Chapter 18: Hoshitani Kaoru’s Troubles (Part 1).
Lately, Hoshiya Kaoru had this nagging sense that his girlfriend, Ayata Aina, was… off. Like a thin, impenetrable mist had settled over her.
Tracing it back, the shift seemed to start the day he mustered the courage to suggest working outside.
Before that, he’d never seen her so adamantly—almost tyrannically—opposed to something.
Her furrowed brows, raised voice, and that flash of incomprehensible anxiety in her eyes had pricked him with a quiet discomfort, a feeling of being wholly rejected.
He couldn’t understand. He pitied Aina’s dawn-to-dusk grind, supporting their home under corporate pressure, growing wan.
Heart aching, he wanted to share even a sliver of the load.
Yet she showed no touch of gratitude—more like a raw nerve struck. Her tone hardened, almost commanding: stay home, don’t worry about outside.
It hurt, sparking his stubborn streak—why must he stay in? He’d work.
Cue their fiercest fight ever—maybe since they’d known each other.
She conceded in the end; no rift formed. But Kaoru sensed her strangeness.
Most obvious: nights.
Their sex life had settled into a gentle, predictable rhythm like any stable couple.
Lately, though, Aina burned with foreign anxiety-fueled passion. Nearly every night, she clung to him—urgent, greedy kisses and touches, as if confirming something or filling an invisible void.
Kaoru didn’t mind.
He’d held back before, worried about her health from overindulgence.
But there’s no field too tilled for the ox—and at barely nineteen, his body was peak-ripe.
Skin-on-skin thrill was sweetest honey. Shy by nature, he never voiced it, but deep down, he craved that soul-flesh union.
Still, was Aina past her prime? Or he harder to satisfy?
Without her gritting teeth and giving all, it felt like scratching through boots—never reaching that elusive core thirst, no dizzying shore.
Hanging mid-air, unfulfilled—awful, leaving emptiness and nameless irritation.
But Kaoru buried it fast.
Seeing her under-eye shadows from work, he couldn’t bear demanding more.
In afterglow cuddles, he’d nestle close, misty eyes flushed at tails, nasally soft: “I’m good… so satisfied”—pure comforting lies.
He’d even kiss her lip corner, chasing faint frustration from her brow.
Yet in dead of night, as Aina slept deep with steady breaths, Kaoru stared wide-eyed at ceiling blur.
Countless tiny feathers scratched his depths—secret, gnawing void and itch. Tossing, sleepless.
Lonely, he’d searched online—things to ease it.
Having a girlfriend yet buying one? A whiny inner voice defended:
It’s because Aina can’t fully satisfy him, right?
So… it’s fine…
Heart thieving, cheeks scorching, he retrieved the cool, cloth-wrapped item from wardrobe depths.
Like a pilfering cat, tiptoeing, he slipped into silent bathroom, locking softly.
Over half an hour later, door opened noiselessly.
Kaoru’s abnormal flush lingered, hair tousled, eyes hazy with indulgence—and deeper void.
He hid the cleaned item back, then slid into bed, curling away from sleeping Aina, eyes closing, heart still racing.
But what gnawed most: days ago, Aina picking him up from the izakaya—her terrifying look at Kawasaki Rika.
Near-feral expression—alien on her face, chilling him.
Worse: the ride home’s eerie silence.
Then, door shut, lights off—on cold entryway floor, Aina lost reason. Brutal force, taking him in dark.
Arms vise-tight, nails digging back; lips branding painful neck marks—like verifying existence, warding unseen fear.
It scared him—not just physically, but her total unraveling, like another person.
Later, casual probes about Rika—still joined in bed. Kaoru felt her lies: subconscious tension, crystal clear to him…