Kuroba Akira supposed he should feel honored—to be granted the role of such an important "friend."
But that kind of unreserved devotion, the kind that asked for nothing in return… honestly, it was terrifying.
The kind of give-and-take where anything goes, that's something only the closest of bros can manage. That rare, indestructible bond—like sworn brotherhood or comrades who've shared a foxhole.
But between a guy and a girl? That's a different story. While not unheard of, it's so rare it might as well not exist.
That so-called "guy best friend" relationship—more often than not, it's just blurred boundaries hiding ambiguous feelings. All it takes is the smallest spark, and that paper-thin wall of "platonic friendship" gets pierced, leaving nothing but a mess.
Just self-delusion, really—a cover-up disguised as innocence.
But the class rep didn't seem to be angling for him to be her "guy best friend." She genuinely believed friends should go that far for each other.
That's… a pretty twisted definition of 'friend,' isn't it?
Even girlfriends wouldn't go that far!
Akira couldn't help but think: if he asked the class rep to "help him out" under the pretense of friendship, she might actually agree…
Okay, now he was just being delusional. No way it would go that far.
Still… licking his hand? That was already crossing a line.
And she was really going for it—her soft, pink tongue already extended as she leaned closer to his palm. If he didn't stop her now, she'd actually do it.
I wonder what Sumiya Ryouta's face would look like if he saw this… Akira thought, amused by the mental image.
But no—he couldn't actually let her lick his hand. For one, he didn't want to remember what the class rep's tongue felt like. And more importantly, he was afraid he might get addicted to this whole "ask a friend for help" dynamic.
If she really started doing anything he asked, he'd end up treating her like some kind of walking wish-granting machine—Dora-Hitomi-mon or something.
So Akira raised his left index finger and tapped her lightly between the eyebrows, halting her downward motion.
"That's enough, class rep. You don't have to prove it like that."
"Mm?"
The tap on the forehead caused Anri Hitomi to look up, emitting a strange little sound—like someone pulling a silly face. The ambiguous mood instantly shattered.
Akira, for once, put on a serious expression.
"As long as you're still willing to call me your friend, I'll never betray you. I'll be your friend for life if that's what you want."
If she was going to come at him with that much intensity, he had to respond in kind. Gravity met with gravity.
And saying it was one thing. Whether or not he meant it… well, that was another story.
Men and their mouths—liars, the lot of them.
Still, Akira wasn't trying to lie to her. After all, he had no intention of turning down the free support. A friend like her in his corner—solid backup for when things went south.
If the whole "Shiginomiya voice actress project" crashed and burned, and he got kicked out by Kobayashi-obāsan after graduation, he might still be able to crash at the class rep's place. All under the noble banner of friendship, of course.
"Phew, good. I was just thinking… if you kept being difficult, I'd have to bite you."
"So it was going to be a bite, huh…"
He knew she didn't mean that kind of bite, but he still couldn't help picturing it.
Why was it so easy to imagine suggestive scenarios with the class rep in them? Was it because she was a closet perv who understood everything despite her prim image?
Akira made a silent vow—once he had some spare cash, he'd treat the class rep to a nice, thick ice pop and watch how she handled it. Just for research.
Suppressing those wicked thoughts, he kept a calm facade and said righteously:
"Then I definitely can't let you have your way. The massage was plenty. I wasn't even hurt."
"Then I'll just keep massaging you a bit more."
She smiled and resumed holding his right hand, carefully rubbing the knuckle joints with the pad of her thumb.
It felt a bit like a hand spa... just not for feet, but hands.
If this were a foot bath and she were a cute girl washing his feet, it'd already be borderline soapland territory. The kind of thing you pay extra for to unlock bonus services. But the class rep wasn't the kind of girl you could just buy.
This was his chance.
Akira reached for her left hand and said something unabashed:
"Your hands are so smooth, class rep. Do you use hand cream?"
"I just applied a little sunscreen. Even though August is over, the sun's still pretty harsh during the day."
"I see… Alright, switch to the right hand next."
"Okay."
To Akira's rather inexplicable yet seemingly natural request, the class rep simply obeyed, beaming as she handed him her right hand for him to play with.
If this were Shiginomiya, she would've shaken him off instantly.
Compared to Shiginomiya, the class rep clearly had a way higher embarrassment threshold. It was like she didn't even know how to feel shame—had she murdered the word shame in her heart?
Not that Akira was doing this to cop a feel. His real goal was to re-copy her [Academic Ability A].
Sure enough, it was the most practical talent in his everyday life. It might not match Shiginomiya's triple-S ranked abilities in raw power, but it was versatile—like bumping his baseline IQ up by twenty points.
Once the words in his palm had shifted to [Academic Ability A], Akira was about to let go—when the class rep suddenly tightened her grip on his hand.
"This feels just like training a puppy to shake. Hey, Kuroba-kun, am I a good girl?"
"Yeah, you're very obedient."
"Then I want you to do what I did to you earlier at lunch."
"Uh…"
Akira thought for a moment. She must've meant when, after his accidental overshare, she'd patted his head and said, "Good boy."
So now she wanted a headpat?
Honestly, patting a girl's head wasn't really some surefire way to gain affection. If anything, it could be pretty offensive—like an adult condescending to a child. It sent a pretty clear message: I see you as a kid.
Sure, if it were a neglected little girl like some tragic anime slave character, maybe that headpat could fill a lifelong void and shoot affection to max.
But the class rep was a peer. Being patted on the head by a classmate? That had to be embarrassing. Even if, mentally speaking, Akira was technically old enough to be twice her age.
Still, unless the girl initiated it herself, patting her head wouldn't raise her affection one bit—might even lower it.
Just then, Anri gave him a reassuring look.
"It's okay, Kuroba-kun. Friendship is about give and take. This is just a little return gesture."
"Mm…"
Since she'd said that much, Akira stopped hesitating. He raised his hand and gently placed it on top of her head—careful not to ruffle her hair too much.
This was his first time patting a girl's head, and he didn't want to mess up her hairstyle. It was clearly well-kept and neatly styled.
So this is what she means by "you've taken my first."
It didn't feel like a headpat. More like he was performing some kind of blessing ritual. But her hair was soft and silky too—clearly she took good care of it.
That got him thinking about Shiginomiya's gorgeous hair—long, black, and waterfall-straight, cascading past her shoulder blades to her waist. Bet that would feel even better to touch…
While his thoughts wandered, Akira absentmindedly patted the class rep's head and murmured,
"Good girl, good girl…"
No way he was going to say "Good doggy." Calling someone as competent as the class rep a dog? What kind of monster would do that?
Anri Hitomi, meanwhile, closed her eyes, quietly soaking in the warmth of his palm.
So warm...
I won't let you pull away again.
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T/N: ME WITH KRONII WOO FWOOF WOOF