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The first date had, all things considered, turned out remarkably well. She'd been polite and well-behaved, he'd... been polite and well-behaved, and dinner had been delicious.

It was only when it came to an end that there were troubles.

"You're, ah, a new type of guy for me," Tatsuki was saying nervously. "I usually like more, um, sporty types."

Ishida looked down his nose at her, offended. "I assure you, Miss Arisawa, it's far better to be calm and centered with oneself. Crafts are a way to focus the mind and improve the spirit."

"...yeah-huh?"

He sighed, shoulders slumping, mantle -- which had been billowing dramatically in the wind -- settling about him again. "But, well... I do some sports. Archery."

"Archery, huh?" It was a little traditional, but she couldn't argue that it was technically a sport. "Must have strong arms."

"Er, I, what?"

"...never mind." She sighed, hand propped on her chin.

Sex had just seemed like one of those things they'd be doing, but to say it was disasterous was more than a bit of an understatement. He moved stiffly, like an automaton, as if he wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to do with her but was pretty damn sure it involved thrusting. And she knew that because of it, she wasn't giving her all. Or her any, really. It was more sort of...lying there, because why would she bother?

When he'd finished and rolled over to sleep, she rubbed herself and thought, idly, that Chizuru would be outraged and say it was just like a man, and--

Fuck.

She shook Ishida's shoulder. "You. Wake up."

"Mph?"

"This isn't going to work between us."

"Mrrgh?"

"I don't -- think I can carry on like this."

"Nyeh?"

"Please, just... go. I need, um, not to have cock. To have anti-cock." She realized she was blithering, caught up in her sudden horrible revelation. "Maybe I can, like, read...poetry or something. Poetry. I hear women sometimes do that to, uh -- fuck. I'm a lesbian. Okay?"

"Um." He blinked at her, sleepily.

"...I don't want the cock. Ishida, I don't want the cock. Get out of my bed. With your cock."

"Oh." He began to dress, slowly, gathering his stuff and heading to the door to her room. She began to worry that she'd offended him and sighed, but he simply stopped and turned back in the doorframe.

"Ishida, it's -- not you. I just... don't... want the cock. It's not you. It's me. I don't want the cock."

"Oh," he said again. "I do," he added, and left.