Tokyo Yandere Girlfriend

Chapter 9

How long does it take to change a person?

To Shiratori Seiya, the question was as pointless as "How long does it take to grow up?"

Takahashi Mio was like an eaglet raised among chicks after a series of accidents. Capable of soaring, yet day after day trailing behind a mother hen—until she forgot the gift written in her bones.

She didn't need to change. She only needed direction.

Takahashi Mio. Hojo Shione. Hasegawa Saori. Each carried rare potential; all he had to do was give the tide a push, and their strengths would surface on their own.

Of course, the job was slightly trickier than "how many steps to fit an elephant in a fridge."

First, Shiratori Seiya would lead Takahashi Mio up to a branch ten meters off the ground. Let her see the wide world, let the view sink in. Once she was spellbound—once she yearned—one gentle push and she would spread her wings.

He just had to make sure no deeper feelings took root. An eaglet who grew attached might dive halfway, then circle back to perch on his shoulder forever. Ask her why and she'd answer with perfect sincerity: "I only want to stay by your side and look after you."

Not that he expected that problem with Takahashi Mio...

...

"Could you put those in the back seat, please?"

"Certainly."

After directing the attendant to stow the bags, Seiya and Mio climbed into the car.

At last, a chance to sit.

The soft cushion welcomed her hips. The interior was still warm, yet Mio felt herself relax. She rubbed her aching calves, rolled the stiffness from her neck. Glancing sideways, she saw Seiya behind the wheel—no sign of fatigue, spine almost unnaturally straight. Is this guy made of steel?

She loved shopping; since high school she'd roamed malls with Haruno Reika and the others. It had never felt this exhausting. She remembered her friends' complaints:

"If you ask a boyfriend to come shopping, it's like asking for his life. But suggest a hotel and suddenly he's a wild horse."

"He didn't even spend money—just kept saying he didn't see the point of shopping."

"Jerk had endless energy for games and for—well, other things..."

She couldn't recall what she'd answered back then, but a clear verdict had formed: men hate shopping.

That rule didn't seem to apply to Shiratori Seiya. Was he even human?

She studied his profile. In the mall he'd kept an almost exaggerated distance; the look in his eyes had never crawled over her skin like ants. Faced with a beauty, he remained unmoved. Maybe he really was incapable of desire—ergo, no girlfriend. Unless he was the secretive type.

A string of thoughts flickered past while, unconsciously, she straightened to mirror his posture, sitting prim and proper.

"If you're tired, recline for a bit. Don't force yourself."

Seiya glanced over.

"Ah, I'm fine, not that tired..." Mio blinked, offered a meek smile. "I'm having fun today, so it doesn't feel so bad..."

She was still speaking when Seiya leaned across. Her words died; panic flickered in her eyes, fingers tightening on her lap. What is he doing?

Logically he wouldn't pounce—but he was close enough for her to catch his scent, and her body locked up.

Click.

The seat-back tilted forty-five degrees, easing her into a lounging position.

"Rest," Seiya said, settling back and buckling his seatbelt. "No nap after lunch today. After we eat we're heading to the salon for your hair. Treat the ride as siesta time."

"Thank you..." Mio whispered, clipping her belt, nibbling her lip. A shy sixteen-year-old flickered across her face. "Shiratori-kun, you're kind."

Seiya's hand froze on the gearshift. He turned and stared at her delicate features.

"What?"

His gaze made her skin prickle; she looked away, suddenly guilty.

"You seem to have forgotten how you were when we first met."

...

The smile on Mio's face stiffened.

"I won't treat you any differently if you're gentle or if you're nasty, so please don't force yourself."

...

Being caught acting was unpleasant—especially by someone barely more than a stranger.

Mio's toes curled inside her sneakers; she wanted to vanish between the seat cushions. This jerk—couldn't he speak more delicately?

Still, she kept an awkward smile. "It was a misunderstanding... I'm not usually that bad-tempered..."

Seiya shook his head. "Too sweet."

"You have talent for acting, but not enough polish. You can't yet gauge your own performance accurately."

He added something she didn't quite grasp. "Liking someone doesn't happen that quickly—especially since I'm not the type you'd fall for. And we'll be spending a long time together, Takahashi-san. Are you planning to act every minute?"

...

Mio's smile vanished; her eyes turned complicated, then blank. She hunched her shoulders and lay in silence.

Straight men. So dull.

Still—his car was ridiculously comfortable.

What did his family do for a living? Giving him a car freshman year, spending so freely. Rich kids were annoying. And their parents—handing out cash without teaching basic social skills.

Since Seiya had laid everything bare, she needn't waste effort. She'd planned to provide some emotional value for the money; apparently unnecessary.

Fine by her. Easier.

Mio abandoned the performance, gaze drifting to the ceiling, ready for real rest.

Then a pale-pink sticker floated into view.

Blinking, she arched her back, leaned closer...