Faking an illness to skip out isn't complicated. Whether in school or the workplace, people always come up with excuses for their own little schemes—it's nothing unusual.
Minamoto Senya's constitution, however, was anything but ordinary. If he were to dive straight into Tokyo Bay in the middle of winter and swim a lap, he'd probably climb back out without a single shiver, still bursting with energy.
But only he knew that.
Everyone gets sick eventually. That's normal.
And who would know his actual condition if he didn't say anything?
Even if he did say something, no one would believe him anyway.
Today's first period was Japanese literature.
Senya wasn't paying attention. His mind drifted elsewhere, carefully working through his plan.
His objective with Toka this time was a little complicated. He had to account for unexpected interference, avoid disruptions as much as possible, and prevent her from brushing everything aside like it had nothing to do with her.
So barging in recklessly—or just playing dead at home—wasn't an option. He needed to create a situation where, after "falling ill," the person he wanted would have no choice but to take care of him.
With that goal in mind, the first thing he needed to do was…
Senya sketched some caricature-like doodles of his parents and little Chiyo on a scrap of paper.
And surprisingly, they looked pretty accurate. A few strokes and each of their personal features popped right out. He owed that to Eriri—when it came to drawing, she really was on another level.
Anyway, the point was, he had to get Mom, Dad, and Chiyo out of the house.
If they weren't home, things would get much easier.
But making that happen wasn't simple.
His dad had just returned from overseas projects. After a long stretch away, he was resting at home. The bar was being run by hired staff now, so all his father really did was drop in occasionally. From bartender to hands-off manager—that upgrade was complete.
His mom, Junko, was in the same situation. With Chiyo to look after, most of her time was spent at home.
And since their time apart had rekindled things, the couple had been awfully lovey-dovey lately.
Senya had walked in on them three separate times—whether coming home or heading downstairs—only to catch them snapping apart with guilty speed.
Once, his dad even yanked his hand back in a hurry.
That time, Junko's face was burning red as she punched her husband in embarrassment.
Awkward? Yes. But seeing them so happy together also warmed Senya's heart.
Still, the sight gave him an idea.
His dad had just returned from abroad and was probably exhausted.
Junko was juggling housework, childcare, and business responsibilities—also drained.
So, if he, as their well-to-do son, suggested that they take a short trip to relax, wouldn't that be perfectly natural?
And while they were away, they could… well, take their time, no worries attached.
The only obstacle was Chiyo. Traveling with a baby would make it less relaxing.
Senya tapped the desk lightly with a finger but didn't agonize over it for long.
Pick a weekend. Leave Chiyo behind.
Hand her off to Rokka—who, in the process, would also be conveniently "sealed away," preventing her from interfering. Two birds, one stone.
Once the key points were in place, the rest of the details naturally took shape in his head.
He smiled faintly.
If everything went smoothly, his relationship with Toka might finally thaw.
He snuck a glance at his phone under the desk. His brainstorming had only eaten up ten minutes.
Weird. For some reason, today's class felt stretched out unnaturally.
When the bell rang, Senya slipped up to the rooftop and dialed Kudou Miyoko.
As Tōma Yōko had said, he'd mastered how to "use" this reliable older-sister figure to her fullest potential.
"…I see. So you want your parents to finally relax and let me handle the hot springs reservations? No problem, leave it to me. Do they have any particular preferences?"
"I've already got a place in mind. I've been there before—Hakone. The environment's perfect."
After a brief discussion, Miyoko jotted everything into her notebook, ready to handle it once the call ended.
Her impression of Senya only improved further.
The company president had once worried Senya would let money get to his head. But here he was, selflessly thinking about his parents' wellbeing before his own.
It wasn't as dramatic as legendary tales of filial piety, but it was still the model of a dutiful son in the modern day.
"…Got it. I'll make sure they get the best suite and the finest cuisine. They'll enjoy every moment."
"Thanks, Miyoko-san. Also—could you run me through this week's schedule?"
"This week's actually lighter than before.
Today after school you'll be doing a magazine cover shoot. Everything's already arranged; we can start as soon as we arrive. Should be done before seven.
Tomorrow, Wednesday, you'll meet with a Kodansha editor about the limited collector's edition of The Astrology Murderer.
Thursday's free.
Friday, there's a contract signing with Nishiyamado. Another photoshoot for the new posters. Saeko-san will be there too."
"Got it. Thanks for all your work."
"Oh please, it's nothing. Working with you now is far easier than when I had to look after the president."
Senya chuckled before hanging up.
Only four or five minutes had passed; break time wasn't even half over.
Leaning against the wire fence, gazing out at the sprawling cityscape, Senya mulled things over.
Then he checked his phone again, opening Hayasaka Ai's social feed.
[Minamoto Senya: Are you free after school Thursday? Want to hang out?]
Didn't take long for her to read it. After all, Ai played the flashy gyaru at school, which included frequent phone-checking.
Her reply came fast:
[Hayasaka Ai: ?]
Senya smirked, heading back down the stairs.
[Minamoto Senya: What's the question mark for?]
[Hayasaka Ai: It was just unexpected. Your invite was so sudden.]
[Minamoto Senya: Sorry about that. Truth is, I've been really busy lately. Thursday's one of the rare days I'm free.]
By the time he got back to class, there was still no reply.
——
"Hey, Ai, class is starting soon. The Mediterranean history teacher's strict—you'd better head back."
At Shuchiin Academy's middle division, a few girls called out to Hayasaka Ai, who was still staring at her phone.
Snapping back to reality, Ai clasped her hands together with a sunny smile.
"Sorry, sorry~ I need the bathroom first. You guys go ahead!"
"We can wait—"
"No need! It'll be worse if we all get marked late."
She waved them off and jogged toward the restroom.
Alone, she reopened Senya's message.
Breathing uneven, heart racing. Maybe from the sprint… or maybe from what his words implied.
He'd said he was busy, and Thursday was rare free time.
Didn't that mean she was the first person he thought to invite?
Ai had always excelled at reading between the lines.
Her fingers idly traced the smooth glass back of her phone. Her lips curved despite herself.
She was delighted, of course—but also troubled.
Thursday evenings, she usually accompanied Kaguya-sama to tea ceremony lessons, followed by a Fujiwara family banquet.
Nothing earth-shattering, but still formal. Would skipping be too irresponsible?
Well… Kaguya wasn't a child. She could survive one evening without Ai.
And if Ai arranged for another attendant in her place, everything would be fine.
Weighing it out, the scales tipped quickly—Senya on one side, Kaguya on the other.
Decision made in two seconds flat.
[Hayasaka Ai: Sorry, Thursday I've got to work—going with Kaguya-sama to a friend's banquet.]
[Minamoto Senya: No worries, we'll plan another time.]
[Hayasaka Ai: But… maybe I could get leave. I'll talk to her at lunch and let you know?]
[Minamoto Senya: OK.]
In fact, she didn't wait till lunch.
By the next break, Ai pulled Kaguya aside.
She flatly requested leave for Thursday evening.
When asked why, she couldn't possibly admit she had plans with that boy.
So, she bit her lip, turned her head aside, and whispered, "I… I want to see my mom."
Kaguya blinked in surprise. "Eh?"
Then she narrowed her eyes, almost suspicious. Ai caught herself—her mistress's amused smile was hard to miss.
Kaguya smothered it with a fake cough. "If that's the case, you don't have to wait till Thursday. I can give you leave today."
"Thursday's the only day she's free."
"…I see. Very well. Please give your mother my regards."
Ai nodded. Perfect.
No way would Kaguya cross-check her schedule with the Hayasaka family. Their relations weren't nearly warm enough.
It was flawless.
At lunch, Ai sent Senya the good news.
When he replied, "Great. See you then," with the meeting spot attached—her lips curled so high they hurt.
She was already looking forward to Thursday.
Time to up her skincare routine. Maybe even book a salon for her hair.
——
After school, Miyoko picked Senya up for the magazine shoot.
His skills in kendo, piano, and writing were often praised, but the public's obsession with him boiled down to one thing: looks.
Society pretended not to judge by appearances, but everyone knew better.
Just like Hashimoto Kanna being dubbed a "once-in-a-millennium beauty" at fourteen from a single dance photo, Senya had been labeled a "once-in-a-millennium pretty boy."
He found the title embarrassing, like "Empire's Fierce Tiger"—soaked in chuuni vibes.
But no matter how he felt, the internet had already run with it.
After enough time, even shame dulled into habit.
As long as no one said it to his face, he could live with it.
By four in the afternoon, they arrived at the studio.
A brief round of greetings, then Senya changed into the provided outfits.
The makeup artist barely had anything to do. His complexion was flawless, his features impeccable—no flaws to cover. A quick touch-up of his hair and clothes, and he was ready.
The set was an industrial loft, its weathered walls offering a nostalgic weight. Placing Senya's youthful brilliance against that backdrop would, the photographer explained, create a striking contrast.
Miyoko didn't know much about photography, but she thought Senya could probably pull off high fashion even in a tank top, flip-flops, and straw between his teeth.
She snapped a few photos herself, forwarding them to Tōma Yōko, who could decide who else to share them with.
By six-thirty, the shoot wrapped smoothly.
Everyone addressed him politely, without condescension for his age. In the professional world, status mattered far more than years.
Senya thanked the crew sincerely before leaving with Miyoko.
"That's everything for today, Senya. I'll drive you home."
Standing by the elevator, she crossed off the day's tasks in her planner.
"No need, Miyoko-san. Head home safely. I've got other plans."
He pulled on a mask—once for health, now for anonymity.
"I can drive you wherever you need. Just call when you're done."
But Senya shook his head. "I'm stopping by a friend's place. I'll stay late. No need to trouble yourself—I'll grab a cab."
She didn't press further.
As the elevator descended, Miyoko mentioned the morning's arrangements.
"I've booked the hot spring inn. Requested premium meals too. All your parents need to do is check in."
"Thanks, Miyoko-san."
"You don't have to thank me—it's my job. I'll send you the expenses later."
"Mm."
He truly appreciated Tōma Yōko's advice about hiring an assistant. Life was infinitely smoother now.
After parting ways, Senya headed for the Busujima residence.
He didn't knock. Just unlocked the door and stepped in.
By now, he'd lost count of how many times he'd visited.
The dojo and main house were dark, only one bedroom lit.
Switching shoes at the entryway, he moved down the hall.
Outside the bathroom, he paused.
The shower stopped. Saeko's voice, tentative: "Senya?"
"It's me," he answered gently.
The sliding door cracked open, steam spilling out—along with Saeko's breathtaking figure.
Tall, lush, perfectly sculpted.
Her long legs pressed together, an arm across her chest, cheeks burning.
"I just finished kendo. Thought you wouldn't be back yet, so I started bathing first…"
Senya didn't hide his gaze. Stepping closer, he explained, "The shoot wrapped faster than expected."
Saeko bit her lip, looking up at him, voice soft as silk.
"Then… want to join me? We can eat later."
With someone this delectable in front of him, who needed dinner?
He didn't bother answering—just reached for her.
"Ah—!"
Her gasp filled the steamy air.
The reigning women's champion of the Jade Dragon Flag, Japan's "strongest swordswoman," melted like a docile cat in his arms.
As he kissed her, his foot nudged the sliding door shut.
The bathroom swelled with heat of another kind.
——
Takanashi Toka had always thought her foster brother was remarkable.
Brilliant in his studies, brimming with talent in multiple fields, tireless in his ambitions—surely destined for greatness.
Being at his side, watching him grow step by step, only made it clearer: his future would be dazzling.
But after confiding in Yukinoshita Haruno, Toka resolved to put an end to the feelings she'd been harboring.
They were siblings—at least in name. That's all they could ever be.
She couldn't become the stain that dragged him down.
So, she deliberately cut back their time alone together.
No more doting like before. No more warmth. She kept her distance, treating him as she'd heard classmates treated their younger brothers.
She noticed his confusion, his quiet disappointment.
It hurt. But this was the only way.
The results were obvious.
They barely interacted anymore, no more easy laughter, no more awkward incidents that blurred the lines.
Toka's heart ached, but she forced herself to endure.
The more his success grew, the more certain she felt this was the right path—for both of them.
And yet… she noticed other things.
He was coming home later and later.
Trying to hide it, but his exhaustion showed.
She assumed it was just overwork.
Why weren't their parents telling him to slow down, to take care of himself? Instead, they were gushing over the hot spring trip he'd arranged, calling him thoughtful.
She felt a twinge of resentment toward them for that.
One Thursday night, unable to sleep, she realized she hadn't heard Senya come upstairs.
Heading down, she found him slumped on the sofa, remote loose in his hand, fast asleep under the flickering light of the TV.
The shadows played across his face, bright and dim, bright and dim.
...…