After sending Hiratsuka Shizuka off, Yukinoshita Yukino asked Hojou Kyousuke a few more questions.
Then she picked up the light novel on the desk, opened it to the bookmarked page, and as her focus shifted to the story, she spoke casually:
"Alright, if you've got something to do, you can go. I'll approve you leaving early today."
"Hm? Did I ever say I wanted to leave early?" Hojou Kyousuke asked, puzzled.
"From the moment you walked into this classroom until now, you've checked your phone five times.
I wasn't intentionally paying attention, but I couldn't help noticing.
And since there were no new notifications, and you're not the type of person addicted to scrolling for no reason, the only explanation is that you're checking the time.
Judging by how frequently you looked, you must have something else you're anxious to get to."
Yukinoshita didn't even raise her head.
Her thin lips parted slightly, and her cool, steady voice spilled out like she was reciting the steps to solve a geometry problem.
"The most decisive clue is that Sakura already told me Shouko went to the agency today. And as far as I know, nine times out of ten, whenever Shouko goes to the agency to study, you're the one who picks her up."
She stopped speaking, and for some reason, her thoughts drifted to her parents.
Most parents like to use their own past experiences as lessons when teaching their children.
But her mother, Yukinoshita Chiyo, had never once done so.
Whenever her daughters made mistakes or came to her with questions, she would simply keep that elegant smile, and in a soft, gentle tone, analyze the pros and cons of the situation without a hint of personal bias.
She never gave them a definite answer, leaving the decision entirely up to them.
Then, when her daughters inevitably stumbled and fell, she would ask them calmly if they'd found their answer, if they'd learned anything.
If they had, she would listen patiently—but even then, she offered no commentary, letting them act on their own understanding, confirming their beliefs through repeated failures.
And if they hadn't learned anything? That was fine too, because eventually, they would.
If Yukinoshita Yukino was a perfectionist, then Yukinoshita Chiyo was perfection itself.
A well-known lady in Tokyo's political circles, every aspect of her—from words and gestures to the way she treated others and the radiated a warmth that made people feel as if they were basking in spring sunshine.
Whether they were receiving her favor or being turned away, people always sincerely praised her elegance.
She did everything flawlessly, yet unlike Yukino, her perfection never weighed on others, never made her difficult to bear.
It was as though she didn't need to pursue perfection—because whether walking or eating, she already embodied it.
If this were a wuxia or fantasy novel, she'd be someone who had already reached enlightenment, in harmony with the natural flow of heaven and earth.
And of course, a woman like that wouldn't have a messy past to use as cautionary tales for her children.
Thinking of it that way, Yukino could somewhat understand why her mother never spoke of her younger years.
Her father, Yukinoshita Souju—who had married into the Yukinoshita family and inherited his father-in-law's "territory" was the complete opposite.
He doted on his two daughters endlessly.
Material things were one thing, but he even dared to defy his wife's iron rule for their sake.
After the girls were scolded, he would sneak them hidden snacks, take them to secret hideouts where the queen wouldn't find them, and tell them silly stories to make them laugh.
And the stories he told most often… were about his youth with their mother.
They had attended the same high school which is Soubu High but back then it was still a public school.
At the time, Yukinoshita Chiyo hadn't yet become the effortlessly composed, refined woman she was now.
She pursued excellence fiercely, sharp and radiant, her entire being shining with intimidating brilliance.
As for Souju… back then he wasn't even a "Yukinoshita." He had no thought of becoming a rising star in Tokyo's political world.
Instead, he yawned his way through the days, skipping classes to gamble.
In smoke-filled rooms, he slammed cards onto tables, laughing listlessly, surrounded by other loafers.
"At the time, I thought everything was boring—classes were boring, fighting classmates was boring, skipping school was boring, even gambling was boring."
"The only thing that felt a little fun was smoking. And even that tiny joy, your mom took away from me."
"She'd bang on the door, storm in, and sweep the cards right out of my hands. With those elegant fingers—fingers that didn't belong in such a filthy place—she'd pluck the cigarette straight from my mouth and drop it into a beer can."
"I never knew dragging delinquents out of gambling dens was part of the class rep's job. But back then, not just me—even the parlor owner, who people said had ties to the yakuza didn't dare talk back to her."
"I could tell she wanted to grab me by the tie and drag me out, but the moment her hand got close, she pulled back."
"Hahaha, because back then, I was honestly filthy. Clothes unwashed, pants unwashed—your mom couldn't bring herself to touch me.
Luckily, even though I was useless at most things, I at least knew how to recognize the situation. Without her saying a word, I stood up and followed her obediently.
Heh, between you and me, I was terrified she'd flip the whole table, or bash me over the head with a chair.
But then I thought—why would the daughter of the Yukinoshita family waste that much effort on someone like me?
Sure enough, after I went back to school with her, she didn't say a single word to me.
And then? Of course I skipped class again. What else? Staying in school was boring—couldn't even smoke properly.
Those kids who sneak a cigarette in the bathroom? They don't have the true soul of a smoker.
Real smoking's only fun with a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other.
But…
Huh? Yukino, aren't you going to ask me 'but what'? Ah, if only I could see my little Yukino all curious, Dad would be so happy.
Hahaha, that's my girl. Alright, I'll tell you everything—every embarrassing thing about your mom!
Anyway, after that, school actually started feeling a little interesting.
Not because I suddenly wanted to study, of course. I just wanted to see if the class rep had any other "secret duties" I didn't know about.
But unfortunately, after dragging me back, your mom never said another word to me.
So the very next day, I skipped again.
Normally, after gambling one day, I'd switch it up—mahjong the next, then pachinko after that.
But that day, I went straight back to the same card parlor.
I kept winning. The pile of money in front of me grew higher and higher, the old men around the table turning pale, and I honestly worried one of them would have a heart attack.
But no matter how long I waited… your mom never showed up.
I thought, could it be she realized dragging delinquents back wasn't actually a class rep's job?
Even after all these years, I can still clearly remember that feeling I had back then.
Restless. Uneasy. Excited. Thrilled.
At the time, I didn't understand it. I thought it was just because I'd won too much money that day."
Until one day, your mother once again went bang, bang, bang on the door, swept the cards out of my hands, plucked the cigarette from my mouth with those elegant fingers, and dropped it into a beer can.
Then, with just a glance, she cowed those grumbling old men who refused to admit defeat.
My clothes were still filthy, but that day, I had actually gone out of my way to wash my tie.
Hahaha, how did you know? You're right—your mother just shot me a disgusted look at that tie, then turned and walked straight out the door.
And me? My winnings, my heart, my body—they all followed her out.
Watching that girl breathe in the fresh air beneath the white sunlight, I finally understood why my heart had been restless, why it wouldn't calm down.
I was afraid of being arrested by the class rep!
Hahaha, just kidding, just kidding—your dad's not that much of an idiot. What? I'm serious! That was the moment I knew your mom liked me. Really, I did!
And did we start dating right away? Hah, as if! Do you really think your mom was the kind of girl who'd hand over her heart so easily?
After that, I kept on skipping class, and your mother kept coming after me. I practically dragged her to every card parlor, mahjong den, and pachinko hall in Tokyo.
I'd never seen such a dedicated class rep. Then one day, on the train ride back to school, I asked her, "If you're always chasing after me, doesn't that count as skipping class too?"
Oh, you should've seen her face back then—it was a hundred times scarier than when she scolded me. Before the train even reached the next stop, she jumped off.
I chased after her, only for her to twist my arm, shove me to the ground, and snatch every yen I had on me.
Before I could get up, she was already gone, disappearing in some luxury car.
Back then, I didn't understand your mom's little temper. I just thought she was bizarre.
Taking on strange class rep "duties," stealing away my fun, robbing me of my money—she was like some crazy cat, hissing for no reason.
Ahem, Yukino, I'm joking. Of course I knew it was my own fault for making her angry.
So, instead of borrowing money for the train, I punished myself by walking back to school. By the time I got there, even the baseball team had left.
I was about to turn around and head home, but out of sheer stubbornness, I marched into the classroom, not even bothering to change into my indoor shoes.
Looking back, I think my mindset was: That crazy, cat-like class rep needs to see how much trouble she's caused me. My money's gone, I had to walk all the way here, and now my shoes are ruined.
But when I stepped into the classroom and saw her sitting by the window, bathed in the glow of the setting sun… I couldn't say a single word.
Your mom was reading so intently.
I remember clearly—it was Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra.
I stood there for maybe twenty minutes.
When she finally stretched her neck and noticed me, she looked over—didn't even bother to twitch the corner of her lips.
Damn it! I'd been standing there secretly watching her all this time, couldn't she at least be angry?
Her face was as beautiful as a doll's… and just as emotionless.
I thought to myself: What an unlovable girl.
And the next day? I didn't skip class. Turned over a new leaf? Hah, as if.
By Saturday, I was back at the tables again, cigarette in one hand, beer in the other. Only, everyone around the table kept rushing me to play faster.
Idiots who don't know a thing—ah, sorry, Yukino, slipped a bad word there.
Haha, talking about my youth really makes me feel young again.
Anyway, I figured I had to play slow. If I lost all my money too quickly, I wouldn't get to stay at the table, right? I was already doing them a favor by being there.
And then—bang, bang, bang—the door again.
Your mom stormed in, tossed the cards out of my hands, pulled the cigarette from my lips, dropped it into a beer can. Still didn't grab me by the tie.
This time, I took her to a café. We did homework together.
Oh, right! Yukino, you must remember this—never, ever go to a café with a boy! If you do, you have to tell Dad three days in advance!"
In the end, he said that with all the seriousness in the world.
And yes, the little girl with tear-reddened eyes, secretly eating potato chips with her dad on the rooftop, was none other than the Yukinoshita family's younger daughter—Yukinoshita Yukino.
Was it really just because of her duties as class rep that Mom dragged Dad back to school? Yukino couldn't be sure.
She had tried looking into it, but if even her father—who had been in the same class—had no idea, how could she, as their daughter, ever know?
Then… could it be like Dad said? That Mom had done all that because she liked him? Yukino wasn't sure either.
Even though her father had immediately backed down and admitted he was lying under her mother's death glare, something in Yukino's heart quietly blossomed with joy.
As expected of her mother—even her way of being in love was beautiful.
The "mother" in her father's stories wasn't flawless.
She did strange things for the boy she liked, made up fake class rep duties, got angry, acted spoiled—she had a temper, just like any other girl.
The distant, godlike figure Yukino had always seen—separated from her by heaven and earth suddenly became more real, more human, more approachable, thanks to her father's whispered stories.
And in those moments, her parents from the past… looked so much like Hojou and Shouko now.
Whenever Nishimiya Shouko had to go out, Hojou Kyousuke would always, without fail, pick her up and bring her home.
Yukinoshita Yukino lifted her head, her gaze deep and distant, and saw the girl gently draping a coat over Hojou Kyousuke's shoulders.
The sight stirred another memory.
No matter how late her father came home from work, her mother would always wait for him.
The moment she heard the door open, she'd go to the entrance, greet him with a full-hearted "Welcome home," and, ignoring his protests, stubbornly take his coat and briefcase from him.
Her sister would always mutter under her breath that this was the only time Dad looked like the head of the household.
Yukino knew what she really meant: that this was the only time Mom looked like a gentle wife.
But her sister didn't dare tease their mother—so she teased their father instead.
And then, their father would puff out his chest proudly, declaring he had always been a great man… before immediately switching to a pleading expression as he begged their mother for mercy.
Yes, back then, her parents were so much like Hojou and Sakura now.
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