't underestimate it just because it's a 'normal' run. Being a voice actress requires solid stamina."
"More importantly, running will help increase your lung capacity. Professional seiyuu and singers are like they've got three lungs—able to deliver long lines or sing for ages without losing breath. Right now, you don't even meet the physical baseline."
"Once your lung capacity improves, you'll learn to speak from your diaphragm—belly breathing. If you rely solely on your throat, you'll get winded quickly, and worse, it'll damage your voice. Not good if you want to sustain a long career."
Shion listened intently. The way he broke it all down so seriously—this wasn't some half-baked plan.
"Yes, I'll do my best!"
It felt like she'd hired a personal trainer. The novelty of that motivated her, sparking a fire inside.
Her journey to becoming a seiyuu was starting with this humble morning jog.
"…But your current shoes aren't really suitable for running."
Which meant… they'd need to buy her a pair of running shoes too.
Ugh… everything needs money.
"Anyway, today's just for getting a feel. Since it's your first day, don't push yourself too hard. I'll slow down so you can always see my back. If you can't run, speed-walking's fine too."
"Got it, Coach. I'll keep up the best I can."
"Alright, let's go."
Akira's jogging route was a fixed one—there was a stream along the path he took to school. If you followed the riverside path, you'd see a stone bridge. That bridge marked the turnaround point. Out and back, exactly five kilometers—perfect for a morning run.
Honestly, he hadn't always been this diligent. When he was a corporate drone, there was no time for working out. It was only back in college—when he needed to train for intramurals and intercollegiate tournaments—that he got into fitness.
Unfortunately, when he first transmigrated, this body was a total weakling. No muscle tone, easily winded—running even a short distance left him gasping like half his soul had escaped.
That wouldn't do. He was a student again in this life—he couldn't let himself stay this weak.
Moderate exercise also raised his stamina cap, letting him get more done each day.
And there was one more reason.
Every morning, on this route, he could see…
Ah—there she is!
Midway through the run, near the stone bridge, a radiant short-haired girl was jogging toward him.
She wore a breathable sports tank top and tight shorts, her curves on full display. Her sun-kissed skin had a healthy golden hue, glowing under the early light.
And those two thunderous bouncers on her chest were bouncing right along with her.
This—this was the highlight of morning jogs.
Mmm. They're in full swing again today.