Sayuri's conflicted thoughts were, of course, completely unknown to Takashi.
After the group photo with Daishi Sakatsuki and his people, Takashi also took a photo with each of them individually and signed autographs.
"Sorry, my signature's a mess."
Takashi glanced at the squiggly lines he had written on Daishi Sakatsuki's brand-new shirt and gave a wry smile.
He had injured his right hand and was using his left—unfortunately, he wasn't left-handed, and his handwriting was horrendous.
"If you want, I can sign again once my right hand heals."
He offered politely.
"No need. This is perfect."
Daishi Sakatsuki happily folded up the shirt. "Who knows, once you make it big, this signature might become a rare limited edition. It'll be worth even more."
The subordinates around him were stunned at first—then quickly slapped their foreheads in regret.
Why hadn't they thought of that?
Seeing Takashi's shaky handwriting, they declined the autograph.
And now that they wanted one, they were too embarrassed to ask.
'No wonder he's a department head.'
'He thinks ahead.'
They now admired Daishi Sakatsuki even more.
Some people really succeed for a reason.
"We have a lot to learn from you, Director Sakugou."
Takashi felt incredibly satisfied.
No wonder emperors always had sycophants by their side.
Damn, these guys really knew how to flatter.
Now this was what you called the art of conversation.
"Kitahara-kun, I'll be cheering for you in your next game. I won't interrupt your gathering any longer—we'll take our leave."
Daishi Sakatsuki knew Takashi had other things to attend to and didn't linger.
When he paid the bill, he even settled Takashi's table and left his phone number, saying he'd cover any future expenses as well.
As he left, he flipped the "Open for Business" sign to "Closed."
Thorough.
He really thought of everything.
"Kitahara-kun, I didn't expect you to be such a big star now. Let's take a picture together later too," Mrs. Yukinoshita said playfully—but deep down, she was shocked.
She had noticed everything Daishi Sakatsuki did.
The man had gone that far—this meant Takashi's influence had reached the point where taking a photo with him was considered an honor.
That was terrifying.
In all of Koshien's history, no one had ever been this popular.
Even Yoshida Kosei, the star from Kanano Agricultural's legendary run, wasn't this famous.
And Koshien wasn't even over yet!
If Takashi went on to win the finals, who knows how big he'd become?
Even if he lost, people would still sympathize with him—and possibly like him even more.
Unlike China, where people preferred happy endings and family reunions, Japan had a unique fondness for tragic beauty.
"Let life be beautiful like summer flowers and death like autumn leaves." That line from Tagore was extremely popular in Japan.
It fit perfectly with their melancholic sentiment.
Japan, a disaster-prone, resource-poor island nation, experienced constant earthquakes, typhoons, landslides, and volcanic eruptions—this environment bred anxiety, fear, and hopelessness.
Thus, the Japanese developed a kind of tragic outlook on life, viewing existence as short and filled with uncertainty.
Traditional culture also played a role.
In Japan's oldest poetry collection, Man'yōshū, there's a line: "Fragrance fades, and the world is ever-changing," reflecting a deep understanding of life's transience.
Cherry blossoms too hold symbolic meaning—representing the fleeting brilliance of life.
They are most beautiful just before they fall, linking this belief to the samurai spirit, symbolizing impermanence and noble sorrow.
As a result, Japanese people often prefer tragedy in their literature and entertainment.
From The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter, where Princess Kaguya returns to the moon, to Chūshingura, which ends with all the loyal retainers committing seppuku, these stories highlight impermanence and the sorrowful beauty of life—deeply resonating with Japanese audiences.
This might also explain why so many Japanese manga authors like to kill off their main characters.
Sometimes, there's beauty in tragedy.
But then you have stuff like Oshi no Ko that kills characters just to be edgy—that's meaningless.
If you haven't tasted that particular flavor of bad writing, go finish Oshi no Ko.
"Empty fame, that's all," Takashi said out loud—though the smirk on his face nearly reached his ears.
'So, flat-chested girl, what now?'
He raised his eyebrows smugly at Yukino.
She turned her head away, refusing to look at the proud fool.
"Takashi, sit."
Sayuri had finally calmed down. She tapped the seat across from her, signaling Takashi to sit.
"Yes, ma'am."
He sat across from her with a bitter smile, posture stiff and formal.
When Kotonoha saw Takashi being summoned to another table, she instinctively tried to follow—but Mrs. Yukinoshita gently placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down.
"They're going to talk about personal matters. It's better if you don't listen in."
"Don't worry. Sayuri won't do anything to him—I guarantee it, Kotonoha."
Hearing this, Kotonoha still looked uneasy but had no choice but to wait.
"I'll keep you company then."
Mrs. Yukinoshita sat beside Yukino and glanced at Hoshino Ai, Kotonoha, Arisu, Honami, and her own daughter in turn.
"So, among all of you here—who actually likes Kitahara-kun?"
Let's set aside the gossip that Yukino's mother had started on the other side—for now, Sayuri was sitting face to face with Takashi.
She stared at him quietly for a long time, until he became visibly uncomfortable under her gaze. Only then did she speak:
"Takashi, you're too cruel. Too heartless."
Takashi didn't know how to respond. What Sayuri said wasn't wrong—he was cruel and heartless.
So, he could only respond with silence.
"You canceled your number and blocked her. You really didn't leave Eriri a single thread of hope."
"You've disappeared completely from her world."
"Do you have any idea how much pain she's in right now?"
Takashi lowered his head, staring at the tea leaves floating in his cup. It took him a while to say, "I can guess."
"She's in a terrible state right now."
"She doesn't eat, doesn't go to class, just locks herself up in her studio painting portrait after portrait of you."
"Do you know? She's so thin she's unrecognizable. She's already been rushed to the hospital multiple times."
Takashi pressed his lips into a firm line, still staring at the single tea leaf in his cup.
Sayuri glanced at the hand he had gripping the cup.
He was clenching it so tightly that veins bulge across his hand, a clear sign of the turmoil within him.
In truth, Takashi didn't dislike either Utaha or Eriri.
But he didn't like them either.
Because both liking and disliking were emotional investments.
And Takashi didn't invest those kinds of emotions in strangers.
From beginning to end, no matter how Utaha or Eriri treated him—good or bad—they were strangers to him.
"Can't you just keep lying to her?"
"I'll pay you, however much it takes."
"Even if you treat her like a fool—I'd rather she be a happy fool."
Sayuri knew it wasn't the right thing to ask—but right now, without Watanabe Takashi, Eriri had no will to live.
She had tried reasoning, persuading, saying everything she could.
But Eriri refused to listen.
"Auntie, then what was the point of the breakup in the first place?"
Though clearly uneasy, Takashi firmly rejected the idea.
"I broke up with her because I didn't want any more entanglements."
"I know."
Of course Sayuri knew. The reason he broke up was to cut things off completely.
"But now... I really have no choice."
"No one else can get her to eat."
If she hadn't been completely out of options, Sayuri wouldn't be asking this.
"Not even Aki Tomoya?"
Sayuri shook her head. "No. The moment she sees Tomoya, she goes crazy—sometimes furious, sometimes terrified. She smashes things constantly."
"That piece of garbage," Takashi muttered.
You couldn't beat him when he was around—fine.
But now that he's gone, and you still can't beat him? If that's not a failure, what is?
You had your chance, and you blew it.
"If you don't want to restart the relationship, that's fine. But Auntie is begging—can you go see her once? Just once, as Watanabe Takashi."
"Just one visit."
"If you go, she'll at least regain the strength to eat."
Seeing that Takashi still didn't want to continue the relationship, Sayuri changed tactics.
"This isn't a demand. It's a mother's plea."
"Takashi, I'm begging you."
Sayuri stood up and bowed deeply.
Her long purple hair cascaded down like a waterfall, concealing the face that Takashi had always thought of as elegant and noble.
He couldn't see her face.
Her shoulders were trembling slightly.
Takashi suddenly felt as if a fishbone had lodged in his throat—choking, heavy, hard to breathe.
If Sayuri had hit him, or yelled at him, maybe he'd feel better.
But for her to lower herself like this—begging the very man who hurt her daughter to go visit her—it left him with a deep sense of guilt.
Sayuri's act caught the attention of the girls at the other table.
One by one, they turned their eyes toward her.
"What's going on?" Honami asked, unable to suppress her curiosity.
"This is a mother begging, for her child's sake," Mrs. Yukinoshita said quietly, brushing Yukino's soft hair as her eyes shone with maternal tenderness.
She was strict with her children—so much so that even her own daughters didn't understand her.
Both Haruno and Yukino feared their mother.
Yukino had even moved out just to avoid her.
But what mother doesn't love her children?
Her strictness was because she cared.
If you don't teach your kids, the world will—and it won't be kind.
Better they suffer a little now than face harsher lessons later.
"…A mother, huh?"
Hoshino Ai, whose face usually wore a sweet, fake smile, couldn't smile at all now.
She looked at Sayuri, her heart full of envy.
Her own mother had been jealous of her—jealous enough to put shards of glass in her rice.
She had never known what maternal love was.
If she could, she'd give up everything she had now just to be born into an ordinary family.
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