"Hey, Kazusa, Miyako's going to Fukuoka tomorrow. There's a ton of fun stuff to do over there, you know. Since it's spring break and you're just holed up at home with nothing planned, why don't you go with her?"
"No."
"Eh~ Come on, think about it. There's Fukuoka Tower, Dazaifu Tenmangū, Hakata Port—plenty of sights worth seeing. It'll be fun!"
"Not interested."
"Traveling lets you experience different cultures and broaden your horizons. Locking yourself indoors, just playing piano all day, will only make you an idiot."
"Mom, you don't need to keep persuading me. Besides, what's the point of traveling? Isn't it just running away from the place you're sick of, to the place someone else is sick of? I don't find that fun at all. If you don't have anything else to say, I'm hanging up."
"Alright, alright, if you're that unwilling, then fine. I can't exactly force you. I'll just ask Senya-kun to pick up some local souvenirs for me later."
"…!!! Did you say Senya… he's going to Fukuoka?"
"Of course. He's got a tournament there. And since Miyako's his assistant, she has to go too. Originally, we thought you'd tag along, but since you're so against it, I wasn't going to push you. Anyway, I'm busy, so I'll—"
"Wait, Mom!"
"Hm?~"
"…"
"What does silence mean? I don't have all day, you know."
"…You deliberately saved that for last. You're definitely doing this on purpose."
"Kukuku~ I already explained everything to Miyako. She's made the arrangements. She'll pick you up tomorrow, so just pack a couple of changes of clothes."
"…Mom, while you're working… take care of yourself. Don't overdo it."
"My, my… That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me. I just wish you'd say it more often. Anyway, that's settled. Have fun!"
…
That was how Tōma Kazusa, who had shown zero interest at first, ended up tagging along with Kudō Miyako to Fukuoka.
Her mother, even while buried in work far away, still managed to fuss over her like she was spoon-feeding a child.
And Kazusa knew perfectly well: those little schemes she thought she was hiding were probably already seen through from the start.
It embarrassed her… but she didn't regret coming to Fukuoka this time.
Because this time, aside from her, none of the usual girls who always hovered around Minamoto Senya had shown up.
In other words—she was the only one.
Thanks to Miyako, she could stay close to the action, right near the stage, cheering for Senya as he competed.
Of course, cheering in her case only meant clapping politely, not screaming herself hoarse like his teammates did whenever he won, as though they'd reverted to cavemen.
But she figured that was enough.
Still—he was incredible. He won the Yuryūki Cup again, practically without breaking a sweat.
If she remembered correctly, he went undefeated. Not a single loss…
Senya, of course, had no idea what was going through Kazusa's heart.
He was back in the hotel room, watching TV—and getting hungry.
According to the original schedule, once his match was over today, he should've gone straight back to Tokyo.
But the reporters turned out to be far more relentless than expected, swarming him like wolves who smelled blood.
After he finally escaped one wave of them, Miyako insisted he and Kazusa retreat to the hotel while she stayed behind to fend off the rest alone.
And "a little while" stretched into hours. She still hadn't returned.
"Gurururu—"
His stomach growled.
Even with the TV on, Kazusa heard it clearly. She couldn't help but smile.
Senya flushed red. Some things just couldn't be helped.
After an entire day of high-intensity competition, of course his body needed fuel.
"How about we don't wait for Miyako anymore? Let's go eat first—it's already late."
Kazusa made the suggestion.
Senya was still thinking it over when his phone buzzed—Miyako's message.
[Sorry, still not done. A sportswear company approached me for a sponsorship deal. They want Senya to endorse their brand, so negotiations might take a while. Don't wait for me. If you're hungry, go eat first.]
Kazusa leaned in close to read over his shoulder.
She had her own room, but at times like this, of course she'd stick by Senya. After all, that was why she came—to spend time with him. It wasn't like she could waste the chance her mom had given her.
"Let's go."
Senya slipped on a mask, grabbed his phone, and stepped out with Kazusa.
It was a habit left over from when his novel won that award and he'd suddenly become too recognizable. The mask helped prevent unwanted attention and kept the occasional stalker with a camera at bay.
Better to be safe.
"Downstairs restaurant?" Senya asked.
For this Fukuoka trip, Senya traveled with the school team, lodging at the same hotel as everyone else.
Miyako had suggested booking a fancier hotel just for him and Kazusa, but he refused.
It was a team competition. Even if his strength allowed him to carry the whole thing, he wasn't about to show off by living separately.
Besides, this hotel was nice enough—clean rooms, breakfast included, even a restaurant.
The food just wasn't great.
Yesterday, Kazusa had settled for it without complaint, since Senya needed rest before his match. She only stayed in his room briefly, offered some encouragement, then left quietly.
But today? With the championship secured, she had no reason to hold back.
Miyako wasn't around either. She could use "celebration" as her excuse and invite him out properly.
Just the two of them, together. Like that Christmas night…
Wait—wasn't this basically a date?
"Kazusa?"
Senya tilted his head, wondering why she hadn't answered.
She exhaled softly, eyes glimmering, arms crossed under her chest.
Her posture only emphasized her natural… presence.
"Let's go out. The food here isn't that great. And you've been too busy with matches to see anything in Fukuoka. We can eat first, then maybe… walk around a little. Whatever you like."
Her heart was racing as she said it.
But Senya accepted easily. She let out a breath of relief, then began secretly looking forward to the rest of the night.
The only problem—where to eat?
Since neither of them knew the area, Senya pulled up a restaurant app and compared ratings, handing her the phone.
But Kazusa pushed it back, insisting that since it was his celebration, he should decide.
And so, Senya shamelessly picked the nearest one.
He was hungry enough to eat a whole cow anyway.
"Japanese place… good enough. Let's go."
"6.2 kilometers," the app said.
Looking at the traffic, Senya muttered, "Train, then."
"Okay."
"Gurururu—"
"No need to let your stomach keep answering me."
"You think I can control this?"
"There's a sweet shop nearby, want me to grab a drink?"
"No need. I'll just order a giant pork cutlet bowl, tempura, and yakitori skewers. One feast."
"Greasy food this late? Doesn't it make you sick?"
"Do one kendo tournament yourself—you'll see."
They bought tickets, passed the gates, and boarded.
Since their hotel was in the city center, the train was packed. Not suffocatingly so, but still crowded enough that there were no seats left.
Two minutes later, the train stopped at a station.
"Almost there. Two more stops, so don't nag me," Senya said.
They stood in the corner of the car—Kazusa leaning against the wall, Senya gripping the strap above her, his arm effectively encircling her, creating a little private space.
Kazusa lowered her voice, poking his stomach playfully.
"Keep laughing at me, Kazusa, and I'll eat you instead."
She giggled again. For some reason, every moment with him made her this happy—even the smallest things. She probably laughed more in one day with him than in a whole month alone.
The doors closed, and the train rolled on.
She was about to tease him again when she noticed his expression shift—serious, sharp.
Did I push the joke too far? she thought. But Senya wasn't the type to sulk over teasing.
Still, she hurried to smooth things over.
"Don't be mad. Here, I'll let you poke my stomach too."
"…"
No response.
Because right then—he saw it.
From somewhere in the train, icons—exclamation marks—began sprouting above passengers' heads, one after another, spreading like a virus through the car.
His scalp prickled.
"Senya?"
Kazusa's voice was puzzled.
He didn't answer. He just pulled her into his arms, shielding her.
From her view, it looked like a sudden embrace—cheek against his chest, listening to his pounding heart.
Th-this… is this…
Was he going to confess?!
On the train, of all places?!
Her mind spun, cheeks aflame, as she hesitantly slid her hands around his waist.
Meanwhile, Senya had already locked onto the source.
At the far end of the car—one man stood out.
No exclamation mark.
Worse, he wore a huge frog mascot head.
No—Senya zoomed in with his "god's-eye view." Beneath the mascot head was a gas mask.
The man lowered his backpack from his shoulders. Gloved fingers slowly tugged open the zipper.
Through the crack, Senya glimpsed something wrapped in newspaper.
Every alarm bell in his body rang at once.
"Don't move, Kazusa…" he whispered.
"Huh? What—?"
"Stay here!"
He pressed his mask onto her face, then shoved through the crowd toward the man.
By the time the zipper opened fully, a knife gleamed in his hand, its tip hovering over the wrapped object inside the bag.
Senya accelerated, low and fast, launching forward—
Bang!
His size-42 shoe slammed into the frog-head with crushing force. The man crumpled without a sound.
"Mama, it's a Reyō flying kick!"
A little boy blurted it out, wide-eyed.
His mother clamped a hand over his mouth and dragged him away. To her, it just looked like some lunatic assaulting people.
Other passengers panicked and fled the car.
Senya ignored them. He had no time.
As the train entered a tunnel, he snatched up the emergency hammer, smashed a window, and hooked the backpack with his foot, kicking it out into the darkness.
Some of the older passengers—those who remembered that incident over twenty years ago—went pale. They understood.
…