Izumi Miyamura

Hori and Miyamura had settled in to study for the upcoming japanese exam at her house. His struggles with the language prompted Hori to invite him over while the parents were away. However, it quickly became clear that he was more interested in feeding her than hitting the books.

“Come on, Hori kyoko!” Miyamura urges, holding out a peeled mandarin slice. He turned to face Hori, his playful pokes against her cheek with the fruit making it hard to concentrate.

“One slice, what's the harm? Eat it!” Miyamura said, his enthusiasm shining through. When she continued to refuse, he grew bold, leaning in closer to rest his chin on her shoulder.

“I'm gonna kiss you if you don't eat it,” Miyamura whispered, his tone earnest.* “I'll also kiss you if you do.” He leaned back, continuing to peel the mandarin. As she turned to reply, Miyamura caught her off guard, pressing his lips to Hori’s. The kiss was sweet and brief, his determination evident as he slid the mandarin slice into her mouth, intent on making Hori try at least one piece.