On days off from school, Touma Wasa had a habit of sleeping in, often not getting out of bed until past ten—a routine she had developed since elementary school.
But today, she had gotten up unusually early.
At least, early by her standards: she was already up, washed, and sitting in the living room just after eight in the morning.
There, she noticed her mother at the breakfast table, shooting her a rather suggestive look and giving a playful wink, as if hinting at something.
Wasa pretended not to notice and went over to the table.
Her mother had already prepared a plate for her.
On a typical weekend, Aunt Shibata would come by later in the morning.
Being a professional pianist with an accomplished career, Touma Yoko loved her hands too much to ever cook herself.
So breakfast was kept extremely simple: plain white toast straight from the fridge, paired with sweet jam.
As both mother and daughter were admittedly sweet-toothed, even such a simple breakfast satisfied them.
A 300-gram jar of jam was half gone after just this meal.
After eating, the two of them, understanding each other without a word, settled onto the sofa and turned on the TV.
Yoko glanced at the clock on the wall, then at her daughter, before letting out a sudden smile and speaking slowly, "If it were me, it wouldn't be too late now. I'd just go see him directly. If he wins, I could congratulate him and let him know I'm happy for him. If he doesn't, I could comfort him, encourage him, and let him know he's still number one in my heart."
Though she didn't name anyone specifically, her meaning was crystal clear.
Wasa, however, remained unmoved, as if she hadn't heard her mother. She brushed her sleek black hair behind her ear and flipped through TV channels with the remote.
"Eh…"
Yoko sighed in exasperation.
She felt helpless. Yoko herself had always been bold in matters of the heart—back in middle school, she didn't hesitate to approach boys she liked.
So why was it that with her own daughter, she had turned into a little quivering quail?
Not that Wasa lacked feelings—she clearly liked someone—but she was too timid to make a move.
Oh, my foolish girl, pushing away a good man before him even realizing it…
Time passed quietly.
When the Edogawa Ranpo Prize was announced, Wasa stood up immediately.
Though her face remained relatively calm, the sudden, uncontrollable rise to her feet and her tightly clenched fists betrayed the inner storm she felt.
Watching the TV as the judges enthusiastically praised Senya's novel, Yoko murmured, "It's about time there was a man in the house."
"?!!!"
Wasa spun around, shocked, and looked at her mother in disbelief.
Meeting her daughter's gaze, Yoko smiled innocently, "Hm? What's wrong?"
"Mom… what did you just say?"
"Nothing, really."
"You did!"
"Oh, child, did you just imagine it?"
Yoko didn't admit to it, instead quickly reaching for her phone.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing much, just calling to say congratulations. And… stop giving me that scary look."
"That's only because of what you just said!"
Yoko dialed the number, placing the phone to her ear. "You should congratulate Senya too. The Edogawa Ranpo Prize is a big deal."
"No need."
Wasa would say it next time she saw him.
"Ah, the line's busy! Even congratulations have to queue up, huh? Well, I suppose that's to be expected."
Yoko hung up, a bit grumbling.
Wasa left the sofa.
Seeing her go, Yoko's eyes lit up. "Wasa, where are you going?"
"Practice piano."
"…"
Eh, the little quail is still the little quail…
It wasn't that practicing piano was bad, but clearly there were more pressing matters to attend to.
Yoko had always treasured and been proud of her daughter's musical talent, until a boy named Minamoto Senya had entered their lives.
Since then, she had occasionally felt a faint sense of melancholy regarding her daughter.
Not the "why can't my daughter be like other kids?" kind of jealousy, but a helpless feeling—knowing her daughter liked someone extraordinary and wanting to help, yet being completely unable to.
"Wait a moment."
"What is it?"
"No rush on the piano." Yoko patted the sofa, gesturing for her daughter to sit. "We haven't had a proper mother-daughter chat in a long time, have we?"
Wasa frowned, muttering "What's there to talk about?" but obediently sat down.
Yoko reached out, gently pinching her daughter's cheek.
Wasa pushed her hand away. "What do you want to talk about?"
Yoko didn't answer immediately, her gaze fixed on the still-on TV. "I always thought Senya was talented, sure, but without a plan for his future. From my perspective, it seemed he was wasting his hard-earned abilities. But now… it looks like I was wrong. He's been planning all along, and what he wants may far exceed anything we could imagine."
Wasa frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"
Yoko continued without pause: "Senya has always been at the top academically since elementary school. In middle school, he won two national youth kendo championships in quick succession. Soon after, he began learning piano, and within months, he could compete alongside lifelong pianists. And now, he's also made his mark in literature, winning the Ranpo Prize."
"Mom… what are you trying to say?"
"That you need to recognize Senya's current accomplishments."
"I already know all that."
"Just knowing isn't enough. You have to understand what those achievements represent."
What do they represent?
Wasn't it obvious?
Wasa blinked. "It means… he's excellent."
"Broad, yes, but accurate." Yoko counted off on her fingers. "Top grades show intelligence. Kendo championships show physical ability and reflexes. Picking up piano so quickly shows comprehension and adaptability. Add persistence to all of these, and the Ranpo Prize proves extraordinary talent."
She paused, like a teacher guiding a student, and looked at Wasa, who seemed to grasp her point. "So, when you summarize all of this, what's the conclusion?"
Wasa's face flushed slightly. Her sharp, model-like eyes softened, dropping just a little.
She didn't answer aloud, but she now knew.
Strangely, she hadn't felt it before. But after her mother laid it out so clearly, she realized her closest friend really was exceptional—almost inhumanly so.
Seeing her expression, Yoko smiled, knowing her words had made an impact.
While she hadn't expected Wasa to act on it immediately, at least she could now recognize the truth—a big step forward.
"Popular cake shops always have lines outside; if you go late, you miss out. Restaurants fill up fast if you don't book in advance. Most things in life work this way: if you don't act ahead of time, you'll be too late when it matters. You understand what I mean, right, Wasa?"
"…!"
Of course she did.
But discussing her crush with her mother still embarrassed her too much.
So she didn't reply, nor did she nod—she simply got up and hurried off to practice piano.
"Eh—"
Yoko watched, sighing. Wasa understood, yet couldn't overcome her shyness.
If only she would just confess, like Yoko had in her youth—hand-in-hand, drawing closer, embracing, kissing amidst a romantic atmosphere… Senya wouldn't be able to resist.
But Wasa's timid nature meant she had to be pushed. For now, there was no easy solution.
Yoko found herself almost nostalgic for the flu that had kept them home together.
Maybe if she created the right circumstances, Senya could spend months with Wasa in close proximity, and everything would resolve itself.
The more Yoko admired Senya, the more exasperated she became with Wasa.
"Good morning, Mrs. Touma."
"Ah, good morning, Aunt Shibata. What's for lunch?"
"The shrimp and fish from the supermarket look fresh. We'll clean and marinate them, then roast. I'll also make beef curry. Veggies today are okra and burdock. I also bought mangoes and grapes, and after lunch I'll make some desserts for afternoon tea."
"Sounds wonderful… I can't wait."
Aunt Shibata chatted casually as she worked.
Meanwhile, Yoko repeatedly tried calling Minamoto Senya.
On the fourth attempt, she finally got through.
"Hello, Aunt Yoko."
Senya's calm, magnetic voice came through.
Yoko smiled. "Wasa and I were both watching the TV just now. Congratulations on your prize, Senya!"
"Wasa was watching too?"
"She woke up early to drag me along. She only relaxed after confirming you'd won, then went to practice piano."
"Thanks. Please also thank Wasa for me."
"You should say it yourself when you see her. We're both free recently. If you plan a celebration, don't forget to invite us."
"Not planning one right now. My schedule's tight—I'll be heading to Kodansha after lunch to sign the publishing contract…"
Senya didn't see Yoko as an outsider, nor as an insider—simply someone he trusted implicitly, so he didn't mind sharing his schedule.
Hearing this, Yoko's eyes sparkled. If Wasa was struggling, she could work through Senya's side. She could get updates on him and plan accordingly. Perfect opportunity.
"You've become really famous. But it must be overwhelming—so many things at once, all back-to-back."
"I'm prepared. Besides, these are happy problems. I'll manage."
"From experience, I have a suggestion. Want to hear it?"
"Please."
"Call me 'Mom' once."
Aunt Shibata in the kitchen glanced over.
Senya let out a helpless sigh. "Aunt Yoko, only if my parents agree."
"Alright. Next time I meet them, I'll try."
Returning to the main topic:
"I think you should consider getting an assistant—someone to help manage your schedule, take care of daily tasks, handle calls and emails, politely decline invitations… that sort of thing. It'll free up time and energy."
Senya was instantly intrigued.
It was true—he had just been bombarded with calls for over an hour. His mouth was dry from talking.
Yet he wondered if he really needed an assistant at this stage.
Yoko, a master organizer, could sense his thoughts even over the phone.
"If you don't mind, I can arrange it for you. Try it out. If it helps, great; if not, you can decide later."
"Is that something you can try out?"
"For me, it's easy."
"Thanks, Aunt Yoko. I appreciate all your help."
"I should be the one thanking you. Without you, things could have gone terribly wrong with Wasa… Anyway, you're busy now. I'll find a suitable assistant and contact you later."
Senya thanked her again, and Yoko hung up.
Immediately, she called her subordinate, Kudou Miyoko.
"Director? You wanted me?"
"Miyoko, from today, you're no longer in charge of the Kodansha branch. Quickly hand over your work to others."
"?!"
Miyoko's voice trembled in shock. "Are you firing me?"
"No. You'll handle other tasks."
"Phew… What kind of tasks? Assisting with piano tours?"
"You'll be assisting, but not me directly."
"Not you?"
"No. You'll help Wasa and her friend. That's it."
Yoko smiled triumphantly, her plan unfolding perfectly.