Volume 3 Chapter 1 Hikari-chan Doesn’t Want To Be Confessed To ★
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
On that particular day, it was Hikari, Rira, and Chinatsu. One knelt low, lips tracing reverent circles against the base of me, while another worked delicately below, her tongue a quiet flicker of warmth in places I hadn’t realized had gone numb. The third dragged her fingertips down my chest with measured curiosity, her mouth brushing the curve of my neck like a question she was too shy to ask aloud.
It was overwhelming—the choreography of attention, the layered heat of their devotion. A kind of pleasure that felt almost like being unmade, cell by grateful cell.
”Takumi-kun seems especially radiant tonight,” Rira murmured, her voice gauzy with mischief as she brushed her cheek along my inner thigh. “It must feel divine to be spoiled by three beautiful girls who adore you, hm?”
Hikari’s mouth curled against me. “Mmm, I love how you swell when you’re in my mouth like this,” she breathed, her words muffled but deliberate. Her eyes rose to meet mine. “You can move your hips… and press down on me like usual. I don’t mind.”
Chinatsu’s voice floated over my shoulder, soft as a falling petal. “But… when you finish, will you do it on our faces this time? Please?”
I leaned forward, kissed Hikari full on the mouth—slow, grateful—and slid my hands beneath the thin fabric of her shirt. Her chest heaved beneath my touch, her breath catching as Chinatsu’s tongue slipped against me with a focused, startling tenderness. I rocked forward—deeper into Rira’s eager throat—and realized, somewhere in the swirl of limbs and sound, that this was no longer a fantasy. I was being cherished. Willingly, completely.
”It’s strange,” I whispered, lips still against Hikari’s, “but I remember the first time you three did this. Like it happened yesterday…”
* * *
”Hey… Takumi-kun?”
Hikari’s voice stopped me just as I was about to head back to my room, still in uniform, datapad under one arm. Behind her stood Rira and Chinatsu, huddled close, their expressions unreadable under the corridor’s flickering light.
”It’s kind of sudden, but… can we talk? In your room?”
It felt like ages since I’d really looked at their faces. The past few weeks had been heavy—unbearably so, after Sakasaki-san’s suicide. The whole base had fallen under a dim, wet hush.
”Sure,” I said, adjusting the strap on my shoulder. “But are you sure it’s okay? Coming to a guy’s room at night?”
Rira grinned. “It’s all three of us. That makes it less weird… right?”
I shrugged. I wasn’t sure what this was about, but my mind was elsewhere—managing logistics, trying to hold the group together. Kahoru had vanished and resurfaced in the worst way. Haruka hadn’t spoken in days. Even Shibata, who never stopped eating, was picking at his meals. I’d begged him to talk. Recruited Aria, even though I half-expected her to tear me apart.
”In stories, getting teleported to another world is always this fun, wild adventure,” I muttered, almost to myself. “But the real thing? It’s cruel. If it weren’t for Ginga and the others keeping their heads down and doing what needs to be done, the rest of us wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Another sleepless night loomed. Two hours of sleep, give or take. That was my norm. As I sat down to transcribe the latest oral reports into the system, there was a knock.
”It’s open,” I called. “Come in.”
The door eased open. Hikari stepped through first, followed by the other two. Their post-shower hair was still damp, framing their faces like something out of a dream. I swallowed.
”Sorry for dropping in like this,” Hikari said, looking unusually sheepish. “You’re working, and we… well… we didn’t mean to be a nuisance.”
”You’re not,” I said, gesturing to the edge of the bed. “Sit. Make yourselves at home.”
They did, with awkward movements and fidgeting fingers. The air felt too warm. Or maybe that was just me.
”Umm… Takumi-kun…” Rira started, her cheeks tinged with pink. “Do you ever… you know… feel like you’re holding stuff in?”
I blinked. “Holding stuff in? Like, emotionally?”
”No, no,” Chinatsu broke in, her tone teasing but edged with something nervous. “She means, like, sexually. Pent-up stuff.”
What.
I stared at them, trying to make sense of it.
”You’re always helping us,” Hikari said, quietly. “Using your own money to get us medicine, giving up your sleep to manage everything. We… feel bad. We can’t help like Kahoru did. Not in the same way. We’re still… all of us are virgins.”
”Yeah,” Rira added, her voice small. “If I had a weapon, maybe I could be useful, too…”
They were circling something, too embarrassed to say it outright. I should’ve been alarmed, but all I could do was sit there, watching Rira’s chest rise and fall beneath her tank top, catching the shape of Hikari’s bare shoulder as her robe slipped slightly out of place.
”Takumi-kun,” Hikari said suddenly. Her eyes were steady now. “We talked about it. The three of us. We don’t have much to offer. But… we want to take care of you. If that means helping you with your… needs… then we’re willing.”
My mouth went dry.
”Wait—you mean—”
”We can’t go all the way,” Chinatsu cut in, her voice surprisingly firm. “But we want to help. With our hands. Our mouths. You can choose who you want each night. Think of it as… a way to relieve stress.”
She smiled, small and proud. “We want you to feel good. You’ve done so much for us. Let us give back.”
”I—I recommend Rira’s… um, services,” Chinatsu added with a wink. “She’s quite gifted. Milk and all.”
”Hikari,” I said.
I didn’t hesitate. Rira’s curves were breathtaking, and Chinatsu had a haunting, porcelain beauty—but it was Hikari I dreamed about. Her mouth, her skin, the way she looked at me like I wasn’t just some guy managing spreadsheets and bed checks.
She blushed, delighted. “Of course. I hoped you’d say that.”
”Aww, guess my milk jugs were no match for your honest heart,” Rira laughed, bumping shoulders with Chinatsu.
”No hard feelings,” Chinatsu replied, smirking. “Besides, I’m next.”
They played jan-ken to decide the order. Chinatsu won in two rounds. She always did.
And just like that, I was receiving what they shyly called their “gratitude service.”
But nothing about it felt transactional.
It felt—strangely, wonderfully—like being chosen.
* * *
Chinatsu wanted to stay and observe Hikari’s service, but Rira pulled her away with a look that brokered no argument.
Now, it’s just Hikari and me. The room is hushed, close. We stand across from each other, an invisible thread of understanding drawn taut between us. We both know what we feel. We just can’t say it—not in this world, not under these terms. Not when survival hangs heavier than shame ever did.
Hikari glances up at me, her voice barely louder than the pulse in my ears.
”Takumi-kun… before I, um—before anything else, can we kiss?” Her hands twist gently in front of her. “I’m sorry. I’ve never kissed anyone before. I want… to know what it’s like.”
Her confession lands like breath against glass—quiet, honest, and impossibly fragile.
”Yeah,” I say, offering a crooked smile that doesn’t quite mask the catch in my throat. “I haven’t, either. Not like this. Not with someone I like.”
That’s a lie. I’ve kissed before—at the brothel, under flickering lights and practiced hands. But Hikari believes me, and in her gaze I find something sacred I don’t dare break.
”You shouldn’t,” she murmurs, stepping closer until the heat of her skin brushes mine. “I’m not here to be someone’s girlfriend. I’m here to manage your desire… to help you find release, safely. The kissing—it’s just part of that.”
Even as she says it, her expression contradicts her tone: softer, unsure, undeniably young. A girl caught between duty and yearning.
Then she leans in. Hesitantly. Lips first, eyes still open, as if checking to see whether the world will stop her. It doesn’t.
When her mouth finds mine, it’s a delicate press—soft, almost weightless. The kind of kiss that wants to memorize shape, not steal sensation.
Her breath stirs against my skin as she pulls back just enough to whisper, almost giddy, “Hehe… I’m really happy we kissed.”
”Me too,” I murmur, heart skimming wild beneath my ribs. I tilt my head and kiss her again—this time deeper, longer. Her lips part, and her tongue touches mine, unpracticed but eager. It feels less like performance and more like discovery.
Her small gasps and murmurs shape the air between us:
Nn… Nfuu… chupa… nmuu…
The sounds feel less like affectation and more like instinct—tender punctuation marks to a rhythm we’re still learning.
We’re holding each other now, limbs tangled, kisses traded with growing intensity. I slide a hand along her back, then up—finding the swell of her breast beneath the cotton of her shirt. At the same time, her fingers trail hesitantly down, brushing the hardness beneath my pants.
She pulls away just far enough to speak, flushed and breathless. “Pheh… wait. I’m the agent in charge of this, right? If I don’t even strip down… that’s a failing grade.”
A hint of teasing coats her voice, but her hands move with something closer to reverence than seduction. She lifts her shirt over her head in one smooth arc, and suddenly, her bare breasts are there—unhidden, unapologetic. No bra. No barrier.
I feel something primal rise in me, tempered only by awe.
Then her fingers hook the sides of her panties. They slide down her thighs, damp fabric clinging momentarily before yielding. Her skin is smooth, unshaven, glistening.
”I know it’s weird,” she mutters, cheeks darkening as my eyes trace her form. “I’m kind of embarrassed… being looked at like this.”
I shake my head—silent, stunned. It’s not embarrassment I feel. It’s reverence. Desire, yes, but wrapped in disbelief. That this is real. That she’s letting me see her.
”Sorry,” she says, voice lowering. “I… I can’t give you my virginity. But if you’re interested, I’m okay with fingers. Or your mouth.”
Her eyes don’t flinch.
”I’ll touch,” I answer, throat dry.
My hand finds her again, trailing down between her thighs. She’s already warm there, already wet. When I slide two fingers inside, her whole body flinches—not away, but toward.
A damp pop of suction greets the motion, deep and intimate. The sound folds into the room like velvet.
Her voice comes soft and sharp:
”Nn… ahh—Takumi-kun, you’re… really good at that. I didn’t think it’d feel so… I mean, I came here to make you feel good, but—ah…!”
Her hands grip my shoulders as she shudders slightly.
”If you’re feeling good,” I whisper against the shell of her ear, “then I’m doing something right.”
She shakes her head, trying to find focus through pleasure. “But I want you to feel good too. So… nn—let me go down on you, okay?”
She kneels—quietly, almost ceremonially—and then leans forward.
There’s a moment of stillness. Then the warm slide of her mouth around me.
Juppo… nmuu… chuppa…
The sounds she makes aren’t vulgar. They’re textured. Intimate. The room is filled with them, each wet echo paired with the sight of her ponytail bobbing gently, her fingers steady on my thighs.
It’s overwhelming. Not because of technique—though she’s surprisingly deft—but because it’s her. Hikari. My classmate. The girl I’ve watched laugh with Chinatsu, argue with Rira, brush crumbs from her skirt between missions. And now, she’s here, taking me into her mouth like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
She shifts her angle, dragging me against the inside of her cheek, and then dips down farther, her tongue grazing where it counts. My hips jerk. I’m barely holding on.
She pulls back, lips slick, eyes shining.
Nchu…
”How was that?” she asks, voice low and trembling. “From now on, I’ll keep giving back. You can… finish on my face, if you want. And if you need to go again… I’ll be here.”
She winces slightly, as if ashamed. “Sorry… that probably sounded really transactional.”
I meet her gaze. “I get it. We’re classmates. We protect each other.”
”Right,” she nods. “Then—please. Come for me. I want you to.”
I can’t resist. I’m already there.
I grasp myself, stroking hard and fast, each movement building pressure like a spring inside my spine. Her face tilts up, catching light. That ribbon in her ponytail, the quiet swell of her chest. Is it really okay to mar that beauty?
Too late.
A low thwack of release.
Then—splash… squirt… splat… splat…
The pulses hit her face, her shoulder, her breasts—each impact met with a subtle shiver. My orgasm unspools with reckless force, and she receives it all, unblinking.
”Haa… haa… So much,” she whispers, awe lacing her words. “I’m… so happy.”
She dips two fingers into the mess on her cheek and brings them to her lips. The gesture is quiet, almost reverent. Her eyes flutter closed as she swallows.
I’ve never felt more unraveled. Not even in the brothel. Not with Kahoru. Not like this.
She wipes her mouth, then looks up at me with quiet resolve. “From now on, think of us as sexless professionals. We’ll take care of you, Takumi-kun. However you need us to.”
”Hikari, I… I mean—”
But she silences me with a single finger to my lips. Her eyes are glassy, but firm.
”Don’t,” she says gently. “I’m with Chinatsu and Rira. Just… let us do this. Together.”
And just like that, my confession dissolves unspoken. What begins instead is something stranger—something gentler than love, but no less charged. A service of gratitude, from the girls I fight beside.
Notes:
• Chinatsu – Hikari’s party. Frustrated, jokes about prostitution.
• Hikari – 4th Division leader. Stressed, relies on Takumi.
• Shibata – She’s the reliable and affectionate member of the group, often referred to as Ouji-chan, who handles tasks like medicine shopping and keeps the group updated. Her nostalgic personality and close bond with Aria add emotional depth to her character, while her interactions with others reveal her playful and caring nature.
• Haruka – 3rd Division leader. Aspires to be Takumi’s GF.
• Kaho – 3rd Army leader. Worried, ceremonial magic.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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