[MashUp] Ch 6: Make Things Interesting

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Click.

The door shut behind Mafuyu.

Back in the apartment that was supposed to be hers alone, Mafuyu Kirisu found no comfort at all.

"La Lalala"

Takuma had already walked into the kitchen as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He set the grocery bags down on the counter and began unpacking and sorting ingredients with an ease that felt practiced, almost like… like he was the man of the house.

That thought stabbed Mafuyu's pride.

No. Absolutely not.

This was her apartment. She paid the rent. She wasn't about to stand here like some guest while he took over.

Mafuyu sucked in a breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped forward.

"I'll help." Her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

Takuma gave her a sideways glance, then nodded without hesitation.

"Sure. Sensei, you can handle the vegetables."

Mafuyu moved quickly to the sink, turned on the tap, and grabbed a tomato.

Her fingers scrubbed furiously, water splashing everywhere—it looked like a full-on battle between Mafuyu-sensei and poor Tomato-chan.

And Mafuyu was losing?

Droplets soaked through her blouse and stung her flushed cheeks. She felt ashamed.

But hell no... She would prove she wasn't some useless woman who couldn't manage basic chores.

Unfortunately, the harder she scrubbed, the more ridiculous she looked.

"Hmm..."

Suddenly, a warm chest pressed firmly against her back.

Takuma's arms encircled her, his larger hands covering hers as he gently pried the poor tomato-chan out of her frantic grip.

His chin rested lightly on her shoulder.

"Sensei, washing veggies isn't the same as scrubbing floors."

"You—! Let go! I can do it myself!"

Her protest trembled in the air, weak and shaky.

Takuma didn't let go. In fact, he held her closer, guiding her movements with calm insistence.

"Like this. Easy. Gentle."

Every attempt at resistance dissolved under the intimacy of his touch.

The smell of curry soon filled the apartment.

"..."

At the table, Mafuyu ate in silence. Each spoonful was delicious, far better than anything she could make, but her thoughts were a tangled mess.

She set down her spoon. At last, she asked the question that had been gnawing at her.

"You… who exactly are you?"

Takuma put down his chopsticks, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Sensei, don't you already know?"

"I don't!" Her voice rose, tinged with desperation.

He leaned forward slightly, smile crooked. "I'm the man you picked up off the street."

A wicked chuckle escaped him.

Mafuyu's face went up in flames.

"Don't… don't twist things around like that! I'm serious."

She forced herself to calm down, her tone softening despite herself.

"Tell me the truth. Did you… run away from home? If you fought with your family, maybe I can—"

"Help me?" Takuma cut her off, voice lower now.

"And who are you asking me as, Sensei?"

"Of course as…uhh..."

"Oh! As an adult. As a TEACHER. Concern for a student who might need help." She straightened, stressing the word teacher as if it were armor.

"Is that so?"

Takuma's quiet laugh made her stomach twist.

"It's really Funny, sensei. To me, it feels less like a teacher's concern… and more like a woman interrogating her man."

"You—! Stop spouting nonsense!"

Mafuyu's face burned scarlet as she glared. "Then what's your plan? You can't just keep living like this. Aren't you going back to school?"

"School? What for?" Takuma leaned back lazily in his chair. "With you taking care of me, isn't that enough?"

Mafuyu's fists clenched.

How could he say something so shameless with such a straight face?!

And worse—why did he look so pleased?

Takuma's voice then dropped lower, softer, almost dangerous.

"Or… are you planning to send me back out into that snowstorm?"

Mafuyu's body flinched.

That image of him huddled on a bench in the freezing night, utterly alone, stabbed into her mind.

"No way!"

The words burst from her lips before she even realized it. Quiet, but absolute.

She froze, shocked at herself, face blazing as she tore her gaze away.

What had she just…?

"Alright. That's enough."

Takuma rose, looking down at her with a finality that made her heart pound.

"Don't ask me who I am anymore. Don't think about how to 'help' me."

"My identity is simple."

"I'm the man you brought home from that snowy night."

"The man who kissed you, and slept with you in your bed."

His eyes burned, and she thought for a second she might melt under them.

"So… you're responsible for me now. Aren't you?"

"...."

Mafuyu just blinked.

---

After dinner, Takuma insisted on cleaning up.

From the couch, Mafuyu watched his steady figure moving easily around her kitchen. Her carefully guarded defenses felt like they were crumbling piece by piece.

Suddenly, she remembered something.

She hurried to the entryway, dug into her overstuffed briefcase, and pulled out a fat stack of lesson plans.

She marched back and slammed them down on the table with a heavy thud, trying to reestablish some kind of boundary between them.

"I… I have prep work tonight. It'll take a while."

She kept her eyes fixed on the papers, forcing her voice into something resembling authority. "You can… do whatever you want."

Takuma dried his hands and came over, glancing at the pile. A quiet laugh slipped from his throat.

He plucked the top page and skimmed it.

"Sensei." His tone teased, but there was something sharper underneath. "Using work as a shield?"

"No, you don't understand! This is my job!"

Mafuyu snapped her head up like a cat with its tail stepped on.

But Takuma's eyes were no longer mocking—only focused, serious, as he read.

"The Battle of Okehazama. Nobunaga's ambush."

His finger tapped the paper.

"Your research is detailed, but this lesson plan… it's lifeless."

"I'm the teacher here," she retorted automatically, her last scrap of dignity clinging to her profession.

"I don't know history, and I'm no teacher." He admitted easily, then smirked. "But I do know how to make things interesting."

He picked up a pen and, without hesitation, began scribbling all over her pristine notes.

"You wrote that Nobunaga won. But you didn't write why he had to win."

"Imagawa marched with forty-five thousand men, the number one Daimyō in the Tokaido. Invincible. Meanwhile, Nobunaga had barely three thousand. Everyone called him the fool of Owari."

"This wasn't just a battle. It was a gamble with everything on the line. An ant taking on a giant."

"When the whole world branded him a fool, that desperation—that madness—was the only reason he risked it all."

His words flowed fast, vivid, weaving the dry facts into something alive.

Numbers became stakes. Generals became gamblers and dreamers.

In minutes, Takuma had transformed her dull, textbook-like plan into a story brimming with tension, drama, and raw energy.

"This wasn't just an ambush. It was a declaration."

"A declaration from the weak, saying: I make the rules, bitches. Well, let's delete "bitches" for the mental health of the kids there."

"Nice. That's what students want. Not troop counts and years. They want to feel the thrill of flipping the table."

Takuma paused, a grin curving.

"Kind of like us, don't you think?"

Mafuyu sat frozen.

Her lesson plans—her pride, her last line of defense—lay defaced, yet somehow improved.

Her fortress had fallen, without a single blow.

The humiliation of losing ground physically in bed was one thing.

But this defeat, intellectual and emotional, left her feeling powerless in a way she'd never known.

Takuma set the pen down with a casual air, sliding the papers toward her.

"There. Your prep work's finished."

Then he reached out, tucking a loose strand of her hair gently behind her ear. "Now you're out of excuses."

He bent close, his breath warm. "Go shower. You smell like oil and spices."

"...."

---

After half an hour

Fresh from the bath, Mafuyu tugged on a conservative tracksuit. Thin armor, but armor all the same.

She stood at the sink, squeezing toothpaste onto her brush, clinging to the routine to steady her nerves.

The bathroom door swung open.

Takuma walked in, bare-chested, hair dripping, only a towel at his hips.

Mafuyu froze.

"Wh-what are you doing?!"

He didn't answer.

Instead, Takuma stepped beside her, plucked the toothbrush straight from her hand, and stuck it in his mouth.

"Mm. Minty. Not bad." His voice was muffled around the bristles.

Her face turned scarlet.

Her toothbrush. Her cup. Her space. And he used them like they'd always been his.

She bolted out of the bathroom, desperate to put distance between herself and this infuriating, impossible boy.

She sprinted to her bedroom, ready to lock the door and shut him out completely.

But when she pushed it open—

She froze.

There he was, stretched out on her bed, lying in casual comfort, chest bare under the thin blanket.

"H-How? I was there, and you… we…uhhh! How are you here?" Mafuyu's brain couldn't make sense of what had just happened.

Takuma turned his head, catching her wide, furious, and confused eyes, and smiled wickedly.

Patting the empty space beside him, he said: "Sensei, why are you just standing there? Come on. Time for bed."

---

Half an hour later

"Sensei… put on the stockings."

"I...Ahh Huff Absolutely not! If I did that, you'd do it all night."

"Be good. Listen. What I want isn't just you right now."

"I want the cold, untouchable Ice Queen teacher in her black tights… begging me through her tears to do it harder."

"Because that…"

"…would be beautiful and super sexy."

"You… you bastard… I'll never— Ahh~"

"Will you do it or not? If not, then I'll release my load all inside."

"Awww… you're bullying me."

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