"I want to become the heir to the Yukinoshita family."
With a soft thud, the bamboo tube gave a crisp sound.
In that moment, she could hear her own heartbeat; her mood tightened. How would he respond—with one of his usual jokes?
After a brief silence, the boy smiled.
It was a smile that made the dark night glow.
"I'll help you achieve that dream."
What is destiny?
Yukino pondered the question in a daze.
Destiny doesn't force you down a path; it guides you through a chain of events until you choose the direction it wants. Those beautiful moments, painful tragedies, unfulfilled desires—you think you achieved them by yourself, yet it was the road laid out from the very beginning.
If destiny shapes a person's life like that—
Then the words she heard tonight might be another form of guidance.
Today, Yukino and her aunt were leaving for England. At dusk, orange-red light cast a melancholic glow over the city.
Because she wouldn't see them for a long time, Yukino received princess-like treatment all weekend. Everyone in the family was gentle and attentive, asking after her well-being and treating her like a precious treasure.
Even her usually scheming older sister stopped teasing her and took her to a theme park with Mr. Pan. Yukino's only dissatisfaction was…
Why had that guy been so quiet these past few days!?
In the back of a black Toyota Century, the cold princess from the frigid land watched the scenery recede outside the window, her delicate brows drawn together.
She knew she was leaving, yet Kiyono hadn't come to her—and then he vanished entirely, holed up in his room all day, secretly doing who knows what…
"Were the things he said last time a lie?"
The smiling face under the moon flashed in her mind. Yukino clicked her tongue, a little angry. A familiar icy aura spread, as if frost were forming on the car window.
Kiyono hadn't even seen her off.
No… he had, but only for a few minutes. After the Toyota Century started, Kiyono seemed to recall something important, hurriedly got out, and ran back.
Although she vaguely guessed why he was being secretive, a hollow, awkward feeling still rippled through her heart.
She attributed that feeling to her body as a girl; people are ruled by hormones, and she was just thirteen—perfectly normal to have such emotions!
After a few seconds of silence, the girl exhaled softly.
They arrived at the airport.
The hall bustled with travelers checking in. If one listened carefully, one could hear languages from all over the world.
Beyond the glass curtain wall, the last cherry blossoms drifted in the setting sun.
Yukinoshita Haruno accompanied her through the procedures; everything was quickly settled. They began their farewells in the waiting lounge.
"Yukino, if you don't get used to it over there, you can come back anytime," their mother said, gaze gentle.
A hint of reluctance crossed Haruno's clear eyes, but she didn't voice it. Instead, she dramatically hugged her sister, tears welling up.
"I'll miss you so much, little Yukino… Oh, if you come back too late, little Kiyono might be completely devoured by your big sister, you know?"
The last sentence was whispered in Yukino's ear.
Expressionless, Yukino looked like an exquisite doll—a doll that radiated cold.
The family chatted like countless others at the airport. As the sun dipped, less than two hours remained until takeoff.
Why isn't that guy here yet?
They seemed to be waiting for something, eyes unconsciously drifting toward the entrance.
Minutes ticked by. Yukino checked the passport folder for the third time. The waiting lounge gradually emptied. Though she knew he would never truly be absent, a faint sense of loss welled up uncontrollably… Was she being played by him?
Suddenly, a flurry of footsteps.
Her heart, despite herself, skipped a beat.
She turned and saw Kiyono jogging over, a large cardboard box in hand.
"Kiyono, do you think you're the protagonist of a hot-blooded manga? Always making an entrance at the last minute?"
When the boy stopped in front of her, Yukino shot him a fierce glare. She wanted to accuse him of playing dirty, but when she spoke, only a thin layer of sarcasm remained.
"I couldn't help it. I wanted to surprise you, but I forgot something and nearly overdid it…"
Kiyono exhaled twice, steadied his breathing, and smiled.
Catching his gaze, Yukino smoothed a few unruly strands of hair back into place.
"Yukino's obsessive-compulsive habits are as consistent as ever," Kiyono quipped. He was always like this: whenever he neared a soft place in his heart, he would unconsciously lace the moment with a grain of humor.
"Did you go to all this trouble just to say that?" Yukino asked, voice glacial.
Just then, Kiyono opened the box and took out what was inside.
Yukinoshita Yukino went still.
It was Mr. Pan.
A giant Mr. Pan.
Yukino instinctively took two steps forward and pinched its soft cheeks. A faint blush colored her pale face.
As someone deeply familiar with Mr. Pan dolls, she recognized the craftsmanship at a glance—far beyond the mass-produced versions on the market.
And in that instant, she remembered Kiyono's reclusiveness these past few days. Could he have made all of this himself…
Her gaze dropped to Kiyono's fingers, wrapped in bandages and marked with small cuts.
Something soft inside her was gently touched.
"It will always keep someone company. Please cherish it," Kiyono said, holding the panda plushie's arm and waving it up and down, his voice boyish.
Honestly…
Yukino glared at him again, but her eyes were different now—soft, with a faint shimmer.
"Yukino, it's almost time," her aunt reminded from the side.
"See you next time." Kiyono smiled and handed her the giant doll.
"Mm."
The cool girl took the plush bear from his hands and seemed to murmur something, but her voice was so soft it was nearly inaudible.
Puzzled, Kiyono looked up.
Yukino's bright eyes sparkled, and her usually cold, unreadable lips curved ever so slightly, revealing a heart-stealing smile.
How many times had he seen Yukino smile? He couldn't quite remember. He only knew that she rarely smiled—and each smile was etched in his heart like an unfading photograph.
When they reached high school, how would they meet again?
---
After saying goodbye to Yukino and returning home, Kiyono pulled out his phone and sent her a text, but no reply came all night. Not until lunchtime did a reassuring message finally arrive.
"Don't worry, I've arrived at the apartment."
Yukino's reply was as concise and forceful as ever.
Kiyono sat in his seat and typed: "Can you send me some pictures of your room? Public security in foreign countries isn't very good, and I'm a little worried about your personal safety."
"To speak of harassment with such righteousness… only Kiyono could do that, right?"
Even through the screen, one could imagine the cool girl's condescending, disdainful gaze—Yukino had been taller than him for the past two years.
Kiyono didn't reply, just waited.
Then—
Ding-a-ling.
[Room pic.jpg]
Smiling, Kiyono opened the two photos. Yukino had taken them very properly: one of the bedroom; the other, a view from the living room's floor-to-ceiling window—London's nightscape, bright and alive.
Instinctively, he turned to the falling cherry blossoms and bright sunshine outside his own window, feeling—at last—a tangible sense of the girl eight thousand kilometers away.
"You must be tired after such a long flight. Aren't you going to sleep?" he asked, casually finding a topic.
"I'm going to sleep now."
At that moment in England, Yukino returned to her bedroom and gently closed the door.
After the long, bumpy flight, the girl's delicate face had lost some color, crystalline in the cold, empty room—as if she might dissolve into ice at any moment.
Though she had sent photos to Kiyono, the room wasn't truly like the pictures. It felt less like a young girl's home and more like a high-end hotel for a quick rest. The curtains were a deep black, and the few decorations a deep-sea blue—tranquil, desolate.
Yukino sat at the foot of the bed, holding her phone in both hands, dark-blue pupils fixed on the screen, her usual edge softened.
Only when the boy stopped replying did she lie down, facing a giant plush bear. Her eyes gentled.
Having it here was enough.
Looking at adorable Mr. Pan, she couldn't resist stroking its head twice. Gradually, a familiar figure appeared before her, overlapping with the doll—a boy smiling at her.
Her phone buzzed. Startled, Yukino let go of the doll. A faint blush rose on her pretty face. Flustered, she dared not keep reading Kiyono's message and quickly sent a reply instead.
"I'm going to sleep. Good night. Also, remember to eat well—or that… kun might have to keep looking up to me forever."
Her text made Kiyono raise an eyebrow.
To be honest, Yukino wasn't a great conversationalist. She didn't use emojis like ordinary girls to liven the mood; she didn't share daily tidbits or actively offer "emotional value." She was cold, direct, and did as she pleased.
But…
Kiyono glanced at the time. The UK and Japan were about nine hours apart; when she landed, it would have been four or five in the morning for him. She must have seen his message then but waited until now to reply—probably so she wouldn't disturb his sleep, right?
She was always like this. Her gentleness hid beneath a cold, sharp tongue.
Kiyono replied with: "Good night."
The school festival was approaching.
A staple in school stories—glamorous and enviable, embodying students' brightest fantasies. Yet for a protagonist in a reincarnation series, a middle-school festival hardly stirred his interest.
Besides, with his current reputation in class, no one was eager to work with him. Amid his classmates' cheers and excitement, Kiyono seemed leisurely detached.
In that leisure, something lightly tapped his head—a crumpled paper ball. He looked up on instinct and saw the blonde girl in front of him blinking her blue eyes at him.
He opened the note. A single line:
"What do you want to do for the school festival?"
—Eriri had been assigned as his teammate.
I don't want to do anything… he thought, sighing. The once diligent "best employee" had fallen far. Of course he would still do his work, and if someone had a problem, he'd help—but there was no need to do it with others.
He wrote nothing and tossed the paper back.
Seeing Kiyono unmoved, Eriri's tsundere nature flared. She tore a page from her notebook, scribbled and sketched, crumpled it into a second ball, and pitched it at him.
Kiyono's mouth twitched. This time, she'd drawn a twin-pigtail chibi with a giant hammer smashing another chibi's head, a manga speech bubble beside it:
[Remember to come after school. No slacking, you idiot!]
The warm light of the setting sun streamed through the windows, gilding desks, chairs, and the cultural-festival streamers. The streamers danced in the breeze, carrying the students' bright, innocent hopes.
The empty classroom was quiet enough that the shouts from the sports clubs on the field rang clear.
Kiyono sorted the class props at the podium while Eriri Spencer Sawamura chalked a beautiful promotional poster on the blackboard. Neither wanted to work with their classmates—one hated making people uncomfortable; the other didn't want to wear a mask while socializing—so they had chosen a time when no one else would be around.
Tap, tap, tap—chalk danced across the board.
It was a rare after-school scene.