My childhood sweetheart is Nishimiya Glass

Chapter 356 'Research Topic'

"..."

Junko Mito glanced at Shoko and her companion, who were chatting idly by the warm rocks near the pool, with a pleading look in her eyes.

The only response she received was a perfectly synchronized understanding; the two blinked almost simultaneously, then shrugged their shoulders slightly, their helplessness unmistakable.

Meanwhile, Shoko quietly moved to a recessed area by the pool, letting the warm spring water wash over her shoulders and neck, leaving only her nose and above exposed.

Ayumi-chan was aware of her relentless dedication to this "research project," and she didn't want to be the next subject of observation.

As for that last bit of psychological comfort...

Compared to Junko's still eye-catching figure after she emerged from the water.

Although they managed to maintain the gentle curve of the hot spring water, it seemed utterly unconvincing in the face of this "topic".

Moving closer? That's practically like actively signaling to the radar!

Takagi's gaze swept over the alluring "scenery" in the hot spring pool before finally settling back on his own tranquil surroundings.

Her fingertips seemed to have their own will, slowly sinking down, repeatedly tracing slowly rotating circles in the area that left only faint imprints.

The soft spot beneath my fingertips was gently squeezed and kneaded, as if futilely searching for a resonance that didn't exist.

It's as if this silent pressing is a way of proving that this empty valley once echoed.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"Cousin, it seems like it's getting lively over there with the girls. What do you think would be a good idea if we sneaked over to take a peek?"

Mitsuba, who was leaning against the edge of the pool, turned her head to look at Tsuna, who was covering his eyes with a towel.

Before Tsuna could respond, his gaze shifted to Nishikata, who was standing one person away: "Nishikata, what do you think of my suggestion?"

'peep?'

The moment those light, airy words reached his ears, Nishikata felt his head buzz.

The slender figure of Takagi in the misty water of the next pool uncontrollably took shape in the depths of his consciousness.

Almost at the same instant that thought arose, Tsuna's emotionless voice abruptly severed the image that had just begun to form in his mind, coldly and hard chiseling into his hearing:

"What will happen? I'll probably beat you to death, right in front of Grandpa."

Before Mitsuba could retort, Tsuna removed the towel covering his eyes and continued:
“If my grandfather knew the reason, he would probably dig up your body and whip it, and my uncle would join in too.”

"Moreover, my uncle and aunt are still young. Even if their original size is ruined, they still have the opportunity to create a new one."

"..." Mitsuba looked at him speechlessly, and could only break the atmosphere with an awkward laugh, changing the subject as she did so, muttering to herself before she did so:
"It can't be that serious!"

"Yes," Tsuna, with his sharp ears, overheard this muttering. He draped the towel over his shoulders and said speechlessly:

"You need to know who's in that pool. Your sister is in there too. Just the thought of you being mentioned is enough to make your sister beat you to death, I don't even need to lift a finger."

"..."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"Jingle Bell--"

The crisp sound of a bell unexpectedly pierced the morning tranquility of the restaurant.

Almost at the same moment the words fell, Tsuna's voice rang out decisively: "Mine."

Before he finished speaking, his action of reaching into his pocket was already a done deal.

These words and actions immediately stopped the fingertips of the other people at the table from rummaging through their pockets to check their phones, causing them to hover over the edges of their pockets or on the table.

"Who called, Tsuna?"

With a piece of bread in her mouth, Shoko mumbled a question, unconsciously tilting her head to bring her small face close to the phone in Tsuna's hand. Tsuna couldn't help but chuckle, his long, slender fingers gently resting on her slightly puffed, soft cheek from chewing, and affectionately tapping it:
"Your godmother."

His smiling gaze lingered on her confused expression for half a second before he called out loudly to the others at the table:

"You guys eat, I'm going outside to take this call."

After saying that, Bianli got up and walked briskly out of the restaurant.

Completely unaware of the little tail behind her, struggling to keep up with her, carrying a baguette that was almost as long as her forearm, taking tiny steps.

Miteng Yi was about to speak up to remind him, but Miteng Junko's heel had already pressed down on the front of his foot first, the force so precise that it made him curl his toes instantly.

He swallowed back his words of advice, and just looked at Junko Mito with a puzzled expression.

The courtyard was cool in the early morning, with a thin mist swirling around it.

The flames inside the stone lanterns were still flickering, and guests were already strolling out in twos and threes. The faint clatter of wooden clogs and the damp smell of sulfur filled the air.

"Mosimoxi?"

What's wrong with Mom?

"The adorable little one you found outside two weeks ago is now coming with her parents to express their gratitude. Do you have anything to say?"

Shizuka Miyamura's voice, tinged with barely suppressed laughter, came through the microphone.

"..."

Hearing his mother say this, he was now certain that Xiaoyuan and her parents were not with Jingxiang.

"Sigh, it's just too unfortunate. Xiaoyuan brought her parents to visit, but unfortunately, her favorite Tsuna-nii ...

Listening to his mother's incessant muttering on the phone, A-Gang hesitated for 0.01 seconds before preparing to hang up:
"Mom, if there's nothing else, I'm hanging up."

"and many more."

Before Tsuna could speak, Shizuka's knowing chuckle came through the receiver:

“I’ve seen the photo of the necklace. It’s a token that your grandmother approves of your future granddaughter-in-law. Just let Shoko keep it without any guilt.”

Her voice was gentle yet firm: "The sentiment contained within this old object is far more valuable than any gold on the outside."

"What the elderly person hopes for is that this recognition can be accepted and passed down."

"Then why didn't you have one, Mom?"

"You've been talking too much lately."

"Beep...beep...beep..."

"..."

A-Tsuna looked at the grayed-out screen on his phone after the call was disconnected and sighed helplessly.

The sensation of that persistent little head rubbing against him with its forehead was so clear. He turned slightly to the side, his voice tinged with a helpless smile as he asked:

"Shoko-san, did you hear me clearly?"

The question did not elicit a response from Shoko.

Only those lips, still glistening with the grease of breakfast and glistening in the morning light, grew closer and clearer as they hurried out.
With an undeniable warmth, it precisely and completely sealed off all his unfinished words and questions.

.........

“Silly girl,” he said, his thumb stroking her lower lip, which seemed even fuller and shinier from the kiss.

"Were you kissed unconscious? Your tongue is sticking out, how come you're so focused on holding your breath that you've forgotten your instinct to breathe through your nose?"

(End of this chapter)