Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [130]

A golden moon and scattered stars dotted the deep blue night sky.

Moonlight flowed quietly.

On the steps outside the concert hall, Eriri sat curled up, eyes blinking with curiosity as she looked at him.

“Takeru… how did you find me? Don’t tell me… you actually heard the address I managed to say at the end?”

“No.”

Kitahara Takeru took out a heating pad from his backpack and handed it to Eriri, gesturing for her to stick it on the upper left of her abdomen. Then he turned his head away.

“I saw you’d retweeted the Ikebukuro station event on Twitter and noticed your name on the promotional poster. So I came here.”

Looking down at the heating pad in her palm, Eriri felt a gentle warmth rise from her chest, sending ripples through her heart.

Ever since Watanabe Takeru had learned about her poor circulation, he’d always kept one of these in his bag.

“When I got to the venue, you were already gone.”

“So I asked around as I ran. All the way here.”

“I was sweating like hell trying to find you.”

Takeru gave a wry smile as he said that.

That part wasn’t even a lie — he’d really searched for her that way.

Though it hadn’t been entirely blind. He’d first called in a favor from a senpai and had them pull security footage from the venue entrance to confirm the direction she’d left in before starting his chase.

Even so, it had taken a long time to find her.

“But in the end… I found you.”

Eriri imagined the sight of Watanabe Takeru running frantically around town just to look for her. Something warm and wordless stirred in her chest — an emotion too deep to name.

She gazed into his eyes, and what shimmered there was overflowing affection. In the arc of his brows, a thousand unspoken words hovered.

“Don’t move. I’ll massage it a little.”

Once she’d applied the heat patch, Takeru gently pressed a palm to her abdomen and began to massage — light, slow strokes, meant to stimulate intestinal movement and improve circulation.

This technique, actually, he’d learned while taking care of Hiratsuka Shizuka.

That woman smoked, drank — stomachaches were a common affair. He’d learned this method from the school nurse just for her.

It worked like a charm. Everyone who’d tried it praised it.

“This is my first time doing this for someone. If it hurts, let me know.”

Of course, he’d already long mastered the right pressure. But he always told girls it was his first time giving a massage.

Why?

To create a specific image: I, Kitahara Takeru, am pure and proper. A decent guy with clean hands.

As one of his playboy friends had once said:

“The most dangerous predator always appears as the prey.”

Takeru’s so-called first time was like a 12:00 AM “first kiss” reset.

Anyone who believed it was a fool.

“Okay~”

And there it was.

One little fool.

Hearing that yet another of Takeru’s “firsts” belonged to her, Eriri’s heart turned to strawberry soft-serve — sweet and melting.

Under the warm yellow glow of the nearby streetlights, the boy’s expression was focused. His face — delicate, slightly youthful — was softened by a veil of light, laced with gentle care.

The warmth that passed through his strong, pale artist’s hands made Eriri flush. Her face tinged with a faint pink, like the first bloom of cherry blossoms. Her ears, too, glowed red — like ripened cherries.

Don’t be fooled by her work — yes, she was a doujinshi artist, yes, her mind was filled with degenerate filth — NTR, humiliation, tentacles, hypnosis, gangbangs.

But inside… she was still a sucker for pure romance.

Outside of her father, her most intimate contact with a boy was still just hand-holding.

And that hand-holding had been with Watanabe Takeru. She hadn’t even held hands with Aki Tomoya before.

Thinking of Aki suddenly made her feel a pang of guilt. She shifted slightly where she sat, troubled.

“Did I hurt you?”

Takeru’s voice was gentle — achingly so. It instantly pulled Eriri back from her guilty spiral.

Their eyes met. In the stillness of night, his gaze was clear and warm.

In that moment, Eriri wanted to slap herself. How could I be thinking about another guy while I’m with Takeru?

“No. It’s fine.”

“Good.”

Takeru returned to the massage with full concentration.

At that moment, his mind was genuinely clear of anything indecent.

Mostly because… he'd already indulged in enough depravity earlier.

He could still feel the weight of the remote in his pocket.

Shooting with Marin Kitagawa that afternoon had left him pent-up.

As Kun once said: Right now, I’m burning up.

Thankfully, Takeru was an old PUBG veteran — not some wild Quark rookie. He could control recoil.

Also thankfully, they were in a public place. Because if this had happened anywhere else… even he didn’t know if he’d have pushed Marin’s head down and whispered: Hurry up. I’ve got something urgent.

Takeru’s self-control was solid — but just because a bulletproof vest works, doesn’t mean you should keep shooting at it.

Besides, his “little brother” had a mind of its own sometimes.

After about fifteen minutes, Takeru asked, “How is it? Still hurting?”

Eriri checked in with her body, then answered, voice soft and a little pitiful: “Still hurts…”

“No choice then. We’ll have to go to the hospital.”

Takeru pulled out his phone and began booking an appointment online.

After securing the time slot, he looked up. “Can you still walk?”

Eriri shook her head. Her golden hair shimmered with the motion.

“Then get on.”

With no other choice, Takeru squatted down in front of her.

Eriri smiled, her eyes crinkling like crescent moons, and flung herself onto his back, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

Takeru slid his hands under her thighs to support her.

Unfortunately, she was wearing a tracksuit — so there was no skin contact.

Minus points.

Though, the feeling of her back pressed to his wasn’t bad.

Better than a flatboard, at least.

Strangely enough, his thoughts drifted to a certain petite, equally cute Second Miss Yukinoshita.

That made him chuckle to himself.

Then Eriri’s voice cut in, low and eerie: “You’re not thinking about another girl, are you?”

Takeru froze.

No way—how the hell is a woman’s sixth sense always this sharp?!

“You’re kidding, right? Come on, would I ever be that kind of guy?”

He put on his most righteous face, then softened his tone with a sheepish smile.

“I’m just… really happy I get to carry you like this.”

“I used to secretly imagine a moment like this.”

“Now that it’s happening for real, it feels like a dream. Eriri, maybe you should pinch me?”

“Wait, no, don’t! What if I wake up? This is the best dream I’ve had in forever — let me stay asleep a little longer.”

Hearing that, Eriri blushed and muttered, “Idiot…” then leaned her cheek against his broad, steady shoulder.

That was close. Only I could’ve handled that.

Takeru gave himself a mental pat on the back for his flawless improv and S-tier acting skills.

Anyone else would’ve blown it right there.

“Actually…”

Just as Takeru was silently gloating, a voice like a whisper drifted into his ear on the summer breeze.

“We could keep doing this in the future.”

Takeru stopped smiling.

His long lashes trembled faintly — as if trying to hold the entire darkened cityscape within them.

But Sawamura… you're not in my future.

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This is a fan translation of 不是说只拿我当替身的吗？by 雪碧加冰. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!