The rain did not stop.
By evening, the sky had completely darkened, and the world outside the shelter had turned into a gray-black mass.
All that could be heard was the overwhelming sound of rain and the occasional muffled boom of thunder.
Aoyama added several thick logs to the fire.
The flames lit up the entire shelter, dispelling the damp chill that had intensified after nightfall.
Kasumigaoka Utaha was still leaning against his chest.
Her body temperature hadn’t dropped much, but at least it wasn’t rising anymore.
Her breathing was a bit steadier than it had been during the day, and she occasionally nuzzled against his chest like a small animal.
“Her fever’s gone down a bit.” Aoyama looked down at her.
Her eyelashes cast a small shadow in the firelight, and her lips were slightly parted, her breath heavy with nasal congestion.
The white “towel” on her forehead had been dried out by her body heat.
He took it off, soaked it in hot water again, and placed it back on her brow.
“Mm…” Kasumigaoka Utaha wrinkled her nose, seemingly disturbed from her slumber.
She mumbled incoherently, “…Don’t move…” “I’m changing it to a fresh, hot one for you.” “…Mm.” She murmured a drowsy response, then buried her face back into his chest.
Aoyama pressed the freshly heated cloth against her forehead, his fingers accidentally brushing her brow.
Her skin was still burning hot, but the temperature had noticeably subsided compared to a few hours ago.
The night grew deep.
The rain showed no sign of letting up.
In her sleep, Kasumigaoka Utaha turned over.
Her position, which had been leaning against Aoyama’s chest, shifted to facing him directly.
Her arms remained wrapped around his waist, her face now pressed just below his collarbone.
Her chest was pressed firmly against his, the soft, high curves compressed and distorted, their warmth transmitted through two thin layers of fabric.
With every breath she took, she rose and fell slightly.
“…” Aoyama froze.
He could feel her warm breath on his Adam’s apple, carrying a slight fever and a hint of sweet fragrance.
As her knees curled up, they pressed against the outer side of his thigh, and her school skirt, bunched up from her tossing and turning in her sleep, offered a tantalizing glimpse of her legs.
“This…” Aoyama took a deep breath and turned his gaze toward the campfire.
His body’s reaction was so honest it left him feeling a bit helpless.
The sensation of being enveloped in softness was too vivid, and his rational mind was at odds with his restless body.
Just then, Kasumigaoka Utaha’s eyelashes fluttered, and her eyes slowly opened a sliver.
Her red pupils glinted in the firelight before hazing over again.
She tilted her head up slightly, looking at Aoyama, who was just inches away.
With less than a fist’s distance between their faces, she could see the slight tension at the corners of his mouth.
“Aoyama-kun…” Her voice was hoarse and syrupy.
“You’re still awake…” “It’s fine.
I’ll go to sleep in a bit,” Aoyama said, his voice dropping an octave.
“…Thank you for your hard work.” Her lips moved as she tried to smile, but the expression faltered halfway and vanished.
“I dreamed…
I was in a very cold place, shivering all the time…
Then someone hugged me, and it was so warm…” “That person was me.” “…Mm, I know.” She blinked, her gaze sweeping over his face before settling on his eyes.
“Aoyama-kun, your heart is beating so fast.” “…” “I’m pressed right against your chest.
I can hear it so clearly.” Kasumigaoka Utaha’s voice remained hoarse, but a hint of her usual languid playfulness returned to her tone.
“Thump-thump, thump-thump…
It’s beating faster than the rabbit I kept as a child.” “The fever must be making you delirious,” he countered.
“It’s not,” she replied, shaking her head.
Her hair brushed against his collarbone, sending a fine shiver of ticklishness through him.
“I feel terrible, but I’m still conscious.” As she spoke, her gaze dropped an inch.
Through the thin fabric of his school uniform, she could clearly feel the hard ridge pressing against her lower abdomen.
“Aoyama-kun, it hasn’t gone down at all since this afternoon, has it?” Kasumigaoka Utaha’s ears were flushed crimson, yet she didn’t look away.
Instead, she asked with a hint of probing curiosity, “Aoyama-kun, don’t you get tired?” “What?” Aoyama’s brow furrowed slightly.
“I mean…
that.” “It’s been like that the whole time…
Don’t you get tired?” Her gaze drifted down for a moment before she quickly pulled it back.
Aoyama took a deep breath.
If Kasumigaoka Utaha weren’t sick right now, he would definitely show her the meaning of the word cruel.
“Kasumigaoka-san, you have a very high fever.” “Are you sure you’re saying that while conscious?” “I’m perfectly conscious.” A smile touched the corners of Kasumigaoka Utaha’s lips.
Though burning with fever, her expression still held that signature, maddeningly composed air.
She even deliberately nudged herself forward slightly, closing the gap between them more firmly.
“…” Aoyama’s breath hitched.
The softness of her body through two layers of fabric and the subtle pressure against him nearly snapped the last string of his reason.
“Kasumigaoka Utaha.” “Yes?” Her tone carried the lightheartedness of someone who had just pulled off a successful prank.
“Move one more inch, and don’t expect to sleep tonight.” “I can’t sleep as it is,” she replied, blinking.
The flickering light reflected in her crimson eyes.
“This fever is just too much.
Even with my eyes closed, I can’t fall asleep.” “It’s better to just chat with you, Aoyama-kun, and distract myself.” Aoyama fell silent for two seconds before asking, “What do you want to talk about?” “Anything.” Kasumigaoka Utaha rested her chin in the hollow of his shoulder, adjusting to a more comfortable position.
“For example…
has Aoyama-kun ever dated anyone before?” “No.” “Just as I thought.” Her tone held the certainty of an ‘I knew it.’ “Then do you have anyone you like?” “No.” “Then…
how do you feel about me?” Aoyama looked down at her.
She was tilting her head back, her crimson eyes glistening.
Though they were clouded with the fever’s haze, the earnestness within them was real.
As she asked the question, her lips still held that composed curve, but her fingers tightened slightly on the hem of his shirt.
“Get your fever down first,” Aoyama said, “then ask me that.” “You’re dodging the question.” “I’m making sure you won’t say things you’ll regret while you’re delirious.” Kasumigaoka Utaha let out a soft huff, as if about to argue, but then seemed to concede that he had a point.
She buried her face again, pressing her forehead against the side of his neck, her warm breath fanning over his pulse.
“Fine.
You’ll answer me once my fever breaks.” “…” Aoyama took a deep breath.
He decided that when the time came, he would give her a thorough answer.
Otherwise, his restraint would have been completely in vain.
“And another thing.” Her voice was muffled by his clothes, so low it was nearly drowned out by the rain.
“Are you planning to hold me like this all night?” “Are you tired?” Aoyama admitted honestly, “Yes.” “But I have no choice.” Kasumigaoka Utaha fell silent for a moment.
Then her fingers shifted, releasing the hem of his shirt to flatten her palm against his waist.
The warmth of her hand seeped through his clothes, like a small heat patch.
“Thank you, Aoyama-kun.” Her voice was so soft it was almost lost to the rain.
But Aoyama heard her clearly.
He didn’t speak, only tightened his arms slightly, holding her more securely.
Silence returned to the shelter, leaving only the sound of the rain, the wind, and their mingled breaths.