080. Fujiwara Family Motto

Rather than indulging in a proper bath, it was more accurate to describe Natsukawa Kanade's efforts as a cautious attempt to wipe away the grime of the day. With a still-healing wound stretched across his back, fully submerging in water was out of the question. The gauze tightly wrapped around his upper body served as a reminder of his limitations. Instead, he made do with a damp towel, briskly wiping his arms and stomach before deciding that was sufficient.

At least, that was his plan.

"Fujiwara Chika, don't you have any sense of shame?!" Kanade snapped, hastily covering his lower half with both hands as his wide eyes locked onto the intruder.

There she stood, Fujiwara Chika, radiating her usual chaotic energy and standing in his bathroom, as if she owned the place.

"Of course, I do!" Chika exclaimed, her cheeks tinged with embarrassment, though her gaze remained resolute. "But as a proud daughter of the Fujiwara family, I must uphold our family motto—if I do something wrong, I have to take responsibility!"

"W-What does that even have to do with barging in here?!"

Chika held up a towel like it was some grand peace offering. "Isn't your back injured? I'm here to help! Plus, I brought you a fresh towel!"

Kanade groaned internally. She wasn't even dressed properly, opting for a loosely tied bathrobe. Her long hair was tied back into a messy bun, and her expression was far too determined for him to argue his way out of this.

"Thanks for the towel. Now, get out," Kanade said, snatching it from her hand and immediately using it to cover his legs.

But Chika was having none of it.

"President, stop being so stubborn! You need to be obedient in situations like this!" She puffed up her chest and placed her hands on her hips, exuding the confidence of someone delivering a grand proclamation. "If you don't clean that wound, it's going to get infected! Imagine it getting all swollen, oozing pus—it'd be disgusting and painful! So just let me help!"

"I can handle it myself," Kanade shot back, his tone stubborn. "It'll heal on its own in a few days."

"No!" Chika's retort was immediate and absolute. "Leaving it alone is basically a gamble! You need to clean it properly, change the dressing, and keep it hygienic to avoid any deep infections!"

Kanade sighed, realizing there was no escape. Chika, despite her eccentric personality, was remarkably knowledgeable when it came to this sort of thing.

He had initially planned to rely on "dry therapy," letting the wound naturally scab over and heal without much interference. But the more she spoke, the more he was forced to admit that her method was probably better.

"Fine… but be gentle." His tone was reluctant, his defeat evident.

"Leave it to me!" Chika beamed, her eyes sparkling with determination. She quickly grabbed a small stool, plopped it behind him, and rolled up her sleeves like a professional.

"President, hand me the towel. I'll soak it in warm water first."

"Can't you just use a new one?"

"There aren't any extras! What, do you want to use mine? No way!" Chika immediately crossed her arms in a dramatic X, her face flushing with indignation.

Kanade groaned in defeat and handed over the towel that had been covering his legs. He sat upright, stiff as a statue, as Chika gleefully disappeared to prepare.

Moments later, she returned with a warm, damp towel and began unwrapping the gauze on his back. Her movements were surprisingly careful, though her humming betrayed her upbeat mood.

"President, you need to change your dressings regularly and make sure to keep your back clean," Chika advised in her usual lecturing tone, as if she were a doctor rather than a meddlesome friend.

Kanade glanced down as she worked. The gauze was still stained with streaks of dried blood, though thankfully, not as much as before. His wound appeared to be on the mend, slowly but steadily. If everything went smoothly, it would likely heal in a few weeks.

"Hmm…" Kanade grunted as a sharp sting shot through his back. Chika's hands, though well-meaning, were not as gentle as he might have hoped.

"Does it hurt? Sorry…" she murmured, her voice softening.

"It's fine," Kanade replied, shaking his head. "Just keep going."

He wasn't the type to be undone by a little pain, but her sudden tug had caught him off guard.

For a moment, the bathroom fell into silence. The only sounds were the occasional splashes of water and the faint rustling of cloth. Kanade expected Chika to start prattling on about some unrelated topic, but to his surprise, she remained focused, meticulously wiping around the wound with the damp towel.

"Hoo-hoo! Mission accomplished!" Chika exclaimed at last, standing up with a triumphant grin as if she'd just conquered a great challenge.

Kanade exhaled, relieved the ordeal was over. "Great. Now that you're done, get out. I still need to shower."

But Chika wasn't about to leave so easily. "I'm not done yet! I still need to wash your hair, President!"

Kanade's expression darkened. "I'm injured, not incapacitated. There's no need for you to stick around. I can handle it myself." He reached out to take the towel from her hands, but Chika, ever the trickster, deftly avoided his grasp with a playful turn.

"No way! If you do it yourself, you might mess up the wound and undo all my hard work!" she declared, wagging a finger at him like a disapproving parent.

"Hard work? You call that hard work?" Kanade frowned. "It's just a little pain. I can manage. Now give me the towel."

"Go-hoo, nope!" Chika teased, clutching the towel behind her back and sticking out her tongue.

The exchange quickly escalated into a game of cat and mouse. Kanade lunged forward, but Chika danced out of his reach with surprising agility, her laughter echoing off the bathroom tiles. For a moment, they forgot their surroundings—or the fact that they were, quite frankly, in a rather compromising situation.

It wasn't until Chika miscalculated her step that reality came crashing back.

"Ah—!" She yelped as her foot slipped on the wet floor, sending her careening backward.

Kanade reacted instantly, his reflexes honed by years of discipline. In a single swift motion, he caught her, pulling her into his arms before she could hit the ground.

"You're going to get us both killed if you keep this up," Kanade muttered, his tone exasperated as he steadied her.

Chika blinked up at him, her cheeks flushed from the close contact. "P-President, you're such an idiot!" she huffed, trying to mask her embarrassment as she pushed away from him. But her indignation froze when she noticed the stunned expression on his face.

"What?" she asked, her voice wavering.

Kanade didn't respond. His gaze had drifted downward, and as Chika followed it, she realized the horrifying truth. At some point during their scuffle, her bathrobe had come undone and now lay in a heap on the floor.

"…!"

Time seemed to stop as the realization hit.

"BAKAAAAA!!!" Chika shrieked, her face turning a shade of red so intense it could rival a sunset. She hastily crossed her arms over her chest, crouching down in sheer mortification. "President, turn around! Don't look! Don't look!!!"

Kanade quickly spun around, his hands raised in surrender. "I-I'm sorry! It was an accident! I swear!"

But even as he faced the wall, his heart pounded like a drum, and his face was no less flushed than hers. Despite his best efforts to remain composed, his mind replayed the scene on an endless loop, much to his dismay.

"Calm down," he muttered under his breath, his voice shaky. "This is all just… a misunderstanding. Yeah, a total accident…"

Silence followed, and Kanade hesitated before glancing over his shoulder.

"Chika?" he called cautiously, only to find the spot where she'd been standing now empty.

Gone.

"…At least leave the towel behind," Kanade sighed, running a hand through his hair.