Five sessions in, and Aoyama Mio thought she finally understood why "Relaxation Salon Mist" earned those glowing reviews. A fifth-floor sanctuary of chamomile steam and white walls, a receptionist whose smile never quite reaches her eyes, a therapist whose skilled, expressionless hands always know exactly where it hurts—and exactly where it tickles.
But today's "special course" is different. Kiryu's fingers find every weak point with inhuman precision, and the laughter it tears from her feels l
Tickle Esthetician: The Fifth Treatment Table - Along with the breath—fingertips that break the cage of laughter
Cold metal pinned her wrists and waist to the treatment table.
She couldn't move. Her fingertips trembled faintly.
Only the low hum of the air conditioning echoed through the quiet treatment room. A faint current of air drifted in through a small vent set into the wall. It carried the barest hint of herbs.
Kiryu's fingers traced along Mio's side.
"Aoyama-san, your breathing has grown shallow. Please relax more."
Kiryu's voice was as flat and toneless as ever. His fingers didn't stop. Three seconds. Another three seconds. With precise rhythm, he sought out only Mio's weak points.
(That sensation again...)
Laughter welled up, pushed out from the pit of her stomach.
"A... ahaha... w-wait, Kiryu-san...!"
Mio's voice no longer sounded like her own. Laughter and screams mingled, crumbling somewhere deep in her throat. The restraints bit into her skin. Cold. Painful. But more than that, the ticklishness scrambled her thoughts into a mess.
That was when it happened.
From beyond the wall, she heard a voice.
"...Help me..."
Mio's laughter stopped dead.
"...Please, no more..."
A thin, rasping voice. It leaked faintly through the vent.
"...I can't laugh anymore... I can't breathe..."
Something pounded violently deep in Mio's chest.
(That voice...)
Mio knew it. Bright, always laughing—her former coworker. The person who had introduced her to this salon half a year ago.
"Minami...-san...?"
A hoarse whisper slipped from Mio's lips.
No. It couldn't be. Minami was just a regular customer, a cheerful friend who had only told her, "It's a really good esthetic salon."
"Please... I can't take it... I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
Minami's voice was a tangle of sobs and apologies. Apologizing for what? The meaning of those words cut into Mio like a blade.
(Minami-san is in the next room right now...)
Mio twisted her neck desperately within the restraints. She looked at the wall. The vent. From there, Minami's voice flowed in, thin and fragile.
"Minami-san! Is that you, Minami-san!?"
Mio screamed at the top of her lungs.
But the soundproof wall blocked it. Her cry echoed uselessly inside the treatment room.
In that instant, Kiryu's fingers pressed hard into the most sensitive spot on her side.
"A—!?"
Mio's body jerked violently.
"Aoyama-san, raising your voice will disturb your breathing."
Kiryu said it without a flicker of expression. His fingers slowly traced the same spot again, as if confirming her reaction.
"N-no... stop... not there...!"
Mio begged through her laughter. Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes.
Kiryu's hand didn't stop.
He was observing her reactions. Recording them. Her suffering, her laughter—all of it was nothing but data to him.
From beyond the wall, Minami's voice came again.
"...I don't want this anymore... I can't do it anymore..."
Mio's chest tightened.
(Minami-san...)
The day Minami had introduced her to this salon came back to her with vivid clarity.
Half a year ago. On the way home from work. Minami had said to her with that usual bright smile:
"It's a really good salon. They say it melts away your fatigue and makes your skin beautiful."
Back then, Minami had dark circles under her eyes. Her voice had been a little hoarse.
(That wasn't just fatigue.)
Mio understood now.
Minami had already been through this salon's "screening" by then. She had finished her fifth treatment and was utterly drained. And still, she had introduced Mio to this place.
(Why...?)
Mio couldn't understand.
(Did Minami-san want me to go through the same thing?)
(Or did she just want someone—anyone—to understand this suffering?)
Either way, if Minami hadn't introduced her, Mio would never have come to this salon.
(I'm here right now because of Minami-san.)
Guilt toward Minami and terror at having been led here by her crashed over Mio at once.
(But more than that...)
As she listened to Minami's voice, still weeping beyond the wall, Mio thought:
(I have to save Minami-san.)
Something inside Mio ignited—quietly, but with certainty.
Kiryu's fingers touched the nape of her neck.
"Hk—!"
Mio's body jerked again.
A wave of laughter surged over her. Her breathing fell apart. Tears spilled.
The back of her throat burned.
At the boundary between laughter and terror, Mio's consciousness nearly slipped away again and again.
But beyond those tears, her mind was growing calmer—perversely so.
(This is no time to cry.)
(I'm getting out of here.)
(And I'm taking Minami-san with me.)
Inside the restraints, Mio moved her fingertips—just barely.
The position of the tiny lever near the wrist lock—she'd sensed it during the last treatment.
(Here...?)
Her fingertip touched a slight protrusion on the cold metal.
(Is this the lever that releases the lock...?)
Mio focused every nerve into her fingertips.
Kiryu's fingers pressed hard into her side.
"Ahaha—!"
Mio's body bucked wildly.
Her fingertip nearly slipped off the lever.
(No... focus...!)
In the brief instant when the wave of laughter receded, Mio used abdominal breathing to suppress the convulsions.
Then, with her fingertip, she confirmed the feel of the lever once more.
(It's this one, after all.)
(Can I move it...?)
Mio put strength into her fingertip.
The lever was stiff—it wouldn't budge.
(Not yet...)
(More force...)
Kiryu's fingers tickled the sole of her foot.
"Ahahaha... n-no, not there, really...!"
Mio writhed with laughter, but she didn't let up the pressure in her fingertip.
(I'm saving Minami-san.)
(And I'm looking into what happened to my sister.)
(So I can't end here.)
Her fingertip dug faintly into the lever.
Kiryu's fingers tickled under her arm.
"Ahahahaha—!"
Mio's laughter rang through the treatment room.
But behind that laughter, her heart burned quietly.
(Kiryu-san, I've figured out the rhythm of your hands.)
(Three seconds. The three-second gap before you move to the next weak point.)
(In that three-second window, I will move this lever. Without fail.)
Laughing, weeping, Mio kept every nerve focused on her fingertips.
From beyond the wall, Minami's fragile voice came again.
"...Help me... Mi-chan..."
Mio heard it.
(Wait for me, Minami-san.)
(I'm coming now.)
Her fingertip pushed the lever—just a little.
Click.
A tiny sound reached Mio's ears. Unmistakably.
Kiryu's fingers traced along the nape of her neck.
"A—"
Mio's body jerked.
But her fingertip didn't leave the lever.
(It moved just now.)
(This is the right lever.)
(Just a little more...)
Even as the waves of laughter swallowed her, Mio felt a solid response.
Outside the treatment room, Sawa stood with a recording terminal in one hand, smiling quietly.
On the screen, Aoyama Mio's reaction data displayed in real time.
"Aoyama-sama, what a wonderful response again today."
Sawa murmured it to no one in particular.
"At this rate, the 'screening' will be complete in just a few more sessions."
Her finger stroked lightly across the terminal's screen.
"Minami-sama will soon be ready for the next stage as well... I can hardly wait."
Sawa's smile was lovelier than anyone's—and colder than anyone's.
Inside the treatment room, Mio's laughter and Minami's weeping echoed quietly on, separated by a wall.
Mio was counting the movements of Kiryu's fingers.
Her side. Three seconds. The sole of her foot. Three seconds. Under her arm. Three seconds. Her neck. Three seconds. Her collarbone. Three seconds.
(Just as I thought—he never repeats the same spot twice in a row.)
(He always waits three seconds before moving to the next weak point.)
Just before each wave of laughter hit, Mio focused on her abdominal breathing.
Breathe in deep.
Expand her belly.
Then exhale slowly.
(Separate the laughter from the breathing.)
(Even if I laugh, I won't stop breathing.)
Mio remembered being tickled on the sides by her cousins as a child, crying because she couldn't breathe.
The smell of the tatami at her grandmother's house.
The helpless shame of not being able to say "stop."
(Back then, I laughed and cried at the same time.)
(But now it's different.)
Keeping up her abdominal breathing, Mio continued searching for the lever with her fingertips.
(Even when the wave of laughter comes, I won't stop breathing.)
(As long as I don't stop breathing, I can stay conscious.)
Kiryu's fingers traced along her side.
"Ahaha..."
Mio let out laughter.
But her breathing didn't falter.
The abdominal breathing was suppressing the spasms of her diaphragm.
(I did it...!)
Mio pumped her fist silently in her mind.
(I separated the laughter from the breathing.)
Kiryu's fingers stopped for an instant.
Had he noticed the change in her?
Expressionless, Kiryu typed something into the wall-mounted terminal.
"...Response speed, declining."
Kiryu's voice was matter-of-fact.
Mio heard those words.
(Response speed, declining...)
(My reactions are being recorded as data.)
Mio waited for Kiryu's fingers to move again.
Three seconds.
Kiryu's fingers tickled the sole of her foot.
"Ahaha...!"
Mio laughed.
But her breathing didn't falter.
(It's fine. I can still do this.)
Mio kept searching for the lever with her fingertips.
Near the wrist lock. A hard, spherical feel. A tiny protrusion like a lever.
(Here it is.)
Mio put strength into her fingertip.
Click.
The restraint on her left wrist came loose.
Her left hand was free.
(I did it...!)
Mio shouted inside her mind.
But she didn't let it show on her face.
Still laughing, she reached her left hand toward the restraint on her right wrist.
(The right wrist should have the same lever.)
Her left fingertips found the lever near the right wrist lock.
Click.
The right wrist restraint came loose.
(Yes...!)
Both hands were free.
Kiryu's fingers pressed hard into her side.
"Ahahaha...!"
Still laughing, Mio reached for the restraints on her ankles.
(The ankles should have the same levers.)
Her fingertips found the lever near the right ankle lock.
Click.
The right ankle restraint came loose.
(Just the left ankle...!)
Mio reached for the left ankle restraint.
Kiryu's fingers tickled under her arm.
"Ahahahaha...!"
Still laughing, Mio kept her fingers moving.
Click.
The left ankle restraint came loose.
(All of them—off...!)
Mio sprang up from the treatment table.
"...Aoyama-san?"
For the first time, a flicker of surprise entered Kiryu's voice.
Mio looked at Kiryu's face.
That expressionless face.
"That's enough."
With those words, Mio climbed down from the treatment table.
Her legs shook.
Her breathing was ragged.
But she could stand.
(Minami-san...!)
Mio ran for the treatment room door.
The door was auto-locked.
But it could be opened from the inside.
Mio turned the knob.
Click.
The door opened.
Mio burst into the hallway.
The hallway was quiet.
The scent of herbs hung in the air.
Mio ran to the door of the neighboring treatment room.
The voice that had leaked through the vent. Minami's voice.
(Here.)
Mio turned the knob.
Click.
The door opened.
Mio rushed into the treatment room.
Minami was there.
Pinned to the treatment table, limbs secured.
Her face wet with tears.
Utterly drained.
"...Mi-chan...?"
Minami's hoarse voice reached Mio's ears.
Mio ran to Minami's treatment table.
"Minami-san, I'm getting you out of these now."
Mio reached for Minami's restraints.
She found the lever near the wrist lock.
Click.
Minami's left wrist restraint came loose.
Click.
Minami's right wrist restraint came loose.
Click. Click.
Both of Minami's ankle restraints came loose.
Minami's body was free.
"...Mi-chan... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
Tears streaming, Minami kept apologizing to Mio.
"It's because I introduced you to this place... because of me..."
Mio took Minami's hand.
"It's not your fault, Minami-san."
Mio smiled at her.
"More importantly, let's get out of here. Now."
Mio pulled Minami by the hand and left the treatment room.
The moment they stepped i
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