Mai is fed up within the week.

Romance has never factored into her life in the long term, and never as an actuality. She was never so fixed on it that it could put a dent in her day, because useless things like yearning for a boyfriend and receiving flower bundles were mostly outside of her interest. She liked warmth and noise and companionship, and these were all things that were easily attained with friends. She might have fancied a boy or two at times, but those infatuations didn't run deep—when it came to school, she remembered more after-class ghost stories than male classmates.

But then there was Naru, and he drove her insane without the added stress of attraction factored in. Once she'd figured it out, Mai was a goner.

Worse, she'd been hopeful. And it had only gotten more mortifying, in hindsight, when she reached the full, terrifying swing of young adulthood and decided seducing her boss sounded like a dandy idea. That was bad enough, but it wasn't just her boss, it was Naru.

Maybe seduction was a tad too strong a word, but there was certainly effort, however brief and frustrated it was. She took hints from Ayako and Masako—without asking outright, really—and it was embarrassing for everyone to see her quiet determination take the form of several new and old flirting subtleties. (She didn't touch him, though; that was beyond consideration.)

But she wore looser clothes, tighter clothes, implemented little imperceptible nuances in the way she walked—and ugh, it was too embarrassing to think on!—she held herself differently, she looked at him differently, she exhausted all possibilities within a few days and still every shameful sway of the hips and every bared shoulder whizzed right past Naru's sensory receptors. It was impossible. Naru didn't look at any girl for longer than he had to, let alone Mai, and by the end of the week she was back to wearing big T-shirts and jackets. She was grateful her foolish phase was over, and tried to ignore the implications of it—for both her and Naru, that ungrateful glacier.

In the end, she wasn't disappointed that Naru was that way, though. It was merely an experimental impulse. She'd only wanted to see, maybe, if she could get him to look at her the way she looked at him—differently, at the very least. She felt stupid and trivial afterwards, like every girl who'd ever fawned over Naru, like every girl who eyed him like meat, like every girl who could not see the way his eyes gazed fiercely forward and forward alone.

From then on, she saw the distinction loud and clear.


Maybe this is a little ooc for Mai, but I feel like every girl tries doing this at least once and I kinda wanted to think about it. Thanks for your reviews & stuff! : If you guys want to leave me prompts or words and stuff, too, that'd be super appreciated and fun for me.