Back when she had just started dating Kaoru Hoshitani, in those first six months, their passion was like dry wood catching fire—relentless and tireless.
No matter day or night, whenever there was a chance, it was nonstop fireworks and chaotic nights.
Every time the passion faded, waking up to their bedroom felt like emerging from a battlefield.
The sheets were twisted into a mess, clothes scattered all over the floor, and the air thick with an intoxicating lingering scent.
At that time, they hadn’t yet bought this apartment and were still living in a rental room with poor soundproofing.
Neighbors were often driven to despair by the noise they made and complaining had become a regular occurrence.
Looking back now, Aina Saiten couldn’t help but feel her cheeks flush.
But she couldn’t entirely blame herself for lacking restraint.
Any woman, once she’s tasted that ultimate pleasure—like climbing to the clouds of ecstasy and having her soul shattered—would be like addicted to ice, helplessly sinking deeper and deeper.
Until one morning, six months later, Aina Saiten looked into the mirror and saw her own cheeks somewhat sunken, her lips cracked from dehydration.
Then, she turned back to see Kaoru still lying on the disheveled bed—his face flushed and radiant, his eyes flickering with life.
Not only was he not exhausted, but like a fully nourished flower, he exuded a mature and captivating charm, lazily lethal in its allure.
Only then did she realize that if she continued like this, she’d sooner or later die on top of Akane’s belly.
With the determination of a recovering addict, Aina Saiten finally reined in her desires.
Their nightlife shifted from unrestrained indulgence to a more regulated and restrained rhythm, like many ordinary couples—fixed on specific days each week.
But perhaps because she was exhausted from daily work, even though she was just as easily stirred by Kaoru as before, the outcomes were often awkward.
She used to last at least half an hour in their encounters and always made sure to bring Kaoru along into that intoxicating whirlpool before she left.
But now, the situation often reversed.
Kaoru’s eyes would grow moist, his breath just starting to quicken, his body tense and entering that perfect state, only for Aina to give up early, sitting awkwardly on the bed, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, chest heaving with hurried breaths, her heart full of helplessness.
Fortunately, Kaoru never expressed any dissatisfaction.
He always looked at her with those gentle eyes that seemed to drip with warmth, softly expressing understanding, comforting her in a slightly hoarse voice, saying he felt good too, and emphasizing, “Serving her and helping her relax is what I’m supposed to do.”
But Akane’s attentiveness only made her feel guiltier.
This physical weakness was like a tiny thorn silently piercing into Aina Saiten’s pride…
Driven by a deep-rooted unease to regain confidence and control in their intimacy, she once even took a detour on her way home from work to a drugstore at the corner of the street, its cold white lighting almost harsh.
She lingered in front of shelves stocked with various contraceptives and health products, her face burning, eyes avoiding contact.
Finally, like a thief, she swiftly grabbed a small box claiming to have “Delay Effect” and almost threw it down on the cashier’s counter, unwilling to meet any potentially probing gaze from the clerk.
However, even if the medicine had some effect, what lingered afterward in Aina’s heart was not satisfaction but a deeper, indescribable humiliation and discomfort.
It felt like relying on external aid had tainted what should have been a pure emotional connection.
Since then, she never used that stuff again. The rest of the nearly full box was shoved deep into a drawer, like a piece of evidence marking her failure and deliberately forgotten.
Because of this, the video she saw that evening, heartbreaking as it was, showing Kaoru’s cheeks flushed with a drunken rosy glow, his eyes misted as if veiled in water vapor, even overwhelmed to the point of losing control and screaming out in ecstasy…
Such an extreme and unreserved bloom, she truly hadn’t seen it with her own eyes for a very long time—long enough to almost forget how breathtakingly beautiful he looked when lost in passion.
Knowing their married life had its problems, Aina Saiten’s heart undoubtedly grew more anxious. Seeing that video was like a warning bell ringing loudly.
[What am I thinking… I’ve lost my mind… Akane isn’t that kind of man. What we have is true love, tested by time…]
Aina Saiten almost violently shook her head, as if that could fling away those uncontrollable, maliciously speculative, and chaotic thoughts in her mind.
But she had already made up her mind to change. This resolve came so fiercely that she didn’t want to wait a single moment.
Right there in the steam-filled bathroom, looking at her reflection with eyes full of unwillingness, she decided to start from the basics, beginning now.
She took a deep breath and began doing squats.
At first, a dozen or so were easy, but after fifty, her breathing grew heavy, and a dull ache spread through the front of her thighs.
Clenching her teeth, she persisted, each squat making her legs feel as heavy as lead.
Finally, after just over a hundred, her legs weakened and trembled uncontrollably. She had to steady herself by gripping the washbasin.
“It’s okay… as long as I keep going, I’ll eventually get back to my peak,” she encouraged herself silently.
When Aina Saiten dragged her sore legs out of the bathroom and wiped her wet hair with a towel, the hands of the clock on the wall had already passed nine in the evening.
The home without Kaoru felt especially empty and cold, lacking that reassuring breath of life.
Bored until ten at night, Aina finally couldn’t sit still. She changed into her going-out clothes early.
Standing before the mirror in the hallway, she straightened her collar, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open into the night.
When Kaoru had said he wanted to work as a waiter at that izakaya, Aina had gone with him once to check the place herself, only then feeling assured to let him work there.
So she knew exactly where the izakaya was, two not-too-far blocks away from their home.
After about a ten-minute walk, the warmly lit Kawasakiya izakaya appeared before her.
The Kawasakiya izakaya had been an old establishment for decades, run by the Kawasaki Couple—an elderly pair in their sixties with hair already white.
For a long time, the couple had managed the place themselves without hiring anyone.
Only in recent years, partly due to their age and waning energy, and partly because business was booming and the customer base growing, did the Kawasaki Couple decide to bring in a reliable helper.