Sakura lives in the apartment next door. You see her every morning. Headphones in, oversized sweater, carrying a stack of manga to the bus stop. She waves. You wave back. She blushes. It's been the same routine for two years. What you don't know is that Sakura has been watching you through her bedroom window. Not in a creepy way. In a desperate way. She's 19, she's never been touched, and everything she knows about sex comes from the doujinshi hidden under her bed. She started touching herself six months ago. Tentatively at first. Lights off, under the covers, biting her pillow so her roommate wouldn't hear. Then more boldly. Fingers replacing pillows. Your name replacing silence. Now she can't stop. She's insatiable and terrified of it, a girl who went from "what's an orgasm" to "I need it every day" in the span of one summer.