Rabbit House Café.
It was mid-afternoon, and the place wasn't particularly crowded.
Soft, easygoing background music floated lazily through the air, blending with the café's warm interior. Cute little trinkets and decorations were scattered around, creating an atmosphere that was cozy, almost dreamy.
The café's mascot waitress sat behind the counter, half-dozing with a stuffed doll perched on her head.
At the window seat, Kasumigaoka Utaha held a slim novel in one hand, sipping coffee from time to time. Her bright eyes and faintly upturned lips made it clear she was in an excellent mood.
The time she had agreed upon with Minamoto Senya was three o'clock. But she had arrived an entire hour early—at two.
She suspected he might show up ahead of schedule, though she couldn't predict exactly when, so she had decided to come early and wait.
But the wait wasn't tedious. Quite the opposite—Utaha loved the anticipation itself.
It was just like preparing for a trip. The journey itself was fun, yes, but the act of planning, of holding that expectant excitement in her chest beforehand, was also part of the joy.
At two forty, Minamoto Senya stepped into the café.
He's here.
Utaha blinked, quickly closing her book and raising her hand toward him with a smile.
Senya spotted her and smiled as well, striding over.
"Sorry—did I keep you waiting long?"
"Not at all. I just got here myself. Besides, we agreed on three. You're not late at all."
Even as she replied, Utaha's gaze clung to him, studying him carefully without blinking.
Still handsome. And this is only middle school. Once he grows into it a few years later…
A waitress arrived at the table, menu in hand.
"Go ahead and order something. The coffee here's good."
"Alright."
Senya noticed the half-empty, long-cooled cup on Utaha's table and guessed immediately—she must have come early and waited for him.
He glanced at the menu but didn't dwell on it, simply ordering the same coffee she had, plus a mango pudding.
Ever since moving into his new place, he'd been closer to the Tōma family home. That meant more frequent visits, and Kashiwazaki Kazusa would often dig out desserts from the fridge to serve him. Thanks to that, Senya's tastes had started to shift—he was gradually becoming fond of sweets.
"Then I'll have a mango pudding too," Utaha added after he ordered, smiling.
Sharing the same dessert, the same coffee… in a way, wasn't that like tasting what he tasted?
If Senya's so-called "God's Eye" system could peer into people's hearts as well as their surroundings, he might have truly understood the complexity of human feelings.
But unfortunately, it couldn't. And Utaha was hiding her thoughts far too well. Her inner emotions didn't show at all on her face; she continued to maintain her elegant, literary-girl demeanor.
She opened the conversation herself. "Still busy lately, aren't you?"
Recently she had finished a book—The Art of Language. Not that other one… How to Conquer Handsome Boys… no, of course not.
Just by the title, you could tell: this was a book about communication and interpersonal skills.
It dissected the choice of words in various situations, how to control the rhythm of dialogue, even interpreting micro-expressions.
In short, mastering it would undoubtedly improve one's communication abilities.
Utaha, holding the foolish optimism of a girl in love, had thought, Maybe this could actually work. She bought the book after reading just the preface in a bookstore, then devoured it overnight.
And yes, she had to admit—many of its theories made sense and gave her inspiration.
For example: don't dive straight into the main topic the moment you meet someone.
Friendship isn't business—you don't have to be so direct.
Even in business, you always start with a bit of small talk to warm things up. Just like stretching before exercising, or washing hands before cooking, or… well, foreplay before intimacy.
This meeting today, just her and Senya alone with no outsiders to interfere, was the perfect chance to try it out.
"It's not too busy anymore," Senya replied smoothly, picking up her topic. "I just finished filming ads with Saeko. The next shoot won't be until around New Year's. The new appliances for the house all arrived last week, and with summer vacation starting soon, I can finally relax for a bit."
Utaha propped her elbows on the table, chin resting on her hands, watching him with soft, smiling eyes.
She hadn't forgotten the book's key lesson: eyes are the windows of the soul. Looking at someone intently, showing warmth, encouragement, and agreement, could create surprising effects.
And indeed, it worked.
Though not exactly as the book described.
Senya slowed his words under her gaze, and by the time he stopped, unease had crept in. Why had she called him out today? Was she going to ask for some difficult favor? Her unusually accommodating attitude felt… unnatural.
Too eager to please. Not like her at all.
"But it's all worth it," Utaha said gently. "Your hard work's paying off. That's enough."
The waitress returned then, setting down their coffee and desserts.
Utaha lifted her cup and clinked it lightly toward him.
A gesture of affirmation. Of respect.
Senya joined her reluctantly, but the strange feeling in his chest only deepened.
"What are your plans for summer, Senya?"
"Other than promising Rikka I'd take her to the amusement park, nothing special."
The mango pudding was surprisingly good—rich with milk flavor. Kazusa would love this…
In reality, most of his summer would probably be spent at the Tōma house. Kazusa's mother was away again, touring with her piano recitals. Which meant Kazusa would be alone most of the time.
Senya felt obligated to keep her company, after all the kindness they'd shown him.
Not because of her impressive repertoire of instruments—guitar, saxophone, violin. That was… secondary.
The conversation went on like this for ten minutes, Utaha constantly steering it back to Senya. Each of his answers drew exaggerated praise or admiration from her.
Being flattered was nice, but it was… difficult to endure.
Several times he wanted to reach out and check her forehead for a fever. But that would be too rude.
Finally, patience ran out.
"…Utaha. Why did you ask me here today?"
He didn't dislike talking to her. Otherwise, he wouldn't stay on late-night calls with her for over an hour sometimes.
But today, she was acting far too strangely.
Utaha froze slightly, realizing her "experiment" must have gone off-track. Had Senya actually grown… impatient?
Impossible.
But he was waiting, so she had no choice but to answer.
"It's about my publisher…"
Her tone shifted back to her usual self. No more forced theory.
Instantly, Senya's tense brow eased, and he leaned back in his chair. Relief.
Utaha felt a stab of irritation.
That damn book nearly ruined everything! It might work on her dad at home, but not on Senya. Absolutely worthless.
With her composure restored, their conversation flowed naturally again.
She explained: her publisher, Fantastic Bunko, was hosting an author's gala at the end of July. Usually, it was held around New Year, but this year it had been postponed due to… obvious reasons.
Editors, executives, celebrities, shareholders—anyone in the industry worth mentioning would be there. Awards would be announced as well. And one of the nominees? Her novel Love Metronome.
The first person she thought of to accompany her… was Senya.
He wasn't just a supporter. He was the one who had revived the novel when she was ready to abandon it. If she was the mother of the work, he was its father. He deserved to share the honor.
"…My parents can't go. Dad's busy with work, Mom's traveling with friends. I'm not used to these social scenes. Going alone would be… hard. So, if you came with me, it'd be a huge help."
What she didn't mention was her father's comical attempt to look "presentable" after hearing about the gala. He had strutted around in his best suit hoping to be chosen. Utaha had ignored him completely. Compared to Senya, her "oil-stained old man" of a father didn't stand a chance.
"Oh. Just that? No problem."
Utaha blinked. That easily?
Senya had been bracing himself for some monumental request, but this? Easy.
She nearly burst with relief and happiness.
Forget The Art of Language. Trash book. Senya didn't need artifice. With him, she just had to be herself.
"The gala's July 31st, four o'clock, at a villa in Meguro. I'll text you the address."
"Got it. Any dress code?"
"Not sure. I'll ask my editor. If you need a suit, we can go shopping together. My treat—it's only fair since I'm asking you for help."
"No need, I already have one."
"Ehh, too bad. I'm buying you something anyway. Call it thanks."
They laughed. The air between them grew sweet, almost cloyingly so.
So sweet that Utaha, cheeks flushed, thought: This is exactly the feeling I wanted.
By the end, she couldn't resist—dragging him to the mall right away. Together they chose his suit and her gown, shop clerks showering them with compliments as a perfect pair. She even pulled him in front of a mirror for a photo, capturing the two of them side by side.
When he finally insisted on heading home—saying his younger sister was waiting for dinner—Utaha returned to her room, rolling on her bed, clutching her phone with that photo glowing on the screen.
Her silk-clad feet kicked the air restlessly. She could hardly wait for the gala.
Meanwhile, Senya arrived home at dusk.
"I'm back."
No response. The living room was dark. Tōka must still be at gymnastics practice. But where was Rikka? Odd for her not to be gaming or watching TV.
"Rikka!"
He dropped his suit jacket on the sofa and called upstairs.
A reply came quickly.
"Senya, you're home!"
Rikka came barreling down, grabbed his hand without a word, and dragged him upstairs.
"What's going on?"
"Don't ask—just come!"
Her excitement was intense, feverish.
When they reached her room, Senya saw it immediately: on the desk, inside a makeshift cardboard nest, a tiny black-feathered chick poked its head out, beak wide open, chirping hungrily.
Rikka tore a bit of bread, feeding it carefully. When it swallowed, her eyes lit up.
"Senya, look! Isn't it cute?"
Senya stared at the ugly, blind little creature. It looked more like an alien than anything cute.
"…Where'd you get this?"
"On the way back, in the park. It must've fallen from its nest. If I hadn't heard it chirp, a stray cat or dog would've eaten it."
She looked at him with serious eyes.
"I think it's fate. Out of all the people passing by, it called out only to me. Maybe in another life, we were companions."
Another life, huh… or maybe everyone else just ignored it.
But Senya didn't say that.
"You want to keep it?"
"Yes! Can I?"
He hesitated. Raising a chick wasn't easy. They often died quickly. He didn't want her heart broken.
She noticed his silence, immediately grabbing his hand, shaking it gently with pleading puppy eyes.
This girl was getting dangerously good at exploiting her "little sister" advantages.
"…It's hard to raise. You know it could die, right? Are you prepared for that?"
Her face grew determined. "I know. But I can't just abandon it. I want to try. I've even named it."
"…What name?"
"Lord Dark The World!"
Senya pressed a hand to his forehead. Of course. Pure chuuni.
"Please, onii-san…" she whispered, clinging to him, even rubbing her cheek against his stomach.
"Hey! You're too old for this!"
"This is my one and only request in life!"
"Yeah right. You said the same thing when you wanted Tōka's strawberry last week."
"This time is different! This is a life. He's so cute. I'll take full responsibility. Please!"
After several rounds, Senya finally sighed. "…Fine. But wash your hands properly after handling it."
"Yes, sir!"
"Hungry?"
"Nope."
"Then let's go."
"Huh? Where?"
"You're keeping it, right? That cardboard box won't do."
She blinked—then realized. Pet shop.
With a joyous squeal, she leapt onto his back, hugging him tight.
"Onii-san, I love you the most!"
Carrying her downstairs, Senya thought wryly: This little idiot… she's going to be a handful in the future.
..
Want to unlock up to 60+ early-access chapters and exclusive novels? Join my Patreon today and dive deeper into the adventure!
patreon.com/sabu19