Is Mikami Sensei actually suggesting Saku X Chisa in the latest chapter? It seems like she stopped writing natsubaru because of this new ship? Or maybe Chisa's attention for saku could be a catalyst for Natsubaru's relationship? We shall see.
Part One: Distance on the Sofa
On the third day of their relationship, Hoshina Subaru stood in the middle of Natsusawa Saku's living room, facing a problem she had never anticipated.
The sofa.
That ordinary gray fabric sofa he'd been sitting on for years now looked to her like some unsolvable geometry problem. Saku was already seated on the left end, posture as straight as a tree transplanted indoors—knees together, fingers resting on his thighs, gaze lowered as if the magazine cover on the coffee table held the secrets of the universe.
They had been dating for three days. Seventy-two hours. In that time, they had exchanged five glances across the school hallway, eaten lunch together twice, and walked side by side down three city blocks, fingertips occasionally brushing before each retreated back to its owner.
None of that helped her with this.
"Um…" Subaru's voice came out drier than she'd intended.
Saku looked up. His eyes, in the evening light, looked deep—like a lake that hadn't frozen over yet in winter.
"Can I sit?" She pointed at the sofa.
Saku blinked. Then something registered—the tips of his ears flushed a pale, barely-there pink. "Of course." He shifted two centimeters to the side.
Two centimeters.
Subaru counted three breaths before lowering herself onto the cushion. The sofa dipped under her weight, tilting gently toward the middle, and the clean line between them blurred—not because anyone had crossed it, but because physics didn't believe in empty space.
There was still a fist-sized gap between their shoulders.
The air smelled like whatever laundry detergent Saku used—soap and a hint of fabric softener sweetness. But under that, something else. Lighter. Like wind moving through sun-dried cotton. Saku's smell. Clean enough that it barely belonged in a room with actual human warmth in it.
"Are you cold?" Saku asked.
Subaru shook her head. But she noticed his fingers—those fingers that always found the right notes on piano keys—curling slightly, like they were holding back some impulse.
"I could—" Saku didn't finish. The sentence hung in the air for half a second, like a key not yet pressed.
Subaru's heartbeat grew loud in her ears. She knew what he was asking, because she'd been asking herself the same thing. How close could two people sit when they'd only been together for three days? Where was the line? Who got to decide?
"You can." The words came out before her brain had fully signed off on them.
Saku's hand rose slowly, tentatively—like he was approaching a small animal that might startle. His fingertips touched the back of her hand, and they both flinched at the same time. Static electricity. Or something more primal.
He didn't hold her hand. Just pressed the back of his against hers, the warmth spreading outward from that small patch of skin like ink bleeding into paper.
Two minutes passed. Or maybe longer. Subaru lost the ability to count. Instead, she found herself learning the rhythm of Saku's breathing—shallow, slow, deliberately controlled. Each inhale lifted his shoulder in a barely perceptible way, the movement traveling through their connected hands like a morse code only she could read.
Then Saku moved.
He leaned slightly, transferring his weight from his spine to his shoulder, and then—slowly—he rested his head against her. Subaru felt a warm weight settle onto her shoulder. Saku's head, light and testing, like a cat unsure if it was allowed inside.
Her breath caught somewhere in her throat.
She could feel his hair brushing against the side of her neck—a touch so light it could have been a lie. His body temperature was lower than she'd expected, seeping through two layers of clothing to become something quiet and solid. She could almost feel his heartbeat too—but maybe that was her own, their chests so close now that nothing belonged to just one of them anymore.
Saku's voice came from very close by, carrying a rare, fragile hesitation: "…Is this too heavy?"
"No." Subaru said. Then she did something she hadn't planned. She lifted her trapped hand, reached around his back, and let her fingertips brush against his side.
Saku stiffened for a fraction of a second.
Subaru nearly pulled away. But after that brief resistance, Saku's weight suddenly stopped holding back. He sank deeper into her, like he'd finally decided the support was real—that it wouldn't disappear if he trusted it.
And so they became a closed circuit. Subaru's arm around Saku's waist. Saku's head on Subaru's shoulder. Their legs overlapping along the curve of the sofa. Outside the window, the last of the sunset was fading from orange to gray-blue. No lights on inside. The room was bathed in diluted honey-gold, spreading softly over both of them.
"Your heart is so fast," Saku said, voice muffled against her shoulder.
"So is yours," Subaru whispered.
Saku didn't deny it.
After a while, Subaru felt Saku's fingers moving absently against the back of her hand—drawing meaningless patterns. His habit. Keeping his fingers in motion, like piano keys holding onto the last vibration of a note.
"I was thinking about something," Saku said quietly.
"What?"
"Before. When I was alone, I used to sit here sometimes and just… stare at the wall." His voice was light, almost to himself. "I never thought this sofa could fit two people this well."
Subaru's heart clenched.
She wanted to say me too, but she was also thinking about all those afternoons she'd spent on her own couch—textbooks open in her lap, sunlight moving from one end of the room to the other, the house so quiet she could hear herself breathe. She hadn't felt lonely then. Lonely was a word you only needed when you had something to compare it to.
But now Saku was here. His warmth, his smell, the rise and fall of his chest—like a puzzle piece that had always belonged in this spot, and only now did the full picture make sense.
"Natsusawa-san," Subaru said.
"…Hm?"
"Can we call each other by our first name?"
Saku lifted his head from her shoulder. In the dim light, his eyes held a clean kind of brightness—like wet pavement reflecting a streetlamp.
"…You're asking me this now?" His voice had something in it—she couldn't tell what—but the corner of his mouth lifted in the faintest curve.
Subaru felt heat rush to her cheeks. "I was just confirming—"
"Subaru." He cut her off.
The air stopped.
He didn't say anything else after that, as if those two syllables had exhausted all his courage. His eyes dropped, lashes casting shadows across his cheekbones. Subaru realized, in that moment, that she could see the curve of each lash from this distance—like the bend of a quill's tip.
"…Saku...-san..." she answered. Her voice came out rougher than she'd meant it to.
Saku's ears turned completely red.
He didn't lift his head again. Instead, he buried himself back into her shoulder, the movement carrying a hint of stubbornness—almost petulant. Subaru felt his fingers tighten around her sleeve.
Like a declaration that he wasn't letting go.
Outside, the sky went dark. No one got up to turn on the lights. The living room held only the sound of their intertwined breathing and the distant noise of traffic—absorbed by the sofa, filtered into something soft and far away.
Subaru lowered her head and pressed her lips to the top of Saku's hair. Softer than she'd imagined. This time, she didn't hesitate.
The lightest kiss, right at the crown of his head.
Saku trembled once against her. Then, like someone had flipped a switch, his arm around her back tightened. Not a deliberate, meaningful kind of embrace—something more primal. Instinctive. Like he was making sure this was real. That this warmth was real. That none of it would vanish when he blinked.
"…Your heart got even faster," Saku said, voice carrying the faintest trace of a smile.
"...is that so?," Subaru answered.
A long time later—long enough that her right arm had gone numb, long enough that they'd lost track of whose breathing was whose—Saku stirred in her arms.
"…It's getting dark," he said.
"Yeah."
"Are we just going to sit here forever?"
Subaru thought about it. "Okay."
Saku was quiet for a moment. Then Subaru felt his cheek press against her collarbone, and the fabric there grew slightly damp with warmth—Saku laughing silently, shoulders shaking faintly, like the last leaf of autumn trembling in the wind.
"What are you laughing at?" Subaru asked.
"Nothing." His voice was soft with the residue of laughter, sweet as half-melted sugar. "Just… you're really warm."
Subaru didn't answer. She just adjusted her position so he'd be more comfortable, then rested her chin on top of his head.
The last of the light left the room, and in the darkness, they became the only certain shape each other had. The awkward, careful distance between them—the kind that didn't dare press too hard—was slowly, gently being filled. Kiss by kiss. Glance by glance.
.
—————————————————————————————————
Part Two: The Reverse
The first kiss landed on the crown of his head. Soft. Tentative. Like the last late-blooming flower of spring.
The second on his forehead. The third at the corner of his eyebrow. The fourth on the tip of his nose.
Then Subaru stopped.
Something had hit her. Her heartbeat was wrong. Her breathing was wrong. Something in her chest was expanding faster than she could control—a spring compressed to its limit, about to snap back with force she couldn't contain.
Saku lifted his head slightly from her shoulder. In the darkness, his eyes looked washed by moonlight, carrying a soft question. "…What's wrong?"
Subaru didn't answer.
All she knew was that she was burning. From her fingertips to her ears, from her chest to her cheekbones. Something she'd never felt before was racing through her veins—a river breaking free of its dam, searching for an outlet, too fast and too strong to stop.
She looked at Saku's eyes. Watched them shift from confusion to alarm, and from alarm to something else—something Saku himself probably hadn't noticed yet. A quiet, subtle kind of anticipation.
Then Subaru moved.
Not slow. Not hesitant. Sudden. Decisive. Like a bowstring releasing. She rolled on top of him and pushed him down into the sofa before she'd even finished thinking about it—by the time she realized what she'd done, her hands were braced on either side of him, her knees sinking into the cushion, her body suspended over his like a drawn bow.
The living room held only the sound of their ragged breathing.
Saku lay on his back, eyes wide. The weak glow of a streetlamp filtered through the window, catching in his pupils. His hair fanned out against the gray fabric—ink strokes on rice paper. His lips were parted, but no words came.
Three seconds of frozen air.
"…Subaru...?...Hoshina-san..?" Saku's voice floated upward, unsteady, like he didn't recognize the name.
Subaru didn't answer. Her hair fell forward from her shoulders, making a soft curtain between them. She could feel Saku's breath against her lips—warm, quick, carrying a barely-suppressed panic.
She lowered her head.
Not to kiss him. To see him.
In the dim light, her gaze traced the arc of his brow, the line of his nose, the small tremor at the corner of his mouth. Every detail dropped a stone into her chest, ripples spreading outward and outward until they converged into one undeniable truth—
She wanted him.
Not to be good to him. Not to hold his hand. Not to be held by him. Something more raw. More violent. Less reasonable. She wanted to bite his lower lip. She wanted to hear sounds from him she'd never heard before. She wanted to take him apart and put him back together with her own hands.
The thought startled even her.
She'd always assumed she'd be the passive one. The shy one. The one who needed guidance. In every fantasy before they started dating, she'd been standing in a lower place, looking up, waiting for Saku to reach out his hand. She'd imagined her own heart as something gentle—slow-moving, enduring, as mild as spring rain.
But the way she was pinning him down right now, and the fire in her chest that was almost burning through her reason—she had to face the truth.
She'd had it backwards.
All of it.
"Subaru." Saku said her name again. This time, his voice carried something she'd never heard from him before—not fear, not resistance, but something trapped underneath his surprise. A faint, barely-there tremor.
Subaru finally spoke. Her voice came out lower, rougher than she'd expected—a stranger's voice. "…Don't move."
The two words dropped like a coin into deep water. The silence that followed was the splash.
Saku's eyes flew wide.
In that instant, Subaru read everything on his face—shock, confusion, disbelief, and underneath all of it, something else. Something kindling. Something burning through his composure. Raw, naked, devastating unsteadiness.
His fingers curled into the sofa cushion.
Subaru noticed that he wasn't pushing her away.
He could have. Saku was stronger than her. If he'd wanted to, he could have flipped their positions in three seconds. But he didn't. He just lay there, trembling like a leaf pinned at the center of a storm—shaking, but not fleeing.
That realization made her heart finally lose all restraint.
She leaned down, brought her lips close to his ear, and said in a voice meant only for him: "You called me Subaru just now."
Saku's breathing fell apart.
"…Say it again." Not a request. A command.
His throat moved in a swallow. He closed his eyes, lashes trembling like butterfly wings in wind, lips parting and closing again before he finally managed the smallest possible sound: "…Subaru."
Her name came out of his mouth like a piece of jade warmed by being held—too soft, too tender, almost unbearably so.
Subaru felt something in her chest snap.
She kissed him.
Not the gentle, brush-of-lips kind. Teeth. Aggression. The kind of kiss that wanted to consume him whole. Her fingers threaded into his hair, cupped the back of his head, left him nowhere to retreat. Saku made a short, muffled sound—like a piano key struck too hard, its residual vibration shattering between their mouths.
The living room filled with wet, messy, urgent sounds that belonged only to the two of them.
A long time later—thirty seconds, a century—Subaru finally pulled back a fraction.
She looked down at him.
Saku's lips were red from her kiss. The corners of his eyes were damp, like it had just rained. His chest heaved. He was crumpled into the sofa like a painting that had been accidentally folded. But there was nothing unwilling in his eyes—quite the opposite. There was something there that made her chest ache. Complete, unguarded surrender.
A huge, unnameable emotion rushed through Subaru.
She bent forward and hid her face in the curve of Saku's neck. Not to continue—but to keep him from seeing her expression. Because she knew she was smiling. Not a gentle smile. Something closer to triumph. To surprise. To oh, so this is who I am.
"…Hoshina." Saku's voice came from above her, still uneven. "You…"
"Yeah."
"Are you… this type?"
Subaru didn't answer directly. She just tightened her arm around his waist, pressed her lips to the skin of his neck, and said, one word at a time:
"You'll find out."
Saku's whole body flinched.
Outside, the streetlamp kept shining. Inside, Subaru Hoshina—who had always thought she would be the one protected, the one held, the one treated gently—hid her face in her boyfriend's neck, her mouth curved into a smile she couldn't control even if she'd wanted to.
She finally understood that longing was never gentle.
It was violent. Sudden. Unreasonable. It would flip you over when you least expected it and show you that you were never the person you thought you were.
And she liked this version of herself.
She liked the way Saku said her name with a trembling voice even more.
—————————————————————————————————
Part Three: The Counterattack
Subaru had her face buried in the curve of Saku's neck, her mouth curved into a smile she couldn't quite suppress.
She could smell that clean scent of his—stronger now, warmed by his body heat, like a flower that only bloomed in moments like this. His pulse was beating against her lips—much faster than usual, like a caged bird throwing itself against the bars.
That knowledge made the fire in her chest lick up another small, dangerous flame.
"You'll find out," she'd murmured against his throat, her voice carrying a low, unfamiliar edge.
Then she felt Saku move.
Not the weak struggling of someone being held down. Something slower. Deliberate. The kind of pause a predator takes before it strikes—the brief, lethal stillness before the pounce.
A hand cupped the back of her head.
Fingers slid into her hair, fingertips pressing against her scalp with a grip that left no room for argument. Not pushing her away. Holding her in place. Fixing her face exactly where he wanted it, leaving her no room to move.
"Saku-ku-"
She didn't finish.
Saku's mouth covered hers. Not the way it had before—passive, receiving. This was different. Active. Deep. Possessive. Subaru felt something warm and wet push past her lips without ceremony—Saku's tongue, slipping inside like a surgeon's knife parting every defense she had.
Her brain went white.
That tongue was moving inside her mouth like it was playing a melody only Saku could hear—testing, tangling, retreating, diving deeper—like an improvised piano piece, every note landing somewhere she hadn't expected, forcing her breath into retreat after retreat.
She tried to pull back.
Not because she didn't want it—because it was too sudden. This is too sudden, Natsusawa Saku, you were just lying there like a pressed leaf—
But Saku's palm pressed against the back of her head, and the pressure said: you're not going anywhere. Gentle but absolute.
At the same time, his other hand began to move.
Subaru felt his fingertips trace down her spine—slowly, deliberately. Not a caress. A survey. Like a ship following a mapped route across dark water, with a confidence that made her feel like Saku must have memorized every vertebra of her back long before tonight.
When his fingers passed the dip of her waist, she made a sound. Not a word. Not even a sigh. Something smaller—the kind of noise a small animal makes when its tail gets stepped on. Brief. Muffled. Involuntary.
Saku's fingers paused there for a moment. Like he was savoring that sound.
Then they kept going.
Past the curve of her waist. Past the edge of her hip bone. Landing somewhere she hadn't expected—near where her waist met the top of her hip. Not resting there. Brushing past. Like wind crossing piano strings—not stopping, but leaving a shiver behind.
Subaru's body arched involuntarily.
And in that moment, she suddenly became aware of something she'd been ignoring.
Her chest was pressed flat against his.
Not side by side. Not just touching. Fully, completely, perfectly flush.
Saku's chest.
Those pectoral muscles hidden under his T-shirt, the ones she'd been pretending not to see—
Right now, they were pressed against the soft curve of her breasts with nothing but two thin layers of fabric between them.
Every breath shifted the contact. When Saku inhaled, his ribcage expanded, pressing her chest outward. When Subaru exhaled, her body relaxed, and the soft shape of her molded deeper into the firm wall of his. This constant, rhythmic pressure and release—like tides, like breathing, like something more primitive than kissing.
Subaru's face was burning so hot she was surprised she couldn't see it glowing in the dark.
She tried to say you— but Saku's tongue was still in her mouth, breaking her words into syllables that never formed. She tried to push herself up, but Saku's hand was planted on her hip—not holding her down, exactly. Something more dangerous than that.
An invitation.
Stay. Or go. But you know which one you want.
Subaru's last scraps of reason fought back. This is too much, this is all too much, they'd only been dating for three days, she'd just been the one on top, so why—why was she now pinned like a cat by the scruff of its neck, all her strength gone, every breath dictated by his rhythm—
She tried to reclaim some control. Bit his lower lip. Just a little.
Saku's response was—a smile.
Not an audible one. Something she felt through their pressed mouths. The small curve of his lips. Light. Knowing. Carrying a quiet there you are.
Then his leg moved.
Subaru felt the space between her knees invaded——Saku's thigh, sliding slowly, inexorably between her legs, pushing her weight to the side. Not rough. But physically undeniable. Her center of gravity shifted without her permission, and her body sank deeper into his hold.
This position. This goddamn position.
She, Hoshina Subaru, was now lying on top of Natsusawa Saku in a way that could not possibly be described as "dominating." Pinned by his leg, his hand, his tongue—three points of contact, no escape, like a butterfly in a web.
And Saku was still underneath her.
His kiss, coming from below, had somehow trapped her from above.
And then—
"Tadaima—"
The front door opened. A cheerful voice called out.
Two bodies froze at the same time.
Saku's lips were still on hers. Her tongue was still in his mouth. Her chest was still pressed against his. His hand was still on her hip, right where it had been brushing the top of her thigh. Her legs were still parted by his knee.
The air turned to solid ice.
"Saku? Are you home—"
His mother's voice drifted down the hallway, followed by the sound of shoes being taken off. And another voice—younger, brighter: "Onii-san, you're home early—"
Both of them. Home at the same time.
Subaru's brain accomplished something that should have been impossible—in under a third of a second, she went from "being kissed nearly unconscious" to "calculating escape routes with surgical precision." She shoved herself upward, moving like she'd been electrocuted, but Saku's hand was still on her hip, and her upward motion got caught halfway—upper body lifted, waist still anchored, her whole posture like a collapsing bridge.
Saku looked up at her.
The emotion in his eyes was too complicated for her to read. Panic. Embarrassment. And underneath—just barely—something that looked almost like regret that they'd been interrupted.
But Saku reacted faster.
He let go. At the same time, he sat up in one fluid motion, reaching for a cushion on the other end of the sofa—Subaru didn't even see him grab it—and placed it on his lap with studied casualness.
"—Okaeri—"
Saku's voice was calm as still water. Only the tips of his ears—burning red—gave anything away.
The hallway light clicked on. Footsteps approached.
Subaru was now sitting at the far end of the sofa—she didn't remember moving there. Her body had done it on its own the moment Saku's grip loosened. Her bangs were a mess. Her lips were swollen. One button on her collar had been worked open by fingers she didn't want to think about right now. She kept her head down and buttoned it back up with shaking hands.
Saku's little sister appeared in the doorway first.
"Onii—"
Her voice stopped mid-syllable. Her eyes moved from Subaru to Saku and back again. The girl's gaze was like an X-ray—scanning Subaru's disheveled hair, red lips, crooked collar, then scanning Saku's red ears, the cushion on his lap, his too-studied stillness.
One second of silence.
Then the girl's lips slowly, unstoppably, curled upward.
"Ara—" Her voice stretched the syllable into something dripping with implication. "Onii-san, you have a friend over?"
"Yes, a friend...what's wrong? Mio?" Saku said. His voice was still calm. But Subaru noticed his fingers—the ones that had just been tracing her waist—curling slightly.
"Oh, isn't this Hoshina-san? I didn't know you were visiting our house!", as surprised of Mio-chan.
Their mother appeared then. Her gaze swept the living room once, then landed on the sofa—more specifically, on the cushion. The obvious dip in it. Shaped distinctly like two people pressed close together.
Subaru thought her face might actually combust.
"…Konbanwa." She forced the greeting out. Her voice came out much rougher than she'd intended. Rough enough that she wanted to dig a hole and climb into it.
Saku's mother looked at her. Her gaze was warm. Even amused. The kind of look a woman gave when she remembered being young.
"Konbanwa," the mother said softly. "Have you eaten?"
"Not yet—" Saku started.
"I'll make more, then." The mother turned toward the kitchen, then paused. "Hoshina-san, what do you like to eat?"
Subaru's heart stopped.
She hadn't introduced herself. Saku's mother hadn't asked her name. And yet she'd said Subaru-san. What that meant, Subaru didn't want to think about it. But also couldn't stop thinking about it.
She looked at Saku.
Saku was looking somewhere else. His ears were red enough to bleed.
"…Anything is fine," Subaru heard herself say. "Thank you very much."
The mother smiled and disappeared into the kitchen. Saku's sister lingered in the doorway for two more seconds, mouthing something to Saku that Subaru couldn't see. But she saw the look on his face afterward—something caught between "I'm going to kill you" and "please shut up." Pure, distilled older-brother despair.
The sister, Mio left, still grinning.
The living room fell quiet again.
A long silence.
"…Natsusawa-san," Subaru said quietly.
"Hm."
"Your mother…"
"She won't say anything." Saku cut her off, too fast—like he was running from an uncomfortable topic.
Another silence.
Then Subaru felt her hand being touched. Lightly. Saku's fingertips, back where they'd started at the very beginning—pressed against the back of her hand. Tentative. Testing. Like he was making sure she was still there.
This time, Subaru didn't hesitate. She turned her hand over and laced her fingers through his, palm to palm, and held on.
Saku's fingers trembled once against hers, then closed tight.
They sat like that. Shoulder to shoulder. Hand in hand. Saku's throw blanket—the one he'd grabbed for strategic purposes earlier—draped over both their laps. Their breathing still not fully settled. Their lips still carrying the ghosts of each other's warmth. From the kitchen came the sound of vegetables being chopped. From the hallway, the sister's off-key humming. The clock on the wall read 7:12 PM.
An ordinary weekend evening before dinner.
Except for what they'd almost done on that sofa five minutes ago.
Subaru decided not to think about it anymore.
But she didn't let go of his hand.
And Saku didn't let go of hers.
At dinner, Subaru kept her head low, practically eating out of her bowl. Saku's mother served her three separate helpings. His sister watched her all evening with a meaningful smile. And Saku—Saku never quite looked her in the eyes.
Not because he didn't want to.
Because he was afraid that if he looked at her mouth, he'd remember the kiss they'd never finished.
And she was afraid of the exact same thing.
—————————————————————————————————
Epilogue : this is my very fist fanfic writing of Subaru and natsusawa, hope it is not out of character too much, and I hope it is decent🙏🙏
Pls forgive me if it's bad, I'm too hungry for Natsubaru content to the extent of writing myself a fanfic 😭🙏pls let me know what y'all think of
We all know it happening, and we should fore hype it, let's depict how they interact with each other
Cuddle/holding hands/combination as one