Katawa Shoujo - Akira Satou Route

Act 3-1 Insight

A gentle white noise slithers into my ears, wresting me from what may very well be the best sleep I've had in months. The school has a decent level of funding, but I speak from experience when I say that the beds are not what that money goes to.

The fact that I'm waking up on a couch doesn't speak much for Yamaku's case.

I sit up and raise my arms in a stretch before rubbing the sleep from my eyes, already waiting for the chance to go back to bed. The only thing keeping me from burying my face back in the pillow is the sight of a wall clock indicating that it's a few minutes past noon.

The scene before me takes a bit to become familiar; below me lies the most comfortable couch in the world, clad in black leather. To the front sits a glass-top coffee table and a flatscreen television, currently showing the afternoon headlines. Other than a faint hum, there's no volume coming from the panel, muted for some reason or another.

Thanks to the fact that I managed to stay out so late last night, there was no way to get back to Yamaku. Needless to say, I did what any reasonable man would do; I freeloaded on a classmate's sister's couch.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

The very same sister who happens to be resting on the recliner nearby, arms hanging off the sides in lethargy. She made a point of locking her room when she left me last night, so I'm pretty sure she isn't just waking up. Maybe she was trying to catch up with the news without disturbing me.

"Morning, Akira. Feeling better?"

"Headache, sore all over, the usual fare. I've been worse off." she answers.

After how many drinks she went through last night, I think that's a pretty light sentence. I didn't go through even half as much as her when I went up to the roof with Kenji, and I was out of commission for an entire day.

For twelve in the afternoon, the room is rather dim. The glass pane spanning the back wall has been covered by a set of white curtains, with only slivers of sunlight bleeding in between the cracks. It's not a lot, but there's enough light to make out the figure of the woman beside me, her frame laying in the reclining seat like a ragdoll.

It would seem that she's intent on taking the rest of the day off as well, considering her state of undress. From the tip of her toes to the middle of her thigh is smooth, bare skin, only cutting off to transition into the silky red cloth of a pair of pajama shorts.

Her upper half is dressed with about as much attention to conservation; clad in a button-up shirt with only one button done up. The pallor of her midriff is exposed and only a few minor details around her bustline remain hidden behind the white fabric. It hides 'enough,' although one can still note that her current outfit doesn't do nearly as well a job of hiding her features as her usual pinstripe suit.

"Why is the TV muted?" I ask; moreso to interrupt the silence, and to reduce the possibility of her looking over and catching me with my eyes in the wrong place.

"You looked so adorable while you were sleeping. I just couldn't bring myself to risk waking you up." she returns, her sarcastic humor shining through even the foggiest of hangovers.

"You don't need to worry about me; I slept like a log either way."

"Yeah, that's something everyone needs more of -- sleep." she responds.

"What's stopping you? Got work today?"

"No work today, but I've gotta get ready for some other things."

As if she were just reminded of the fact herself, she sits up and raises her arms in a stretch, a long yawn sauntering out of her mouth as...

PINK.