Minamoto Senya had thought that after finishing two competitions in a row, he would finally get to enjoy a few days of rest.
But, as it turned out, this was only the beginning.
He had completely underestimated just how much of a sensation he had become in the media world—thanks to his ability to shine in so many different fields.
What was that saying again? "Let the bullets fly for a while."
The day after the National Youth Piano Finals, the news exploded everywhere.
Kazusa's name and photo appeared in headlines across the major music outlets, but Senya's name was right there alongside hers—and in fact, his coverage was even hotter than hers, despite her being the actual champion.
The reason was simple: compared to Tōma Kazusa, a prodigy who had long been recognized as a piano genius, Senya—the unexpected dark horse who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere—was far more of a talking point.
And beyond the piano, he had so many other aspects worth reporting on.
For example, his recent fame in kendo. His flawless academic record—top of his grade without interruption since elementary school.
Even his "good deeds" from childhood, back when he had sometimes been tasked with… missions.
Like the time he pulled back a middle-aged man who was about to throw himself onto the train tracks. Or when he threw a lifesaver to rescue a drowning man. Or when he guided a lost child safely to the police station, holding their hand all the way.
At the time, it was half out of kindness and half out of obligation. But the families of the people involved had shown up at his school to present him with honorary banners, and a few sharp-eyed media outlets had dug up those stories and published them across multiple platforms.
The morning after he returned home, Senya was woken by a phone call from the school.
On the line was the usually cold, stern discipline director—yet now, his tone was so sweet and gentle it was as if he were flirting with a lover.
The contrast gave Senya chills, instantly driving away what little drowsiness remained.
After a short exchange, he understood the reason for the call.
The school had caught wind from the media that his piano competition was over, and that he'd achieved excellent results.
So, they wanted to seize the opportunity while the buzz was still at its peak. The commendation ceremony originally planned for the start of the new semester—why not hold it today instead?
The school leaders were available, and they could easily invite some journalist friends to cover the event. With Senya and Saeko Busujima standing front and center, the school could boost its reputation while raising the profile of the two students.
Of course, the discipline director didn't say it so bluntly, but the meaning was obvious—he was an old hand at this.
Senya's reaction was naturally to agree.
It was something he'd have to do sooner or later anyway, so better to get it over with quickly. More importantly, he wanted to secure the school's prize money as soon as possible.
Five hundred thousand yen. Not bad at all.
Besides… it had been a while since he'd last seen Saeko. He realized, to his surprise, that he kind of missed her.
After hanging up, Senya rolled his neck, got out of bed, and began dressing.
Halfway through, he suddenly froze.
That thought just now—that he wanted to see her—had been completely unconscious.
After a silent pause, he finished dressing, washed up, and ate the breakfast prepared by Tōka.
By a little after nine in the morning, he met up with Saeko at the school, just as they had arranged.
Even after some time apart, the kendo girl's charm was unchanged.
Her face was small and youthful, the picture of vitality. Gentle eyes and delicate brows framed her cherry-like lips. She had no need for makeup—her natural beauty was flawless.
Since it was still vacation and not a school day, Saeko was simply dressed in a blouse and jeans.
Yet with her tall figure and strikingly well-developed body, the blouse strained under the weight of her curves, while her narrow waistline flared into peach-like hips that seemed ready to yield juice at the lightest squeeze.
If she already looked like this now, what would it be like when she reached high school—or college?
"Senya, congratulations on the piano competition," Saeko said as soon as she saw him. Her relaxed pace quickened into a brisk walk, closing the distance to him.
"Just luck, really," Senya replied.
But his gaze betrayed him, drawn irresistibly to the bouncing rhythm of her figure as she approached.
It was getting harder and harder to think of her as just a friend, or just the captain of the kendo club.
The situation was… dangerously similar to what had happened with a certain other person.
Walking side by side into the school, Senya assumed the ceremony would be much like the one after they had taken the championship in Osaka: a few words to the press and school leaders, receive the prize money, run through the formalities, and done.
But this time, the school had other ideas. Not only had they invited reporters, the chairman had also called in favors, bringing in several high-ranking officials from the education board to show their support.
This was no simple formality anymore.
In the school's conference hall, facing waves of reporters, the staff lavished praise on Senya and Saeko.
After all, praising them was really just praising the school—and they spared no effort.
What should have been a commendation ceremony had morphed into something resembling a personal press conference for Senya.
By noon, the school swept them off to a reserved hotel along with Saeko and other members of the kendo club for a celebratory meal—the second round of the day.
At one point, Haruhara Yōhei quietly pulled Senya aside, clutching his hands with teary-eyed fervor:
"Swear to me, brother—if you rise to greatness, don't forget me!"
Senya had immediately shaken him off. With several magazine reporters in attendance, if that scene had been photographed out of context, the rumors would have been unbearable.
In the end, it wasn't until after three in the afternoon that everything wrapped up.
Staring at the envelope with five hundred thousand yen inside, Senya couldn't help thinking: this money wasn't as easy to earn as it looked.
After half a day of grinning at officials and reporters, his cheeks felt numb.
"But I just found out today," Saeko said as they left the hotel together, strolling through a nearby shopping street, "that you've been so amazing since you were little. Helping so many people…"
Senya shrugged. "It was just lending a hand."
He wasn't distracted by her admiring gaze, though. His attention was fixed behind them.
Ever since leaving the hotel, a group of men had been tailing them. With his sharpened awareness, Senya could clearly see them in his mind's eye.
They carried professional cameras—it was obvious they wanted to dig up more dirt or gossip.
Now he could truly understand the troubles of celebrities. Having strangers watch your every move, just waiting to pounce on a private moment… it was uncomfortable. Infuriating, even.
"We've got people following us," Senya admitted.
Since they were in a busy shopping district, Saeko wasn't alarmed. She caught on immediately: "Reporters?"
He nodded. "Let's walk a little faster and lose them."
To his surprise, she didn't seem annoyed. If anything, she looked intrigued.
So the two quickened their pace, ducking into a department store.
The reporters rushed in after them, but within minutes had lost track. Faces sour, they split up to search elsewhere.
Meanwhile, Senya and Saeko slipped out through the staff entrance and back onto the street.
"Looks like we're clear," Senya said after checking behind them.
"…," Saeko didn't answer. She only smiled at him, soft and gentle.
That smile made Senya laugh. "You seem really happy about this."
"Because it's something new," she admitted. "Being chased like that… it gives me a strange kind of thrill."
That was a weird thing to be excited about…
But then again, compared to the first time he'd met her—when she had simultaneously beaten criminals to a pulp and worn an expression bordering on rapture—this was practically normal.
"It's getting late," Saeko said at last.
"Heading home already?"
Her voice was casual, but Senya couldn't shake the sense that what she really meant was reluctance to part ways.
And he was fairly certain it wasn't just his imagination.
"There's still time," he said.
Just then, his eyes were caught by the giant screen atop a nearby skyscraper. It was playing a trailer for a zombie apocalypse movie currently in theaters.
Saeko followed his gaze.
The gory, flesh-rending images made her eyes sparkle faintly.
She didn't say anything, though. Instead, she looked back at him with a calm, trusting expression, clasping her hands behind her back like a well-behaved girl.
Outwardly, she was his senpai, his club captain.
But when it was just the two of them, she naturally slipped into the role of a gentle young woman—leaving all the decisions to him, as if she only needed to obey.
That side of Saeko made Senya's heart thump just a little faster.
"If you're free, want to go watch a movie?" he asked.
She nodded immediately. "I'm free."
"What do you want to see?"
"I hardly ever go to the cinema. So I think anything would be fun. You decide."
Senya smiled. He was a man of action, not one to overthink.
He pulled out his phone and swiftly booked seats at the nearest theater—for the zombie film she'd clearly shown interest in.
In the middle of their peaceful everyday life, maybe this counted as a little "main plot" returning.
"All set. Let's go."
"Mm."
"Let's grab some popcorn or fries too. Essential for a movie."
"There's a bubble tea shop right on the street. If we have time, we should pick up drinks."
"Ha, you read my mind. I was thinking the same thing."
Her chest rose slightly as she tried to suppress the joy and excitement bubbling inside. She had to bite down on her lips just to keep from grinning too widely.
A date…
Yes, this was a date.
After the school business was done, Senya and Saeko had watched the movie together, then shared dinner at a trendy restaurant.
By the time Senya finally returned home, it was already nine at night.
It had taken longer because he insisted on escorting Saeko back first.
In the past, he had trusted completely in her strength. He still did.
But now, unless he saw her home with his own eyes, he felt uneasy.
No matter how many times she reassured him that she could handle herself, he refused to budge.
Some things, with time, had inevitably changed.
When he arrived home, the sound of the front door brought a small, barefoot girl scampering over to greet him: Rikka.
The April air was already warm enough that going without socks indoors wasn't uncomfortable.
"Where's Tōka?" Senya asked, heading straight to the bathroom to start filling the tub.
"She went to help at Dad's shop. Mom too," Rikka answered, trailing behind him like a little shadow.
"Mom's okay?" Senya frowned with concern.
After all, she was pregnant.
Rikka shook her head. "She's fine! The doctor checked a few days ago—everything's normal. They even suggested she keep up light exercise. It's good for her health and for the baby."
"I see…"
Thinking of his father and Tōka both being there to help, he relaxed. They wouldn't let Mom overexert herself.
"Oh, and Senya, the shop's been doing super well lately!" Rikka suddenly grew animated.
"This month isn't even ten days in, and we've already hit last month's full sales!"
"That so." Senya chuckled, unsurprised.
The celebrity effect. But this time, not because of Tōma Yōko's fame—rather, because of his own.
Leaving the bath to fill, he went back to his room to grab fresh clothes.
Rikka eagerly followed, still bursting with stories.
Last night, he'd barely spoken before crashing into bed. This morning he had left early, only now returning. She wasn't about to waste her chance.
"After you won the Yulong Cup, tons of people came to Dad's bar! Even reporters! They ordered lots just to get info on you. I helped out too. Some customers even gave me tips when they found out I was your sister!"
"Nice, nice. That's great," Senya replied distractedly.
She was too excited to notice his half-hearted tone.
After bathing, they sat together in the living room. Though their parents and Tōka weren't home, there were matters worth discussing now.
Senya pulled out his phone, browsing listings for houses across Tokyo, jotting down prices in his notebook.
"Rikka, what would you want in a new house?" he asked suddenly.
She blinked, lowering the TV volume. "A new house… Senya, are you really planning to use your earnings to buy one for the family?"
Still scanning prices, he didn't look up. "Of course. I told you after the Yulong Cup, didn't I?"
In central Tokyo, prices were terrifying—two or three hundred million yen per unit. Doable with a mortgage, but pointless.
Further out, though, the prices were far more reasonable. As long as it was comfortable, there was no need to compete. Better to think realistically.
"But… while you were away preparing for the piano competition, we talked about it again. We all felt that since you earned that money yourself, we shouldn't use it. You should keep it, spend it however you want."
At that, Senya finally raised his head. "What nonsense is that? We're family. Since when do families draw such lines? Who said that?"
"Mom. And Tōka."
"Of course…" he muttered.
Rikka hesitated, then added, "Honestly, I think our current place is fine. We're used to it. You worked so hard—why not save the money instead? You could use it someday… like, when you get married."
Hearing those words from his "airheaded" little sister left Senya with complicated feelings.
He could tell she was simply repeating what the others had said.
And judging from the phrasing, it was probably their mother's influence.
Even so, he couldn't help but feel warmed.
Rikka was growing up—already thinking about his future on his behalf.
He found himself curious: when Mom had said that, what had Tōka's reaction been?
Senya beckoned Rikka closer, patting her head gently as he spoke.
"Don't worry about it. This is just the beginning. I'll become far greater than I am now, and people with ability will always have income. There's no need to hoard or overthink right now. Life is short—you should enjoy it."
"Think about it. Once we move into a bigger house, you and Tōka will each have your own rooms. Privacy, better sleep. When you sleep better, your energy improves, and you can focus more on everything you do in the day. Wouldn't that be nice?"
At the same time, the little brother or sister who would soon be born into their family would also have far more room to grow in a larger house. In a spacious new home, they would have more space to move about. Who knew? Maybe Rikka would even be able to hold the baby in her arms and push them together on a swing in the garden.
And when guests came to stay over, it wouldn't be like before—like when Eriri had slept over and the two of them were forced to share one bed, only for Rikka to kick her off in the middle of the night and nearly ruin their friendship altogether.
"Think about it. Compared to just letting the money sit in the bank, isn't using it to buy a bigger house—one that makes everyone happier and more comfortable—a much better investment?"
"Mm… mmm…" Rikka leaned into his hand, head swaying left and right as Senya patted her hair. The gentle rhythm of his palm was so soothing she almost melted.
With just a few well-placed words, her half-wavering stance had already collapsed. A look of longing began to bloom on her face.
Sensing her weakness, Senya leaned closer, whispering by her ear.
"Now tell me—don't you want to move into a newer, larger, brighter house?"
The ahoge atop Rikka's head stood up proudly. Her pale feet rubbed nervously against one another beneath her small bottom, and in the faintest of voices, her lips released a timid, "I do."
Senya's shoulders trembled, a suppressed laugh threatening to break free.
"Very good. Then tell me—what do you want in this new house?"
Rikka pressed her index fingers together, cheeks flushing crimson.
"Um… honestly, I don't have many special requirements. Just… as long as I can have my own room, I'll already be satisfied."
"You don't want a garden? On sunny days you could relax outside in the open air."
Her head dipped lower. "…I do want that."
"And a rooftop balcony? At night you could sit up there and watch the stars."
Rikka buried her face in her hands. "…I want that too…"
At that, Senya finally broke into laughter. He decided to stop teasing her further.
"All right then. Once I find a place worth considering, we'll go together as a family to check it out."
"Mm…"
Just then, a notification popped up on Senya's phone.
It was a message from the staff of Nishiyama-dō.
Shortly after the Yulong Cup had ended, Senya had signed an endorsement contract with the company. But since he still had the piano competition to prepare for, he had asked them to wait until everything was over before shooting any commercials or posters.
Now that the competition had finished, they were following up to ask when he would be available.
That was already generous of them. They had even allowed him a full day of rest after the piano competition before reaching out.
Almost at the same time, Saeko Busujima messaged him as well. She too had received Nishiyama-dō's inquiry. She was free anytime, but hadn't replied yet—wanting first to confirm Senya's schedule.
"Senya, you're so busy. The competition just ended and you're already being asked to film an endorsement."
Though she said this, Rikka's expression brimmed with admiration.
To her, appearing in commercials broadcast nationwide, becoming a household name—that was dazzling.
"Who says it isn't," Senya muttered, typing his reply to Saeko.
The two quickly aligned and sent their response back to Nishiyama-dō.
They would both be available the next afternoon, and could head directly to the company's headquarters. The detailed arrangements could be discussed in person then.
With only three or four days left before the new semester began, it would be best to finish things up before school started.
The following morning, Senya woke up early as always.
He had thought that once the competitions ended, life would slow down. But he was still far too naïve.
His schedule was now even more packed than before. New obligations seemed to appear endlessly.
The reason for rising so early today was simple: he wanted to buy gifts and pay a formal visit to the Tōma household, to express his gratitude for all the help Yōko and Kazusa had given him recently.
Arriving at the shopping district, he wandered around for a while, but struggled with what to choose.
Neither Yōko nor Kazusa lacked money. Expensive gifts would feel ordinary to them. But something too cheap would be embarrassing to bring.
Headache…
In the end, considering their tastes, Senya chose a selection of elegant dessert gift boxes from a specialty sweets shop. With them in hand, he set out for the Tōma residence.
When he reached the front gate, he noticed a luxury car and a small truck parked nearby.
The truck's rear compartment was filled with construction tools.
Casting a curious glance, Senya pressed the doorbell.
Inside, Yōko greeted him warmly and led him into the living room—where, to his surprise, he found a face he hadn't expected to see again so soon.
Hayasaka Ai.
The girl sat quietly on the sofa, her expression calm, showing no shock at his arrival.
Though… perhaps a flicker of surprise lingered in her eyes.
Given how close Yōko and Senya had appeared at the competition venue and afterward at the banquet, Ai had assumed they were on familiar terms. It wasn't unreasonable to imagine he might show up here.
In fact, when she had scheduled today's visit—seeking a new piano teacher for her young mistress, Shinomiya Kaguya—part of her had wondered if she might see him again.
Yet now that it had actually happened, keeping her composure was more difficult than she'd expected.
Still, as always, she betrayed no cracks on the surface.
When Senya entered, she stood, bowed with perfect poise, and offered her greeting.
"Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon," Senya replied, bowing back.
Yōko quickly filled the role of mediator.
"This is Minamoto Senya—one of my students. Senya, you've met her before. This is Hayasaka Ai, attendant of the Shinomiya family's young lady."
"Pleasure to see you again."
"…Likewise."
The exchange was polite, proper, and restrained.
Ai noted with a faint ache that Senya's face showed no recognition at her name.
So he really doesn't remember me.
That should have brought relief. Instead, a quiet sorrow welled up inside her chest.
After all, back then they had only shared a fleeting encounter. Nothing deep. Nothing irreplaceable.
And yet…
"I'll excuse myself so you two can talk," Senya offered.
"There's no need," Yōko said, then glanced at Ai. "It's not a problem, is it?"
"…No. Nothing we discuss is secret."
So Senya remained, silently observing.
It didn't take long to understand Ai's purpose: she wanted to invite Yōko to teach Shinomiya Kaguya piano.
Yōko listened with interest but didn't give an immediate answer, asking detailed questions about Kaguya's situation instead.
Meanwhile, Senya's thoughts drifted. Around this hour, Asuka was probably still fast asleep…
The conversation was interrupted when the housekeeper, Shibata, appeared at the hallway.
"Madam, the contractors have arrived to begin work on the basement, but the door is locked. I don't know where the key is."
"Oh! My mistake—I forgot!" Yōko laughed, smacking her forehead.
With the pandemic no longer a concern, she had thrown herself back into work. Between preparing for her solo recital tour, running her music education program, and planning her second classical piano album, life was busy.
Commuting back and forth to recording studios was a hassle. So she had decided to convert her basement into a professional studio.
Plenty of space, no shortage of money, and Kazusa might use it someday too—perfect.
"I'll go help look. Senya, keep our guest company, all right?"
And with that, Yōko dashed off with Shibata.
The living room fell quiet.
Senya's gaze returned to Ai, who stiffened under his eyes.
Normally she prided herself on her composure. But under his wordless attention, she felt strangely vulnerable—unsure how to act, unsure what to say.
So she did the safest thing: lowered her eyes and stayed silent.
Better to do nothing than to risk a mistake.
It was a pathetic mindset, but one that worked.
"…Thank you."
Ai blinked, startled. Slowly, she raised her gaze.
Senya was smiling softly at her.
For an instant, it was as if time rewound—back to that twilight years ago, when the boy she met had worn that same warm expression, eyes lit with kindness.
"You…" Her carefully maintained defenses cracked, though she welcomed it.
Senya spoke again, calm and clear.
"The flowers you sent before—it was you, wasn't it? Thank you."
Ai didn't answer. But he seemed certain nonetheless.
How he had known didn't matter.
What mattered was that after all these years… he remembered her.
"You still remember me?"
He chuckled. "Don't you remember me as well?"
Her lips trembled, words failing her.
Inside her chest, bubbles of joy burst one after another, filling her heart with warmth.
So it wasn't just one-sided.
"…Back then," Senya continued, eyes distant with memory, "you wore a plain dress. You were crying, looking so helpless… You've come a long way since then. Much stronger now."
"I was too young," Ai muttered defensively. "And after what happened… what could a little kid have done?"
Realizing her tone had spiked, she quickly fell silent again.
But Senya only smiled.
"Funny, isn't it? Life brings us back together like this, after so many years."
"…It really is," Ai admitted.
From strangers to this moment—sitting together, talking like old friends. With no sense of awkwardness at all. It was strangely comforting.
"Did you recognize me back at the banquet?" she asked.
"I did. But since you didn't show any sign of recognizing me, I thought approaching you might cause trouble. So I kept quiet."
"…Thank you."
"No need for thanks." He tilted his head. "Unless you meant back then—when I helped you get that notebook back."
Her cheeks flushed. "You don't need to describe it in detail!"
Senya laughed.
Ai pressed her hand over her chest, feeling her emotions kneaded and reshaped in just a few minutes of conversation. And yet… she didn't hate it.
"That notebook… it was very important to me," she whispered. "Even if it seemed trivial to you, it carried my mother's words of encouragement. It helped me through those lonely days after I left my parents. Back then, I was just a crybaby…"
Senya hadn't expected her gratitude to be so deep. He waved it off lightly.
"No need to be so formal. You secretly sent flowers to your mistress's rival—we're even."
His tone was light, playful.
And Ai finally let go of her last scrap of worry.
By the time Yōko returned with the basement key, she found the two chatting comfortably, their expressions unexpectedly bright.
…What on earth was going on here?
In the end, Yōko gave Ai an ambiguous answer.
"I'll think about it."
Ai bowed deeply. "Thank you for your time. I'll take my leave now."
She had allowed herself a brief moment of relaxation earlier, chatting freely with Senya. But once Yōko returned, she slipped seamlessly back into her polite, distant persona.
Her objective complete—and with the unexpected bonus of reconnecting with Senya—she departed.
On her way out, she didn't risk another glance at him. Some instinct urged her not to reveal their past connection to anyone else.
Perhaps… simply to hide that part of herself—that once-crybaby girl.
Senya guessed as much, but kept the thought to himself.
Meanwhile, Yōko's suspicions eased.
She had briefly wondered if something unusual was happening between them, but Ai's behavior put those doubts to rest.
Instead, her focus turned toward Senya.
Now that she thought about it… that maid really was rather pretty. And with such a refined uniform, no less…
If he seemed a little too warm toward her, well—maybe that was normal.
Unaware that he had just been mentally labeled a "uniform fetishist (pending)," Senya asked, "So, Yōko-san, do you plan to accept the offer and teach the Shinomiya heiress?"
"Don't call me Yōko-san. Call me 'Mom.'"
Senya gave her a flat look. "…That joke wasn't funny the first time. It's worse the second."
But Yōko shook her head seriously.
"I'm not joking. Once your mother gives birth, I'll become that baby's godmother. From a family perspective, doesn't that make me your mother too?"
Logical. Convincing.
…Ridiculous.
Senya rose to leave. "Anyway, I've delivered the gifts and given my thanks. I should go."
"Wait—geez, you really don't have a sense of humor."
Yōko pulled him back down, returning to the real topic.
"I don't plan to take the job."
Her reasoning was simple.
"The money's generous, sure. But setting aside a whole day every week? No thanks. And a family like the Shinomiyas must have endless rules and restrictions. I hate that sort of thing.
"Even if I wanted a good relationship with them, there's no need to go about it this way. I'll just introduce them to a few capable friends instead. That won't offend them, and it won't waste Ai's trip either."
It was a very Yōko answer.
Meanwhile, Ai sat quietly in the car on her way back.
She scrolled through her contact list, staring at the short list of names.
For a moment, an impulse stirred in her chest. But she smothered it immediately.
Don't expect too much. Things are fine the way they are.
She closed her phone and leaned back, reassuring herself with that thought.
…