Chapter 15: Manga

♧♧♧

Among the bonds of friendship, those formed by working together toward a single goal are especially strong.

That’s what the notebook claimed.

Indeed, in clubs or other activities, aiming for nationals as a team or staying late to practice for a choir competition creates a special bond among peers.

And this time, the notebook’s suggestion for building that bond was—

Writing and drawing a manga.

One person writes the script and creates the story, while the other draws the art to complete the manga.

Striving passionately for a hit manga, sometimes fighting, and surviving the grueling weekly serialization process would make the two’s bond unique and unbreakable. That’s what the notebook asserted.

“Let’s do this one!”

Miyamae opened a weekly shonen magazine to show me. That page listed the details for a manga newcomer award.

Yes, this friendship game was about creating a manga together and submitting it for a debut award.

“Kirishima, you draw. I’ll make the story.”

“I can’t draw or anything.”

“You can do it, Kirishima. You’re wearing a beret and holding a G-pen, right?”

“True. I’m starting to feel like I can.”

“Then let’s do it!”

We immediately started planning the manga in Miyamae’s room. The friendship game’s rule was to create a submission draft in one night. It sounded absurd, but the notebook claimed that the tighter the deadline, the stronger the bond.

“We’re going with the effort, friendship, victory concept, right?”

“Of course.”

We discussed back and forth, eventually outlining a rough story. It’s about close-knit boys defeating criminals terrorizing their town. Since it’s a one-shot, we decided simpler was better.

Just figuring that out took us two hours.

It was evening when we got back from the festival, so it was already pitch dark outside, and we were hungry.

“We’re short on time, so let’s do cup noodles.”

“Yeah.”

We went to a convenience store to buy cup noodles.

“Might be an all-nighter, so let’s grab some snacks too.”

“This is so exciting~! Snacks too! Snacks!”

Back in the room, we boiled water, ate the noodles, and nibbled on chocolate while starting character designs. This was my time to shine.

I poured my heart into drawing the characters and showed them to Miyamae.

“Stick figures……”

“No, this is just a rough draft! The final will be way better! Probably!”

After settling on the story and characters, we started on the storyboard. The storyboard is the manga’s rough draft. At this stage, Miyamae, the scriptwriter, didn’t have much to do. But from beside me, she suggested making certain panels bigger or rearranging pages for clarity.

Since it’s our manga, we naturally grew attached to it.

“It’s kinda turning out great, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I’m feeling like we could debut.”

“If we get serialized, it’ll be tough, huh? What about university?”

“Take a leave, and if we can make it as manga artists, maybe drop out.”

“Pen name? I want one that’s shared between us.”

“We’ll need to think about signatures too~”

“Let’s practice our signatures.”

We even thought about movie adaptation casts and our comments as creators on opening day. Miyamae looked up apartments in Tokyo. Before we knew it, it was midnight.

“Miyamae, trouble! It’s past midnight!”

“Oh no! If we can’t meet deadlines, we’ll never handle weekly serialization!”

We hurried back to the draft.

I ran the pen across the paper.

Sitting on a floor chair, I drew on white paper on the table. Miyamae peered over with a serious face.

We kept drawing the manga, bouncing ideas off each other. It was fun, a bit tough, but the feeling of working together was a new experience.

The night grew late.

The sound of the second hand ticking time away.

Fatigue piled up, but since we were both tired, a strange sense of camaraderie formed.

The Friendship Notebook—maybe last time we just messed it up. It’s actually really sincere, like it’s got an IQ of 180 or something. But—

Things shifted when I was inking the opening scene where the protagonist boys are hanging out at school.

I was trying to depict them playing classic games like “look over there” or thumb wrestling, but as a first-time manga artist, it wasn’t going well.

“The stick figures are turning into mosquito larvae……”

“It’s hard, okay?”

“The notebook says to value realism when drawing manga. Why don’t we try it for real?”

Miyamae suggested, so we played “look over there.” She lost, so I flicked her forehead.

“Ouch!”

Miyamae held her forehead.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

For some reason, Miyamae’s cheeks flushed after I flicked her.

“Next is the thumb wrestling scene.”

She lost again, so I rolled up her knit sleeve, exposing her white arm, and gave it a light slap.

A playful smack.

Miyamae’s cheeks reddened again, and she stared at her slapped arm. Was it my imagination, or did she look a bit happy?

“O-Okay, let’s draw.”

I turned back to the draft. But—

“Let’s stop.”

“Huh?”

“Change that scene to arm wrestling.”

“Fine, I guess……”

“Let’s do arm wrestling then. Realism matters, right?”

“S-Sure.”

We faced each other, gripping hands. Miyamae’s cheeks flushed again.

“Kirishima, your hands are kinda big. Strong too……”

After that, Miyamae kept demanding scene changes. Arm wrestling became sumo play, then pro-wrestling play. It was clearly for physical contact. During sumo, she hugged me gently instead of grappling, and in wrestling, she looked a bit pleased despite acting pained under me. And finally—

“Let’s change it again……”

Miyamae said shyly.

“……To strip rock-paper-scissors.”

“That’s a spicy one!”

Strip rock-paper-scissors is a game where the loser removes one piece of clothing per round.

“I-It’s not spicy!”

Miyamae protested, her face bright red.

“It’s just a scene of boys playing at school, totally normal!”

“But we’re gonna reenact it, right?”

“Realism matters……”

“No, this scene just needs to show they’re buddies. ‘Look over there,’ arm wrestling—anything works.”

“Shut up, shut up! The artist just listens to the writer!”

“Ugh, you’re a bad writer! A bad writer!”

“I’m going rock, okay? Rock, paper—”

Miyamae rushed into rock-paper-scissors. Since she said rock, I reflexively played paper.

“W-Well, if I lose, no choice……”

Miyamae, being shy, hesitated while grabbing her knit’s hem.

“You don’t have to force it.”

“No, it’s a penalty. I’ll do it properly.”

She took off her knit top. Miyamae twisted her body, embarrassed. But—

“Let’s keep going. I’ll do rock again.”

Maybe the late-night vibe and the strain of making a manga fried our brains. I played paper again.

“Lost again……”

Miyamae reached for her skirt’s clasp.

“Rock again.”

I played paper. She took off her tights. It kept going. Eventually, Miyamae was down to a camisole and underwear. Pale skin, long, alluring legs.

Exposed to my gaze, Miyamae squirmed. Turning away only showed me her backside, and trying to cover herself didn’t work, leaving her with a perpetually humiliated expression. Her underwear had very little fabric.

I want to see more of her embarrassed. A strange impulse welled up. Of course, I suppressed it.

“……Let’s get back to the draft.”

“……Yeah.”

I sat at the floor chair to draw the strip rock-paper-scissors scene. That’s when—

“H-Hey.”

Still in her camisole and underwear, Miyamae snuggled up beside me.

“Put some clothes on.”

“It’s hot in here, so I’ll stay like this for a bit.”

She shrank shyly but lightly pressed her smooth skin against me. Her beautiful face was close, and if I looked down, I saw her cleavage and white thighs.

“Miyamae, that’s not okay.”

“Why not?”

“We’re friends.”

“Exactly. Friends don’t do that kind of thing, right?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Right. If you started feeling that way, Kirishima, it wouldn’t be friendship anymore. It’d be like we’re lovers.”

“Isn’t your logic jumping?”

“No, think about it. We’re gonna be friends forever, right? If you start feeling that way, we’d end up in that kind of relationship someday. Or are you already feeling that way, Kirishima?”

“No, I’m not…… We’re friends.”

“Then it’s fine, right? We’re just making a manga.”

Miyamae said, scooting even closer. Her silky hair brushed my kimono. She smelled nice.

Fine. If that’s her game, I’ll take the challenge.

“You’re right, Miyamae. We’re friends, so I won’t feel that way. This stuff doesn’t faze me at all.”

I focused on the draft, determined to make her give up. I kept drawing, ignoring everything else.

Miyamae looked frustrated.

As the night wore on—

“I want to tweak the climax.”

Miyamae said.

The climax is where the boys defeat the criminals lurking in town, using the sumo and wrestling moves from the opening scene.

“How do you want to change it?”

She’s probably scheming something silly, but I’ll endure it. With that thought, I listened.

“Defeating the villain means a finishing move, right?”

“Yeah. They beat the villain with games they play as friends, tying into the friendship theme. Even a forehead flick or a slap could work.”

“I remember a game the boys played in elementary school. They laughed like crazy, it seemed powerful, and I think it’d be perfect for a finishing move.”

“What game?”

I had a bad feeling but asked anyway.

Miyamae, ears red with embarrassment, said,

“You knock the other person to the floor, grab their legs…… put your foot between their legs…… and shake it……”

“That’s a wild one, Miyamae. That’s—”

A legendary game allowed only to kids, full of shame and pleasure.

And a pinch of fear—

“Electric massage, isn’t it……”

♧♧♧

“T-This is embarrassing.”

Miyamae said, turning her face away. But—

“I’m the one embarrassed! Definitely!”

Right now, I’m lying on my back on the floor, legs spread. Miyamae, standing, is holding my ankles.

Things you didn’t mind as a kid can be embarrassing as an adult. This position is one of them. It feels utterly humiliating.

“Do it! Finish me quick!”

There’s no way I’d make Miyamae endure an electric massage. That’s why I took the receiving end, but it’s way more awkward than I expected, and I’m mortified.

I just wanted it over with as fast as possible.

“B-But……”

Miyamae hesitated.

“Think back to the back of the elementary classroom! Everyone was brainless, irrational, and empty-headed, right?”

“B-But~!”

“Hurry up and do it! Empty your mind!”

And free me from this embarrassing position already.

“O-Okay.”

Miyamae gently placed the sole of her foot between my legs. And then—

Rub, rub, rub, rub.

“Oiiiiiii~!!”

Still in this baby-getting-diaper-changed pose, I interjected.

“What’s with the ‘rub rub’!? It’s supposed to be ‘dodododo,’ right? ‘Rub rub’ creates a weird vibe!”

“B-But~!”

Miyamae said, her eyes spinning.

“I don’t know if it’s okay to go too hard~!”

“Alright, then let’s stop!”

“N-No way!”

It’s for the manga’s realism, Miyamae said. She’s serious in the weirdest ways.

“I-I’ll do it. I’ll do it properly. But let me set the pace. Kirishima, just be quiet!”

Since Miyamae insisted so strongly, I patiently waited for her to channel an elementary school boy’s mentality.

“Kirishima, does it hurt?”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

As expected, Miyamae wasn’t used to electric massages, so her touch was super soft.

I felt the softness of her sole.

Late at night, in a room with just the two of us, I was slowly, gently pressed and stepped on with her foot.

“Kirishima…… I’m…… starting to feel weird……”

“You can’t feel weird…… We’re doing this for manga research……”

Even as I said that, my brain, fried from manga work and this bizarre late-night vibe, was getting swept up in Miyamae’s sultry atmosphere.

“Kirishima……”

Miyamae, cheeks flushed, kept gently stepping.

Miyamae is dressed in just a camisole and underwear. Her legs are bare. Late at night, in a quiet room, our breathing, the act of being gently stepped on.

Since I’m lying on the floor, I’m looking up at Miyamae.

Her long, pale legs. The underwear at the top is tiny, tied with strings at the hips, and dangerously skimpy between her legs.

“Ah.”

Noticing my gaze, Miyamae twisted her body in embarrassment. But—

“……It’s okay. If it’s you, Kirishima, you can look.”

Hesitantly, she spread her legs a little.

“I bought this underwear…… thinking of you, Kirishima……”

I kept getting stepped on, staring at Miyamae’s beautiful legs and risqué underwear. I could feel the delicate movements of her toes.

It felt like a new door was about to open. And in that moment, my mind flashed to the great literary master who spanned the Meiji, Taisho, and Showa eras—yes, once again, Tanizaki Junichiro.

In Tanizaki Junichirou’s A Portrait of Shunkin, a servant presses his cheek against the cool foot of the young lady he serves. In Diary of a Mad Old Man, an old man delights in being stepped on by his son’s wife.

Being stepped on by a beautiful woman.

It’s an utterly aesthetic act. Some might disagree, but the Ministry of Education rejects all objections. Tanizaki Junichirou is listed as an aestheticist in literature textbooks, so there’s no mistake. This is a deeply literary act.

Miyamae, with skin white as snow, kept stepping on me.

There was undeniably something perverse and intoxicating in it. Should I just go all the way? But—

“Miyamae, stop.”

I said.

“This isn’t an electric massage.”

I could indulge in this pseudo-Tanizaki consciousness and sink into literary degeneracy.

But that’s not what we need.

I held onto my rationality.

“If you can’t do it, let’s stop here.”

“……Yeah.”

Surprisingly, Miyamae backed off easily.

“I can’t do it hard. I’d worry if you’re okay.”

Miyamae was a kind girl.

“Then let’s call this the end of the friendship game—”

As I stood up, it happened.

Miyamae flopped onto the floor in my place.

“Hm?”

“I can’t do it, so—”

Miyamae said, tensing her body in embarrassment.

“You do it to me, Kirishima.”

♧♧♧

Late-night insanity peaked here.

I had Miyamae lying on the floor, standing while holding her ankles, gently pressing my foot against her.

“U-Uuu~”

Miyamae trembled with shame, covering her face with her hands. She’d been pulling her camisole down to cover things, but since it couldn’t even hide her thighs, she seemed to give up.

“We can stop, you know.”

“No, we’re doing it! For manga realism!”

“You’re getting stubborn~”

How many manga artists have pursued realism this far?

“Besides, we’re friends, right?”

“Yeah.”

“If we’re friends…… we should be able to do the stuff boys do at the back of the classroom.”

“Really~?”

That’s exclusive to elementary kids, but if we draw this scene, the manga’s done. There’s nothing more after this, so I might as well indulge Miyamae’s wish for the finale.

“No regrets, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Miyamae nodded, so I started moving my foot. But—

“K-Kirishima……”

“What?”

“Why ‘rub rub’? Isn’t it supposed to be ‘dodododo’?”

“Well, I’m a bit worried about going too hard, or something……”

Elementary school boys are wild. They did this without hesitation.

“I-It’s fine.”

Miyamae said, cheeks red, looking away.

“Start slow. That’s…… better for me too……”

So I moved my foot slowly. I felt her underwear with the sole of my foot. As Miyamae tensed to close her legs from the vibration, my foot got caught between her soft inner thighs. I kept moving. Slowly, slowly.

Fumi, fumi, fumi, fumi—

Miyamae’s cheeks grew redder.

Fumi, fumi, fumi, fumi—

Her breaths started mixing with sweet sounds.

I felt moisture under my foot. Miyamae twisted, lifting her hips, occasionally pressing against me.

Dear Tanizaki Junichirou-sensei,

Are these words reaching you?

Are you watching this scene from heaven?

I’ve learned so much from your works. The Makioka Sisters, A Portrait of Shunkin, A Fool’s Love.

You depicted being stepped on by a woman as beautiful, teaching me its splendor.

Now, the era has advanced far beyond the three you lived through.

With the inspiration you gave me, I’m trying to go beyond what you felt.

“Kirishima, Kirishima……”

I’m not just stepped on by a beautiful woman—I’m stepping on one too.

“Ah, yah, ah……”

The moisture down there kept increasing.

A beautiful woman writhing under my foot.

What a sinful person I am.

“Kirishimaa, Kirishimaa…… a…… yah…… ah……”

Miyamae arched her hips. I wanted to see more. The urge to see a beautiful woman unravel and writhe under my foot grew, so I kept moving it.

“No…… Kirishima, not noww……”

Spilling ink on pure white paper. Stepping on a beautiful woman might be like that. I indulged in the pleasure of tainting something pure.

“I’ll go crazyy…… Kirishima, ah, no—”

Miyamae’s body, writhing like a white fish.

Ah.

Tanizaki-sensei, this is literature, isn’t it? But—

What I need now isn’t literature—it’s manga. Tanizaki-sensei, I’m trying to draw a manga, not literature. For that, I don’t need this literary stepping but the innocent, merciless thing kids do at the back of the classroom while laughing.

So I channeled an elementary school boy’s carefree cruelty and moved my foot harder.

“Kirishima, ah, not like that—!”

Miyamae’s hips stayed arched.

She thrust her toned stomach toward the ceiling.

“So intense…… ah, again—”

Miyamae gasped and unraveled.

“What do I do, it won’t stopp…… Kirishima, I love youu…… I love youu……”

Miyamae, lost in a daze, trembled with an ecstatic expression.

Torn between wanting to watch her beautiful, unraveling body and my duty to make this manga research, I kept moving my foot.

How long did we stay like that?

“Kirishima, stop.”

Suddenly, Miyamae clamped her legs shut.

“I-It’s…… a bit…… you know.”

She pleaded shyly for me to stop. But I didn’t.

“No, stop, I’m gonna…… c-come……”

I kept moving my foot.

Because an elementary school boy wouldn’t stop here.

“Please, Kirishima!”

Miyamae said with teary eyes.

“Later, you can do it as much as you want. Anything you want. But just wait a bit. Just…… five minutes. Please—”

An elementary school boy would do the opposite of what’s asked. So I vibrated my foot even harder.

“Ah, it’s coming, ah, no—!”

Miyamae covered her face with her hands.

“No, stop!”

Her legs turned inward.

“I’m already a college student, I’m already twenty years old yet—!”

Miyamae tensed her body in a final act of resistance. But she knew. That moment was inevitable.

“No, stop, I can’t hold it—!”

I put more force into my foot to break her resistance. I wanted to see what would happen to a beautiful woman. And maybe, just a little, she was curious too—whether it was aesthetic, pleasurable, or something else.

“Fue, fue, fue”

I knew Miyamae had given up. Her body went limp. And then—

“Fue~en!”

The warm flood from Miyamae soaked my foot. It kept flowing endlessly, eventually forming a puddle on the floor.

For a while, I gazed at Miyamae, drenched in shame.

And I thought,

The Friendship Notebook needs to be burned immediately.

♧♧♧

Beautiful morning sunlight streamed through the window.

“The manga’s done, huh?”

“It’s done.”

“Think we’ll win the award?”

“We’ve got this.”

After that, Miyamae took a shower and barricaded herself in the bathroom, mortified by what she’d done. I understood her feelings.

“I got too carried away too. Sorry. But that was just a bad dream the Friendship Notebook showed us.”

I persuaded her.

“A dream?”

“Yeah. It didn’t happen in reality. It’s like it never did.”

“Didn’t happen…… It all didn’t happen…… Yeah, it didn’t!”

That’s how I got Miyamae out of the bathroom. We finished the manga together, sealed it in a brown envelope, and dropped it in the mailbox addressed to a Tokyo publisher.

“We pulled it off.”

“Yeah, we did.”

The clear morning brought a pleasant sense of exhaustion.

“I’m sleepy.”

Miyamae rubbed her eyes.

“I’ll head back to my place and crash for a bit.”

That’s when I stood up.

“H-Hey.”

Miyamae hugged me from behind.

“……Let’s sleep together.”

“What’re you saying?”

The friendship game was over. But Miyamae seemed serious. When I tried to pull away, she hugged tighter, putting in more strength.

“We promised to be friends, right?”

“I can’t just be friends anymore. Because I really love you, Kirishima.”

She said she’d already made up her mind during the photo exhibit incident.

“You’re the only one who gets me, Kirishima. The only one who treats me like I matter.”

It wasn’t a joking tone—she was dead serious. But—

“You know full well I’m dating Touno.”

Yeah, that’s why, Miyamae said, pressing her face into my back.

“I’m fine being that kind of friend to you, Kirishima.”

“That kind of friend?”

“The convenient friend you use when you want to. I’m okay with that.”

“N-No, that’s not okay! And I don’t want to treat you like that, Miyamae.”

“But you react to my body. You do react.”

Miyamae moved to face me, pressing her chest against me. Her face bright red, she said,

“I became sure of it during the friendship game.”

That’s what gave her confidence, apparently.

“Even earlier, you were blushing looking at me.”

Miyamae was in pajamas since she was about to sleep. The thin fabric showed her body’s curves and underwear lines, and my eyes couldn’t help but wander.

“It’s fine. You can do whatever you want with me, Kirishima. Use me however you like. Make me that kind of friend. I won’t make things complicated. I’ll never tell Touno.”

“No, that’s not okay!”

I grabbed Miyamae’s shoulders and pushed her away.

“Why? Why’s it not okay? There’s no downside for you, Kirishima!”

Miyamae hugged me again. I could feel her pressing her lower body against me.

“Just use me when Touno’s at training camp or whatever. I’d be happy with that. You can do anything you want with me.”

She could tell I was gently refusing, and with a tearful face, she pleaded like that.

“I really love you, Kirishima. That earlier stuff was super embarrassing, but I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. Because it’s a memory with you. I don’t want to erase it.”

If she can’t be my girlfriend, she wants to be that kind of friend. That’d still make her happy, she said, refusing to budge.

“You can step on me. Hit me. Bully me as much as you want. I’m a virgin, so I might be too shy to do anything at first, but I’ll do whatever you want, Kirishima. Please.”

“Miyamae, value yourself more!”

But Miyamae didn’t listen and started taking off her pajamas.

Stop, don’t stop—we went back and forth like that.

“Miyamae, calm down! You’re just wired from the all-nighter!”

“It’s not that! I’ve always wanted to do this with you, Kirishima!”

Because, Miyamae said, lowering her voice.

“I’ve always heard you and Touno through the wall.”

She’d been alone during those times, she said.

“I love you too, Kirishima. I want to do what Touno does with you. And you react to me too—”

So, Miyamae clung to me.

“Make me that kind of friend. I can’t be your girlfriend or go on dates. So at least let me have that kind of relationship. I love you, Kirishima. It has to be you.”

“No, no way.”

“Why? Why not? There’s no downside for you, right?”

Dragging the clinging Miyamae, I headed for the door. I had to get out of this room fast. Because Miyamae is attractive.

She’s beautiful, her body’s gorgeous, and even her underwear taste is great. Simply put, her seduction was working. That’s exactly why I had to escape.

“Kirishima~ Don’t goo~!”

Miyamae chased after me.

“When you’re broke, I’ll pay for youu~!”

Miyamae……

You’re so pretty.

And so honest.

But you’re such a hopeless girl!

“Miyamae, I want you to be happy. That’s why this isn’t good!”

“I can’t be happy without you, Kirishima~!”

This was getting messy, so I slipped on my geta and reached for the doorknob to get outside.

After the photo exhibit and the all-night friendship game, Miyamae’s emotions were spiraling. Some time apart should calm her down.

Thinking that, I opened the door and stepped out. Miyamae, sniffling, clung to my leg with bare feet.

“Don’t abandon me~!”

“I didn’t pick you up in the first place!?”

That’s when we were having this exchange.

I felt a presence.

Looking toward the door of the next room—

Touno was crouched there.

“Good morning.”

She stood up, looking at me and Miyamae. Miyamae’s pajamas were messy, her underwear visible, and I was messy too, with Miyamae clinging to me, my kimono half-open.

Touno silently took in the scene, then grabbed both of Miyamae’s hands and pulled her away from me.

And in a curt tone, she said,

“Shiori-chan, until you get a boyfriend, don’t get close to Kirishima-san anymore.”