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594 — Bad at Riding? Let Me Teach You.
🕑 Added 2025-10-16 17:40:31 +0000 UTCOn one side, while Ran Haitani was subtly scheming.
Kisaki Tetta wore his trademark smile as he swooped in to “borrow” the young ladies’ family resources.
All, of course, in the name of supporting his boss’s grand ambitions.
Meanwhile, Kyousuke was just about to tell the driver to prepare the car when Miyamizu Mitsuha suddenly tugged at his sleeve.
“I have a car too!”
The miko said playfully, grabbing his hand.
Her black ponytail drew a graceful arc through the air as she turned.
Well, that was that.
Kyousuke could only wave the driver off before being pulled away by the girl.
The two of them sat side by side beneath the wooden eaves, slipping on their shoes. Hojou Kyousuke casually reached over and held Mitsuha’s small foot in his hand.
“Hey, what are you doing? It’s dirty!”
The shrine maiden gave a soft yelp, trying to pull her foot back, but his grip was firm.
“Yeah, it is kinda dirty.”
He chuckled, holding her ankle with one hand and patting the sole of her foot lightly with the other. Then, with a faint puff of breath, he blew away the dust clinging to it.
“Ah—!”
The warm air tickled her delicate skin, sending a shiver up from her sole all the way to her thighs.
“People… people are watching…”
Mitsuha whispered in embarrassment, her head bowed.
She might be able to perform a sacred kagura dance or even make ceremonial sake in front of the entire town, but being openly affectionate with her boyfriend was another story.
Well—unless it was Utaha.
If only she had filmed this, she’d totally send it to her with a smug grin!
“Don’t worry. No one would dare turn around and look,” Kyousuke said offhandedly, as he reached for her other foot.
Her toes were round and pink like tiny pearls, her soles soft and smooth — the epitome of feminine grace.
If this weren’t in public, he might’ve been tempted to clean them a little more thoroughly.
Of course not with his tongue — he wasn’t that shameless.
Just… maybe wiping each grain of dust off carefully, one by one.
Given how often Mitsuha practiced both swordsmanship and kagura dance, you’d expect calluses, but her feet were flawless.
Having once used her body himself, Kyousuke knew that the Miyamizu family had its own line of herbal bath formulas — soothing fatigue while keeping skin soft and radiant.
‘Miyamizu family traditions sure are amazing.’
Even though Kyousuke had said no one would look, Mitsuha couldn’t help herself.
She turned her head cautiously, glancing back—
‘Fwoosh!’
She immediately snapped forward again.
“S-So scary…”
The instant she looked back, two fierce pairs of eyes were glaring daggers at her.
———————————————————————
“Kisaki, aside from our Osaka branch, you can temporarily use the Himeno family’s connections in Hokkaido!”
Himeno Seiko’s voice was full of forced calm but laced with jealousy.
Though she was talking to Kisaki Tetta, her eyes never left the couple sitting by the veranda.
“Ah, then I’ll gladly accept. On behalf of Hojou-kun, I thank you, Himeno-san. I’m sure he’ll thank you personally later.”
Kisaki’s grin widened, reading her reaction like an open book.
The Himeno family might’ve shifted its focus to Tokyo, but their roots were in Hokkaido — a noble family known since the pioneer days.
He’d been aiming for those Hokkaido connections all along, but you can’t just say that outright. It was much better to make her offer it herself.
“As long as it helps Hojou-kun,” Seiko said through gritted teeth.
She wasn’t planning on leaving this training camp either — she’d stay and prove her dedication!
‘Perfect.’ Kisaki smirked inwardly. ‘Using the boss as bait really does reel in even the rarest birds.’
———————————————————————
Back at the veranda, Kyousuke had finished cleaning Mitsuha’s right foot.
Just as she was wondering whether to return the favor, she noticed him pick up her left foot again.
“Didn’t you already clean that one?” she asked softly.
“Huh? Did I?”
He looked genuinely puzzled, then smiled.
“Oh, it got brushed by the spring breeze again. I’ll chase it away for you — Mitsuha doesn’t need spring breezes when I’m right here.”
“Hehe, don’t be silly~”
Her big black eyes curved into crescent moons as she laughed, her round cheeks puffing up adorably.
“Didn’t you tell Yukino once that you love the smell of spring wind brushing through the trees?”
“Yeah, but Mitsuha’s nose isn’t as sharp as mine. I wouldn’t want it to get in the way of you smelling me instead.”
“No way!”
She wrinkled her nose and bumped her forehead lightly against his shoulder before leaning closer to take a few quick sniffs.
“Mhm! You smell like me today. Same body wash, right? Hehehe~”
She giggled to herself, pleased by the discovery.
By the time she looked down again, Kyousuke had already put on his shoes.
“So, Lady High Priestess,” he teased, “planning to stroll around town barefoot?”
“Eh? You weren’t going to help me put them on?”
“I like you better without them.”
“Hmph!”
Mitsuha pouted but slipped on her sneakers — blue canvas shoes that matched her sporty outfit perfectly.
“Let’s go.”
Her “car” was easy to spot: among a row of vintage vehicles stood a single white scooter.
She walked over, took her helmet from the side, and pulled another slightly larger one from the storage box, handing it to Kyousuke.
He put on the helmet and waited, expecting her to hop on behind him like last time with Celty’s bike.
But after a few seconds, he turned — only to find Mitsuha still standing there, staring back at him.
Under the full-face helmet, her delicate face looked even smaller and cuter — almost dangerously so.
“Alright…”
Kyousuke shrugged and accepted the scooter key from her hand.
Clearly, Mitsuha wanted to take the lead today too.
He swung a leg over and started the engine.
“Hop on!”
He motioned for her, expecting her to wrap her arms around his waist — but instead, she burst into laughter.
“Pfft—hahaha!”
The shrine maiden doubled over, hiding her laughter in her sleeves.
“Kyousuke, you look like… like a big grizzly bear! No wait, more like one of those secret agents in a comedy movie!”
She gasped for air between giggles.
Kyousuke looked down at himself and instantly understood.
He’d been planning to visit his publisher earlier, so he was dressed in a sharp, custom-tailored suit.
Naoka’s masterpiece, tailored to fit his tall, athletic frame perfectly.
Normally, stepping out of a luxury car in that suit would make him look every inch the powerful young executive.
But riding a tiny white scooter? Yeah — it was giving “mob boss commuting to work on a student’s bike.”
Still, with his good looks, the scene somehow transformed into something out of an action-comedy movie.
A dashing assassin commandeering a middle-schooler’s scooter during a chase, tossing them a coin and saying, “Keep the change.”
“Alright, alright, get on already,” he sighed. “A personal driver and a scooter? Even city council members would be jealous of this treatment.”
Kyousuke smirked faintly, not at all embarrassed.
In Japan, you rarely saw a salaryman riding a scooter or motorcycle to work.
For one thing, there was nowhere convenient to park; for another, riding while wearing a suit wasn’t exactly considered “elegant.”
And that alone was enough to keep most office workers far away from two-wheelers.
So in Tokyo, anyone riding a motorbike was either a student with too much time or someone rich enough not to care what others thought.
“Coming, coming~!”
Mitsuha skipped over with an excited little run, her long legs swinging gracefully as she hopped on behind Kyousuke.
Without hesitation, her small hands slipped under his suit jacket and wrapped snugly around his abs through his dress shirt.
“All ready~,” the girl chirped.
Kyousuke revved the scooter—then suddenly slammed the brakes.
Ahh… that familiar jolt.
He closed his eyes in bliss, all his focus drawn to the sensation behind him—two soft, bouncy “pillows” pressing against his back.
Whether it was inertia or just his imagination, her body was practically melting into his.
“Ah—!” Mitsuha let out a startled yelp, a beat too late.
“Sorry,” Kyousuke said, a grin tugging at his lips. “Guess I’m not used to your bike yet.”
“Is that so?” Mitsuha tilted her head, suspicion coloring her voice, though his dark visor revealed nothing.
“Of course,” he said firmly. “Never ridden this one before.”
“Fine…”
The little scooter started again, rolling smoothly over the gravel to the front gate of the dojo.
Screech—!
Another hard stop.
That same blissful compression came again.
Kyousuke closed his eyes, a peaceful smile spreading across his face.
Ah, that springy, youthful elasticity—perfection you could feel without ever moving your hands.
“Ahh~” Mitsuha gasped again, her face flushing red at the sudden press against her chest.
“No matter when you go out, always pay attention to traffic. Safety first!” Kyousuke said, sounding like a model citizen.
“O-okay… I’ll remember…”
“Good girl~.”
The scooter started again, but before they even cleared the gate—screech! Another abrupt stop.
Kyousuke’s smile deepened beneath the helmet.
“That’s the police box ahead. I should double-check that I’ve got my helmet on properly and my license with me.”
Then another stop at the next intersection.
“Even if there’s no one around,” he continued in his mock-serious tone, “always slow down at a deserted crossing. Remember, unsafe driving can—”
“Pull over. Now.” Mitsuha’s voice cut through, dangerously calm.
“…Okay,” he muttered, sulking.
“Get off.”
“…Okay.”
They switched positions.
Mitsuha took the handlebars while Kyousuke climbed on behind her—instantly zipping up her windbreaker and slipping his hands under it to wrap around her waist.
“Ky–Kyousuke!” she gasped, her voice trembling slightly.
“I’m ready!” he announced.
“Close the zipper!”
“No, my hands are cold!”
“And my stomach isn’t?!”
“Don’t worry,” he said proudly. “I’ll keep Mitsuha’s tummy safe and warm. Look—my hands fit perfectly!”
“You idiot! Be serious for once!”
“Mitsuha, you’re the one who needs to be serious! Don’t underestimate riding! Focus everything on controlling the bike!
Your belly’s my responsibility now! You just concentrate on driving—our lives are literally in your hands!”
Even though she knew him better than anyone—Mitsuha was still stunned by how shameless he could be.
“…And what’s in your hands, then?” she muttered after a pause.
“Our future kids,” he replied without hesitation.
It took three seconds for the innocent shrine maiden to realize what he meant—and when she did, her cheeks turned scarlet.
They bickered and teased a little longer until a passing officer gave them a weird look, prompting them to apologize and drive off quickly.
The white scooter—cute and compact—was a favorite among women for a reason.
But now, with Kyousuke sitting behind her, slightly hunched, arms wrapped around her slim waist, Mitsuha looked less like a driver and more like someone being kidnapped.
The contrast was absurdly charming.
A few strands of her hair fluttered from under her helmet, brushing across Kyousuke’s face—soft, ticklish, and fragrant, like the spring breeze itself.
Early spring was fading.
Fewer people wore masks now that Japan’s dreaded pollen season was ending.
Many foreigners thought “hay fever” came from cherry blossoms—but no, if that were true, the Japanese would’ve chopped down every cherry tree in the country long ago.
The real culprit was cedar pollen—from the vast artificial forests planted decades ago, which now blanketed cities each year in pale yellow “pollen clouds.”
For someone with Kyousuke’s sharp senses, it was torture—but his well-trained body could handle anything.
Now, under the gentle sunlight, the streets gleamed clean and new.
The asphalt shimmered faintly, and the roadside trees seemed brushed with a translucent glow.
Kyousuke tightened his arms slightly around Mitsuha’s waist, the faint scent of white plum blossoms filling his lungs.
At first, Mitsuha stayed tense, ready to swat him the moment his hands wandered.
But to her surprise, he really did just hold her quietly—no tricks, no teasing.
Gradually, she relaxed. His warmth at her stomach felt like a seatbelt, comforting and safe.
Her grip on the throttle loosened, her speed picking up little by little.
‘This feels… nice.’
The girl smiled faintly, eyes half-closed, leaning back ever so slightly into him as the breeze kissed her cheeks.
Riding her favorite scooter, carrying the boy she loved, cruising down a sunlit road—it was bliss.
“Hey, Kyousuke,” she said softly. “Next week, let’s go biking by the river.”
“Mm.”
He didn’t say much—but that single sound carried a smile.
