Just then, something occurred to Kazuma, and he asked Chiyoko,
"Hey, where's Amo? Did he head home?"
"Nope," Chiyoko sighed. "He wouldn't leave after finishing shadow swings. I gave him two readings to memorize."
Kazuma nodded, then turned to Nanjo and Butler Suzuki.
"Come on in and rest a bit—have some tea."
Nanjo instantly brightened.
"Okay!"
Looked like she'd been waiting for that invitation.
They entered the house and headed to the dojo, where they spotted Ikeda Shigeru sitting in a corner, book in hand, reciting aloud.
At once, Kazuma recognized it—Run, Melos! by Dazai Osamu. One of the very few Dazai works he could actually appreciate.
As for Dazai's other writings... honestly, Kazuma couldn't stand them. They always made him think: "Sorry for intruding—goodbye!"
Hearing the group come in, Ikeda looked up and immediately stood, bowing deeply.
"Sensei! Thank you for your hard work! Thank you too, Senpai!"
Kazuma chuckled.
"Mm. You've worked hard too. No need to bow though—you'll start looking like a yakuza."
Ikeda straightened, eyes sparkling.
"Sensei, how many did you take down tonight? The Nanjo family's finished, right? That means Nanjo-senpai is going to become Sensei's wife now, right?"
Kazuma laughed helplessly.
"Uh… well, see, not everything can be solved with brute force. Sometimes words are more powerful than violence."
"Yes! I'll remember that… though I don't really get it." Ikeda scratched his head. "Words have power?"
"Of course. Just think back to the night I saved you—see for yourself."
That was the best Kazuma could do. Whether his simple-minded disciple could truly grasp it was out of his hands.
Ikeda looked utterly puzzled. He sat cross-legged, arms folded, genuinely trying to reflect.
Kazuma pulled over his favorite cushion and plopped down on it, relaxing.
Truthfully, he wanted to lie down completely—but with Nanjo and Butler Suzuki present, it would seem too much like a lazy middle-aged office worker crashing at home.
Chiyoko trotted off to make tea, while Nanjo sat down facing Kazuma. Suddenly, she seemed to remember something.
"Sensei, would you like to lie down and rest? I can clean your ears for you. I'm really good at it—Grandpa loves when I do it."
Kazuma glanced at her lap. Of course, "ear cleaning" was code for lap pillow—without it, ear cleaning wouldn't be possible.
To be honest, he was quite tempted.
But Butler Suzuki's sharp gaze was trained on him. Seeing the man's Karate Level 67 tag hovering above, Kazuma decided to decline.
"Maybe another time…"
But then Butler Suzuki cut in.
"Kiryū-kun. A man should face his desires honestly. Live with authenticity."
—Eh? That's what that stare meant?! Sorry, my bad—totally misunderstood!
Kazuma scratched his head.
"Well… in that case… I guess… ear cleaning it is."
Nanjo beamed and immediately scooted closer, smoothing out her kimono's lap area.
Kazuma shifted onto his side and rested his head on her lap.
As expected of a wealthy heiress—the fabric was truly high-end. Smooth, silky, with just a hint of coolness.
Butler Suzuki handed a small box to Nanjo.
She opened it and took out an exquisitely carved ear pick, adorned with the Nanjo family crest in an openwork pattern. Cheerfully, she began tending to Kazuma's ears.
At that moment, Chiyoko entered carrying a tray of tea.
She paused at the sight.
"Eh? Bro, you're…"
Kazuma smirked.
"Come try it, Chiyoko—it feels amazing."
"Yeah, judging by that blissful look on your face."
Chiyoko snorted.
"But when I tried cleaning your ears, you acted all annoyed and said I was about to puncture your eardrum."
Her words instantly triggered a wave of cold sweat down Kazuma's back.
Clearly, the original owner of this body had developed PTSD toward Chiyoko's ear cleaning skills.
He replied,
"No, you really did almost puncture my eardrum. You should learn from Nanjo-san's proper technique. I don't want my future brother-in-law and nephew ending up deaf…"
Nanjo giggled and joined in teasing.
"Sounds like I should teach Chiyoko a few tricks."
Chiyoko huffed, set down the tea tray, and flounced off—clearly a bit sulky.
Then Nanjo called after her,
"Oh right! I'll bring some snacks tomorrow. Chiyoko, what do you like?"
"Eh? I can choose? Then… yōkan! …Ah, no, Tamago-chan-senpai's bringing wagashi, so… cake! Macarons!"
Chiyoko spun back around, her mood instantly lifted.
While the Kiryū Dojo was enjoying its harmonious domestic comedy, far away, Asakura Yasuhiro and his son Asakura Kōjun were riding home in their car.
Councilman Asakura had drunk quite a bit with the newly revitalized Nanjo patriarch. His face was flushed, and he hiccuped occasionally.
Meanwhile, Kōjun sat pale and swollen-faced, sporting bruises—looking absolutely miserable.
Yasuhiro sighed as he glanced at his son.
"I know where you're planning to go. Using a hostess to vent your frustrations isn't exactly wrong. Just… don't catch real feelings."
Kōjun gritted his teeth, silent.
Yasuhiro snorted.
"Then again, if you did understand real feelings, none of this would've escalated like it did. As your father, here's some advice—don't mess with that Kiryū kid."
Still, Kōjun kept his mouth shut, glaring stubbornly out the window.
Yasuhiro sighed again.
"I know you won't listen. So, bare minimum—if you insist on doing something, hire competent people. Don't make me clean up such embarrassing messes that I start wondering if you're really my son."
A flicker crossed Kōjun's face—clearly stung by his father's words.
But Yasuhiro acted as though he hadn't noticed at all and continued musing aloud.
"Ah, if only I had a daughter… If I did, and Kiryū-kun really gets into Todai next year, I'd marry her to him in a heartbeat—even pay a dowry myself."
Finally, Kōjun spoke.
"Aren't you afraid Onii-san would object?"
"If he's dissatisfied, then let him prove he's more outstanding than Kiryū-kun. Otherwise, our family resources will naturally lean toward Kiryū-kun." Yasuhiro paused, sighing.
"Too bad—I don't have a daughter, and it's too late for your mother and me to try again. So no matter how disappointing you two are, I'm stuck."
After a short pause, he added,
"I'll find you a prettier girl—one who can tolerate your wandering hands. The Nanjo family's level is probably out of reach now, but there should still be plenty of lesser heiresses willing to marry in."
With those words, Yasuhiro had formally admitted:
"My son's lacking, so I'll have to lower the bar for a marriage match."
That statement landed like a thorn in Kōjun's heart. His gaze out the window darkened, now brimming with vicious hatred.
(End of Chapter)