"Joining a youth piano competition… just for fun?"
The way Touma Youko said it made it sound as casual as a trip to an amusement park.
Too casual. Too arrogant.
Even as a national-level champion in kendo, I never dared treat competitions so lightly—I trained relentlessly for weeks in advance.
…But then again, she was a world-class pianist. Right, never mind.
"Why bring this up all of a sudden?" Minamoto Senya asked, settling onto the sofa in response to Youko's invitation.
He no longer bothered bringing gifts each time he visited the Touma household. It might have seemed rude on the surface, but in truth it reflected how much closer he'd grown with Youko and her daughter, Touma Kazusa.
"I just thought you might be interested," Youko replied with a cheerful smile. "This particular competition is run by the most prestigious piano education league in the country. It's not at all the same as your upcoming Yuryū Flag kendo tournament."
Senya made an exaggerated "Ohhh, I hadn't even realized" expression. "Right, of course. Kendo and piano don't exactly overlap. Two totally different worlds."
"Pfft, don't tease me. You know what I meant," Youko laughed, shaking her head. For a second she even thought about kicking him lightly in the shin, but quickly caught herself and straightened her posture as if nothing had happened. "I'm talking about the rewards."
Ah. That explained it.
Indeed, whether it was the national middle school kendo championship or the upcoming Yuryū Flag, the emphasis was always on honor and growth, not material reward.
For most competitors, recognition of their effort and skill meant far more than prize money. At best, victors took home commemorative trophies or medals.
Just then, Kazusa emerged from the practice room after being called by her mother's assistant.
Senya greeted her warmly, then turned back to Youko, curious. "So… this piano competition offers actual prize money?"
Kazusa tilted her head. "What are you two talking about?"
Youko gave a quick rundown, then answered Senya's question. "It's not that much. First place gets four million yen, second place three, third place two."
For the Touma family, well-ensconced in upper-class life, such sums weren't particularly impressive.
But for Minamoto Senya? "That's… not small at all."
"Compared to kendo tournaments, definitely not. And that's just for the youth division. The adult competitions offer even bigger prizes. Plus, winning can get you noticed by sponsors. The connections alone are worth a fortune."
"…You say that like you're biased against kendo."
"Stop calling me auntie. Call me mom."
"Cough!"
That one word nearly made Kazusa choke on her snack. She pounded her chest furiously, glaring at her mother.
Even Senya was left speechless, face blank with disbelief.
First Eriri's father drunkenly spouted nonsense, and now Youko was sounding just as delirious.
Youko, however, laughed it off and smoothly redirected the conversation.
"I'm not biased. I'm just pointing out the reality. Kendo isn't a mainstream sport, so the league doesn't have much money. All they can do is glorify words like 'honor' and 'passion.'
"But piano competitions are entirely different. Even modest ones usually offer prize money. It shows just how profitable the music industry is. That's reality, isn't it?"
Senya sighed.
So that was her goal—subtly boosting piano's importance in his eyes.
Kazusa downed some water to recover, then stood up with an exasperated sigh. "Sorry, Senya. My mom must have been drinking fake sake last night. She's still not in her right mind."
"Anyway, I'm going back to practice." Despite being teased, Senya remained polite as he excused himself.
Youko, watching the two of them walk off together, couldn't help grinning at how compatible they seemed.
Not long after, Youko entered the music room carrying a camcorder and tripod.
Both Senya and Kazusa paused their playing to glance at her.
"Don't mind me," Youko waved, setting up the equipment. "Keep practicing. I'll be quiet."
"…That's impossible to ignore," Kazusa muttered, lowering her violin. "Why bring a camcorder?"
"You already know, don't you?" Youko fiddled with the settings. "Competitions require a performance video for the preliminary application."
Senya blinked. "…I thought that topic had ended already."
Kazusa hesitated, then spoke with a frown. "He hasn't even passed piano proficiency exams. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't qualify."
"Heh. Rules are man-made. That's where my connections come in. A recommendation letter from an industry insider can bypass the requirement."
With the camcorder set, Youko crossed her arms with a satisfied smile.
"Relax, Senya. I'm not forcing you. Just making preparations in case you change your mind. If that day comes, we can submit everything right away."
Her calm, confident smile reminded Senya of Yukinoshita's mother. Perhaps all successful people carried themselves this way.
He shrugged, tacitly conceding the point.
Beside him, Kazusa puffed her cheeks, trying to stifle her laughter.
Youko clapped her hands lightly. "Alright, Kazusa, step aside. Senya, play a few classical pieces. By the way, the application deadline is March fifteenth. The prize isn't much, but the competition is well-known and only held once a year. Missing it would be a shame, don't you think?"
Senya nodded, though inwardly he doubted his resolve would change. For now, his heart was set on the Yuryū Flag.
At least—that was what he thought.
By mid-February, flu vaccinations were rolling out in some areas, signaling the gradual return of normal life.
Business at Senya's father's bar picked up slightly. Schools, however, remained online, likely through the end of the semester.
That suited Senya just fine—it meant more time for his own pursuits.
One evening, after watching his father serve red date soup to his mother while his younger sister Rikka tried—and failed—to snatch the remote from their mom's hands, Senya felt a deep warmth.
Family, he thought, really was happiness itself. And he would do anything to protect them.
Several nights later, during a thunderstorm, he sat at his desk late past midnight. A half-empty coffee mug sat nearby as he finished his homework, checked his answers—all correct, of course—and stretched proudly.
Just as he prepared to head to bed, a knock came at his door.
"Unlocked," he called, puzzled.
The door creaked open. His stepsister, Takanashi Toka, slipped inside, closing it softly behind her. She looked troubled, hesitant.
Lightning split the sky. For a moment, Senya's shadow stretched across her body.
"Sorry," she murmured, "I saw your light was still on. I couldn't hold it in anymore…"
Her words trailed. Couldn't hold in what?
Senya swallowed hard, throat dry.
She wore a thin camisole and shorts barely longer than his hand. Pajamas, yes—but the kind that revealed far too much.
Normally, if they passed in the hallway late at night, she would dart back to her room in embarrassment. But tonight, she had come to his room.
What was she thinking? What did she want?
"…I'm scared," she whispered, stepping closer. "I need to talk to you."
The faint scent of her shampoo filled the air. His heartbeat went wild.
Memories of certain infamous visual novels flickered in his mind. Stormy nights, trembling confessions, clothes slipping to the floor—stop! Absolutely not!
"…Scared of what?" he asked, feigning calm though his breath quickened.
"Look at this."
Her hand opened, revealing something clenched inside.
A pregnancy test.
Two red lines. Positive.
Senya nearly dropped it.
"M-Mom?!"
Toka nodded gravely. "I found it in the bathroom trash."
The world tilted. Senya flung the thing away like it was cursed.
Toka scolded him, retrieved it with tissues, and set it on the desk.
Bit by bit, she explained: she had noticed their mother's odd expressions lately, her discomfort, the absence of new sanitary pads. Earlier that evening, she had stumbled on the truth.
"…So Mom's pregnant."
"Yes."
The rain outside grew heavier.
Senya fell silent, then forced a smile. "She's still only thirty-four. Not exactly old. With modern medicine, she'll be fine as long as she gets check-ups."
But Toka shook her head, voice faint. "…When I saw her, her eyes were red. She'd been crying."
That silence hurt worse than thunder.
Senya clenched his fists.
If this wasn't planned—if she was truly anxious—then they needed answers.
"Alright. Tomorrow, we split tasks. I'll talk to Dad, you talk to Mom. First, we find out what they want. Then we figure out the rest."
He pulled her gently into his arms, patting her back to comfort her. She stiffened, startled, but then relaxed against him, clutching his shirt hem with trembling fingers.
…Family hugged each other at times like this. That was all. Perfectly normal.
And yet—sleep did not come easily for Minamoto Senya that night.
Half from worry for his mother. Half from the lingering warmth of Toka's body against his.
The next morning, the rain continued.
Senya rose early and cooked breakfast himself.
When his mother entered the kitchen, she blinked in surprise. "Senya? Why—"
He smiled. "Thought I'd help out today. You should rest more, Mom."
She protested, insisting he already had too many responsibilities. Luckily, Toka stepped in, gently guiding her out of the kitchen.
Still, their mother showed no signs of resting. She simply went to wash up instead.
Senya fried shrimp, squeezed oranges, packed lunches. Toka hovered by the doorway, spying on their mother.
"Anything unusual?" he asked quietly.
"She gagged twice while brushing her teeth," Toka whispered back.
They exchanged a glance. The unspoken decision was clear: she would speak with their mother alone later. Senya would handle their father.
By noon, Toka sent him a flurry of long messages.
The truth: their mother had indeed panicked when she saw the test results. With finances tight, she had even considered… ending the pregnancy.
Her red eyes last night had been from crying.
She had begged Toka not to tell anyone.
But Toka told Senya anyway.
He wasted no time. At his father's bar, he watched the man freeze as the news sank in, then slowly smile with overwhelming joy.
Exactly as Senya had predicted.
That afternoon, the family gathered. Their father reassured their mother. Senya and Toka each held her hands, promising to support her no matter what.
By evening, at the hospital, the doctor confirmed: she was indeed pregnant, the baby was healthy, and the earlier use of emergency contraception posed no risk.
Relief washed over all of them.
That night, Senya called Touma Youko, half-jokingly demanding she "take responsibility" since the pregnancy had started the night she'd been over as a guest.
She laughed uproariously, congratulated them, and boldly declared she would become the baby's godmother.
Senya brushed off her dramatics, but inwardly, his thoughts had shifted.
Until now, he had always believed in taking life slowly, one step at a time.
But with another sibling on the way, with his family's burdens growing heavier—he realized he could no longer afford to drift along.
For the first time, Minamoto Senya felt the weight of responsibility pressing firmly on his shoulders.