The new year didn't bring Minamoto Senya any particular feelings.
Still, there were a few things in the short term that he was quietly looking forward to.
The first three days of the year passed uneventfully. Everyone had their own plans; unlike last year, there were no group meals or shrine visits together.
During those days, Saeko stayed at the Minamoto household. Each morning she would wake early to sit in meditation in her room, and afterward, if she wasn't busy, she would volunteer to help with housework—sharing the load with Tohka, minding the baby, buying groceries, cooking meals.
With their similarly gentle and capable natures, the two of them got along right from the start.
After the exhausting December, Senya was finally enjoying a stretch of rare leisure.
With days like these, his mood and spirit should have been completely relaxed.
But on the night of January 3rd—the evening Saeko returned home and stopped intruding on his routine—Senya had a nightmare.
In it, he had already leapt forward more than ten years, living the kind of life he had always envisioned.
A luxurious home. Beautiful wives in his arms, tender warmth on all sides—an elegant, decadent dream.
But then, in the blink of an eye, the bright, cozy villa transformed into a grotesque nest of decay, blood splattered everywhere.
His body parts lay scattered, each one cradled in the embrace of a different "beloved wife."
The scene was reminiscent of Xuanzang and his disciples stumbling into the illusory lair of a demon in some old tale.
In short, it was bizarre.
The nightmare wasn't strong enough to jolt Senya awake in the middle of the night—his mental resilience was better than that—but when he got out of bed, he couldn't shake the lingering chill in his chest.
Even now, he could recall faintly: one of his lovers holding his head in her hands, her eyes glowing crimson, her smile an eerie, enchanting twist.
But he couldn't remember who she was. Only a vague impression remained—that she had a generous chest.
Still, he had to hand it to himself.
Even a dream like that somehow managed to sneak in a few eighteen-plus moments.
And sure enough, when he woke up, he was just as hard as ever.
If this kept up, he'd really have to be careful not to sleep on his stomach.
Otherwise, sooner or later, he'd punch a hole straight through the mattress.
"Had a nightmare? The year's only just started—don't tell me it's some kind of omen? Senya, you'd better be careful."
At breakfast, Tohka noticed her brother-in-law's tension and asked casually, concern written on her face.
Senya gave her a short answer, but before he could elaborate, Rikka immediately jumped in.
Tohka reached over and flicked her younger sister's forehead, glaring. "Don't spout nonsense."
"I'm serious." Rikka rubbed her head. "I read a book about interpreting dreams. It said that sometimes we sense a crisis in our daily lives but, for various reasons, don't consciously acknowledge it. When that happens, the brain stays active while we sleep, as a kind of self-protection mechanism, and gives us hints through dreams. That's the logic behind nightmares."
"Stop reading unscientific junk like that."
"But science is just guesses and experiments that eventually get proven one bit at a time, isn't it?"
Rikka pouted, but the moment she caught her sister's cold glare, she clamped her mouth shut and mimed zipping her lips.
"Honestly…" Tohka sighed, turning back to Senya. "If you didn't sleep well from the nightmare, I'll make you some hot milk later. It'll help calm your nerves."
Senya shook his head. "Don't bother. I'm heading out in a while anyway. Won't be back for lunch."
"Where are you going?" Rikka asked.
"Just a few errands," Senya replied vaguely.
She didn't pry further. Instead, she looked at her sister. "Nee-san, I'm going out too."
"What now?"
"I promised Eriri we'd hit the hobby shop, then stop by the shrine. Feels like my luck took a nosedive last year, especially in the second half, so I want to butter up the gods a bit. Who knows? Maybe this year I'll hit the lottery jackpot. Then I'll take you guys to Hawaii."
"With thoughts that shallow, the gods won't bother with you."
Senya smiled at their sisterly bickering as he finished his toast. At the same time, the baby in the cradle beside the table started squeaking.
Either she was hungry, or it was diaper time.
Tohka started wiping her hands to take care of it, but Senya spoke up.
"You finish eating. I'll handle it."
He'd looked after little Chiyo often enough lately—these small tasks came naturally to him.
A quick check showed the diaper was still dry.
So he picked up the baby and headed to the kitchen to warm her milk.
After the sisters finished breakfast, Rikka volunteered to clear the dishes. Just as Tohka was about to take Chiyo from Senya, the baby mumbled something from her tiny mouth.
A slurred, indistinct "papa."
Both Senya and Tohka froze.
Senya recovered first, eyes lighting up. "She really did just say 'Papa,' right?!"
Tohka nodded in astonishment. Babies usually didn't blurt out simple words until at least seven months old—and even then, it was meaningless mimicry. But Chiyo was only three months.
"Probably just coincidence," she murmured.
But Senya refused to believe it. Holding Chiyo facing him, he tried guiding her.
He repeated "Papa" a dozen times. And at last, she responded—clearer this time.
Even Rikka, busy at the sink, heard it. Tohka covered her mouth in disbelief.
"Incredible. Maybe Chiyo's a genius! At least in language—she could be an announcer or a voice actress someday!"
He spun slowly in a circle with her in his arms, and the baby laughed with joy.
Even the remnants of last night's eerie nightmare melted away.
Tohka rushed to grab her phone, urging Senya to coax Chiyo again so she could record it and share the touching moment with their parents.
These little surprises in everyday life really could brighten your mood.
By just after nine, Senya set out.
To his surprise, though he'd left early, someone was already waiting for him.
"Been waiting long?" he asked, quickening his pace.
Yukinoshita Yukino shook her head. "I only just got here."
Today she wore a simple white dress layered with a pale-blue knit cardigan. Her hair, usually left loose, was tied into twin tails draped over her shoulders. A beret sat on her head, and a light brown shoulder bag completed the look. She looked fresh and elegant—sweet, demure, and cute all at once.
"You look beautiful today," Senya said, openly admiring her.
"…I already know that. You don't need to say it out loud."
Though she put on an air of confidence, her heart gave a tiny flutter.
After all, Senya himself looked striking.
His outfit was the same as usual—white shirt, black pants—but his sharp features, straight nose, and defined jawline drew glances wherever he went. Tall and lean, with a clean, gentle aura, he stood out in any crowd.
Yukino could see it herself: women stealing glances at him, even men turning their heads.
"Last time I saw you, I thought—you've gotten taller again, haven't you?"
"About 176 now."
"I knew it… But aren't you cold, dressed so lightly?"
"You know my stamina's good. Besides, it's not that cold this year. Come on—the movie's about to start."
"Mm."
"When was the last time we saw a movie together?"
"That's never happened."
"I remember it did. The school trip to the museum—we went to see a movie afterward."
"That was a group outing. It doesn't count…"
This time, it really was just the two of them, and only for the movie.
During the film, they didn't act like a couple.
At most, they leaned together to whisper comments about the plot or shared a laugh at the funny parts. Their quiet harmony was undeniable.
But compared to when they were younger—when they could sit side by side all day, doing nothing but their own tasks in silence—something felt different now.
Yukino's outward composure hid a restless unease.
And that unease wasn't only because of Senya.
She kept seeing Eriri's bright grin flashing in her mind—the innocent, toothy smile of their mutual friend.
From the night she received the movie ticket up until now, Yukino had wanted to ask: Does Eriri know about this?
But asking felt strange, almost guilty. Like she had ulterior motives.
So she stayed silent.
Yesterday, Eriri had even invited her to hang out with Rikka today. Yukino declined, citing other plans.
Luckily, Eriri didn't press her. Even so, Yukino couldn't shake the sense she was doing something wrong.
And so, sitting here with Senya, her feelings were tangled and complicated.
When the movie ended, Senya remarked how good it had been—worth seeing.
Yukino only nodded faintly in agreement.
It was a lighthearted school comedy. Nothing deep, but cheerful enough to leave you smiling.
"That last scene—when the leads kissed under the sunset—do you think they really kissed?" Senya asked suddenly.
Yukino considered. Then, evenly: "Probably just angled it. For the aesthetic. The camera pulled so far back—there was no need to actually do it."
"I see…" Senya nodded slowly, thoughtful. Whatever he was thinking, he kept to himself.
As they grew older, they understood more and more. But at the same time, some things between them grew less pure, harder to bridge.
"I'm going to the restroom."
"Mm. I'll wait here."
After Senya left, Yukino pressed a hand to her chest, drawing deep breaths to steady herself.
In the movie, the heroine had been childhood friends with the hero, always at his side since elementary school. They'd fought, drifted apart, but reunited by graduation—and in the end, their bond became romance.
Why had Senya asked that question just now? What kind of answer was he hoping for?
She couldn't stop thinking about it.
For lunch, they went to a Japanese restaurant inside the mall.
Senya ordered a rice bowl set, karaage, and some sushi.
As usual, Yukino ordered sparingly: just four small gyoza and a tiny fruit salad with barely a few slices.
You should really eat more… How are you supposed to grow like this?
Senya glanced at her petite frame, unchanged from memory, and sighed inwardly.
Of course, he'd never say it aloud. Yukino was sensitive about such things—better not to trouble her.
Besides, what did it matter if she was delicate, petite? That was part of her charm.
Not self-delusion—Senya genuinely thought so.
Still, he did wish she would eat more. To him, Yukino always seemed just a little too fragile.
"Here."
After they finished, Senya pulled something from his pocket and placed it on the table.
"What's this?"
Yukino froze.
It was a small black box—exactly the sort used in dramas during confessions or proposals.
She couldn't help picturing it: a man kneeling, opening such a box, offering the contents with a heartfelt gaze, ending in an embrace or a kiss.
"Sorry it's a day late. But you didn't really think I'd forget your birthday, did you?"
Senya gestured for her to open it.
So—it was just a birthday present.
Relieved, though she wasn't sure why she'd been so tense. After all, they were only middle schoolers.
"Thank you."
She opened the box.
Inside lay a delicate bracelet, crafted with lines fine as feathers. A four-leaf clover charm was set with pale blue gems that sparkled like stars—dreamlike, fairy-tale beauty.
Coming from a wealthy family, Yukino had seen her share of jewelry. She'd held her mother's expensive pieces in her hands, studied them closely.
So she knew the moment she touched this bracelet—this was no cheap trinket.
…