Though not as extravagantly dressed as Utaha, Mitsuha—being a shrine maiden—clearly had a great grasp on makeup.
Even in the dim lighting of the venue, her face looked flawless.
When Kyousuke caught sight of her expression—one of a newlywed bride mildly jealous—he couldn't help but smile sweetly, savoring the moment.
To him, it was like hearing a beautiful voice even when it's cursing; if he had to endure this kind of situation, then at least his wife's beauty made the discomfort a little more bearable.
"Oh my, this is just too much~"
Hojou Mikiko chuckled behind her hand, eyes sparkling as she looked from the stage at her son to the woman beside him.
"This guy's head is just full of…"
Eriri bared her tiny tiger teeth, instinctively about to flip open her mental dictionary of profanity—but the child in her arms, little Kasuko, reminded her she had company.
Namely, his mother was also right next to her.
Eriri stole a quick glance at Mikiko, pursed her lips, and turned back toward the stage.
Her large blue eyes darted, hesitating.
She clenched her fists, resisted, held back—until finally, unable to help herself, she muttered under her breath:
"Big dummy."
That small voice only made Hojou Mikiko laugh harder. S
he then turned her attention to Utaha, curious to see how the girl who had prepared such a grand "gift" for her son would react.
"Exceptional people often face temptations that ordinary people can't even imagine. But would you stop driving just because a bug hit the windshield?"
Utaha's smile didn't falter one bit.
If anything, the upward curve of her lips made her wine-red eyes look even more captivating.
"If being outstanding is a crime, then every living creature should apologize to the sun," she said calmly. "So no, the problem isn't with Kyousuke—it's with the brainless bugs drawn to his light, thinking they can survive it."
She didn't grit her teeth, didn't turn icy with her words.
Her voice, usually cool and detached, now sounded like it had passed through a rose-colored filter—so warm and heartfelt, it was like an echo of Kyousuke's award speech.
Eriri gave the "witch" a sidelong glance, pouting slightly but saying nothing.
Of course she understood.
Wasn't Utaha herself just another one of those bugs, lured in by that idiot?
"Ahh, Utaha-chan is just the perfect wife candidate," Mikiko said with genuine delight, shaking Utaha by the shoulders affectionately.
"Huh?"
Utaha was stunned by the sudden gesture, then quickly remembered—oh right, Kyousuke's family was right beside her.
Her eyes darted sideways, trying to sneak a peek… and instantly locked eyes with Kasuko, who was staring at her intently.
Those round, dark eyes looked like they held the entire universe.
That little face—so innocent, so curious.
'So cute.'
Hojou's genes really were excellent.
Utaha was already imagining how adorable her and Kyousuke's future children would be.
"Sa—Eriri, would you like to take a look at Kyousuke's trophy?" she asked sweetly.
"...Huh?"
Eriri's inner sirens immediately went off.
'She didn't mess up my name?! That's suspicious!'
But Mikiko-san was right there…
Ahhh! This damn woman! She's trying to act all ladylike in front of his mom!
"Thank you, Utaha-onee-chan, but I'm holding Kasuko right now. I'll just ask Kyousuke to show me the trophy when we get home."
Eriri squeezed out the most sugary smile she could muster as she rubbed cheeks with the round-faced Kasuko.
"...Utaha-onee-chan?" Utaha blinked.
That was the first time Eriri had ever called her anything other than "Kasumigaoka Utaha." The usual labels—"witch," "demon," etc.—didn't count.
She never responded to those anyway.
"Hehehehehe~~" Mikiko giggled joyfully at the exchange.
Kyousuke's circle of friends really was too adorable.
That crisp laughter seemed to snap Utaha back into clarity.
Just as Kyousuke had described in his speech, she felt an epiphany blooming in her chest.
She casually ran her delicate fingers through her bangs—which were, of course, already perfectly in place.
The movement was less about fixing hair and more an act of pure aesthetic grace.
Her pale hand glided over soft, glossy locks, a gesture both natural and disarming.
Her seductive eyes narrowed into soft arcs, just a sliver of wine-red still visible.
"Eriri-chan, how about I hold Kasuko instead? Wouldn't want you getting tired and accidentally dropping Kyousuke's precious little sister."
Her voice was laced with sisterly warmth, like an older sibling gently lecturing her reckless younger sister.
"W-what are you talking about! I'm stronger than you are!" Eriri protested, face flushed.
But the image was undermined by her outfit—a cutesy dress paired with round-toe flats.
In contrast, Utaha's elegant black dress and ten-centimeter heels made her look like an entirely different species.
It wasn't just Utaha either.
Yukino Yukari and Okudera Miki, both mature and stylish, wore short evening gowns and heels.
Among them, Eriri—dressed in what could be mistaken for a frilly birthday party outfit—looked positively tiny.
'Ughhh! Why did Mom make me wear this?!'
'If I'd known, I would've just asked Naoka to pick something for me!'
Despite owning three walk-in closets—each one larger than most Tokyo apartments—Eriri had zero fashion sense.
While she drew elegant outfits for her manga heroines, in real life she was all sweatpants and overalls.
On solo dates with Kyousuke, she would sometimes be bold and casual—just a T-shirt and denim shorts—but most of the time, her mother handled her wardrobe.
Even the dress she was wearing today had been delivered to the dorm by Sawamura Sayuri that morning.
"This one! This is today's secret weapon!"
That's what her mom had said with an air of mystery.
Eriri hadn't understood, but felt a weird flutter of hope in her chest anyway.
And now?
She felt like a kindergartener sitting in a fancy café, feet dangling from a too-tall chair.
Yes, the cake was delicious. Yes, she could see Kyousuke on stage.
But still… she was mortified. And completely outclassed.
"Hehehehehe~~"
"So tiny, but so cute! Just like Kasuko, right sweetie?" Mikiko reached over and scooped her daughter into her arms again.
Now that Kasuko could walk and talk, the next step was letting her learn independence—but clearly, she was in no rush.
She was perfectly content being held by her mom or surrounded by these glamorous older girls.
"Mhm! Eriri, cute!" Kasuko nodded earnestly, pronouncing each word carefully.
She had completely forgotten she'd met these "big sisters" before at her brother's place.
"What about me~?"
Without missing a beat, Utaha shoved the trophy into Eriri's arms and snatched Kasuko away like a hawk claiming its prize.
"Utaha! Pretty onee-chan!"
Kasuko blurted out the words like a divine revelation.
Her porcelain doll-like face and earnest voice were so impossibly cute that even Yukari and Miki were drawn toward her like moths to a flame.
"Miki, you're beautiful! Yukari, you're beautiful!"
Like a CEO reviewing her workers, Kayako showered praises on each of them in turn, her face glowing with delight as she was surrounded by the soft embrace of three older girls.
Beautiful? Cute?
Eriri's sharp little mind instantly locked onto those words.
Wait a minute… was this differentiated competition?
Her glassy, sky-blue eyes widened dramatically as she suddenly recalled the meaningful smile her mother had given her.
Could it be—was she supposed to be the cute one?
Her stunned expression—blonde hair and wide eyes frozen in place—was so adorable that Hojou Mikiko couldn't help but giggle.
How wonderful, she thought. Kyousuke really is surrounded by all kinds of girls.
She glanced to her left, then to her right.
Seeing this, she felt more at ease about her son living alone in Tokyo.
"Didn't the manga you and Kyousuke made together win quite a few awards?" Mikiko asked gently.
"Huh? Oh, um, yeah!"
Eriri blinked, caught off guard, then nodded quickly.
But after answering, she looked a little embarrassed. "Honestly, even without me, Kyousuke would've been fine. I just..."
"No, that's not true." Mikiko gently shook her head, then reached out to softly pat Eriri on the head. "No one knows that boy better than I do."
She smiled warmly.
"Thank you for being there for him."
"N-no, I didn't do anything—Kyousuke, he's the one who—"
Eriri stammered, her voice all tangled up as if a bolt of electricity had surged from the base of her neck, racing down her veins to the tips of her fingers.
Her body trembled, her words became a mess, and she nervously shook the trophy in her hands—until she worried she might damage it, and quickly switched to shaking her head instead.
Her blonde head wobbled back and forth like a wind-up toy with no off switch.
"Hehehe~"
"You're so cute. I bet Kyousuke feels happy just seeing you every day," Mikiko said with a knowing smile. She was well aware of her son's theory about "flowers."
"I-it's really not a big deal..."
Eriri lowered her head, her face turning so red she looked like she might burst into flames.
After stuttering for a while, she finally muttered something that made her want to punish Kyousuke by demanding a night drive together.
'Eriri, what are you even saying?!'
Mikiko watched the flustered girl, so shy she looked like she might faint, and chuckled softly before turning her eyes to the stage.
There, under the spotlight, stood her son—Kyousuke—at the center of the world, surrounded by admiration and applause.
Camera flashes lit up like stars, making his black suit shimmer like a galaxy.
But what shone even brighter than the suit were his eyes—full of light, full of life.
Kyousuke was doing well in Tokyo—better and better, in fact.
As a mother—especially one who had raised her son alone in a distant city—she felt immense pride.
Even if, truth be told, it was often Kyousuke taking care of her rather than the other way around, it didn't change the fact that she was still his mother.
When the neighbor came rushing over with a magazine, excitedly pointing out how many copies Kyousuke's new book had sold, Mikiko's first thought was: Did he forget to eat while working again? With school and writing, is he getting enough rest?
When her clueless husband clipped out a newspaper article announcing their son's award and proudly pressed it under the coffee table glass.
Mikiko's eyes didn't go to the headline, but to the smaller text—comments from industry veterans who dismissed, belittled, or outright ignored her son.
She saw how hard he was trying to carve his way into a world that didn't want him.
While her family basked in the joy of Kyousuke's success, his mother—felt torn inside.
She knew he was building something for himself, for his future family, crafting a peaceful life with his own two hands.
She understood that. And yet…
She still wanted to call him, just to say:
"Home is still right here. The little calf Kayako raised has grown up now. Even if you brought all your friends back with you, there'd still be enough to feed everyone."
Just like when he was little, and she realized her son was different from other kids.
She had made the decision to stay behind in Suimon City, so he could grow up in a familiar place—because even in his hometown, he stood apart.
He was distant.
What would've happened if they had moved somewhere unfamiliar like Hokkaido?
Mikiko couldn't bear the thought.
She was never the type to yell at teachers or file complaints with the PTA.
If anything threatened her son, she'd grab her husband, take up the bear-hunting rifle, and eliminate anyone who dared make Hojou feel unwelcome.
That's how fiercely she loved him.
That's why she stayed in Suimon City with her son, sending her husband home to care for his aging parents.
Now Kyousuke had grown up.
He wanted to spread his wings, explore a wider world, and do something truly grand.
She believed in him.
But even Kyousuke knew this world is neither kind nor beautiful—so how could his mother not know that, too?
Alone, he had come to Tokyo.
He joined a kendo club, made manga, wrote novels, created anime...
And thanks to the "eyes" she had in Tokyo, Mikiko could see every step her son took.
She saw him climb stairs that looked as high as the heavens, holding a black banner aloft, with countless followers kneeling at his feet. He looked invincible.
But all she wanted to tell him was:
Make sure you wear a helmet when you ride your bike.
If you can carry a weapon, never go unarmed.
If you can run, never stand your ground.
She knew her son's stubborn nature better than anyone. That's why she always said:
"When you hit a wall, just take a nap. Don't push yourself too hard."
As time passed, she gained more "eyes"—and through them, she saw how her son's world kept expanding.
She saw the cost of him raising that flag high.
She saw him standing atop a mountain of enemies, looking exhausted as he gazed at the sky.
At that moment, she knew—Kyousuke must have longed to come home.
In that dreamlike photo, a blue-and-red comet stretched across the night sky, and the boy in black stood alone atop a man-made mountain of adversaries, staring at the stars.
It was beautiful.
But all a mother could feel… was worry.
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