"Mom, can you check the back of my hair? Did I tie it properly?"
"It looks perfect, really…"
"And this outfit? It's okay too, right?"
"No problem at all. Super cute…"
"Mom! You're brushing me off again—you didn't even look at me!"
"Phew…"
Mrs. Sawamura paused in the middle of applying lipstick, lowering the compact mirror and giving her daughter a helpless look.
Her precious daughter had woken up extra early today because she was about to have lunch with the Minamoto family. Not only had she tried on outfit after outfit, but she'd been peppering her mother with endless questions about her clothes, her complexion, her hair ribbon, her watch, every tiny accessory imaginable.
It was natural for a girl to want to look pretty. But asking nonstop from eight in the morning until past ten? Switching hairstyles from loose waves, to twin tails, to braids—undoing them, retying them, and changing them again? That was pushing it.
"Eriri, you're not going to a gradua—"
"Hmm? Gradua… what?"
"You're not going to a graduation ceremony, I mean. It's just a casual meal with your close friend's family. You've known them for years. Just relax and be yourself. You don't need to be this nervous."
"I… I'm not nervous. And wasn't it you who said before that when you're dining with elders, you should dress neatly and look lively?"
Eriri muttered as she said this, clearly sulking, and stopped trying to get advice from her mother.
There was still some time left before their 10:30 departure, so she retreated to her room, planning to take a selfie and send it to Yukino to ask for her opinion.
Only after her daughter left did Mrs. Sawamura finally exhale in relief.
That was close.
She had almost let something slip.
That foolish daughter of hers still thought she was hiding her little secret perfectly, as if neither Mom nor Dad had noticed a thing.
She'd have to be more careful in the future.
Back in her room, Eriri grasped the hem of her frilly dress, turning side to side in front of the full-length mirror.
She'd already changed outfits three times this morning—retro style, Korean style, school-girl style—before settling back into her usual sweet "first love" look.
Her mom always insisted her figure was perfectly normal, even petite compared to most girls.
But for some reason, Eriri herself couldn't stop feeling like her hips, set against her narrow waist, stuck out like a peach.
Jeans and shorts only emphasized the curve, making her self-conscious.
A skirt was safer.
At least the skirt hem could cover the outline that embarrassed her.
She snapped a quick photo of herself in the mirror and sent it to her best friend Yukino.
When Yukino's reply came—"Looks fine, very cute"—Eriri finally relaxed.
Honestly, it wasn't unreasonable for her to be this worked up.
She had known Minamoto Senya since third grade. She was close with him, and with the Takanashi sisters, too.
But because of Senya's father's career, she had only met him a handful of times over the years. In truth, he felt a little distant.
The same went for his stepmother, Junko, who had only been married into the family for a year or so.
So this lunch, hosted by her father, was the first formal family meeting between the Sawamuras and the Minamotos.
To Eriri, it felt important. A chance to make a good impression on Senya's parents.
Of course she couldn't take it lightly.
After scrutinizing herself one last time in the mirror, she finally felt satisfied.
But then she froze.
She lifted her sleeve and sniffed. Nothing unusual.
Still—
She bolted straight into her mother's room.
"Mom, do you have any nice perfume I can borrow?"
"Out of the question. What does a middle-school girl need perfume for…?"
Compared to Eriri's nerves, the Minamoto household felt almost serene.
Only Rikka received a reminder from Junko—be polite when you meet Eriri's parents, and don't be picky at the table.
Rikka snapped to attention and saluted. "Yes, ma'am!"
As for the older daughter and their son, they were dependable enough. Nothing needed to be said.
Senya's father, Sanada, emerged from the bathroom freshly shaved. In the living room, he saw Tokika stretching high in a leg split while Senya supported her calf, the two of them moving in perfect sync.
Well…
It wasn't the first time Sanada had seen this.
To be fair, in their blended family, the siblings getting along so warmly was a blessing. It meant no walls stood between them, that they had truly accepted one another.
Still, the closeness sometimes felt a little too much.
Tokika's body, raised leg and all, was practically pressed against Senya's.
Yes, they were siblings. Yes, family. But still…
"Dad, are we heading out now?"
Tokika asked casually, lowering her leg. Senya turned his gaze their way as well, both of them with clear, innocent eyes.
…Maybe Sanada's thoughts were the dirty ones here.
He nodded smoothly. "We'll leave once Mom's ready."
After all, in any household, the one who kept everyone waiting before leaving was always the mother.
The appointment was for 11:30.
The Minamotos left home around 10:50.
Splurging for once, they took taxis instead of the train. Ginza wasn't far, but the transfers would've been inconvenient.
With five people, they needed two cars.
Riding alone, Senya mentally jotted a new entry into his "future plans": buy a car for the new house.
The Sawamura family had reserved a long-established Japanese restaurant in Ginza, a hundred-year-old members-only institution.
Its reputation was legendary—ingredients chosen with obsessive care. Fresh Hokkaidō sea urchin, flown in daily. Only certified Kobe beef, each plate accompanied by a pedigree certificate.
The whole affair elevated dining into ritual.
Mr. Sawamura had considered something simpler, mindful of the Minamoto family's more modest lifestyle, not wanting to pressure them about future reciprocation.
But thinking of his daughter's circle of friends—of Yukinoshita Yukino's prestigious family—he decided it was necessary to put the Sawamura household's status on display.
Not for himself, but for his daughter.
Eriri herself, of course, had no idea. She had arrived early and greeted Senya's parents with polite cheer when they entered the private room.
Their smiles and praise—"such a sweet, thoughtful girl"—made her blush with delight as she sat down beside Tokika and Rikka.
The central stone table had a recessed miniature landscape carved into it, with water flowing softly and a mist curling from hidden vents. The air itself felt touched with mystery.
While the adults chatted, the three girls huddled together.
Senya arrived a little later, led in by a waiter. Despite being the youngest, Mr. and Mrs. Sawamura both stood to greet him warmly.
Mr. Sawamura, especially, was all smiles. After Senya's polite bow, he laughed heartily, draping an arm over his shoulder like they were old friends.
Mrs. Sawamura pulled out a chair for him, seating him right by her husband.
What followed was a flood of effusive compliments—"a fine young man," "self-disciplined," "brilliant and hardworking."
The performance was textbook diplomacy.
It only ended when Mrs. Sawamura nudged her husband under the table, reminding him that the boy and his parents' smiles were starting to stiffen.
He caught himself, laughed awkwardly, and called the waiter to bring in the food.
Relieved, Eriri quickly tugged Senya away, whispering, "Sorry, my dad gets carried away sometimes."
Senya didn't mind. What really interested him was how much money Mr. Sawamura had actually made off his casual advice last time.
The answer soon came up at the table.
Eighty million yen.
Even for the wealthy Sawamura family, that wasn't small change.
And if they had ignored Senya's suggestion? Not only would they have missed that profit—they would've lost tens of millions more.
In other words, his offhand comment had saved them from a potential hundred-million-yen disaster.
Mr. Sawamura toasted Senya's father with gusto, growing louder and more detailed as the alcohol warmed him. Even Junko, listening, was shaken.
Rikka and Tokika both stared at Senya with wide eyes.
He knew what they were thinking—but back then, the family hadn't had spare funds to experiment.
No matter. Thanks to Saeko, money wouldn't be a problem much longer.
He was still young. His parents were still healthy. There was time.
Sometimes, enjoying the slow process of making life better was part of the reward.
By the third round of drinks, only two men were drinking—Sanada, with the stamina of a professional bartender, and Mr. Sawamura, whose tolerance was… less.
Flushed and exuberant, Mr. Sawamura pounded the table.
"Sanada-san, your son—he's remarkable! He calls it a guess, but no finance professor could be so precise. This boy has real talent!"
"You flatter us," Sanada replied calmly.
"Not at all! I can read faces, you see. Senya's eyes, bright as stars. His nose bridge high and clear. His features noble, his aura destined. This boy has an emperor's spirit! All he needs now is the right wife, and if you don't mind, my daughter Eri—"
Slap!
Thud!
Mrs. Sawamura, still smiling sweetly, covered her mouth with one hand as if laughing. "Honestly, dear. Once you drink too much, you start cracking jokes again. You never change. Here, eat some of your favorite tuna belly before it gets cold."
Her husband blinked, sobering slightly. Seeing the embarrassment on Senya's parents' faces—and the mortified fury in Eriri's—he obediently opened his mouth for the fish.
Moments later, he laughed again, changing the subject as if nothing had happened.
But words, once spoken, couldn't be unsaid.
After lunch ended, Eriri stormed home.
"Daddy, you're the worst! I'm never speaking to you again!"
She fled straight to her room, slamming the door.
Mr. Sawamura collapsed dramatically in the entryway, clutching his chest.
"Ugh… the pain… too painful…"
Mrs. Sawamura could only sigh and rub her forehead. Husband, daughter—none of them made life easy.
Back at the Minamoto home, Sanada teased his son half-seriously about the idea.
Senya shut it down flatly. "Dad, I'm still in middle school. What are you even thinking?"
But to say he hadn't thought about it at all would've been a lie.
He was growing fast. His dreams had already wandered more than once into forbidden territory.
Since entering middle school, he had become more aware than ever of the girls around him, their presence, their charm.
He used to think he wouldn't consider romance until eighteen, after graduation.
Now he wasn't so sure. Maybe much sooner.
That afternoon, after finishing kendo practice with Saeko, Senya found himself with time to spare. Around four o'clock, he headed to the Tōma house.
Yōko was home. Waving a music journal, she greeted him cheerfully.
"Sitting in the piano room all day gets boring. Why don't you, like Kazusa, try entering a youth piano competition for fun?"