"Good evening, Kasumigaoka-sensei. You really never change your style, do you?"
As soon as they met, Eriri immediately noticed the thinly veiled irritation in Kasumigaoka's gaze.
Not to be outdone, Eriri struck first, letting out a cute but disdainful little huff as she deliberately mocked the obvious black stockings under Kasumigaoka's cashmere coat. The implication was clear: you're just a shameless, sultry woman who does nothing but flaunt yourself.
Kasumigaoka only arched a brow. She wasn't angry—instead, she smiled back with equally sharp sarcasm.
"Nowhere near as bad as you, Kawakami Eriri-sensei. The things you draw in private are all practically R-rated, yet in public you act like some pure and innocent little angel. Hypocrisy—that's the word for people like you."
Her tone was calm, even pleasant, but the gunpowder in her words was unmistakable.
Neither side gave ground. The sparks only grew hotter.
"At least I don't sneak into someone else's room at night! You write all these novels filled with youthful purity, yet the author herself is nothing but a shameless pervert!"
"A filthy mind sees filth everywhere. Some people spend so much time drawing their little hentai sketches that they can't even tell fantasy from reality. To impose those delusions on actual work—pathetic."
"Ha! And stripping down and falling asleep in someone else's bed counts as work?"
"My, my… I think I understand now."
"…What?"
"The reason you're this angry is because you're jealous. You desperately wish you could do the things I've done, but you can't—so instead you wallow in envy. Ugly, really."
"Wha—?!"
"Did I say something wrong?"
"You're unbelievable. Me? Jealous of you?"
"Oh, I never said it was you. But since you jumped up to defend yourself, I suppose that means I hit the mark, doesn't it?"
"Guh—!"
Eriri glared daggers at Kasumigaoka. Her spirit faltered for a moment, but she quickly rallied, her sharp tongue poised like a drawn blade.
"Don't flatter yourself. Jealous of that? I have more dignity than that! And speaking of which, after New Year's I'm inviting everyone to a hot spring trip. Care to guess who isn't on the guest list?"
Kasumigaoka's smirk turned even more contemptuous.
"What a childish game of make-believe. And to announce it so proudly too—Eriri, you really are hopelessly immature."
Arms folded, Eriri gave a haughty little snort.
"We'll see who's immature when you're stuck home all alone. Maybe, if we're feeling generous, we'll even bring you back a souvenir."
"No need. I can buy my own."
"…Huh?"
Something about that response set off alarms in Eriri's head.
"I'm not a criminal, nor under any court order. My legs are my own—I can go wherever I want. But thank you for reminding me of your little plan. A hot spring, hm? It has been a while…"
"W-w-wait, you—!"
The earlier exchange had only been verbal sparring—harsh, yes, but ultimately harmless.
But this—this was sabotage. Eriri's carefully crafted plan to exclude Kasumigaoka, to let her taste the sting of loneliness, had been dismantled in an instant. The sheer unfairness of it made her blood boil.
Kasumigaoka chuckled softly, her slender hand raised to cover her pale lips as she murmured:
"You really are adorable, Eriri."
Thunk!
Something invisible pierced straight through Eriri's heart.
It was the finishing blow.
Her whole body sagged, her face drained of color, lips moving soundlessly in futility.
Clearly, though she'd improved somewhat living under the same roof as Minamoto Senya, Eriri was still outclassed in these subtle exchanges. She'd grown more aggressive, sure—but the finesse? Still lacking.
Just then, a familiar touch pulled her back.
Senya, who had been silent all this time, reached out and playfully brushed her nose before giving her cheek a gentle pinch, smiling warmly.
"Alright, that's enough. If this was your way of saying hello, we can move on now, yeah?"
There was no anger in his expression. Still, after his words, Kasumigaoka reluctantly turned her head away and muttered, "Sorry."
Eriri, half lost in the overwhelming comfort of her childhood friend's doting smile, was a beat late—but then she too stammered out an apology.
Senya blinked. "Wait, what are you apologizing for all of a sudden?"
Neither answered. Both averted their eyes, guilty as children waiting for scolding.
"I'm not mad. Honestly, seeing you two so 'passionate' the moment you meet… I'd say it's proof you get along quite well."
"Not a chance."
"No way!"
Their replies overlapped almost perfectly.
They glanced at each other, huffed in unison, then turned their faces away again.
Senya chuckled, deciding not to leave the girls shivering on the street.
Kasumigaoka in tights, Eriri in knee-high socks—it was nice to look at, but he still worried about their legs freezing. Japanese women loved to prioritize fashion over warmth, but that habit often led to chronic knee problems later in life. He'd need to remind them gently someday: health comes first.
He led them into a specialty wagyu hotpot restaurant.
Steam rose from dozens of little bubbling pots, carrying a rich fragrance that made mouths water instantly.
They were seated at a U-shaped booth, better suited for three than the usual face-to-face tables. Senya took the middle spot; the girls flanked him on either side.
He handed them the menu first. After they each ordered, he added two extra plates of beef before giving it back to the waiter.
His reason for inviting them tonight was twofold: to thank them for their help with his novel, and to soften the tension between them.
Disliking each other was tolerable. But the kind of explosive bickering they'd just displayed—that was dangerous. Left unchecked, one day it might escalate beyond words.
And as amusing as a "catfight between two pretty girls" might sound in theory, in reality it would be a nightmare. He cared about both of them.
"Eriri," Senya began gently, folding his hands on the table, "about the other day. When you saw Utaha sleeping in my bed—it wasn't what you think. She stayed up all night helping polish my manuscript. The next day she came to hear the rest of my plot, but she was so tired she fell asleep right there in my chair. I just carried her to my bed so she could rest. That's all. Nothing else."
This time, Eriri's expression softened considerably. She nodded repeatedly, like a kitten appeased.
Senya then turned to Kasumigaoka.
"And Utaha, what Eriri said earlier was just joking around. She already told me she wanted me to invite you next time so everyone could go together. The more the merrier, right?"
Of course, Eriri had said no such thing. But it was a neat way to save her pride.
Kasumigaoka's sharp eyes lingered on Eriri's tight-lipped pout. She understood immediately, but chose not to expose the lie. After all, she didn't want Senya to dislike her either.
"…I see. Then… sorry, Eriri."
"No… I should be the one saying that…"
Their gazes darted away from each other, awkward but conciliatory.
It wasn't perfect, but it was progress.
Senya raised his glass with a smile. "Anyway, thank you. Both of you. Really."
The mood lightened.
Kasumigaoka smirked. "If you're truly grateful, words are cheap. Actions are better."
"You're right."
She had only been teasing—but Senya nodded seriously.
"If my novel actually wins, we'll split the prize money and royalties three ways."
"Pfft—! Cough! Cough!"
Eriri nearly choked, waving frantically. "No way! Absolutely not!"
The story's brilliance was entirely Senya's. She'd only drawn a handful of simple illustrations. Taking money for that would be absurd.
Kasumigaoka agreed. Editing his prose had taken some time, yes—but it was hardly worth such a reward.
"That's your work, Senya," she said firmly.
Both girls' faces were set, unwavering.
Senya sighed, then offered another idea.
"Alright then—if you ever need anything, come to me. Whatever it is, I'll help however I can."
Kasumigaoka's eyes gleamed. "So you owe us a favor. Meaning… you'll have to grant us one request. Is that right?"
Eriri scowled at her. Greedy schemer.
But then Kasumigaoka arched a brow, almost hinting at something. And Eriri realized—she said 'us.'
Meaning she'd benefit too.
Damn it… she couldn't agree with Kasumigaoka. But she also couldn't bring herself to object.
Both girls turned toward Senya, expectant.
"…Alright. As long as it's within reason."
Their eyes lit up instantly.
Kasumigaoka extended her pinky. "Then it's a promise."
Senya hooked her finger, then offered his to Eriri. Blushing furiously, she hesitated before finally linking hers too.
Kasumigaoka hid a smile. So timid, no wonder Eriri had made zero progress with him. If she had known Senya since childhood… well, they'd probably already be engaged by now.
The rest of the evening was far more peaceful.
They ate hotpot, strolled around the nearby mall afterward, and Senya even bought them each a scarf.
"You've both worked hard this month. Take it easy at home for a while. I'll see you at New Year's."
At the station, he gave them each a warm farewell.
Eriri nodded sweetly, half her face buried in the ivory scarf he'd given her.
Kasumigaoka tilted her head. "And if I get bored at home, can I come over?"
"Of course. But I'll be busy these next few days, probably out most of the time. You can hang out with Rikka instead."
"…On second thought, maybe not."
She wisely chose not to press further.
The three waved and went their separate ways.
———
The last days of the year were busy for Minamoto Senya.
Shopping for New Year's with his family.
Visiting Saeko and Kazusa's houses again after a short break.
Kendo for strength and reflexes. Piano practice with Kazusa, and more importantly, borrowing her recording studio. With her help, he'd recorded one of the masterpieces from his memory and uploaded it anonymously online.
The response wasn't explosive, but it wasn't bad either—twenty thousand plays, fifty comments, two hundred shares in a couple of weeks.
For an unknown account's debut track, that was solid.
Encouraged, Senya planned to continue. Bit by bit, he'd bring those legendary songs into this world, shaking up its music scene.
This time, he even brought Kazusa her favorite pudding as thanks. But she seemed strangely indifferent.
After a brief chat, she muttered something about staying up too late the night before, told him to "make yourself at home," grabbed the pudding—and went straight to bed.
Well… at least she took the pudding.
"Remember to brush your teeth before you go to bed," Minamoto Senya said, sounding for all the world like an old father nagging a daughter, as he watched Kasai walk away.
"…!" Kasai spun around and shot him a venomous glare before whipping her head back again. Her long, jet-black hair swung through the air with such dazzling fluidity that it could have put shampoo commercials—with all their special effects—to shame.
After she left, Touma Youko, lounging comfortably in the living room, burst into a soft laugh. The slipper dangling from her toes nearly slipped off.
Ever since meeting Minamoto Senya, she had discovered far too many sides of her daughter she'd never shown before—new quirks, little charms she'd never expected.
And in that moment, Senya also happened to notice something about this world-class pianist: the toenails she playfully wiggled were painted a dark raspberry red.
It was a mature, enticing shade that made the pale skin of her feet look all the more delicate and smooth.
Not bad at all.
"You like feet, Senya?"
Of all his friends' mothers, only this one could throw out such a remark with not a shred of restraint or dignity.
She even wriggled her toes at him mischievously as she said it, deliberately putting them on display.
Senya shook his head, choosing not to dignify her teasing. Instead, he glanced toward the direction Kasai had gone and asked,
"What's wrong with her?"
Youko kicked off her other slipper and tucked her legs up onto the sofa, leaning her weight against one arm. Her voice was tinged with suggestive amusement.
"You mean, you still don't see it?"
"I can tell she's mad about something. But I haven't done anything to upset her recently."
"You've already said the answer yourself, you know. The riddle's written right on the surface."
"…?"
Senya thought for a moment. Then it clicked.
"I've been really busy lately, trying to finish my novel for the competition. I already told her about that."
"And the novel? It's finished?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
"I submitted it already. The results won't come out until next month."
Youko didn't answer. She rested her chin against her palm, watching him with an amused, knowing smile.
"She wanted to read it?"
After another brief silence, Senya finally asked.
"What do you think?"
"…Right."
Well, there was the source of the problem.
The idea that Kasai would actually want to read his novel was something Senya never would have guessed.
After all, he'd once—by sheer coincidence—seen one of her report cards.
Her grades weren't just bad. They were the kind of scores you looked at once and immediately wished you hadn't.
But since she'd already decided to follow in her mother's footsteps, pursuing the piano professionally, her academics didn't exactly matter.
Still, her dismal grades had left Senya with a strong impression that she wouldn't care the slightest about novels. So her interest caught him completely off guard.
"Aunt Youko, can I use your printer?"
Sure, he had the manuscript saved on his phone. He could just send it to Kasai.
But reading a novel on paper was a very different experience from squinting at a tiny phone screen.
"I've told you so many times—call me—"
"Stop right there."
Senya quickly cut her off before she could push the matter, earning another peal of laughter from Youko.
She stood and beckoned him toward the room with the printer.
Walking behind her, Senya caught the faint scent of alcohol wafting from her. He knew immediately.
No wonder she'd been acting tipsy and overly playful ever since he arrived.
"You really ought to take care of your health, Aunt Youko."
As the printer whirred to life, he voiced his concern.
"Relax. I know my limits. It was just a sip, really—it only happens once every few months. After a long performance tour, a little indulgence is my way of unwinding."
This time, her tone was genuine. She knew full well about her history with stomach problems, and she understood Senya's concern.
"Your tour's over now, right? You'll get a proper break?"
"Mm. Until February. I'll actually be able to spend New Year's with Kasai this time. …By the way, Senya, have you decided which high school you'll attend after graduation?"
"Soubu High."
"I see…"
She pulled out her phone, typed it in, and then nodded knowingly.
"Oh, that's a well-regarded school. There's still a year to go, but if Kasai gets in, I hope you'll look out for her. Who knows, you two might even end up in the same class."
"Kasai's grades make that… unlikely."
"That's true. But there are always ways."
Money, huh…
Senya nodded silently and didn't press further.
When the printing was done, he stapled the pages neatly together. Youko took one copy for herself and retreated to her room.
Senya headed to Kasai's door and knocked.
After a pause, she opened it, a dusting of powdered sugar still clinging to her lips.
Maybe the sweets had softened her mood—her expression was gentler than before.
"This is for you."
"What is it?"
"My novel."
"…"
Her face betrayed a flicker of interest, though she tried to rein it in.
"You didn't have that with you when you came in."
"I didn't want to risk printing it outside. I planned to use your printer all along."
He was a master of tailoring his words to his audience. With Yukino, he could never bring himself to lie. But with others? If it wasn't anything major, he didn't mind.
"…Fine."
Kasai accepted the stack of pages.
"What kind of novel is it?"
"A mystery. It's about uncovering the truth behind a series of cases."
Kasai nodded thoughtfully.
"What is it?" Senya asked.
"Nothing. It just… fits you. Complicated, intricate stories—that's the kind of thing only someone with a sharp mind like yours could write."
"…Was that a compliment?" Senya asked, a little uncertain.
Kasai didn't reply. She just turned back into her room, only to step right back out again with the door shut behind her.
"Let's go."
"Go where?"
"You said it before—if you wrote a new song, you'd ask me to help with the composition."
Ah. Right. He had said that.
But when he met her gaze—hands on her hips, as if to say that's the real reason you're here—Senya felt a little sheepish.
Thinking back, it was true—aside from their earliest days, he had mostly approached Kasai with an ulterior motive in mind.
Yet even then, she'd never once complained. She was always eager to help.
The image of a dog waiting loyally at home for its master's return suddenly popped into his head.
Senya shook it away. What kind of weird thought was that?
"I mean, yeah, I said that before. But today I just came over to hang out."
"…"
Her expression shifted rapidly, making him chuckle inside. He feigned hesitation.
"Though, you did say earlier you were going to sleep…"
"I'm not sleeping. What are we going to do?" she blurted, almost too quickly.
"I was bored, so I thought I'd see what you usually do to kill time."
"Piano. Violin. Drums. Guitar." She answered instantly.
"…Right. Of course."
She hadn't reached that level of skill without relentless practice. He should have known.
"What about you, Senya?"
"I watch TV, read novels… or—want to go to the arcade?"
"The arcade? With game machines?"
"Not just games. They've got a lot of new stuff now—VR setups, basketball hoops, light gun shooters…"
"Then let's go there!"
Realizing she'd sounded too eager, Kasai quickly turned her back.
"It's been ages. My mom took me once when I was little, but I barely remember. Today I'm free, so I can go with you."
"A nostalgic trip back to childhood, huh." Senya smiled. "In that case, should we bring Aunt Youko too? The three of us?"
"No need. She just finished a piano tour two days ago. Let her rest."
Not quite tsundere… but close.
In the end, Senya went out with Kasai alone.
His original plans for the day went out the window.
But he didn't regret it. Seeing Kasai genuinely happy—something she rarely showed—was more than worth it.
There was no need to rush. The future was long.
The year quickly drew to a close.
With the new year on the horizon, Busujima Saeko found herself facing the holidays in her usual way—ambivalently.
Her father's kendo business had expanded overseas. He was constantly traveling, rarely at home, even during the holidays.
At best, he could call her on New Year's Eve or send gifts from abroad. A gesture, yes, but little comfort against the loneliness.
Compared to other families, Saeko's was undeniably fractured.
Once, she'd wished it were different.
But lately, she found that emptiness giving her unexpected strength.
[Busujima Dairyu: Sorry, Saeko. I won't be able to come home this year either.]
[Saeko: It's fine, Father. Really, it doesn't matter.]
Busujima Dairyu: "…"
Something about his daughter's words always unsettled him. He could never pinpoint why.
But to Saeko, it truly didn't matter.
"Saeko-senpai, can you hang this rope? I'm too short to reach."
On the final afternoon of the year, the Minamoto household was lively.
Senya had invited Saeko over to spend New Year's Eve with his family.
She was outside helping Rikka decorate the front garden with traditional ornaments.
Meanwhile, his mother Junko and his sister Tohka busied themselves in the kitchen, preparing the feast.
Since this was their first New Year's in their new home—and with a guest to entertain—the spread was far more elaborate than usual.
Osechi dishes filled tiered lacquered boxes: black beans for diligence, red-and-white daikon for joy, soba noodles for long life.
There were steaming bowls of ozoni soup and mochi, too, perfect for enjoying while watching the Kouhaku music festival on TV that night.
Upstairs, Senya sat in his room, opening stacks of New Year's cards from friends.
Each one reflected its sender's personality.
Yukino's card was decorated with bamboo and adorable pandas.
Utaha's gleamed with gold trim, framing a night sky exploding with fireworks.
Eriri's looked plain from the outside, but inside unfolded a pop-up of a cartoon lantern-bearer—clever and cute.
There were also cards from companies and associations he'd worked with: Nishiyamado, the Kendo Federation, and so on.
And then he spotted one letter that stood out.
No red New Year's stamp. No postmark.
Strange. Normally the post office wouldn't even accept it.
Inside was a folded letter and a thin omamori charm. One side read Good Fortune, the other Health.
The handwriting was delicate, almost airy.
[ I picked this up while visiting the shrine with the young lady. Thank you for your card. I wish you a year of happiness and success. (?o?o)?? ]
Even with no signature, Senya knew immediately who it was.
He had asked Rikka to buy extra cards, and one had gone to Hayasaka Ai. Along with it, he'd sent a small keychain charm.
So this was her reply.
And since the envelope had no stamp, he could guess what happened: she must have realized she didn't have time to send it properly, so she'd come herself and slipped it in his mailbox.
Curious, Senya opened his computer and checked the security camera feed for the front gate.
Sure enough—there was a taxi pulling up, a girl in a mask and hat stepping out, dropping off the letter, and then quickly leaving.
He snapped a photo of the letter and sent it to her.
[You came all this way, and didn't even knock?]
To his surprise, she replied instantly.
[That would've been rude, since I hadn't told you in advance.]
Another quick message followed.
[Sorry. I wasn't prepared since I didn't expect your card or gift. That charm was one I got for myself, but the thought behind it should still count. Next year, I'll get one just for you.]
[Don't be so formal. It's just a blessing, nothing more. Next year, even a simple message is fine—you don't need to come all the way here.]
[Got it.]
[By the way, one question.]
[What is it?]
[How did you know my home address?]
This time, her reply took longer.
[Senya, you're a public figure. Finding your address isn't hard. It's online.]
[Oh. Alright then. Happy New Year.]
[Happy New Year! ^o^]
Senya set his phone down, then immediately pulled up his own name online.
There were a couple of posts with his old address.
But nothing about his new home.
"Public figure," huh. That was a stretch.
Clearly, she hadn't been honest. But with the resources of the Shinomiya family behind her, it wouldn't have been difficult.
He let it go.
That night, as the countdown reached zero, Saeko raised her glass to him.
"Let's do our best this year too."
"Yeah. Same to you."
They shared a smile.
At around 2 a.m., just as Senya had gotten into bed, there was a soft knock at his door.
Saeko slipped inside in her pajamas. He exhaled in relief—though oddly, he also felt a pang of disappointment.
"Sorry. I couldn't sleep. I wanted to talk."
"No problem. I couldn't sleep either."
He patted the space beside him, and she sat down. The faint scent of shampoo filled the air, tickling his nerves.
"Something bothering you?" he asked.
"…I guess you could call it that. In less than four months, I'll be in high school." Her fingers brushed his hand where it rested on the sheets.
April would mark the start of her new life.
"Worried you won't fit in?" Senya ventured.
But her answer surprised him.
"No. It's just… thinking about a school without you. A kendo club without you. It makes me feel empty."
"…"
He turned. She was close—so close that if either of them leaned in, their lips might meet.
"It's just one year. You'll get used to your new school. Become captain of the club. When I get there, we'll go to Nationals together."
She smiled faintly, like she'd accepted a promise.
"Mm."
Then her gaze drifted to the window, her voice soft with memory.
"When I was little, before Mother passed away… every New Year, we'd all hug when the countdown ended. Both my parents would kiss my forehead. But now she's gone, and Father's never home… Sorry. That was depressing."
Senya shook his head.
He reached out and pulled her into his arms.
Her body stiffened at first, then slowly melted against him.
Her heartbeat thudded against his chest, syncing with his own.
She bit her lip, unsure what to do with her hands, then finally looped them lightly around his waist.
"S-Senya…"
He leaned close, whispering into her ear.
"I could never replace your parents. But as long as you want me here, I'll be by your side."
Outside, fireworks burst in the distance, a fleeting sparkle in the dark.
Saeko trembled, her forehead still tingling from his touch.
Mustering her courage, she pushed him down, bent forward, and brushed her lips against his forehead in return.
Then she fled, running back to her room, her hand pressed to her burning skin.
Back in his bed, Senya lay dazed, feeling weightless.
Her message buzzed his phone moments later.
[We have a deal.]
Senya stared at the words, his thoughts crystallizing.
[Yeah. We do.]
…