Hearing Hasegawa Saori say that—with such unwavering, almost naive conviction—Yokoyama Miyu opened her mouth, then thought better of it. She glanced at her wrist to check the time.
3:31 PM.
It was Saori's turn next. And if Shiratori Seiya hadn't arrived by this point, he basically wasn't coming. That was just the harsh reality of competition schedules—they waited for no one, not even boyfriends.
Yokoyama Miyu wanted to say that—to state the obvious like a blunt supporting character in a sports anime. But seeing the sorrowful expression on Saori's face, that lovesick, deeply devoted look that belonged in a shoujo manga rather than a kendo venue, she knew that saying such things would not only fall on deaf ears but also pierce her friend's heart like a well-aimed thrust.
She really didn't know what that bastard Shiratori Seiya was thinking, daring to stand Saori up like this.
If it were her boyfriend, even if it hailed ice blades sharp as shuriken today, he would absolutely drag himself to watch this match. No excuses.
The longer she spent with Saori, the more she understood her purity—that genuine, almost otherworldly innocence that made you want to protect her from the world's disappointments.
Irresponsible bastard. He should go to hell.
Yokoyama Miyu couldn't help but curse him inwardly—a silent, venomous rant that would make any yandere proud.
But on second thought, if she badmouthed Shiratori Seiya now, it would probably hurt Saori's heart even more than his absence. Sometimes silence was the kinder option, even when every fiber of your being wanted to scream.
After two seconds of careful thought—like a strategist planning her next move—Yokoyama Miyu leaned closer to her friend and asked softly:
"I'm not saying he would lie to you... but could something have delayed him? Something unavoidable that's keeping him from coming?"
Hearing this, Hasegawa Saori's bright, clear eyes turned to Yokoyama Miyu. A soft, trusting smile appeared on her face—the kind that could melt the coldest heart—as she said:
"Yes. Seiya wouldn't lie to Saori. If he can't come, there must be a reason..."
As Saori spoke, her gaze dropped. A flicker of something colder—sharp, like the edge of a blade—appeared in her eyes as she stared at her bamboo sword, murmuring:
"There must be a reason..."
Beyond saving.
Looking at the girl in front of her, these four words popped into Yokoyama Miyu's mind like a subtitle in an anime. She couldn't help but sigh—a deep, weary exhale—and asked:
"So, Saori... do you want me to go get your phone for you? You could text him and ask what's going on."
Since they were competing, everyone was wearing kendo uniforms with no pockets to speak of—no place for phones, wallets, or anything else. To focus on the match without distractions, they usually stored their phones in their gym bags in the waiting area.
Hearing this, Hasegawa Saori shook her head slightly—a small, almost imperceptible movement.
"No need."
"Huh?"
Saori's answer caught Yokoyama Miyu off guard. She pursed her lips, wanting to ask why not, but then a sharp beep from the referee's whistle echoed through the gymnasium, followed by an announcement calling the next round of contestants to prepare to enter the arena.
Yokoyama Miyu snapped back to the present. She looked at Saori's profile—calm, focused, unreadable—and said softly:
"Good luck, Saori."
"I will."
Saori replied in a steady, even tone. She stood up and vigorously swung the bamboo sword in her hand—a single, powerful motion that produced a piercing boom as it sliced through the air. The sound reverberated like a declaration of intent.
Watching the girl's back as she walked toward the arena entrance, Yokoyama Miyu opened her mouth—then closed it again.
She subconsciously put herself in Saori's shoes—if my boyfriend didn't show up to something this important, how would I feel?—and inexplicably felt that something was wrong.
If her significant other hadn't shown up, she would at least call to find out what was happening. A text. A smoke signal. Something.
But Saori clearly didn't even have the thought of asking. Was it because she liked him so much that she chose to trust him unconditionally—like a character who had maxed out their faith stat?
But there should be a limit to love, right? This would only make him more and more unrestrained, wouldn't it? Like giving a cat unlimited treats and wondering why it stops listening to you.
At this thought, Yokoyama Miyu frowned, bit her lip, and a feeling of exasperation welled up in her heart.
What an idiot!
Meanwhile, at the Takahashi household...
"Why are you back so early?"
At the entrance, after her mother opened the door, Takahashi Mio looked at the two figures standing on the doorstep—one surly, one calm—and blinked her reddened, still-puffy eyes. She asked, somewhat confused.
She subconsciously glanced at the time on her wristwatch.
10:15 PM.
The two had gone fishing at seven in the evening. According to her father's well-established fishing addiction—a habit as reliable as a morning alarm—they should have returned closer to midnight at the earliest. Fishing until the early hours was practically a tradition. So why were they back so early today?
Takahashi Mio looked at Shiratori Seiya—calm, unruffled—then at her father, her eyes full of unspoken questions.
The light from the doorway illuminated Takahashi Isao's face in a strange half-black, half-red pattern. He wore a cold, grim expression and said absolutely nothing.
He did want to continue fishing. But in less than two hours, that scoundrel had caught three big fish, while his own fishing float had remained as motionless as a frozen sea. The man had dumb luck—or something more annoying.
He had originally planned to regain his lost prestige through fishing, to reclaim some of the dignity the shogi board had stolen. But if this continued, he'd lose face entirely. Better to retreat than to be completely humiliated.
Shiratori Seiya glanced at Takahashi Isao—noting the man's thunderous expression—then looked at the Takahashi mother and daughter in front of him and explained simply:
"The fish weren't biting very well tonight."
Hearing this, Takahashi Mio lowered her gaze to the fish basket Shiratori Seiya was holding. Inside, multiple large fish were flopping and splashing with vigorous energy—splash, splash, splash.
So many fish... and he says the biting wasn't good?
She had never seen her father catch this many fish at once and bring them home. Coming back empty-handed was far more common. This was practically a miracle haul.
"Hmph!"
Hearing the vigorous splashing of the big fish—each sound like a personal insult—Takahashi Isao's face fell even further. He snorted coldly, turned his head, and started walking out toward the yard.
He had taken two steps when Takahashi Mio reacted and quickly called out:
"Dad? Where are you going?"
Takahashi Isao walked out with a sullen face, his shoulders hunched like a defeated general. However, when he reached the gate, he stopped and waved his hand back without turning around:
"To buy cigarettes!"
But then, as if remembering something crucial, he suddenly turned his head, raised his hand, and pointed an accusatory finger at Shiratori Seiya.
"You brat. Don't follow me."
"Hmph!"
Stomp, stomp, stomp. He marched off into the night.
The three stood at the doorway, staring blankly as Takahashi Isao's figure disappeared into the shadow of the streetlights, swallowed by the darkness like a character exiting a scene. A moment later, Takahashi Mio reacted and reached out to tug Shiratori Seiya's sleeve.
"Seiya, please—"
Before she could finish her sentence, Takahashi Reie looked down at the fish basket in Shiratori Seiya's hand, seemed to understand something—the subtext, the unspoken victory—and shook her head gently.
"No need, Mio. Just let him go."
"But—"
"Just let him go."
Takahashi Reie smiled gently—a knowing, warm smile—then turned to Shiratori Seiya and said:
"Shiratori-kun, please come inside first. It's cold out here."
Hearing that her attitude and tone were completely different from before—softer, more accepting—Shiratori Seiya blinked in surprise.
He looked up at the mother and daughter. Both had reddened eyes, clearly having cried recently. His heart stirred—understanding that Mio had likely told her mother... well, something. He smiled at Mio—a small, reassuring smile—and walked into the house.
"Shiratori-kun, how about you stay in this room tonight?"
After entering the living room, Shiratori Seiya had just sat down on the sofa when he saw Takahashi Reie pointing to the guest room by the corridor—a tidy, simple room with fresh futons already laid out.
"No problem."
After all, he was a guest in someone else's home—a surprise guest at that—so there was no reason to refuse or be picky. Shiratori Seiya nodded politely.
Seeing this, Takahashi Reie looked at her daughter again.
"Mio hasn't been back in a long time. How about you sleep with Mama tonight?"
Hearing this, Takahashi Mio opened her mouth, ready to refuse—but we're married now, technically—but Takahashi Reie looked at her daughter's hesitant expression and smiled knowingly.
"What's wrong? Don't want to stay with your own mother? Mio, you're already married to Shiratori-kun. One night apart won't make a difference if you want to be intimate, right?"
Catching the hidden meaning in her mother's words—the implication, the raised eyebrow, the knowing smile—Takahashi Mio felt her face flush bright red. A pink hue spread across her fair, pretty cheeks like cherry blossoms blooming. She raised her hand and shook her mother's arm, pouting playfully:
"No way! I was just going to ask about Dad..."
"Oh, him? He can just sleep in his own room tonight."
"Oh... okay."
"Hmm..."
Seeing that her daughter wasn't as agitated as before—that the storm had passed, at least for now—Takahashi Reie felt a little relieved. Then she looked at Shiratori Seiya, and as if remembering something, she got up, poured him a fresh cup of tea, hesitated for a moment, and then said softly:
"By the way, Shiratori-kun."
"Yes?"
Shiratori Seiya's fingertips had just touched the warm teacup when he heard Takahashi Reie's voice. He raised his face, looking at her half-smiling expression—a look that said I'm not done with you yet—and his heart stirred. He placed his hands back between his thighs, the picture of respectful attention.
"Please, speak."
"Hmm."
Takahashi Reie raised her hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear—a small, deliberate gesture—her gaze calmly fixed on him like a strategist assessing an opponent.
"Although Isao isn't here right now... I still want to ask. Since Shiratori-kun is already married to Mio..."
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle.
"...the wedding. That can't be left out, can it?"