(A/N: How's the new title and cover image? Give me your feedback)
*****
(Yuta POV)
My name is Hasegawa Yuta.
As of two weeks ago, I am officially a high school student. I managed to pass the entrance exams for Meikyo High, a fairly competitive, reputable public school just a few stations away from our apartment.
When the acceptance letter arrived in the mail, my mother cried, my father clapped me so hard on the back I nearly choked on my dinner, and my older sister, Miya, bought a small strawberry cake on her way home from work to celebrate.
We aren't exactly rich, but we are a happy middle-class family living in a slightly cramped three-bedroom apartment. My parents both work incredibly hard, but the undeniable truth of our household is that Miya-nee is the financial backbone.
A few years ago, she managed to secure a position as a maid at the Kamishiro estate.
When she first got the job, my parents were a little scared. You hear stories about ultra-wealthy families — how they treat their staff like objects, the toxic environments, the impossible standards. But the Kamishiros were different.
They paid a staggering salary, provided excellent benefits, and the working environment was completely professional. Because of Miya-nee's job, the financial weight on our family had lifted significantly. It was the reason I was able to afford the extra cram school classes to get into Meikyo High in the first place.
I respect my sister more than anyone else in the world. I know her hands are rough from cleaning massive marble hallways, and I know she comes home exhausted every day.
When she graduated high school, she didn't even look at college brochures. Our family simply didn't have the money for it. Instead of going to university, hanging out with friends, or enjoying her own youth, she immediately went to work.
She basically gave up her own life to support our parents and, most of all, to give me the chances she never had.
Every cram school fee and textbook that got me into Meikyo High was paid for by her hard work. She quietly swallowed her own dreams due to our lack of money, just so I could have a shot at a decent future.
So, my primary goal in life is to graduate, get a high-paying corporate job, and finally let her quit so she can relax.
When she told me she had been granted the entire weekend off, I was genuinely thrilled.
We had planned to spend both Saturday and Sunday shopping in Shibuya. I needed a new commuting bag for high school, some new casual clothes, and a few stationeries.
I also wanted to spend some relaxing time with my sister without her having to worry about her alarms or her uniform and work.
But there was a massive, incredibly frustrating problem.
"You should really try standing up straighter, Yuta," Miya-nee had said to me yesterday while we were looking at jackets. "Young Master always has such perfect posture. It makes him look so mature and reliable. You should really aim to be a gentleman like him."
Young Master. That name had entirely hijacked our weekend.
For a while now, she simply could not stop talking about her employer's son. She had always mentioned him in passing before, usually noting how polite but distant he was. But recently, it was like a switch had been flipped.
'Young Master actually came into the kitchen and cooked the eggs perfectly.'
'Young Master remembered your exam and told me to celebrate with you.'
'Young Master smiled at me.'
It was completely endless. We were sitting on a bench eating crepes earlier this afternoon, and out of nowhere, she started worrying about whether the estate chef was making sure he ate enough vegetables because "he's been working so hard lately".
It was incredibly annoying.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek as we navigated the crowded Shibuya crosswalk, carrying a plastic shopping bag filled with my new notebooks and a few shirts.
I knew I should be grateful to the Kamishiro family for the money they paid her. But hearing my hardworking, amazing older sister constantly fawn over some spoiled, untouchable rich kid who had never worked a hard day in his life was driving me insane.
I knew his type, a prince of a wealthy family. He probably just did one decent, bare-minimum nice thing, and now my sister was treating him like a god.
I was the future man of our house. I was the one who was going to take care of her. She didn't need to be so completely captivated by some guy who just happened to be born with a silver spoon in his mouth.
"Let's check out that shoe store across the plaza," I said, pointing toward a large glass storefront. "I still need—"
I stopped.
Miya-nee had suddenly frozen dead in her tracks.
She let out a sharp, audible gasp, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. Her eyes were blown wide, staring straight ahead into the bustling crowd near the edge of the plaza.
"Nee-san?" I asked, frowning. "What is it?"
She didn't answer me and just kept staring.
I followed her line of sight, trying to figure out what had shocked her so badly. Through the shifting gaps in the pedestrian crowd, I finally spotted him.
Standing near the edge of the crosswalk was a guy who looked to be around eighteen years old.
He was tall, significantly taller than the average crowd, with broad, athletic shoulders. He was dressed in a simple cream sweater and dark denim, but the clothes fit him so perfectly, it looked like they had been tailored directly to his body.
His dark hair was styled effortlessly, and he carried an aura of absolute, completely unbothered calm despite the chaotic noise of Shibuya happening all around him.
He was holding a couple of high-end shopping bags in one hand, and in the other, completely contradicting his mature aura, was a round, squishy Shiba Inu plushie from an arcade.
"…Young Master?!"
The words slipped out of Miya-nee's mouth before she could stop them, cutting clearly through the ambient noise of the street.
The guy blinked, turning his head toward us. His dark blue eyes locked onto Miya, and then shifted briefly to me.
Beside me, my sister was completely losing her mind. All of her usual composed, older-sister maturity vanished in an instant. Her face flushed a brilliant, chaotic shade of red, her posture stiffening awkwardly as she realized she had just yelled across a public street at her incredibly wealthy young master.
My jaw clenched tightly.
The jealousy, which had been simmering quietly for some time, suddenly flared up into a sharp, protective spike. I hated this. I hated how much power this one guy had over my sister's emotions without even trying.
The guy looked at us for a second longer, and then, completely ruining my mental image of a snobby, arrogant rich kid, a warm, completely relaxed smile spread across his face.
…
(Normal POV)
Renji looked at the two siblings standing a few feet away, feeling a genuine sense of pleasant surprise.
The odds of running into someone from the Kamishiro estate in the middle of a crowded Shibuya weekend were astronomically low.
"Hello, Miya-san," Renji greeted. "Enjoying your weekend off?"
Miya snapped to attention, her hands dropping to her sides as she instinctively offered a quick, deeply ingrained professional bow, completely forgetting she was wearing a floral dress and a cardigan instead of a maid uniform.
"Y-Young Master!" Miya stammered, her cheeks burning pink. She looked completely out of her depth, her eyes darting nervously down to the Shiba Inu plushie in his hand before snapping back up to his face. "I… yes! We are just shopping for some school supplies. I never expected to see you out here! Are you… are you alone?"
Renji let out a chuckle and stepped slightly closer to them so they wouldn't have to shout over the passing cars.
"Yes, I am alone today. I just wanted to get some fresh air and buy a few things for Akari and Yume," Renji explained smoothly, lifting the shopping bags slightly to emphasize the point. "You don't need to be so formal, Miya-san. You're off the clock, and moreover, hearing 'Young Master' in the middle of an intersection is a bit embarrassing."
"I couldn't possibly!" Miya protested instantly, her face growing even redder at the sheer thought of addressing him casually.
Renji smiled, deciding not to push her too far out of her comfort zone. He shifted his gaze away from his flustered maid and looked down at the boy standing protectively close to her side.
The kid was tall, clearly in the middle of a teenage growth spurt, wearing clean, modern casual clothes. He had the same wide, expressive eyes as Miya, but the expression on his face was entirely different.
Where Miya looked overwhelmed and deeply respectful, the boy looked guarded. His shoulders were tense, his posture rigid, and his jaw was set tight.
"And you must be Yuta-san," Renji said, dropping his voice into a calm, welcoming register. He offered a polite nod. "Your sister mentioned you passed your entrance exams for Meikyo High. Congratulations. That's a solid, highly competitive school."
Yuta blinked, visibly caught off guard. He clearly hadn't expected the heir to a multi-million-dollar fortune to actually know his name, let alone the specific high school he was attending.
But the teenager quickly recovered, his protective instincts warring with his ingrained manners. He took a half-step forward, placing himself slightly in front of his sister, and executed a perfect, stiff bow.
"Nice to meet you. I am Hasegawa Yuta," the boy said, his voice carrying the slightly rough, uneven cadence of a sixteen-year-old trying very hard to sound like an adult. "Thank you for your kind words. And… thank you for giving my sister the weekend off. She works very hard."
"She does," Renji agreed immediately, holding Yuta's gaze. "The estate runs much smoother because she's there. We're lucky to have her."
Miya made a small, muffled sound behind her hands, looking like she might actually pass out from the direct praise.
But Renji wasn't focusing on Miya right now. His mind, sharpened by years of navigating difficult people in his past life, was entirely focused on the micro-expressions flickering across Yuta's face.
The boy was being perfectly polite. His words were respectful, but the eyes never lied.
Looking into Yuta's dark eyes, Renji noticed a distinct, undeniable edge. It wasn't the awe of a fan, nor was it the nervous intimidation that Miya constantly projected. It was a sharp, guarded… hostility?
It was incredibly subtle, the kind of look a teenager gives when someone they don't trust steps into their personal territory.
'Interesting,' Renji thought calmly, keeping his warm, easy smile perfectly in place. 'He doesn't like me at all.'
It was a fascinating puzzle. The old him would have completely missed the social cue, assuming the boy was just nervous, but not the current him.
He hadn't done anything to offend the kid. He paid Miya well, he had given her time off, and he had just congratulated him on his exams. There was no logical reason for a high school freshman to harbour quiet resentment toward him.
But instead of feeling annoyed or something, Renji actually felt a little respect for the kid. 'The boy has guts.'
"So, Meikyo High," Renji said, smoothly keeping the conversation flowing so the silence wouldn't stretch. "Are you planning on joining any clubs once the semester officially starts, or are you going to focus entirely on academics?"
Yuta stiffened slightly again, clearly unused to making casual small talk with someone of Renji's status. "I… I haven't decided yet. Probably a sports club. Maybe track and field."
"Track is a good choice. It builds discipline without completely monopolizing your weekends," Renji noted agreeably.
He looked at the two siblings standing on the sidewalk. Miya was still nervously clutching her grocery bag, while Yuta was standing guard like a loyal, highly suspicious guard dog.
Renji checked his watch again. It was just past noon. He had been debating whether to head back to the estate for Honda's cooking, or to eat out. Looking at the Hasegawa siblings, his mind began to gently turn its gears.
He wanted to build genuine, human connection, especially with beautiful women. And the easiest way to do that was over a meal.
"Since you're both out shopping," Renji said casually, sliding his hands into his pockets, "have you had lunch yet?"
Miya jumped slightly. "L-Lunch? No, not yet! We were just planning to grab something quick at the station before heading home."
"There's a really good Italian place a few streets over. It's relaxed, and they do a fantastic carbonara," Renji suggested, his tone entirely pressure-free. "I was just heading there myself. I'd be happy to treat you both to celebrate Yuta-san's exam results."
Miya's jaw dropped. "T-Treat us?! No, Young Master, we couldn't possibly impose on your free time! It's highly inappropriate for me to eat at the same table as you!"
"You're off the clock, Miya-san. There are no rules on a holiday," Renji countered smoothly with a gentle, disarming smile. He then looked directly at the tense, fiercely protective teenager. "What do you say, Yuta-san? Would you let me buy you a decent meal to celebrate?"
Yuta stared back at him, his dark eyes slightly narrowed, clearly trapped between his ingrained manners, his sister's panic, and his own stubborn pride.