“Whoosh…”
Aoyama woke up to the sound of rain.
It was unbelievably loud, as if countless hands were pounding against the rocks at the same time.
When he opened his eyes, he saw that the area outside the shelter had already turned into a gray curtain of water.
The wind carried moisture into the edges of the stone overhang, and the rain was so dense that the trees ten meters away were barely visible.
The campfire had already gone out.
The ashes had been soaked by the splashing rainwater, leaving only a few weak trails of smoke drifting helplessly through the damp air.
Aoyama frowned and quickly sat up to rebuild the fire.
The lighter only produced a flame after two attempts in the humid air.
He carefully piled dry twigs on top, shielding the flame with his hands to keep it from going out.
“…I’m cold.”
Utaha’s voice came from behind him.
It sounded hoarse, carrying an unusual nasal tone.
Aoyama immediately turned around.
She was curled up on the grass bedding, her entire body drawn into a small ball.
Her school uniform jacket was wrapped around her, yet she was still trembling slightly.
Her face was flushed with an unhealthy redness.
Tiny beads of sweat covered her forehead, but her lips looked even paler than yesterday.
“What happened?”
Aoyama quickly put down the firewood and crouched beside her.
He reached out and touched her forehead.
It was burning hot.
“You’re running a fever.”
“…Mm.”
Utaha’s eyelashes trembled.
She barely opened her eyes, revealing those crimson irises that were now unfocused, as if covered by a thin layer of mist.
“I guess…
I don’t feel very well.”
“You caught a chill last night.”
Aoyama touched the back of her shirt.
The fabric was already soaked through with sweat.
After thinking for a moment, he reached out and removed the wet jacket wrapped around her.
“Mm…”
When the wind blew in from outside the stone overhang, her entire body trembled again.
Aoyama quickly made a decision.
In this kind of weather, leaving someone with a high fever in a drafty place would only make their condition worse.
The grass bedding alone could not provide enough warmth.
The only solution was to increase her source of body heat.
Aoyama did not hesitate.
He sat down and lifted Utaha’s upper body, letting her lean against him.
Her back rested against his chest, while the back of her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder.
“Aoyama-kun, you…”
Utaha moved weakly, as if she wanted to say something.
“Don’t move.
Keep your body temperature up.”
Aoyama draped his school jacket over her front to block the cold wind entering from the edge of the shelter.
With his free hand, he pulled the soaked hem of her shirt out from her waistband so the moisture could evaporate faster.
“Aoyama-kun…
I feel awful…”
Utaha’s body stiffened for less than a second before relaxing completely.
She curled closer into his arms like a cat that had found a warm stove, pressing her forehead against his collarbone and her nose against the side of his neck.
Her breathing was rapid and burning hot.
Every breath she exhaled carried heat far above normal body temperature, brushing against his skin.
“Aoyama-kun…”
Her voice was muffled.
“Hm?”
“You’re so warm…”
As she spoke, her arms wrapped around his waist and tightened firmly.
The strength she used was far greater than usual, like a drowning person clinging to driftwood.
Her fingers dug into his sides.
“Is that so?”
Aoyama lowered his head and looked at the black-haired girl buried against his chest.
Her long hair spread messily across him, carrying a faint damp scent mixed with sweat.
With her back pressed tightly against his chest, he could clearly feel her rapid heartbeat.
Even through two layers of thin clothing, it thumped heavily against her chest.
“You’re burning with fever and still have this much strength.”
Aoyama shook his head helplessly and used one hand to add more firewood to the flames.
The fire rose higher again, and the orange-red glow illuminated the two of them, driving away some of the dampness.
Just as he reached for another piece of wood, his eyes accidentally fell on Utaha’s curled fingers.
Her hand had been holding something before, but when she tightened her grip around him, she had let go.
A piece of white fabric slipped from her palm and landed beside her on the grass bedding.
“What is this?”
Aoyama picked it up.
He stared at the white piece of fabric in his hand with a puzzled expression.
It was a pair of white women’s underwear.
The thin cotton material was slightly wrinkled, clearly washed and wrung out by hand.
It still carried a little moisture, but it was almost dry.
There were no decorations on it.
It was completely clean.
“…”
Aoyama fell silent for a second.
He looked at the white fabric in his hand, then lowered his gaze to Utaha, who was still tightly hugging him with her feverish body.
Because of her curled-up position, her skirt had ridden up slightly, revealing her pale thighs.
When the wind entered from below, the skirt fabric fluttered gently against the curve of her legs.
“I see.”
No wonder her walking had looked strange after bathing yesterday.
No wonder she had kept her head lowered and avoided looking at him.
She had spent the entire night going commando, and then slept in damp clothes while getting chilled by the cold.
It would have been strange if she had not gotten sick.
“And with weather like this…”
Aoyama calmly folded the underwear and placed it beside him for now.
He did not say anything.
There was no way he could say anything in this situation.
Aoyama took out the thermos, opened the lid, and placed it near the fire so the water inside could slowly warm up.
The flames licked against the metal surface.
After around five or six minutes, steam began rising from the container.
Aoyama removed the thermos and tested the temperature.
“Should be warm enough.”
He then picked up the white underwear again and spread it out.
Although the fabric was thin, it absorbed water well and had a suitable thickness.
He folded it neatly several times until it became a long strip of cloth, then carefully poured the warm water from the thermos over it, allowing the fabric to absorb the heat.
A simple warm compress was made.
Aoyama gently unfolded the heated cloth and placed it against Utaha’s forehead.
The warmth passed through the fabric.
He carefully adjusted the edges, making sure the cloth covered her forehead and temples properly.
“Mm…”
Utaha frowned slightly.
She seemed to notice the warmth on her forehead, and her eyelids struggled open a little.
Her vision remained blurry for a while before finally focusing on the face so close to hers.
Aoyama’s chin was less than ten centimeters above her forehead.
His sharp jawline was clearly visible, a few strands of hair falling over his brows, while his dark eyes reflected the dancing firelight.
Then her gaze moved downward.
She saw what Aoyama was holding in his hand.
That white fabric.
That familiar shape.
The very thing she had gritted her teeth and washed with cold water last night, rubbing it clean and desperately wringing it dry before hiding it in her palm and bringing it back.
“…”
Utaha’s pupils shrank.
Even through the haze of her fever, she instantly recognized what it was.
Her cheeks were already flushed from the fever, but now the redness spread from her ears all the way down to her neck.
Even her collarbones seemed to carry a faint pink tint.
” Aoyama…
Aoyama-kun…”
Her voice was unbearably hoarse, carrying a trace of someone on the verge of complete collapse.
“That thing in your hand…”
“What…
is it?”*