159 - Story About Buying My Classmate Once A Week

Chapter 159 "This is karma, you know. You keep doing weird things." With an unusually somber Sendai-san lying down in bed, I place a cool towel on her forehead. "Miyagi, that's mean." "You did take your medicine, right?" "I did." Her voice, emerging from her horizontal position, is hoarse. Several days have passed since the rainy night, but Sendai-san's temperature is still over 38 degrees Celsius. She looked unwell from the morning. Though she didn't cough, she mentioned a sore throat and her complexion seemed slightly off. Even so, she insisted she was fine and went off to university, only to be found resting weakly in her room when I returned home. Now, she's on the bed looking far from healthy—not as extreme as a zombie, but not a picture of wellness either. I'm not a doctor, so I can't diagnose with certainty, but it seems like just a cold. "Was it really hot enough to turn on the air conditioner last night?" I inquire to Sendai-san, who remains mostly still with her eyes shut. "I think so." "Even if it was, you should've turned it off before sleeping." "I regret it." With a feeble voice, she acknowledges her mistake of sleeping with the air conditioner on. I know she gets warm easily, but last night wasn't so hot as to warrant leaving it on. Even with July approaching, the nights aren't yet that warm. "Let me make this clear: I'm no good at making porridge or things like that." I'm sure she knows I'm not much help in these situations, but just to be sure, I spell it out. Since starting to live with Sendai-san, I've done some basic cooking, but not the kind you make for sick people. Given how poorly she's feeling, I lament that she didn't call me for help. If I'd known her cold was this bad, I would've picked something up on the way back. "Don't bother. I'd rather not risk you burning yourself or scorching a pot by trying." That comment irritates me. Ordinarily, I might indeed burn myself or char a pot attempting to make porridge, but hearing it from Sendai-san gets under my skin. "I've no appetite. Truly, don't do anything." "I'll pick up something like yogurt or instant porridge then, okay?" Cooking may not be my forte, but I can at least handle shopping. I'll also get some cooling patches to replace the towel on her forehead. There's not much I can do, but I can't just leave a sick person unattended. Without food, her condition will only deteriorate further. "I don't need anything." "If there's something you'd like, just tell me. I'll go get it." "There's nothing. Just stay here for a while longer." She opens her tired eyes and murmurs, before quickly retracting with, "Sorry, forget I said that." "Why should I?" "I don't want my cold spreading to you. You should head back to your room." Her voice is clear now, and she insists I leave. Certainly, staying in the same room likely increases my chances of catching her cold. But I've aired out the room already. Leaving now, I have nothing particularly pressing to do. Dinner could easily be sorted with instant or cup noodles. "I'm not busy, so I'll stay a bit longer. I'll shop later." Rather than worrying about her alone in my room, I'd prefer staying by her side. "Go back. You'll catch my cold." "I'm not one to catch colds easily. I'll stay until you sleep." "…Are you saying you’re worried about me?" "Obviously, if you're that sick, of course I'd be concerned." "Miyagi, you're being unsettlingly kind." She looks at me with an unexpected allegation. "Just sleep already." I pat the edge of her blanket, prompting her to shut her eyes. "When I fall asleep, you can go back to your room." "Alright." After responding, the room falls silent, and I flip the towel on her forehead. I visited Sendai-san at home once when she caught a cold back in high school, and she was more lively than she is now. Today, I can tell without touching that her temperature is notably high. Though it's not as hectic as after a workout, her breathing is also erratic. She's so weak right now that even if I tried something, she likely couldn't resist. In this state, she's unlikely to attempt any antics, so there's no need to swear on any earrings—she'll behave. I sit with my back against the bed. I said I'd stay because I'm free, but once she's asleep, there's nothing to do. I pick up a fashion magazine left on the floor, idly turning pages without really seeing them, when I notice her labored "hmm" mingling through her peaceful snores and breathy sighs. Curious, I glance at Sendai-san on the bed to find the towel slipped off her forehead. I should definitely get some cooling patches. "…Are you okay?" Without intent to wake her, I place the towel on the table and softly ask. I didn't expect a reply, but I hear mumbled sounds too muffled to decipher. It seems her sleep is shallow. If I keep talking, perhaps she might dream of me. "Sendai-san." I whisper softly by her ear. A noncommittal sound that could be either a "hmm" or an "uh" answers back. "Sendai-san." "…Hmm." She responds again. It might not be right to wake the sick, but her regular replies encourage me to keep calling. It feels a bit heartless, but this quiet Sendai-san is rare and endearing. And still... Though it may seem inappropriate, there's something undeniably appealing in the resemblance of distress to pleasure in a person’s voice. With her uneven breaths, I'm led into contemplating such reflections unnecessarily. Perhaps it's the setting. Being here in this room makes it seem less strange to ponder what her distressed sounds might actually sound like, spurred by the notion that I've wondered what kind of voice she'd make. It's unbecoming of me, I know, but it can't be helped. Normally, I'd consider myself decent. However, lately, after that Sunday, a new course of thoughts has emerged within me. Sendai-san naturally occupied my mind before, but this perplexing mental pathway has made her even harder to dismiss, which is vexing. Yet, it's not worth waking her to lodge complaints over it. She's ill, after all. "I'm heading back to my room." Assuming she might hear it without grasping its significance, I announce softly as I stand. Staying would only lead me to glower over more inappropriate musings. Going shopping could be a chance to clear my head. "…Where are you going?" As my hand touches the doorknob, a voice reaches me from behind. Turning back, I find Sendai-san watching me. "Shopping. I'll be right back." Despite responding in her sleep earlier, she now stays silent. "Say something." "Be safe." Sendai-san whispers quietly, shutting her eyes again. I walk over beside her and sit on the bed. "Miyagi, you'll catch my cold. Just go already." "I'll go back to my room once you fall asleep, remember?" "I was asleep just a moment ago." "But you're awake now." "Well, don't blame me if you catch my cold." With a tone of exasperation, Sendai-san closes her eyes. As I pull away the bangs stuck to her forehead with sweat, her hand brushes mine away in irritation. "If I catch it, you'll have to take care of me." Repositioning myself on the floor, I call out to her on the bed. A brief "Okay" is her answer as her hand softly strokes my hair. I could push her hand away, but she's still feverish. I can't be cruel to someone who's sick, so I leave her hand where it is, tracing gently through my hair. I'll stay in the room until that hand comes to a rest.