Archive of Our Own

Everyone’s obsessed with Gojo Satoru.

To the girls raised in Japan’s most powerful and aristocratic families, Gojo is something of a myth.

Daughter of the current head of the Gojo clan, a dynasty that’s held power since the shogunate era, and of a Scandinavian actress, a former Hollywood star turned wellness and luxury empire mogul.

She’s rich, she’s influential, and, well, she’s gorgeous.

She’s everything a teenage girl could ever dream of being. Her wardrobe is worth billions of yen, made up exclusively of names straight off the Milan Fashion Week runways — at her grandfather’s funeral, French fashion houses fought over who would get her to wear one of their dresses.

Her Instagram has millions of followers, flooded with carousels of photos taken in dreamlike locations around the world. There she is atop the Eiffel Tower in Paris, dining in London’s most exclusive restaurants, on a private beach in Miami, lounging in a luxury hotel in Rio.

And she’s an absolute bitch — doesn’t matter who you are or how famous. But then again, who needs to be nice when you’re beautiful, rich, and important?

There are countless rumors about her and why her parents enrolled her in Seijō no Mori, an elite girls’ academy with a century-old reputation and a student body made up entirely of Japan’s high society.

Some say she got pregnant at fourteen, had an abortion, and was sent there to prevent it from happening again. Others say she was locked away to keep her pure until marriage. There are even rumors about a heroin rehab.

Suguru doesn’t know what to believe.

She’s rich too, obscenely rich, actually. Her vacation home is a seaside villa in Costa Rica. Her gym earrings are million-yen Tasakis, and one time she flew to Greece for the weekend just because she was craving moussaka.

But she’s nowhere near Gojo Satoru.

Her family isn’t part of Japan’s old money elite. They are new money, her father became a millionaire after developing a successful app for smartphones, but before that, they were just a regular middle-class family. Suguru had gone to her neighborhood kindergarten like everyone else, and the highlight of her day was getting ice cream at the konbini.

Her father only enrolled her in Seijō no Mori this year, just because he wants her to build as many connections as possible.

And it’s painfully obvious they don’t belong. Suguru never took Mandarin lessons as a child and only learned English from TikTok. She didn’t study ballet at prestigious academies, she doesn’t know etiquette or the difference between Champagne and Spumante. She doesn’t ride horses, doesn’t wear Ralph Lauren, doesn’t know how to play cricket.

But she has enough money to wear designer clothes hot off the runway, Cartier bracelets, cutting-edge tech, her mother paid Adele to perform for her sixteenth birthday.

So yeah, she’s rich. Just apparently, the wrong kind of rich. Since new money struggles to do business with Japan’s most powerful clans, Suguru’s father had a plan: send his daughter to an elite girls’ school and task her with a mission. Make friends with as many heiresses as possible.

Obviously, the Gojo clan is off the table. They’re so powerful and omnipresent across so many industries that they don’t need to partner with anyone. Whatever field you’re in, you can bet at least one branch of the Gojo family rules the market.

But there are plenty of other clan daughters at her school. There are the Kamo twins, Kaori and Kenjaku, heiresses to a genetics dynasty with labs in Switzerland, Japan, and Singapore. There’s Utahime Iori, senior class president, from a family of art dealers and curators of Japan’s most important cultural events. Mei Mei, from a lesser Gojo branch, whose family owns Hong Kong’s most prestigious bank.

And then there are the other billionaire daughters. Shoko, the one Suguru actually finds most likable, is the daughter of Kojiro Ieiri, celebrity’s plastic surgeon. There’s also Nanami, daughter of a two-time Oscar-winning Danish director and a Japanese baseball star.

Suguru’s only been at the school for three weeks, but she’s making progress. She’s popular. Becomes friends with everyone she talks to. She keeps her distance from the upper elite clan daughters, the caste divide is obvious, but gets along fine with the others. They’re all nouveau riche, just like her. Never made it to the Viennese debutante balls, but they’ve got cash to burn.

At the beginning of the school year, the air is still buzzing. Everyone’s just returned from spring break, chatting about family trips and crushes, some have had nose jobs and flaunt compression tapes like jewelry.

They all wear the same uniform: a white blouse with the school logo, a purple striped tie, and a pleated purple skirt that hits above the knee. No makeup, no jewelry, short clean nails, hair tied in low ponytails. They look nothing like their Instagram selves — no heavy filters, no full-face make-up.

Suguru ties her hair back with the hair tie she keeps on her wrist. It’s getting warm, so she’s rolled up her sleeves and the tie feels like it’s choking her. Nanami, sitting beside her, still wears her wool vest and thick white stockings.

«Don’t you feel hot?» Suguru asks. The blonde raises an eyebrow and shakes her head. Nanami never feels hot.

«So can I finish my story or not?» Shoko says, fiddling with her eraser like it’s a lighter. Smoking’s banned on campus, and after spending spring break in Chicago with her older sister, she’s going through withdrawal and chewing the ends of her pencils.

«Yeah, sorry. Go on.» Suguru crosses her legs and gives Shoko her attention again.

Shoko resumes her story, something about a dinner party she attended while she was in the U.S., when the sharp clicking of heels on tile interrupts her.

That’s when she walks in. Gojo Satoru.

Suguru’s tall for a girl, but Gojo is taller than most boys. Still, that doesn’t stop her from wearing Prada slingback heels that make her legs look even longer.

She’s stunning, moves like a supermodel, and she’s above every rule.

Her impossibly long, thin legs are accentuated by a skirt shorter than anyone else’s. She’s not wearing a tie, and the top buttons of her shirt are undone, revealing layers of sparkling silver chains studded with gemstones. Her fingers glint with rings that probably total fifty carats. Her ears are covered in silver and sapphires.

Her white hair is styled in a messy wolfcut with a fringe covering her forehead. She smooths it out with long, pearl-white manicured nails.

Suguru’s surprised to see her this early. Usually, Gojo walks in ten minutes after class starts, doesn’t knock, interrupts the teacher mid-sentence, heels clicking all the way to her seat.

She sits in the front row, far-left column, by the window. Never opens a book. Never takes notes. No teacher ever calls on her. But she always aces the tests.

Suguru used to think the Gojo heiress’s grades were fabricated to uphold the family name. But last week, Yamaguchi-sensei, their history teacher, asked her to summarize the previous day’s lesson. Gojo stood up and began to speak: not only was she thoroughly prepared, rattling off names, dates, and small details, but her speech was so polished, it sounded like she was reading from a textbook.

So yeah, gorgeous, rich, powerful, and smart. Suguru would’ve strangled her, if she didn’t also kind of want to be her friend.

Her mother had told her to steer clear. Their family didn’t need that kind of ambition. Better to be a stranger to Gojo than risk offending her while trying to get close.

Gojo was famous, sure, but not exactly popular. Suguru was popular. Utahime Iori, student body president, was popular. The Kenjaku twins had become popular after passing the same Inumaki boy, back and forth all summer. Toji Zen’in, track and field prodigy, was popular. But Gojo? Gojo was just well-known .

She had no friends. She never spoke to anyone. The only reason people knew she’d gone skiing in Italy over the break was because she posted it online. Otherwise, she was a ghost. She ate alone, didn’t join any clubs, locked herself in her dorm after class, never even went to the library.

«Do you think she actually eats or just pretends to and spits it all into her napkin?» Nanami asks at lunch, while across the cafeteria, the girls enjoy their favorite midday entertainment: Gojo Satoru, sitting alone at her table.

«Nanamin!» exclaims Haibara Yuu, a year younger than Suguru, daughter of the owner of a wildly popular chain of supermarkets and konbinis across Japan. «That’s not nice!»

«I'm with Yuu on this one,» Shoko adds. «it’s not very feminist of you, Kento.»

«I mean, it doesn’t look like she’s spitting it out.» Suguru says, eyes glued to Gojo’s ethereal figure — so clean, so composed, she really does look like a princess. She eats with perfect grace, not a single grain of rice slips from her chopsticks, and everything disappears between her plump lips without so much as a drop of sauce landing on her uniform.

«That doesn’t mean anything. Even if she swallows it, she could still throw it up later. My cousin does that all the time.» Utahime chimes in, backing the scene.

«My mom does it too when she has to go to business dinners with my dad.»

«Do we know a single woman who doesn’t have an eating disorder?»

They think about it. None of them can name one.

«Anyway, did you guys hear who else wants to run for student’s council president this year? Kamo Kenjaku. Are you kidding me? I’ve been president for two years. She really thinks she can beat me in the elections?»

«Well, Kamo Kenjaku is very popular.»

«Only because she takes it up the ass! Seriously, would she even be that popular if she didn’t let guys in through the back door?»

«Come on, that’s just a rumor.»

«I’m telling you, it’s true. My brother knows the brother of that Inumaki guy she and her sister hooked up with last summer. He said she does it after the third date.»

«Still not sure I believe that love triangle thing with that guy.»

«I think that part's true. Do you think they had a threesome? Gross. I wouldn’t want to be in the same room as my sister naked.»

«What if they’re lesbians too? God, they’re so weird.»

At this point, Suguru finally tears her gaze away from Gojo Satoru and joins the conversation. «I think the problem isn’t that they’re lesbians, but the incest part. And anyway, it’s totally fake. Kaori told me herself they dated the same guy, but at different times. They definitely didn’t do it together.»

«Regardless, I don’t care how Kamo Kenjaku likes to fuck, but if I have to start a rumor she has herpes just to beat her in the elections, I’ll do it. Suguru, will you help me?»

«Forget it, Uta. I can’t pick a fight with a Kamo. My dad would kill me.»

«Shoko?»

«In your dreams.»

Suguru goes back to eating while Utahime continues trying to recruit the entire table into sabotaging her political rival.

Meanwhile, Gojo Satoru has stood up and left the cafeteria.

***

PE class isn’t exactly a favorite among the girls. Hair gets frizzy, makeup smudges, bruises bloom on their legs, and the sweet scent of body mist turns sour with sweat.

But Suguru likes it. She’s always been the sporty one, she enjoys every activity, from swimming to basketball to soccer.

Today’s lesson is volleyball. Professor Yaga has split them into two teams to play three sets. Suguru plays as middle blocker. Gojo is on her team too, as opposite hitter.

The gym smells like rubber and disinfectant, and every sound echoes through the wide open space while the girls chat and tie their hair into high ponytails. They’re called to order, take their positions, and the sharp sound of a whistle kicks off the match.

Suguru crouches, ready to spring. On the other side of the net, the server tosses the ball.

She casts a glance her way — Gojo Satoru wears number 7 on her back, long lean thighs on full display under the pale blue shorts, white hair rebelliously untamed and drawing attention to her athletic figure.

She looks straight at Suguru and nods at her, chin slightly raised. The girl with black hair feels her stomach twist.

The ball’s in play. The first rally is quick, the ball flies to their side of the court, but Nanami sends it right back with a flawless reception. Suguru watches the opposing team go for their three-touch play, takes a step forward, and jumps. Her block is clean, the ball crashes onto the hardwood floor on the other side of the net. Point.

Her teammates cheer. Even Gojo claps twice. This time it’s Mei Mei serving, the ball barely clears the net but stays in play. It doesn’t even make it back to their side because Gojo makes her move.

She steps forward, bends her knees, pushes off. Suguru reads her intentions and clears the space. The ball arcs high, only Gojo can reach it. She jumps. Her body curves into a perfect arc, the strike is clean, powerful. The ball slams into the center of the opponents’ court and bounces between stunned players who didn’t even have time to register what happened.

Another point for them.

Gojo turns to look at her. She doesn’t glance at the team, only at Suguru. And she gives her something like a smile. She saw her, read her positioning, interpreted it, and gave her space, even though the ball was meant for her.

The next rally lasts longer. Maybe it’s because they’re the tallest on the court, or maybe because they play with more grit, but they start passing the ball to each other almost nonstop.

Suguru sets her up with impossible assists that only Gojo can handle with her insane vertical leap. They block together at the net without needing to call the play, somehow, they’re already in perfect sync.

Suguru dives to save a short ball at the last second. Gojo intercepts and spikes it hard, hitting an opponent’s shoulder but scoring the point.

Suguru gets back on her knees, and that’s when a hand extends toward her. It’s Gojo, offering to help her up. If Suguru weren’t already flushed and sweaty from the match, she’d be bright red.

«Thanks.» she says to the white-haired girl as she stands. Gojo doesn’t answer, but gives her a nod.

The winning point of the second set seals their victory. The girls cheer and drift toward the locker rooms. Suguru and Gojo, who carried most of the game, stay behind, catching their breath with hands on knees.

«Nice work, Geto-san.» Gojo says, it's the first time she’s ever spoken to her.

She’s panting, cheeks flushed from effort, white hair stuck to her forehead. There’s something devastatingly attractive about the sight, so intense Suguru stares at her with parted lips for a second too long.

She really is that beautiful. It’s not just the filters and luxury makeup. She’s some kind of goddess if she can look this hot after a volleyball match.

She steps closer. Suguru straightens up and finds herself just inches away from the Gojo princess, warm breath against her temple, her body closer than she’s ever been. They’ve never even brushed shoulders in the hallway.

«You were perfect. Not like those slackers who don’t even leave their spot.» she says.

Suguru looks up. There’s almost four inches of height difference between them, so she tilts her head to meet those impossible blue eyes.

Then Gojo does something completely unexpected.

She winks.

Before Suguru can even process it, she turns on her heel and walks off toward the locker room.

Suguru is stunned. Shaken. The princess had seemed so human, so real. She’d looked at her, really looked. She’d spoken to her. Played with her. Called her “Geto-san.”

She doesn’t know it yet, but from that moment on, her body will respond to nothing else. Gojo’s steps, her breath, her gaze, everything about her will become the signal Suguru’s world orbits around.

***

At lunch, everyone is asking her about the match, even those who were there. She and Gojo played with such perfect coordination, almost like teammates in a professional squad, their jumps were insane, and so were their performances.

«Well, of course, you're both so tall!»

«How tall are you, Geto-san? 5’9’’? Gojo-san must be at least 5’11’’.»

«She’s 6’0’’, it says so on Wikipedia.»

«You should've seen the way they passed the ball to each other.»

Suguru smiles, flattered by the compliments, but she doesn’t tell anyone what they said to each other afterward, nor that Gojo winked at her. It feels like something she should keep to herself, like it wouldn’t be right to share, and even if it were, she wouldn't want to. It’s a sort of little treasure for her.

She sits at the table with her friends; they talk about the match, about how Suguru is definitely going to get top marks with Yaga, about the math test they had in third period.

Suguru is distracted, casting glances every few minutes toward Gojo’s table, which today is just a couple in front of hers. As usual, she's alone, cutting her karaage into tiny pieces and chewing them with visible effort, slowly, almost methodically.

While Shoko and Nanami are comparing answers from the test, behind her, Suguru hears some girls talking about Gojo.

«Not eating again today, huh? How pitiful. They should call her the nervous princess , fucking anorexic.»

Suguru doesn’t even have to turn around to know who’s talking. It’s Naoya Zen’in, heir to another ancient clan, as old as the Gojo clan, though it lost much of its credibility years ago.

She always has something to say about Gojo, probably just out of envy for her position, but nobody ever really calls her out. Gojo herself never confronts her, mostly because Naoya never says anything to her face.

Still, baseless cruelty is one of those things Suguru just can’t stand.

Suguru sets down her chopsticks. She gets up, and the screech of the chair against the floor silences the whole table. She stops right in front of Naoya, who looks at her with fake surprise.

«Excuse me,» she says calmly, maybe too calmly. «next time you have something to say, make sure the person it’s about can actually hear it. Whispering under your breath is something anyone can do.»

«Next time mind your own fucking business,» Naoya snaps back acidly.

Suguru grabs her karaage plate and slams it onto the floor. Gasps all around. The pieces of marinated chicken splatter across the marble tiles like a Pollock painting.

«What the hell is wrong with you?!» Zen’in yells, standing up as well.

«Just doing you a favor. This way you won’t have to puke your lunch up later, asshole.»

Suguru goes back to her seat. Utahime stares at her, stunned, while Shoko is doing everything she can to suppress her laughter. When Suguru looks up, Gojo Satoru is standing in front of her, proud. Her shirt is unbuttoned and she’s not wearing a tie.

«What you said before. It was cool.» Goo says. Every girl in the cafeteria is staring, holding their breath, it’s the first time Gojo Satoru has directly addressed anyone.

«I didn’t do it for you.» Suguru replies, surprised by how fast the words come out. Though it’s true, she didn’t really do it for Gojo, more because she just can’t stand Naoya.

But the white-haired girl smiles, a short laugh escaping her.

«Sure, whatever you say.» she replies, walking out of the cafeteria with that same regal poise that always follows her.

After that, things start to get a little confusing.

First, the next day at lunch, Gojo Satoru invites her to sit with her. They eat across from each other at an empty table with the entire school watching. A deathly silence fills the room, everyone is shocked to see the  Gojo princess having lunch with someone, even though neither of them speaks the whole time.

Suguru isn’t really sure how to react, she can’t exactly say no, but she does wish she knew why, all of a sudden, Gojo had started showing interest in her. Not that she minds. On the contrary, she’s so excited she loses sleep over it.

The two of them become the school’s hottest topic. When Suguru sits down, Gojo hands her a pair of chopsticks. She says nothing, but the message is clear: you’re at my table .

A week goes by before Gojo invites her to her dorm room after school. Suguru accepts immediately, sneaking away during literature class to call her mom in the bathroom and tell her the news. Her mother nearly loses it and tells her not to screw anything up, they can’t afford to make an enemy out of the Gojo clan’s princess.

Later that afternoon, when Suguru is let into Gojo’s room, she’s surprised by how normal it looks.

It’s identical to hers, same size, same single-and-a-half bed, same cream-colored walls. It’s a little messy, with some clothes scattered on the bed or hanging off the back of the chair, but other than that, it’s the room of a regular teenage girl. A teenage girl who wears Versace miniskirts and Chanel blouses, sure,.but Suguru expected nothing less.

Her makeup is spread across the desk, next to a gamer PC. That’s the only thing that clashes with the otherwise traditionally feminine room, complete with plushies and rhinestone-covered accessories.

Maybe the only thing missing is the presence of someone else. Suguru has a bulletin board covered in photos taken with her friends and family, concert tickets, movie stubs, and other memories like that. This room, though, screams “Gojo Satoru,” but there’s nothing that suggests anyone else is part of her life. No friend, no boyfriend, not even a picture with her parents.

Her stream of thought is interrupted when Gojo finally speaks.

«Do you know how to play Street Fighter ?» she asks, powering on the monitor.

Suguru looks at the RGB lights reflected on the desk.

«No.» the black-haired girl answers honestly.

«Perfect. That way I can crush you without mercy.» The joke is dry and Suguru doesn’t find it very funny, but the hint of a smile on Gojo’s lips ignites something inside her.

Gojo doesn’t wait for a response and hands her a controller without even looking. Suguru sits cross-legged on the bed, and after some basics, they start playing.

Gojo is absolutely ruthless and doesn’t go easy on her at all. She laughs when Suguru messes up combos, teases her when a move fails, but she also pauses to explain how to improve.

«No, hit square first, then triangle. Think like you’re really punching someone.» She punches the air to demonstrate.

When Suguru finally manages to knock her out, she throws her arms in the air.

«I did it! It took two hours, but I beat you!»

They both laugh, falling back onto the mattress, and Suguru tries to ignore how this is the first time she’s ever heard Gojo laugh, and how much it leaves an aching emptiness in her chest.

Her white hair is fanned out over the pale pink bedspread. She looks so soft, like a bunny, nothing like the haughty aura that usually surrounds her.

Suguru doesn’t realize she’s staring until Gojo speaks. «You’re pretty when you celebrate. Even during the volleyball match, I liked that. They always teach us to be modest and composed. We’re not even supposed to celebrate too loudly when we win.»

Suguru blushes slightly and starts playing with the unplugged controller, just to keep her hands busy, though she can feel Gojo’s gaze burning into her skin.

«Do you like it here?» she asks, without really thinking. Since she’s the first and only person, as far as she knows, to get this close to Gojo Satoru, she might as well take the opportunity.

«In this room?»

«In this school.»

Gojo sighs and takes a moment before answering.

«I’d say it’s okay. Sometimes yes, sometimes… it’s kind of rough. But at least here no one’s trying to marry me off.»

Suguru turns to her. «Do people try to marry you off a lot?»

Gojo shrugs. «Some families trade their daughters like stock packages. For me, it’s a bit different because technically I’m the heir of the clan, so they can’t just marry me off to anyone.»

«Hey, is it true that…»

«Oh please,» Gojo laughs, running a hand over her face. «No, I’m not addicted to heroin, I’ve never been pregnant, and nobody gives a shit if I show up to my wedding a virgin. If you marry a Gojo, you take what you get.»

«You took the words right out of my mouth, Gojo-san.»

«Please, call me Satoru. Gojo-san is my dad.»

Suguru’s eyes widen, it’s the kind of familiarity she didn’t expect. Dropping honorifics is like calling the Queen of England by her first name.

«Satoru.» she says it immediately, needing to know what that name tastes like on her tongue — and it’s as sweet as strawberries and cream.

«Can I call you Suguru?»

Suguru smiles at her. «Of course. Of course you can.»

***

The visits to Satoru’s room become routine. Even when they have a test coming up, they still meet up to study, and when they’re not studying, they play video games and talk a lot.

Suguru is happy to find out that Gojo has a good opinion of her friends. She especially admires Shoko and Nanami, thinks they’ve both got guts. But when Suguru offers to introduce her to them, Gojo backs out, saying she’s not really up for it.

She has strong opinions about everything that happens at school, but she’s never mean. If she acts like an asshole, it’s usually because the other person deserved it, or at the very least, her attitude is never unprovoked.

Suguru deeply appreciates that integrity, and she starts to discover sides of the Gojo princess that her polished image doesn’t quite reveal.

Another thing she’s pleased to find out is that Satoru is incredibly generous. She constantly gives her gifts. Some silly, like bringing her cans of Sprite — Suguru’s favorite drink — during break, and others outrageously expensive, like a custom-made Van Cleef ring set or a pair of Louboutin boots.

One time, she even tried to gift her some stock in one of the Gojo companies.

On weekends, students are only allowed to leave campus with a special permit, but Satoru doesn’t need anything like that. So one Saturday afternoon, she tells Suguru to be ready at the school gates and to bring a change of clothes.

Suguru does as she says and meets her at the entrance. Satoru is wearing Dolce & Gabbana jeans, a light blue tank top, and a pair of white and blue Jordans.

She puts on her thick, white-framed sunglasses and gestures for Suguru to follow her into the black car waiting nearby.

Suguru doesn’t know what to expect, so she’s wearing an indigo Junko Shimada dress, her straight hair left loose down her back.

The driver takes them two hours into the heart of Tokyo, and on the way, Satoru tells her they’re going shopping in one of the most exclusive malls in Ginza.

But first, they stop at a famous patisserie in Minato. There’s a massive line outside, but they’re ushered in immediately and escorted to a reserved table.

Satoru orders a ridiculous amount of mouth-watering desserts that are brought out in stunning arrangements. Suguru has a crème brûlée and a red velvet cupcake. Satoru takes each plate, one by one, cuts the dessert in half, examines the inside, tests the texture of each element with her fork — the cream, the glaze, the sponge, the decorations.

But she doesn’t eat anything.

When she’s done inspecting one, she sets the plate aside and moves on to the next.

«You’re not going to eat that?» Suguru asks about the latest dish, a matcha crêpe stuffed with cream and strawberries, left untouched like all the others.

«Mmh, no, I’m not feeling it.» she says, but there’s a smile on her face as she slices open a molten chocolate cake and watches the ganache ooze onto the ceramic plate.

Suguru stares at her, confused. «You don’t even want to taste them?»

«No, better not.» she scoops up some of the chocolate glaze with her spoon and lets it drip back onto the plate. She repeats the motion a few times, eyes fixed on the slow-moving chocolate.

«But you ordered all this food, Satoru. It’s a shame to waste it.»

«You’ll just have to feed me, Suguru-chan.» Satoru laughs, but Suguru doesn’t find it funny. To her, it’s not a joke, in fact, she’s deadly serious when she gets up from her seat and sits beside her friend.

With fork and knife, she cuts off a piece of the matcha crêpe and offers it to Satoru. The white-haired girl looks at it like Suguru just offered her a caterpillar on a stick, her eyes shifting between the crêpe and Suguru.

«Just… just the strawberry, though.»

She’s shy and vulnerable in a way Suguru has never seen before. A version of Gojo Satoru she didn’t even know existed—and yet, here she is, watery blue eyes locked onto her own.

Suguru doesn’t sigh or lose patience. She gently removes the crêpe and cream from the bite and offers the strawberry again.

Satoru takes it between her lips, her eyes never leaving Suguru’s. She chews and swallows, still holding her gaze.

They keep going like that for a long while, one piece of strawberry at a time. It must be a strange sight for anyone watching, but Suguru doesn’t care, she’s lost in the details of Satoru’s face.

It’s just not fair how Mother Nature allows a human being to be this beautiful with those impossible eyes, those full heart-shaped lips, that nose so perfect it looks drawn onto her face — and it’s not even plastic surgery! Suguru knows because she once watched a thirty-eight-minute YouTube video where a girl compared photos of Gojo as a child and teen, proving she’s never had any job done.

Once the strawberries are gone, Satoru refuses to eat anything else, and when Suguru glances at her watch, she realizes it’s already past eight.

«Oh, the mall must be closed by now.»

Satoru looks at her like she just said something absurd. «Well, of course it’s closed.»

«So we can’t go anymore.»

«Of course we can. I called ahead and booked a private after-hours consultation. I hate shopping when the place is open to the public. Too noisy, I easily get overwhelmed.»

Suguru rolls her eyes. She sometimes forgets just how rich Satoru is.

The driver takes them to Ginza, where the mall staff greet them in a line like they’re welcoming an arab prince.

Satoru takes her through all her favorite stores, buying her luxury jewelry from the latest collections, including a pair of matching Boucheron bracelets as a symbol of their friendship. She puts one on Suguru’s wrist and makes her promise to never take it off.

They visit all the top boutiques, trying on piles of clothes. Satoru buys entire collections and has them shipped to the family estate in Kyoto.

Finally, they have a full skincare consultation, and Satoru buys two Albion face masks for 90,000 yen each, one for herself and one for Suguru.

By the time they’re done, most of their things are packed and ready to be shipped to their respective estates. The only items they take with them are the bracelets and face masks.

«You know I don’t need any of this, right?» Suguru asks once they’re back in the car.

«I’m not doing it because you need it. I’m doing it because I feel like it. I’ve never had a best friend before, let me spoil you.»

«You consider me your best friend?»

Satoru smiles and gently places a hand on her cheek. «Of course you are. My one and only.»

It’s too late to return to the dorms, so Satoru books a room at the Four Seasons Hotel in Otemachi. A suite with a massive private bathroom and a big king-sized bed in the center.

They take turns showering, and still in their bathrobes, they try out the face masks while sipping the white wine Satoru ordered through room service. They pretend to be grown-ups, even though they’re just schoolgirls.

«Have you ever had a crush?»

«Mmh, yeah, in middle school. On a boy in my class.»

«Who?»

«Why do you care?»

«I’m just curious.»

«Fine, his name was Hiromi Higuruma.»

«No way. Higuruma? As in the Higuruma from the law firm?»

«Yeah, you know him?»

«Do I know him? Our parents practically wanted to marry us off.»

«Seriously?»

«Yup, but my dad wasn’t into it. He says a Gojo should always hire a good lawyer, not marry one, that would be a conflict of interest.»

«So you almost married my middle school crush?»

«We didn’t even get close to marriage, but yeah, that was the idea.»

«I hate you, Satoru.» Suguru laughs. Meanwhile, Satoru rests her head against hers. «And you?» she asks after a quiet moment.

«I don’t think I’ve ever had a crush.»

«Never?»

Satoru shrugs. No, never . «Everyone always wants something from me. Not exactly the ideal environment for falling in love.»

«I’m sure one day you’ll meet the perfect boy.»

Satoru smiles, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

«Tomorrow I’m going to wake up with the most beautiful skin in all of Tokyo.» says the white-haired girl, changing the subject and stretching out on the big bed.

«Of course, you’ll be glowing, and I’ll pretend to be shocked.» Suguru replies, following her.

When they finally go to sleep, Satoru insists on hugging her from behind. Suguru lets her, and they stay like that all night.

***

Suguru likes Satoru a lot . She's smart, she's funny, and above all, she's very beautiful to look at.

If she could, Suguru would put her on her nightstand.

She watches her lying on the bed, on her stomach, reading a manga with her feet up and her nails perfectly painted.

Suguru is plucking her eyebrows at Satoru’s desk, but she can’t help glancing at her through the mirror as she carefully flips through the illustrated pages.

She’s fiddling with Satoru’s makeup. She has tons of it, high quality, in many bright and shiny colors.

«Satoru, can I use your mascara?» she asks, holding up a silver tube.

The girl lifts her gaze. «Of course.» she replies. Then her eyes slide along her friend’s figure. «Actually, want me to do your makeup?»

«Mh, how come?»

« Yves Saint Laurent sent me a new collection and asked me to post a story and tag them. Those colors don’t suit me, but I think they'd look perfect on you. Can I?»

Suguru thinks about it for a moment. Then she agrees. It’s Saturday, so they don’t have class, and she’s curious to try the new line.

Satoru pulls a big YSL-branded box out of the closet. She spreads everything out on the bed and asks Suguru to lie down.

The girl does it, and Satoru gets to work. She skips the base because Suguru’s face is at least two or three shades darker than hers, but her skincare is so on point she doesn’t even need makeup. She just adds a bit of blush because she finds the sunkissed effect adorable on her friend’s warm skin.

She spends about five minutes on Pinterest trying to decide the vibe she wants for this look and finally settles on warm tones with golden highlights.

She brushes Suguru’s face as if she were delicately painting her lover’s face. She takes her time blending the colors and adjusting the shades, almost like she’s using watercolours. Suguru takes it all calmly and lets Satoru make every choice for her.

She closes her eyes when told, looks up when Satoru applies the mascara, and laughs when the brush tickles her.

Satoru also picks a lipstick from the collection, a nude pink just a bit darker than Suguru’s natural lip color. She holds her chin steady with one hand while applying the product with the other, carefully tracing the deep curve of her cupid’s bow.

Maybe she takes longer than necessary, but Suguru stays still, watching the focused look on the other girl’s face.

At some point, Satoru has straddled her waist. Suguru doesn’t notice until she realizes her hands are resting on her hips. She resists the urge to pull them back as if burned, pulling them away now would make things too awkward, no?

«All done. You’re so beautiful, Suguru! I was right, these colors were made for you.»

She reaches for a mirror and hands it to Suguru, without getting off her.

Suguru grabs it and holds it between them, finally looking at her reflection instead of Satoru’s face.

And she’s right, Suguru is truly beautiful, and the colors suit her very well. Satoru’s done an excellent job: a soft brown smokey eye with golden highlights and a bit of red at the center of the lid. It pairs nicely with the amber color of her irises. The lipstick is perfect too, subtle enough to keep the makeup from feeling heavy, but strong enough to balance out the eyeshadow.

Suguru lowers the mirror to look at Satoru again. She smiles, hands resting on her chest, and if she had a tail, Suguru is sure she’d see it wagging behind her.

«Did I do a good job?»

«An excellent job, Satoru.»

Her smile grows even wider. Then, instead of moving off, she lies down directly on top of her, resting her head on Suguru’s chest.

«I’m tired. Let’s take a nap.»

«What? Now?»

«Yeah… I’m sleepy.»

She throws her one of those impossible blue-eyed looks. Suguru blushes from the closeness and the overwhelming contact of their bare skin. Summer is approaching, and girls in the dorms wander around in shorts and tank tops.

«Mh, I overdid it with the blush.»

«Yeah, maybe a little…» Suguru replies.

Satoru shrugs and turns to the side, still lying on top of Suguru, who’s still holding her by the hips.

With her ear pressed to her chest, she hears Suguru’s heart pounding. But she says nothing, and a few moments later, she actually falls asleep.

***

Things become physical very slowly, but just as inevitably.

Suguru doesn’t notice it at first, or maybe she just chooses not to. She figures Satoru is simply a touchy person, that it’s her way of showing affection, and that she only acts like this with Suguru because she’s her best friend.

And sure, they’re teenage girls, so it’s normal to link arms or hold hands. Sometimes Satoru throws an arm over her shoulders and pulls her close as they walk down the hallway; it’s a bit uncomfortable, but it’s nice, and Suguru always feels a little high when Satoru holds her like that, her chest pressed against Suguru’s back.

She leans her head against hers, they tangle their legs under the lunch table, and all but erase the idea of personal boundaries. They share cups, chopsticks, lip balm, and when Suguru sleeps over at Satoru’s room one night and forgets her toothbrush, Satoru tells her to just use hers.

They’re very close, very intimate, but they’re just girls, so in a way, it’s fine. It’s not the craziest thing in the world. A little out-of-character for Satoru maybe, but the rest of the girls at the institute get used to it quickly.

The thing is, it doesn’t stop there. Sure, Satoru is clingy and always finds a way to touch Suguru, but what happens in public is only a fraction of what happens in private.

Suguru doesn’t know when they crossed that line, but at some point, they did and now they keep pushing further and further.

When they’re in her room, Satoru sprawls between Suguru’s legs, chin resting on her lower belly, playing Nintendo Switch like her body is a pillow. Suguru’s always a little nervous, wondering if Satoru can smell her arousal through her shorts.

When they sleep together, Satoru wedges a knee between her thighs and holds her close all night. Suguru barely dares to move because doing so would mean grinding against her friend’s leg and, honestly, she’s so wet she’s afraid Satoru might feel it.

Satoru kisses her. A lot. Quick pecks on the lips, constantly, saying it’s just a best-friends thing. But Suguru’s never kissed any of her friends, not even jokingly, not even at parties, and she always blushes and flusters when it happens. So Satoru starts doing it on purpose to get a rise out of her, pinning her to the bed and prying her mouth open with her tongue. Suguru melts beneath the softness of her lips, intoxicated by a feeling she still doesn’t know how to name.

When they hug, Satoru’s hands slide under her shirt, caressing her stomach and back. Her fingers always find skin, slipping beneath clothes, never forcefully, always soft like feathers, but enough to drive Suguru to the edge.

And of course, they see each other naked all the time. It was one of the first lines they crossed. Satoru has no qualms about changing in front of Suguru, and the dark-haired girl got used to doing the same. There’s no need to hide in the bathroom just to take off a shirt or their uniform. Satoru strips completely before heading to the shower, and Suguru just keeps watching, talking about a Criminal Minds episode she watched recently like nothing’s unusual.

One day, Suguru is in Satoru’s room, scrolling through her Instagram feed full of endless identical selfies and unoriginal captions. She’s bored out of her mind and just wants to play video games, but Satoru said she had to wash up first.

«Suguru.»

She looks up and finds herself face to face with Satoru’s cunt.

Sure, they’ve seen each other naked, but not like this. Suguru doesn’t usually stare when Satoru changes, at least not directly, not like this. So having her right there, front and center, is weird and unexpected.

«Do you think my vagina looks weird?»

Suguru doesn’t question the reasoning. Regular human logic rarely applies with Satoru.

The fact is, she has a really nice pussy, one of those you'd see in erotic films. Fully shaved, a little plump, with her outer lips closed like petals. If you wanted to have sex with her, it would be worth taking a moment just to admire it and spread it with your fingers.

«No, I’d say it looks completely normal. Why?»

Satoru glances down, then shrugs. «I watched a porn today. The girl’s vagina looked completely different than mine.»

«That’s normal, I guess. We’re not all the same.»

«Can I see yours?»

«Huh?» Suguru’s eyes widen, and her phone slips from her hands.

«Yeah. I want to see what yours looks like. Please? I’m curious.»

Satoru takes her hand and runs a thumb gently across her knuckles. Suguru shivers, looking into her friend’s eyes. There’s a hunger there, something deeper than curiosity.

But how could she ever say no to her?

Suguru then undresses under her gaze, peeling off her denim shorts, standing in nothing but a pair of cotton panties with a bow in the center. Satoru approaches her and interlocks his fingers with the lace-trimmed edge of her underwear, pulling it down. The fabric pools at her feet and is quickly forgotten as she remains completely naked and at Satoru's mercy.

The white-haired girl sits on the edge of the bed, letting Suguru stand before her. The girl burns with shame as Satoru watches her, her private parts covered by fine dark hairs, the only thing left to hide her.

«It's different, yours is prettier.» she smiles, her hands firmly on Suguru's tanned thighs. Her hands are simply resting there, but Suguru is convinced that if she tried to pull away, Satoru would stop her, squeezing her flesh until it hurts.

«What are you saying, Satoru? It's just normal. Stop acting weird.»

«It's not bullshit, I really think so. She's so cute, she's an extrovert. I can see your clit.»

She caresses her skin, moving up to her hips, her hot breath hitting Suguru's pussy and making her want to spread her legs, but it would be weird if she did, right?

Satoru's hand slides down her belly to her mound, then lower and lower until her finger presses against her clit, eliciting a surprised moan from Suguru.

«You're so responsive. Well, that doesn't really surprise me.»

«Sa-Satoru, what—»

Satoru's finger caresses her opening, soaking in Suguru's fluids, while her other hand grips her hip, preventing her from moving when Suguru tries to pull away.

«Are you always this wet? I always thought you were a bit of a slut, you know? You really look like one. You look like one of those girls dressed all cute with ribbons and bows, but then underneath their panties, they're always wet and horny.»

«Satoru—no—»

Her finger dips into her opening, and it's scary how easily it slides in and how well it adapts to Suguru's insides. She tightens deliciously around her, soft and yielding as if she's been waiting for her all day.

Satoru tilts her head slightly to the side, her eyes fixed on Suguru's pussy as her finger slides in and out, accompanied by the slick sound of her arousal.

«It feels good, doesn't it? Can I tell you a secret? I always do it when I'm alone; it's the most satisfying way to release tension. I didn't think it would be nice to do it to someone else, but your pussy is so cute I couldn't resist. Do you like it, Suguru? Can I add another finger?»

Suguru can't form a complete sentence, but she nods forcefully, leaning against Satoru's shoulders.

She's not sure where shame ends and desire begins, but it's too late to stop anyway.

The girl gives her one of the most beautiful smiles Suguru has ever seen, and slides another finger into her hole, pushing both up to the knuckles. Suguru lets out a scream.

Her heat burns against Satoru's fingers, but that seems to matter little as she's completely mesmerized by her movements.

It takes an embarrassingly short number of thrusts for Suguru to come, clenching her walls tightly against Satoru. She collapses against her body, and her friend pulls her onto the bed, hugging her while rubbing her clit in circular motions.

She kisses her neck and jaw as Suguru cries and writhes, shocked by her own orgasm.

Her eyes are glazed over, but she clearly sees Satoru bring the two fingers he used to masturbate her to her lips and suck her juices before smiling contentedly and heading to the bathroom to shower.

***

Suguru doesn't tell anyone. She doesn’t even know what she could have said, how to find the words.

It becomes her secret, their secret. Every time Satoru turns around in class to look at her, a sharp thrill shoots through Suguru’s stomach; to everyone else, they act just the same, even in the cafeteria they sit together and chat like usual. Only now Satoru wipes the corner of Suguru’s mouth with her thumb and gives her a look that makes her feel like butter melting between her fingers.

Suguru wants her. All the time. She clings to the memory of what they did like she’s afraid it might vanish any second, like the way dreams fade right after waking up.

When Satoru invites her back to her room another day, Suguru tells herself it’ll be just another hangout. Video games, overpriced pizza delivered to campus, maybe a movie. She tries to convince herself it’s still just a friendship.

But she’s not so sure how much friendship is left when she’s naked between Satoru’s sheets, two fingers fucking her open as obscene moans spill from her lips, and her best friend’s mouth toys with her nipple.

«Ah, yes… Satoru.»

Suguru is clay in Satoru’s hands, she shapes her at will, molding her into forms Suguru never thought she could take.

Every chance becomes an excuse to press their bodies together. Satoru’s skin is soft and smooth, polished like marble, and she smells like vanilla and sugar, Suguru could kiss her for hours.

Satoru brushes Suguru’s long black hair with argan oil, only to tug it later when Suguru eats her out until her legs tremble.

They’re always the last to leave the locker room after PE, and Satoru always finds a moment to make her come on her fingers, kissing and sucking on her neck.

Movies in their room never last more than ten minutes. Legally Blonde plays faintly in the background as they make out passionately on the bed, Satoru’s hands wandering beneath Suguru’s tank top, worshipping every inch of her skin.

During the day, Suguru is distracted. If she’s not with Satoru, she’s thinking about her. Her face heats up and her panties get annoyingly wet. She doesn’t even notice Shoko walking up to her.

«Wanna study together tonight?»

Suguru jumps, nearly dropping her pen. «Ah, sorry Sho, I can’t. I’m hanging out with Satoru.»

Shoko scoffs, rolling her eyes. «Of course you are.»

Suguru catches the sting in her voice, not even subtle, and raises an eyebrow. «Excuse me?»

«Of course you’re with Satoru.» She lowers her voice, no matter how annoyed she is, badmouthing Gojo Satoru out loud is dangerous. «You’re always with her now. I barely see you anymore.»

«So what? She’s my best friend.»

«She sounds more like your boyfriend. She’s glued to your side, glares at anyone who gets close, and she’s completely taken over your time.»

Suguru feels a twist in her stomach. But it’s not her fault that Satoru makes her feel special in a way no one else can.

«It’s just hard for her to make real friends. Can you imagine what it’s like being in her position?»

«I’m just saying what I see, Geto. And if you’re this defensive, maybe I’m right. Just be careful with people who try to isolate you.»

«And you should be more careful with what you say.»

Shoko looks hurt, definitely not expecting that from Suguru. She gives her one last disappointed glance before walking back to sit beside Nanami.

That night, Suguru’s with Satoru, but her mind keeps drifting to what Shoko said. It’s true. Satoru’s become an overwhelming presence in her life, and she knows how that must look. It’s just… she wouldn’t know how to explain how comforting that weight pressing down on her really is.

«Hey, I talked to Shoko today.» Suguru says. Satoru is kneeling in front of her, kissing the inside of her thigh.

«Mmh.» Satoru hums in response, leaving a playful bite that makes Suguru hiss.

«She wanted to hang out tonight and I thought, you know, maybe sometime we could hang out all together. Study, play video games.»

Satoru pauses, looking up at her. Suguru shivers, because, even like this, it’s Satoru who holds all the power.

«Is that what you want?» she asks.

«Mm, I thought it might be nice to all hang out sometim– ah, Satoru.»

Satoru kisses her directly on her bare pussy, right on the clit. Suguru’s always been sensitive there, but something about Satoru makes every nerve in her body stand on edge — hyperaware and hopelessly reactive.

«But why, Suguru? If other people were around, we couldn’t do any of this.» She licks a long stripe up her slit, never breaking eye contact, and Suguru trembles in anticipation.

«Not– not always, just sometimes, you know? It’s always just the two of us.»

Satoru circles her clit with her tongue, slowly, and digs her nails into Suguru’s thighs.

«Don’t you like it when it’s just the two of us, Sugu-chan? I do. Maybe you’re bored? Want a little audience to see the pretty face you make when you come?»

As she speaks, she slides two fingers inside her. Suguru takes them with ease — she knows them well by now —band her body yields without resistance. Satoru’s got a talent: she can apply just the right pressure in all the right places, making Suguru roll her eyes back and bite her lip.

Then she adds her mouth to the mix, sucking on her clit while Suguru bites into her hand. It’s so good, so satisfying. Suguru’s lost count of how many times she’s come on Satoru’s fingers or tongue, but every time feels like her first orgasm all over again.

«Satoru, Satoru. Ah… right there.»

When she’s close, she grabs Satoru’s hair, clutching those snowy strands in her fist. Her climax crashes over her, her abs tightening and breath stuttering like she’s run a marathon.

Satoru rises from the floor and kisses her, forcing Suguru to taste herself on her tongue.

«Don’t talk to me about other girls while moaning my name, Suguru. Got it?»

Suguru nods, and then Satoru kisses her again, like only she knows how to do, stealing the breath from her lungs and leaving her head dizzy like ether.

***

When summer break begins, the dorms empty out. The students climb into shiny cars headed to the airport, off to dreamy destinations with white beaches and crystal-clear waters.

Suguru has been invited to spend the holidays at one of the Gojo estates, which includes sprawling gardens, a private beach, and a small man-made lake with a waterfall.

It’s one of the most beautiful villas in Japan, blending traditional construction techniques with the most modern comforts. But its crown jewel is undoubtedly the lush vegetation surrounding it, meticulously maintained by a team of biologists and professional gardeners.

It’s a little paradise, and it’s all theirs.

«We might run into my mother,» Satoru says during the car ride. «she mentioned she’s flying back to Europe today, but I’m not sure when she’ll be leaving the estate.»

Suguru feels a bit intimidated at the idea of meeting Mrs. Gojo, but she finds comfort in knowing they’ll be spending nearly six weeks alone at the estate, accompanied only by the quiet presence of Satoru’s family staff.

She’s still slightly downhearted about the argument with Shoko a while back, the one they never resolved, and Shoko hasn’t replied to any of her messages. Satoru takes the phone from her hands and sets it aside.

«Wanna play with the Switch?»

They spend the rest of the ride playing Mario Kart — a string of crushing defeats for Suguru — and when they finally arrive, she’s stunned by the view before her.

It looks like a movie set, and Satoru casually mentions that some directors have rented it to film parts of their projects.

The villa stands at the end of a marble-tiled driveway lined with sakura trees pruned so precisely they look sculpted. The façade is a refined blend of dark wood, stone, and large glass panels that reflect the summer sky like a mirror. The sloped roof with black tiles recalls the noble residences of the past, while still offering a modern take on traditional Japanese architecture.

Their chauffeur escorts them to the entrance, carrying their bags. Waiting for them on the doorstep is Satoru’s mother — a stunning woman with western features and long white hair that looks fresh out of a shampoo commercial.

She doesn’t resemble Satoru much, aside from the color of her hair and eyes, but she’s undeniably beautiful. If Suguru remembers correctly, she should be fifty-two, though cosmetic treatments and surgery make her look at least fifteen years younger.

«Hi, Mom.» Satoru greets her. They don’t hug. They don’t even touch.

«Welcome, Satoru. This must be the girl you mentioned, your friend.»

«Nice to meet you, Mrs. Gojo. My name is Suguru Geto.» Suguru bows deeply as she introduces herself. The woman stares at her with icy eyes, and Suguru can’t tell if she’s just sizing her up or already judging her as her daughter’s new toy.

It’s true that both women share the same eye color, but Satoru’s are speckled with white flecks clustered around the pupil, making her irises look like the ocean. Her mother’s, on the other hand, are more uniform in color, but also duller, almost lifeless.

«Geto… Geto…» the woman muses. «That name sounds familiar.»

Suguru explains that her father developed a smartphone app and that maybe she’s heard the name mentioned at some event.

«Ah, of course. I know that app, I use it often. It’s quite useful.»

Suguru thanks her, unsure what else to say.

«Will you be staying here long, Mom?» Satoru asks.

«Actually, I’m on my way to the airport. Your grandparents are waiting for me in Stockholm. Perhaps we can schedule a meeting when I return, let’s say, early September.»

«I’ll contact your assistant to make sure it’s in your calendar.»

Suguru is surprised by how cold their exchange is. Her own parents are busy and she doesn’t see them often, but when she does, they’re always affectionate. They definitely don’t refer to family time as a “meeting.”

Mrs. Gojo gives Suguru another frosty look before turning to speak to her daughter in a language Suguru doesn’t recognize.

Satoru responds in the same tongue, much harsher and sharper than the Japanese she's used to, yet still melodious on her lips.

They go back and forth like that for a solid five minutes, while the dark-haired girl stands by awkwardly, unsure whether she should move or stay still. Not that she understands a word of it anyway.

«Jag dömer dig inte, men du måste komma ihåg att du har ett ansvar.»

«I know.»

The exchange ends there. Suguru isn’t entirely sure, but it sounds like they argued, or maybe it just felt that way.

«Alright. It was a pleasure meeting you, Suguru Geto.» The woman turns to leave, but then seems to change her mind and glances back. «Am I wrong, or have you put on a little weight, Satoru?»

«None of your business.»

«No need to be so touchy. I think you look better, you seem healthier.»

Then she’s truly gone, leaving Satoru sighing and watching her disappear. She turns to Suguru, and any trace of concern vanishes from her face, replaced by a sweet smile.

«Wanna see our room?»

Satoru pulls her upstairs. There’s no point in sleeping in separate rooms since they already sleep together at campus anyway, so she’s had the master bedroom prepared, complete with a king-size bed, two designer chairs, and even a fireplace.

Suguru admires the carefully curated décor. It’s not minimalist, but nothing feels excessive. There’s even a private bathroom with a big glass shower.

«Wow, this is fancy.» Suguru’s seen her fair share of villas and five-star hotels, but the Gojo estate is on another level entirely. Maybe it’s the furnishings, or the mahogany floors, but everything here feels like it was chosen with obsessive care, down to the last nail.

«Do you like it?» Satoru asks, brushing Suguru’s hair over one shoulder.

«Very much. It’s truly beautiful.»

«I’m glad.»

Satoru takes her face between her hands and kisses her. It’s a slow kiss, the kind shared between lovers. She strokes her cheek with her thumb, and Suguru wraps her arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

She moans into the kiss, but then pulls away slightly. «Satoru, I want to go to the beach, come on.»

Satoru laughs, but keeps pulling her back in for soft pecks. Suguru can’t resist her, so they end up kissing for the next twenty minutes, switching between deep make-out sessions and light, tender kisses along the jawline and neck.

By the end, Suguru’s cheeks are flushed, her hair is a mess, and there’s a sheen of sweat on her forehead.

«Alright,» Satoru says, kissing the tip of her nose. «now we can go to the beach.»

***

The days at the estate go by quickly.

They spend their mornings at the beach, tanning on the shoreline. Suguru’s skin takes on a lovely caramel hue, while Satoru only manages to burn her shoulders.

The saltwater leaves their hair wavy and wild, their cheeks are constantly dusted pink, and they keep finding sand in places they never thought possible.

On the porch, they read books by Simone de Beauvoir and eat fruit popsicles, sip the expensive wine stored in the cellar, and in the evenings, when the air cools down a little, they stroll through the gardens of the estate while Satoru explains the meaning of every flower they come across.

«So I told her he was obviously hitting on her, but she didn’t seem to get it. And she liked him, I don’t know why she was being so resistant.»

«Maybe she didn’t like him enough.»

«I don’t know. She seemed kinda into him. And he was cute. If it were me, I would’ve gone for it, wasn’t like she had to marry the guy anyway. A wasted chance.»

«You never know, Suguru. There are a lot of reasons why two people, even if they like each other, don’t end up together. Maybe it’s for the best. If they’d gotten together, it could’ve ended badly.»

«But this way it didn’t even start. Wouldn’t you feel haunted by the ghost of something that never even got to be real?»

«I’d be more terrified of messing it all up. Six Horizontal, “Daughter of Leda, in mythology”. »

Suguru doesn’t even have to look at the crossword Satoru is filling out in her magazine to know the answer. «Helen of Sparta.»

Satoru huffs as she fills in the boxes. «How’d you know it right away?»

«They made me read a hundred versions of that myth in middle school.»

«Yeah, but you’re such a bore. I was thinking “Antigone„.»

«Antigone’s not Leda’s daughter, she’s Jocasta’s.»

«Same difference.»

Suguru reaches for the page. «Let me see what you’re doing, you’re gonna get lost.»

«Excuse me? I’m doing great right now.»

«Wanna bet I can finish it in five minutes?»

«What makes you so sure?»

«Please, a crossword on Greek mythology? I read the entire Percy Jackson series when I was thirteen.»

«Then you’re not actually smart, you’re a fraud.»

«It’s not cheating if I genuinely know this stuff. Come on, I’ll show you I’m faster than you. But then I want something in return.»

Satoru raises an eyebrow. «Like what?»

«If I complete it in five minutes, I want you to…» Suguru’s gaze slides down her friend’s body. They’re on the terrace, sunbathing and sipping soda. Satoru’s only wearing a light blue bikini top and scandalously short denim shorts.

«You want me to what?»

«Give me a massage. A back one.»

«Bold of you.»

«After all, I’m the one doing all the intellectual labor here.»

Satoru rolls her eyes. «And if you lose?»

A jolt of electricity runs under Suguru’s skin, and suddenly her face feels way too hot, even for thirty degrees outside.

«What do you want?»

Satoru seems to think for a moment, then a slow smile curls her lips. «If you lose, then I get to give you a massage.»

«That’s not— that’s the same thing, Satoru. That’s not a punishment.»

The white-haired girl doesn’t stop smiling. «I know.» then she hands her the magazine and the pencil. «So? Deal?»

Suguru takes a deep breath, trying to ignore her racing heartbeat. «Fine.»

Of course, Suguru completes the crossword in four minutes.

She twirls the pencil in her fingers, triumphant, waiting as Satoru checks her answers against the solution on the back of the magazine.

«You’re a monster.» she says, letting the magazine fall onto the glass table.

«A monster who deserves a massage.»

«Alright, you win. Lie down on the lounger.»

Suguru does as told and stretches out on her stomach, sweeping her long black hair off her back.

Satoru kneels by the lounger and unties the red bikini top she’s wearing so the strings won’t bother her, then places her hands on Suguru’s overheated skin.

They’re surprisingly cold, maybe from the glass she’d been holding, still filled with ice.

Satoru starts massaging her shoulder blades with slow, deliberate movements. Occasionally she grazes the line of her spine with her fingertip, a featherlight touch that feels more like a caress than anything else.

Suguru closes her eyes, focusing on her breathing. Satoru doesn’t speak, but leans down lower, letting her thumbs slide along her sides, stopping just under the waistband of her shorts.

«You’re so tense here.» she murmurs.

«Don’t… don’t keep going.»

«Why not?» Satoru’s voice is soft, almost amused. «It’s just a massage, isn’t it?»

Suguru breathes in slowly. If she opened her eyes, she’d see the golden sunset light casting long shadows across the tiles of the terrace. But keeping them shut is easier, like not seeing makes everything less real.

When Satoru leans down further, close enough for Suguru to feel her breath against her neck, she realizes she no longer knows if she’s winning or losing this game.

Her hands dangerously skim the edge of Suguru’s shorts, sending a warm, inexplicable shiver through her. A small sound catches in her throat.

«Seriously, you’re all wound up.» Satoru whispers. «You should learn to relax.»

«Hard to do when you keep—»

She doesn’t finish the sentence because Satoru is bending over her now, just enough for Suguru to feel the light brush of her lips on her bare shoulder, right where the sun has turned her skin pink.

Suguru holds her breath. It’s just a kiss. A tiny one. But that touch sends heat rippling through her entire body.

«Do you know what color your skin turns when you get sunburned?» Satoru asks, not pulling away.

«I… I don’t care.»

«It turns pink. The most beautiful pink.»

Suguru cracks one eye open, exasperated but unable to respond the way she should. She wants to turn around, to make her stop playing around. But when she finally finds the strength to shift onto her side, Satoru is still there, balanced above her, blue eyes watching from beneath white lashes.

For a second, they just stay like that, inches apart, not saying a word.

Satoru touches her chin with two fingers, a gentle gesture that feels more like a request than a demand.

Suguru should say no. She should remind her this isn’t part of the deal, that there are boundaries they’re supposed to respect.

Instead, she finds herself closing her eyes.

And when she feels Satoru’s lips on hers, she doesn’t think of anything else at all.

***

The lake is one of Suguru’s favorite places.

It’s hard to say what’s the most beautiful spot in the estate, but the lake certainly ranks among the top.

It’s an artificial pond with a waterfall, designed to resemble an idyllic medieval oasis, like the ones you read about in the poems of The Pearl Poet .

When the two girls reach the edge of the lake, the estate’s gardens stretch for miles in every direction, and there’s no one watching.

Satoru begins to peel off the linen clothes she wore that morning. Suguru follows her lead, folding her shirt neatly onto the grass.

When she turns back around, Satoru is already slipping off her swimsuit, standing naked under the sun.

«Satoru!» Suguru exclaims, glancing around frantically.

The white-haired girl bursts into laughter as she pulls off her panties.

«Relax, Suguru. No one ever comes here. I always swim naked. You should try it sometime.»

«No, thank you.»

«Suit yourself. You have no idea what you’re missing.»

With that, she steps into the water, giving Suguru a perfect view of her sunlit body slowly sinking beneath the lake’s crystal-clear surface.

Suguru glances around again. It’s true they’re outdoors, but the trees shield them from any passing staff near the lake. And Satoru had said no one ever came.

She removes her own swimsuit and steps into the water, doing her best to cover her intimate parts. Meanwhile, Satoru watches her with a glint of desire in her eyes, drifting closer, gazing at her without even pretending to be subtle.

«Told you I’d convince you.»

«Shut up.» Suguru avoids her gaze, blushing furiously all the same.

The sensation of being naked in the water is strange. She feels exposed, as if the lake could caress her skin. But it’s also oddly thrilling. Even though she’s cold, she can sense Satoru’s warmth only inches away.

Satoru pulls her close, disturbing the water between them. Their chests press together, skin sliding soft and slick like butter on warm bread.

«It’s so unfair that your boobs are this big. God really plays favorites.»

«Yours are fine, Satoru. They’re perfect. Supermodel boobs.»

Satoru rolls her eyes. «Flatterer.»

Swimming naked in the lake soon becomes routine. Suguru says she does it for Satoru, but the truth is, the whole thing turns her on far more than she’s willing to admit.

Sometimes they cross the gardens already nude under their linen shirts, undressing before even reaching the lake, walking barefoot and naked through the grass. Suguru can’t even make it to the water’s edge before her thighs are coated in a sticky sheen.

They swim in the cool water, chase each other around the waterfall, relax side by side on the shore. Satoru kisses her in a mix of water and saliva, caressing every inch of her body.

Suguru lies on the grass, her skin dry and warm. She nearly dozes off, lulled by the rustling of the wind through the branches, but Satoru approaches, still dripping wet, letting the cold droplets fall from her hair and sting Suguru’s skin.

«Ugh, Satoru. You’re dripping all over me.»

Satoru doesn’t care. She lies down right on top of Suguru, making her shiver from the chill. Apparently, Satoru loves to crush her with her body weight.

«Satoru! Now I’m all soaked.»

She laughs, trying to squirm away, but Satoru doesn’t let up. She takes Suguru’s face in her hands and kisses her, deeply, sighing and moaning into her lips.

Suguru melts, spreading her legs just enough to wrap around Satoru’s waist. Their hips press together, Satoru’s pelvis grinding deliciously against Suguru’s clit.

The pressure is heavenly. Suguru rubs herself against Satoru’s pussy, chasing that sweet friction. Heat rushes to her face as arousal coils low in her belly.

Satoru moves with her, tracing her hands over Suguru’s hips as she mimics a thrusting motion, moaning shamelessly against her mouth.

«Suguru, ahh — it feels so good.»

« Satoru… faster, please.»

Satoru intertwines their legs so their bodies align perfectly. She settles above her, pushing up on her elbows for more control.

Suguru feels the inside of Satoru’s thighs slide against hers, then that unmistakable warm, wet contact. A shiver shoots up her spine, and her fingers clutch at the grass.

Satoru starts slow, grinding her hips so their slick centers rub together. Each stroke makes Suguru tremble.

«God, Suguru,» Satoru whispers, pressing kisses to her cheek, her neck, her collarbone. «you’re so soft.»

Suguru can’t speak. She can only tilt her hips, searching for her with movements that grow urgent, nearly desperate. The feeling of sliding against her, skin on skin, makes her moan freely, uncaring if anyone might hear.

Satoru pulls back just a little to meet her eyes. Her lips are parted, cheeks flushed, a haze of pleasure clouding her gaze. Then she dips down again, moving harder, faster, finding a rhythm that seems made to unravel her completely.

Suguru clenches her thighs, pressing tighter against her, and a muffled sound escapes her lips. She feels open, vulnerable, completely exposed beneath her. But for the first time, there’s no shame, only a wild, uncontrollable desire to keep going.

When Satoru moans softly, resting her forehead against hers, Suguru realizes she’s nearing the edge. She moves her hips again, again, until pleasure erupts in a wave of heat that leaves her shaking and breathless.

Satoru follows a second later, the knot in her stomach dissolving with a whimper. Then she collapses beside her, both of them lying in the grass, panting, their thighs wet and trembling.

Satoru looks at her, black hair splayed like a nymph’s, flushed, naked, tiny droplets still clinging to her skin where Satoru’s body had pressed against hers. Her chest rises and falls, full lips parted in a dazed, peaceful smile.

The thought of anyone else enjoying such a sight makes Satoru’s blood boil. She wants to stay in the estate forever, with Suguru by her side, the rest of the world locked out beyond the complex’s pearly gates.

Satoru’s jealousy grows with every passing second, a wall she builds brick by brick. Soon, that wall will become a prison, one Suguru won’t be able to escape.

***

A few days later, Satoru wakes up in the middle of the night complaining about stomach cramps. The pale pink pajama shorts she’s wearing are stained with blood, trickling down between her thighs.

Suguru helps her change and scrubs the shorts in the sink, washing away most of the stain while Satoru cleans the blood from between her legs.

She looks oddly shaken, and Suguru doesn’t understand why.

«Satoru, it’s okay. It’s normal to stain things sometimes. It’s just period.»

Satoru is sitting on the toilet, staring at her blankly, fingers twisting in her lap.

«It’s not that, it’s just that…» she takes a deep breath before continuing. «I haven’t had my period in over a year.»

Suguru finds that terribly sad, but still, she says nothing. She kisses Satoru’s forehead, takes her hand, and walks her back to bed, where she rubs her belly until she falls asleep again.

For a few days, they don’t go to the beach or spend much time in the sun. The driver takes them into town, where Suguru brings Satoru to get her nails done and then to a Mexican restaurant where they eat the best tacos of their lives, so good that Satoru starts seriously considering going to Mexico for spring break.

They hole up in a movie theater to watch a mediocre superhero film, then order crêpes at a café, custard and banana for Suguru, chocolate and strawberries for Satoru. Suguru only eats half of hers, finding the custard too sweet. Satoru, on the other hand, eats her whole dessert and even tries some of the one Suguru left behind.

They spend most of their time at home with the AC blasting. The housekeeper bakes them a chocolate cake and brings it over along with some painkillers for Satoru. They sip iced tea all day and binge the early seasons of Dexter . Every time Satoru complains about cramps, Suguru kisses her stomach and massages it gently.

One afternoon, Suguru is in their room, fresh out of the shower, hair still damp. She’s surprised by how long it’s gotten, it now falls well past her elbows, but Satoru always says how beautiful it is, so cutting it has never crossed her mind.

Satoru is nowhere to be found, so Suguru takes the chance to call her mother. They talk for about twenty minutes. Suguru tells her about the estate, the lake, the complex’s terrace and the private beach, leaving out the part where she’s being fucked senseless in every one of those places.

When the call ends, Satoru still hasn’t shown up. Suguru starts to feel the urge to go looking for her. Ever since they became friends, they’ve rarely been apart, and never for long, so being without her now stirs a sharp, uncomfortable anxiety through her chest.

Before she can act on it, Satoru appears in the doorway. She’s wearing a white soccer t-shirt and blue gym shorts.

Suguru props herself up on her elbows, eyes fixed on her.

«Where were you?» she asks. Now that she sees her, the anxiety fades, but the absence still feels strange. Usually, even if she steps away for just a bit, Satoru always lets her know.

Satoru shuts the door behind her. Only then does Suguru notice the black paper bag in her hand, red tissue paper peeking out of the top.

«I know how much you love the beach, and I’m sorry you haven’t been able to go these past few days.»

«Oh come on, it’s nothing. It's just five days, Satoru.»

«No one’s ever rubbed my belly when it hurts. That was really sweet. So I thought I’d get you something.»

Suguru pouts. «You didn’t have to, Satoru. It’s the least I can do. After everything you do for me, it’s only fair I try to give something back. I can’t accept your gift.»

«In a way, it’s kind of a gift for me too. Just open it and… you’ll see.»

Curious, Suguru takes the bag and opens it. Beneath the tissue paper is a sleek black box. She lifts the lid, and her pupils double in size when she sees what’s inside.

Now, it’s not like Suguru doesn’t know what a strap-on is. When your best friend eats you out so good it makes you cry, you start asking yourself some serious questions about your sexuality, and Suguru has done her research on lesbian sex. So she knows what it is, what it’s for, and that lots of lesbians are crazy about it. Still, she didn’t expect her relationship with Satoru to include sex toys quite this soon.

She blushes furiously while Satoru watches her, clearly amused. It’s exciting, it’s new, but also a little scary. It’s not very big, but Suguru’s never been with a boy, never been with anyone besides Satoru, so the idea of putting that thing inside her makes her more nervous than aroused.

Satoru takes the strap out of the box and holds it in her hand, it’s neon pink, veined, realistically molded in plastic, and neither too long nor too thick.

«Wanna try it? I promise it’ll feel good, and I’ll go slow. You just have to trust me.»

Suguru swallows hard and nods. She could never say no to Satoru. Not now, not ever. And besides, she does trust her. She knows she’d never hurt her, and that they can stop at any time.

Satoru pushes her back onto the mattress and starts kissing her. Her tongue is a gift from the gods, whether it’s in Suguru’s mouth or in her pussy, it always finds the spots that make her moan and blush.

She slides her hands under the camisole, finds her breasts, no bra, presses her palms against Suguru’s hard, sensitive nipples. Suguru wraps her legs around her.

Satoru trails kisses down to her chest, her stomach, the edge of her purple lace panties. She pulls them off and tosses them aside, kissing Suguru’s thighs, leaving bites and hickeys where the skin is softest.

Suguru buries her fingers in her hair, stroking her scalp while Satoru slips one, then two fingers inside her. She teases her clit with the tip of her tongue, kissing her everywhere, making Suguru squirm with pleasure.

She melts. Her walls yield to her touch. She’s so wet that the room fills with the slick, obscene sounds of her pussy and her moans.

«You’re so beautiful, Suguru. It’s like you were made to be fucked.» Satoru whispers, kissing her stomach.

She pulls off her t-shirt, white hair tumbling wildly around her shoulders, and looks down at her like she’s the only girl in the world.

She removes her shorts too, but leaves on her underwear as she straps on the harness. Suguru watches as she fastens it, it’s hot, watching the slim lines of Satoru’s body framed by the leather straps.

When she leans back over her, the pink tip of the dildo grazes Suguru’s thigh, making her shiver. Satoru meets her eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation.

«Want me to stop?» she asks.

«No, just…» Suguru swallows. «Go slow.»

Satoru smiles. «Of course.»

She gently parts her thighs, eases in slowly. The sensation is strange, unlike anything she’s ever felt. It’s too much, too full, more intense than pleasurable.

She feels exposed, vulnerable. But still, she wants to know how deep she can take it.

Satoru stays still, letting her adjust to the shape of the toy. She strokes her cheek with her thumb while Suguru contorts her face in exquisite, erotic pain.

She starts moving — slowly. The first thrusts burn, making Suguru grip the sheets with clenched fists. Satoru is entranced by the way the strap slides in and out of Suguru’s pussy, by the redness around her entrance, by the way her juices glisten on the pink plastic.

She’s so wet that soon the thrusts get smoother. Her pussy softens around the dildo, and the pain shifts, replaced by a new sensation that makes Suguru arch her back and clench deep inside.

There’s a spot in her womb she’s never touched. Satoru finds it, and Suguru’s eyes roll back when she does. The pressure builds, so intense and satisfying that she claws at Satoru’s shoulders, nails digging into her skin.

It’s beautiful. So beautiful she can’t help but moan out loud, calling Satoru’s name like it’s the only thing anchoring her to reality. She comes, trembling. It’s intense, overwhelming, unlike anything she’s used to.

Satoru is still buried deep inside when she leans down to kiss her. «You were perfect, Suguru. So good for me.»

She pulls out with a wet sound. A thread of fluid connects the tip of the dildo to Suguru’s red, abused pussy, and she can’t help but smile in bliss before pulling her beloved back in for more.

***

Going back to school is slow, dragging the remnants of summer behind it. The girls share stories, talk about the boys they met on vacation, the exotic places they visited with their families.

Suguru visits Shoko in her dorm on the first day. When she opens the door, she’s as pale as ever, her hair just a little longer, and she’s surprised to see Suguru looking so tanned and radiant.

«You look great.» she says, stepping aside to let her in.

Suguru smiles and hands her a Louis Vuitton bag, hoping the gift will be accepted and serve as a first step toward making amends. She knows she treated her badly, pushed her aside to chase after her wild and codependent friendship with Satoru. She won’t apologize for being friends with Satoru, but she does know she could have avoided vanishing entirely from her other friends’ lives.

Shoko shakes her head and sets the gift aside.

«I’m really sorry, Shoko. I know I hurt you. That wasn’t my intention. I messed up, and I’m asking for your forgiveness. My friendship with Satoru took over my time and my life, and I just let it happen. I should have stayed closer to you. You’re still my friend. I hope you can forgive me.»

Shoko sits on the bed. Right now, she wishes she had a cigarette. Instead, she unwraps a minty piece of gum and pops it in her mouth to ease the withdrawal symptoms.

«I’m still mad at you. But I think I can forgive you, if you promise to be more present. None of us are trying to take you away from… whatever it is you two have. But I think, as your friend, the least I deserve is your time.»

«I know. You’re right. I’m so sorry.»

«It’ll take me a while to believe your apology’s sincere, but anyway, why don’t you start by telling me about your vacation?»

Suguru dives into the story of the days spent at the Gojo estate. Shoko isn’t surprised that those two spent six weeks together, away from everyone and everything. It’s exactly Gojo’s style, but it does worry her that Suguru, who’s usually so outgoing and social, agreed to it so easily.

Still, Suguru looks so happy when she talks about it. Her eyes light up every time she says Satoru’s name, and Shoko doesn’t have the heart to say anything.

«And you?» Suguru asks once she’s done recounting it all, still buzzing just from reliving it.

Shoko didn’t do much. She’s preparing for the med school entrance exams and spent the summer taking a prep course. With the money she has, she could get into any private college, but her goal is to get into Tokyo’s public university. Still, she admits that if she doesn’t get in on the first try, she’ll settle for a private one.

They spend hours chatting about frivolous things. Shoko tells her about the argument between Utahime and Kamo Kenjaku, the latest school gossip, and they don’t talk about Suguru and Satoru’s relationship. Not even once.

By evening, Suguru decides it’s getting late and that she really needs to go back to her dorm and unpack her stuff. She promises to have lunch with Shoko the next day and heads off.

As soon as she opens her door, she doesn’t even have time to step inside, she’s yanked in, the door slammed shut behind her.

Satoru’s holding her by the wrist, staring at her with those icy blue eyes. She looks angry. Suguru immediately feels guilty for something she doesn’t even know she’s done.

«Where were you?»

«I was with Shoko. Satoru, let go of my wrist.»

«For four hours?»

«We were talking. We haven’t seen each other all summer. Seriously, Satoru, you’re hurting me.»

Satoru pushes her up against the wall. They’re about four inches apart in height, but right now Satoru seems so much taller, she even has a knee pressed between Suguru’s legs, making it impossible for her to move.

«If I find out you’re lying, Suguru, I swear I’m going to get really mad.»

«Why would I lie? Shoko’s my friend. We were talking, that’s all.»

«How do I know that? How do I know you weren’t making out in her room? Maybe Suguru kisses all her girl friends.»

«What are you talking about, Satoru? I don’t kiss any of my friends.»

«Promise me.»

What Satoru is saying makes no sense, but Suguru knows exactly where it’s coming from. Satoru’s never had a friend, except her, and it’s obvious that the two of them are more than just friends. She doesn’t know what it means to be close with other girls, doesn’t even know what it means to be friend with anyone.

Her only reference point is Suguru, and Suguru doesn’t blame her for that.

She’s fully aware of the power she holds over Satoru. She could destroy her if she wanted to. She could truly break Satoru Gojo — but she never would.

She loves her too much.

She smiles softly, raises her hands, and threads her fingers through Satoru’s white hair. Her amber eyes are sweet, warm honey dripping into the very soul of the girl she loves.

«I promise. You’re the only one I’ve ever kissed. The only one I’ll ever kiss. No one else comes even close to you, Satoru. No one even compares.»

She kisses her. It’s a soft kiss, but full of passion. Her wet tongue seeks Satoru’s, clinging to her body as if she might fall into madness without it.

Satoru backs up until she sits on the bed, and Suguru straddles her, deepening the kiss.

It’s like soothing a feral animal, or a spoiled child. Satoru is a little bit of both, and Suguru is more than willing to endure the worst for her.

***

Some things are changing, and Satoru has to accept it.

Suguru wants to spend more time with her friends, so Satoru has to give up a bit of their time together to let Suguru go study in Shoko’s room or watch The Vampire Diaries with Nanami. Sometimes, Suguru even chooses to pair up with Utahime for school projects.

They rarely eat lunch alone now. Suguru always sits next to Satoru and strokes her thigh under the table, but Shoko, Nanami, and Utahime have become a constant presence.

Suguru also becomes friends with another girl, Manami, with whom she finds she has a lot in common, especially a passion for sports. Sometimes they meet at the tennis court to play. Satoru doesn’t understand why Suguru can’t just play tennis with her — Satoru is amazing, a champion — but Suguru says it’s fun to play with someone different, someone with a style she’s not used to.

At night, though, Suguru is all hers. She’s naked and melted between the sheets, clinging to her fingers or coming on her tongue, riding the pink dildo they bought that summer and calling out Satoru’s name like a prayer.

Sometimes sex turns a little rough, Satoru needs to vent the frustration of seeing Suguru taken away from her, but Suguru never complains. In fact, she discovers she enjoys it: getting her pussy slapped, the sensation of overstimulation, the rough way Satoru bites her nipples, just enough to hurt, but not too much.

Suguru is wrecked by the orgasm, blissful, her long black hair brushing against Satoru’s body as she leans over her, fingering her lover, thanking her for fucking her so well with the strap. Satoru took her from behind, slamming the dildo into her soaked pussy, making her see stars.

Satoru whines when she’s close to coming, so Suguru adds her other hand, rubbing her clit. She presses it, and Satoru comes, trembling and biting Suguru’s shoulder.

They kiss all the time, it’s maybe their favorite thing. They’re addicted to each other, and it’s intoxicating to feel their tastes mix together on their tongues.

But for Satoru, it’s not enough.

Sometimes, when Suguru isn’t with her, she calls and asks her to come to her dorm. One time it’s a headache, then a fight with her mother, or her laptop crashed and she needs help fixing it.

Suguru always runs to her. It doesn’t matter if her friends say she’s just being dramatic, she doesn’t care.

Then, one evening, Suguru doesn’t answer the phone. Satoru texts her, but the message is left on delivery. She waits. Ten minutes staring at the ceiling. Then twenty. Then forty-five.

She gets out of bed barefoot, wearing her lilac pajamas, walks down the hallway, up two floors, and knocks on Shoko’s door.

Suguru is inside, sitting cross-legged on the bed, a notebook in her lap and a pink highlighter teasing her lips. She’s laughing. With Shoko and Manami. Utahime is there too, lying on her stomach on the floor with a physics book open in front of her.

«Satoru, is everything okay?» Suguru asks, glancing at the girl standing at the door.

Satoru smiles. Bright. Fake.

«Ah, there you are.» she says, looking only at the girl with the black hair, as if the others in the room never existed. «I texted you.»

«I didn’t see it, was it important?»

«I needed you for… something stupid. Can you come for a sec?» her voice is sweet — too sweet. A steak knife slicing through butter.

Suguru looks at Shoko, uncertain. Shoko nods, as if to say "go."

«Be right back.» she tells the others as she leaves the room and follows Satoru into the hallway.

Satoru pulls her into her room, doesn’t say a word until the door closes. «So now you don’t even answer my messages? Too busy having fun with your little girlfriends?»

Suguru sighs as she takes off her hoodie. Satoru always keeps the heat way too high. «We were just studying for tomorrow’s test. Satoru, are you jealous?»

«Of course I’m jealous!» she snaps. Her hands itch as she wants to grab Suguru’s arm and pull her closer. «That’s not even it. It’s just that… I don’t know who you are when you’re not with me.»

Suguru stares at her for a long moment, then sighs. She steps forward, places both hands on Satoru’s cheeks, forcing her to look into her eyes. «I’m still me, Satoru. Even when I’m somewhere else, even when I’m laughing with someone else. I’m me, and I’m yours.»

Satoru kisses her — hard. She steals all the air from her lungs until they burn. Her hands shake. There’s something desperate in the way she clings to her, touches her, searches for her.

«Tell me I’m the only one.»

«You are. But let me breathe.»

Satoru bows her head until her forehead rests against Suguru’s shoulder.

«I don’t know if I can.»

Suguru doesn’t go back to Shoko’s room. Later that night, while she’s asleep in Satoru’s bed, she gets a message on her phone. It’s from Utahime, she says they’re about to watch a movie and have a sleepover, Suguru’s welcome to join them.

Satoru reads the message, deletes it, and puts the phone on do not disturb .

It’s the first time she’s ever done something like that.

But it won’t be the last time she deletes a message or a contact from Suguru’s phone.

***

Winter months are intense. It's their final year, and soon they’ll face university entrance exams. Many girls are taking English tests to get into Cambridge or Yale.

Suguru still doesn’t know what she wants to do — maybe she’ll take a gap year to figure it out. In the meantime, she focuses on enriching her résumé: she competes in athletic tournaments and wins first prize in track and field, attends a computer science course, and enters an essay competition.

She studies hard in the library with her group of friends. Sometimes she pulls all-nighters with Satoru — or rather, she studies while Satoru reads the textbook once and remembers ninety percent of the notions.

Satoru’s birthday falls during the worst time for students, but Suguru makes sure it’s special by taking her to the city for dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant.

They spend the evening trying dishes with unpronounceable names and bizarre but surprisingly delicious flavor combinations, laughing over the ridiculous exercises Coach Yaga makes them do in PE class.

She gives her a necklace made out of sapphires and diamonds, because it matches her eyes.

December ends with exams week. Suguru is satisfied with her performance and earns good grades. Shoko gets top marks in science subjects, giving her a strong chance at getting into med school in Tokyo. Utahime is second in their class. Satoru ranks first in the entire institute.

Suguru is straddling her, celebrating in the privacy of their room. Her hair is tied back in a bun, she’s naked from the waist up, letting Satoru play with her breasts, her promised reward if she scored perfectly on the exams.

«You did amazing, Satoru. You got top marks on every test.»

Satoru takes one of her nipples into her mouth and looks up at her with a provocative gaze.

«You’re so smart. Beauty and brain, they said, uh?»

Satoru nibbles the girl’s nipple and smiles in that shameless, mischievous way only she can.

«Do you think it’s hot?»

«Obviously. You drive me crazy when you show off, especially when you prove to everyone how brilliant you are. It turns me on.»

«Oh yeah? Did you get horny when you saw my name on the ranking board?» she teases, knowing full well that’s not what Suguru meant.

«Mhh, yes . I thought about how incredible my girl is, and that tonight, she’d be all mine.»

Satoru freezes.

«Your girl?»

Suguru realizes she just said “my girl” out loud. She’d done it in her head plenty of times, but they had never talked about it, so she had never called her that outside her fantasies.

«Yeah… I mean, does it bother you? I just thought that by now…»

Satoru pulls her in for a kiss, and that’s all the answer Suguru needs.

«I love it.» she says. «My girl.»

Suguru smiles so wide her cheeks hurt. Their friends are out in the courtyard celebrating the end of exams. Yesterday, snow had fallen on the mountains and gathered in little mounds — they’ve been building snowmen and throwing snowballs for hours. They’re texting her, asking where she is and to join them. But she’s with Satoru, and there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

«I can’t wait to spend Christmas break with you. We could go to my Karuizawa cottage. My cousin Yuuta might be there too, you could meet him. He’s the only decent relative I have. He’s a bit dumb, but he’s only thirteen, he’ll get cooler when he grows up.» the white-haired girl starts rambling.

Suguru freezes. Satoru notices the sudden tension.

«Satoru, I can’t come with you.»

«What? Why not?»

«I’m spending the holidays with my family.»

«Why? Then what about December twenty-fourth?»

«I’ll be in St. Moritz by then.»

«Do you have to go?»

«Satoru, don’t be like that. I haven’t seen my family in months. I was with you all summer break. I told you I’d be leaving for Christmas.»

Suguru knows she’s not at fault, but Satoru is now upset with her. And that keeps breaking her heart.

***

The holidays in St. Moritz aren’t nearly as exciting as she expected. She sips hot chocolate at the lodge bar, rereads A Christmas Carol by the fireplace, enjoying the warmth of the flames, and takes snowboarding lessons with her father. The instructor tries to flirt with her, only to be coldly rejected.

Not even shopping in Davos lifts her spirits. In a boutique, she sees a white suit that would look divine on Satoru — she’d wear it with Prada heels and a luxury handbag, turning every head in the room.

She tries to stay cheerful around her parents. After all, she wouldn’t even know how to explain to them — who don’t know she has a girlfriend or that she likes girls at all — that she had a fight with said girlfriend just before leaving.

She talks about school, proudly shares her latest exam scores, and says she’s thinking of joining a tennis club in the spring.

Her father asks if she’s interested in computer programming, maybe one day she could take over his start-up. Suguru would rather recite the Bible by heart than write a single line of code.

Her mother says she doesn’t need to know just yet. Her parents have agreed she can take a gap year, as long as she actively does something that helps her decide what to pursue by the following year.

Suguru’s considered everything — law school, volunteering, science camp. She feels like she could do anything, and at the same time, she doesn’t want to do a single thing. She’s a rich girl with the intellect and the looks to make the world fall at her feet.

Very little impresses her.

There’s only one person who always makes her feel something. And she won’t answer her phone.

In the past few days, Satoru hasn’t replied to any of her messages, or picked up her calls. She didn’t reply to the text Suguru sent her on December 24th, or the one with Christmas wishes.

She spends her time turning the bracelet Satoru gave her around her wrist.

On New Year’s Eve, Suguru’s had enough.

She buys a ticket back to Japan and tells her family she wants to return home to focus on studying for the January exams.

Her mother doesn’t ask questions but seems a bit puzzled. Her father tells her he’s proud of her, that he appreciates her sense of responsibility. They call a driver to take her to Zurich airport, and Suguru packs two boxes of fine chocolates to bring back to Satoru.

That night, December 31st, while others toast with French champagne and watch fireworks over the mountains, Suguru is flying back home, hands trembling inside leather gloves.

She asks the driver who picks her up at Matsumoto airport to take her to the Gojo estate in Karuizawa. She offers him fifty thousand yen not to report it to her parents, and he accepts with the quiet compliance of someone used to working for the country’s most privileged class.

The trip isn’t long. Suguru keeps glancing into the bag she brought, hoping the gift she bought for Satoru will be accepted — that she will be accepted again.

It doesn’t matter what the circumstances are. For Suguru, Satoru is pure heroin in the veins of an addict. Something she could never give up. Something that ruins the heart but feels so good under the skin.

The cottage is elegant and luxurious, exactly as expected. On the same level as the summer estate where she spent the most beautiful weeks of her life.

She gives her name to the guards, waits at the gate until they tell her she can go in. When she reaches the front door, she recognizes the figure waiting.

Mrs. Gojo wears a white fur coat, her hair tied in a flawless chignon, and her ice-colored eyes look like they could pierce skin.

Suguru offers a formal bow.

«I’m surprised to see you here, Geto-san. No one’s ever come this far just to indulge one of my daughter’s whims.» the woman says.

She pauses, looks Suguru over, judges her.

«It’s admirable. I don’t know what the two of you fought about. Knowing Satoru, it was probably something tremendously stupid. She doesn’t want to see you. But you know how she is. Always doing things to hurt herself. She has no idea what’s best for her.»

She picks up a lock of Suguru’s hair, twirls it around her finger, then lets it fall on her shoulder.

«First floor, second door on the right.»

Suguru doesn’t need to be told twice. She bounds up the stairs and finds herself in front of the indicated door.

She knocks twice.

Satoru can’t hide her surprise when she opens it and sees Suguru on the threshold, wearing a long blue coat, black hair dusted with snow, cheeks red from the cold.

«What are you doing here?» she asks, her voice is sharp.

«Belated Merry Christmas.» Suguru lifts the bag she brought from Switzerland and holds it out. «I hope you’ll accept this gift. And my apology.»

Satoru takes the bag and lets her into the room. They sit on the bed while she unwraps the present and pulls out a green leather-bound book, the complete collection of Greek poet Sappho’s fragments.

«Sappho? You’re such a geek, Suguru.»

«Open it.»

Satoru flips through the pages and finds them full of handwritten notes. Suguru’s thoughts, analyses, interpretations.

"I’d rather see her lovely step,

and the motion of light on her face,

than chariots of Lydians or

soldiers in arms.”

Sometimes I watch her walking toward me and my mind just empties. When she laughs, when she knows how people like her — she takes the air from my lungs. I could go mad without ever touching her.

«So you write poetry in your free time now?» Satoru flips through more notes. They’re intimate, personal. Some sweet and tender, others scandalously erotic.

She looks up at Suguru, who’s doing everything in her power not to meet her gaze. Her cheeks are flushed red and her arms are crossed over her chest.

Satoru puts a hand on her face and makes her look at her.

«You really thought you could just show up here with Greek poetry and an apology?»

«I also brought chocolates.»

«Chocolates?»

«Swiss chocolates. Two boxes. I know you’ve got a sweet tooth.»

Satoru tries to stay serious, but can’t suppress a laugh. She sets the book on the nightstand behind Suguru, and in doing so, leans close enough to brush against her cheek.

«You broke my heart. You know how much I hate being left behind.» she whispers.

Suguru leans into her hand, her amber eyes are like glass that Satoru can see straight through.

«I know. You’re the most important person in my life. I’m sorry.»

There’s a long silence. Satoru runs a hand through Suguru’s hair, gently massaging her scalp.

«Did you highlight the part where Sappho says she wants to die from desire?»

Suguru nods. «It felt fitting. That’s how I felt. That’s how I still feel. Every time I’m away from you, it’s like my blood’s burning in my veins.»

Satoru takes her chin between two fingers and looks her straight in the eyes. «Just this once, I’ll forgive you. But only because you brought me a dead lesbian poet and handwritten erotic notes.»

Suguru smiles, relieved. They kiss gently, sighing, clinging to each other’s shoulders.

Satoru strokes her lower lip with her thumb. «You cold?»

«A little.»

«Take it all off. Get under the covers.»

Suguru doesn’t need to be told twice. She undresses slowly, unhurried, as Satoru watches. Then she pulls her close, wrapping her arms and legs around her, nuzzling her nose into Suguru’s collarbone until they fall asleep to the crackling of the fire.

***

Preparations for the end of the school year are frantic. Some girls receive admission letters from foreign colleges, others are preparing for entrance exams at Japanese universities, still others will take over the family business, or live off inherited wealth. A few will get married before autumn.

Suguru is with Satoru when she opens the acceptance letter from Columbia. As expected, the business school responded enthusiastically: it will be an honor to welcome her among its first-year students in September. No one ever doubted that Satoru, given her grades and her last name, could get into any university in the world.

She’s going to become the head of the Gojo clan. She’s already suited for the role, trained for it her entire life. Being the heir to such a family carries many responsibilities, some heavier than others, but Satoru is also a woman, and she’s always had to work twice as hard to be considered even half as capable as a man.

She closes the envelope and turns toward her.

«I’m moving to New York. My father already bought me an apartment in SoHo. I’ll go to class in sunglasses, with an enormous coffee cup in my hand, like in the movies.»

«I want you to call me when you cross the Brooklyn Bridge. You have to tell me everything. Even if, with the time difference, you’ll end up calling me at three in the morning.»

«You’ll call me.» Satoru smiles. «You’ll be the one who misses me.»

Suguru’s chest tightens. She’s right. She will miss Satoru — she already does. If her expression falters, she’s quick to hide it. This is Satoru’s moment, she has to be happy for her. A supportive girlfriend.

«Of course, so I can wake you up in the middle of the night with a phone call. Just to annoy you.»

«You could. You could wake me up in the middle of the night while you’re sleeping in my bed, in our house.»

Suguru holds her breath. Satoru’s eyes feel like a spotlight pointed right at her.

«Come with me to New York.» she takes Suguru’s hands in hers. «We could live together. You’d take care of me, I’d take care of you.»

«Satoru…»

Suguru’s lip trembles. There’s something moving beneath her skin — it isn’t sadness, nor is it happiness. It’s an addiction. The echo of all the nights they fell asleep clinging to each other, believing the world ended right there.

«Come with me. Forget the clubs, the classes, all of it. I’ll work, you’ll have breakfast on the terrace and send me pictures of your new nails. You’ll write, read, lie in the sun…»

Is it a life Suguru sees for herself? Absolutely. Satoru knows what kind of person she is, knows her desires, the most depraved part of her soul and is willing to lock her up in a sparkling penthouse on the other side of the world just to keep her close.

«I’ll be your wife, Suguru. I want to marry you. It's legal in America. I want to put a huge ring on your finger so no one will ever think of approaching you. And then…» she leans in, presses her lips to her ear, her hands circling her waist. «We could have a baby, if you want.»

Suguru pales. «A baby?»

«Yes. My eggs, your womb. You’d carry it, but it would be a Gojo, so the clan would be forced to recognize it as an heir. It would be perfect.»

It would be perfect . Suguru has always liked children, she’d love to be a mother someday. Carrying Satoru’s children? Their children?

Suguru doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t even know what she really wants, if she truly wants to move to New York, if she truly wants to give up her independence and be held so tightly she forgets where she ends and Satoru begins.

And yet the idea is electric. She wants Satoru to take care of her, she wants to be kissed, adored, worshipped. Only Satoru can do that. She’ll accept only Satoru.

Her arms wrap around Satoru’s neck. They kiss like they’ve done a hundred times before, but this time it’s wetter, wilder, as if they’re gasping for air into each other.

Suguru knows she can’t live without her. Satoru is the meaning of everything — a poison that seeped into a wound that would never close again.

It’s too hot. Their clothes are too much. Her skin burns as she strips them off. Satoru knows exactly how to handle her, knows her body like a devout believer knows the beads of a rosary. Her devotion is religious, obsessive.

She slides two fingers into her pussy, rubs that spot that makes Suguru arch her back. She kisses her breasts, teases her nipples with her lips the way that drives Suguru insane.

Satoru bites her neck, leaving a bruise that will hurt tomorrow, but Suguru hopes it lasts for days. She wants Satoru on her, in her, everywhere.

«I’ll make you come so many times you’ll forget the name of this city,» Satoru whispers, voice hoarse, pushing her fingers deeper and kissing her throat, her chin, her lips. «I’ll make you forget who you are until all that’s left is my girl, my wife, the mother of my children.»

Suguru moans loud, grinding against her, chasing the friction she needs for release.

«Satoru…»

«Shh. Open your legs more, like that…» she grabs her wrist and guides it between her own thighs, where she’s soft and wet. «Touch me. Show me you’re mine.»

Suguru obeys. Her fingers slide with a practiced ease. The way Satoru squeezes her with her thighs is almost desperate.

Suguru’s hair is scattered everywhere, their lips find each other, hands interlace as they moan into each other’s mouths.

Suguru comes with a cry, warm slick spilling onto Satoru’s hand. Satoru comes too, around Suguru’s fingers, pressing skin to skin.

Satoru holds her close, burying her face in the crook of her neck. Suguru feels her lips brush her skin and a whispered phrase, almost too soft to hear.

«I’ll make you happy. Happier than anyone ever has.»

Suguru doesn’t respond. She doesn’t need to. Satoru knows she belongs to her — and deep down, Suguru is the one holding the leash of the Gojo heir. She can’t wait to be entirely hers.