The last night of the year had arrived.
Unlike last year, when the house felt cold and lonely with just father and son, things were very different now.
With a woman in the home, the atmosphere had completely changed—it was suddenly warm, lively, and full of life.
In the kitchen, Takanashi Junko was busy preparing dishes. The countertop was piled high with ingredients.
Ōmisoka, New Year's Eve, was an important night of bidding farewell to the old and welcoming the new. She believed it couldn't be treated casually.
And besides, this was her very first New Year after moving in with Rikka and Toka—she wanted the neighbors to see how harmonious their new family was. It had to be festive!
Meanwhile, Minamoto Sanada had managed to secure a rare two-day leave from work to spend with his family. At the entrance, he was hanging a shimenawa rope decoration and setting up kadomatsu pines, praying for health and good fortune in the coming year.
"Ah! I won! I actually won, Senya!"
In the living room, Rikka waved a slip of paper excitedly.
Senya turned his head. "Won what?"
Because of his movement, the leg pressing down on his shoulder from Toka nearly slipped, making her stumble. She frowned. "Don't move. Stand still."
Rikka ignored her sister and rushed closer, glowing with joy. "Remember how every time I bought Shōnen Jump, I'd cut out the little entry tickets and mail them in? Well, the official fan lottery results just came out—I was chosen!"
Senya thought back. "Oh, right. You even made me post a bunch of them for you. So, what did you win?"
Even Toka paused her stretches to glance over curiously.
"A limited-edition Magical Girl Momo-chan figure—random protagonist version! And a poster signed by the author!"
"…"
Senya silently turned his head back.
From how excited she looked, he'd half-expected her to announce she'd won a big TV or refrigerator. But… a toy?
Toka, unimpressed, went right back to using Senya's shoulder for her leg stretches.
"Toka, how much longer are you going to use me? I still have things to do later."
"You said yourself, after my victory celebration, that since you didn't give me a gift, you'd make it up by helping me whenever I needed training support. Now you want to go back on your word? It hasn't even been six months."
That was supposed to be a polite gesture!
And she really took it to heart, dragging him in every holiday to help her stretch and push her back.
What kind of older sister used her little brother like this?!
"Rikka didn't give you a gift either!" Senya protested.
"She's too short, and her body's not built for this. You're tall enough that your shoulder perfectly supports my ankle, and you're sturdy enough to make an ideal practice partner. It's efficient."
Meanwhile, Rikka was fuming at their indifference. "It's the author's autograph! A real, handwritten signature!"
"Yeah, yeah, got it." Senya's voice was flat. He gripped Toka's ankle, carefully pushing it forward. "Let's just get this over with. Same as usual—forward stretch, right?"
"Ah! Wait, I wasn't ready! Don't just brute-force it—slower, gentler…!" Toka winced.
Hmph!
Two philistines who didn't appreciate treasures.
Rikka stomped back to the table, sulking. She had even thought about giving her prize to Senya, but now she was reconsidering. Maybe she should just keep it.
"Ah!"
From the kitchen came Junko's startled cry.
Senya quickly lifted Toka's leg off his shoulder, but Sanada had already sprinted to the kitchen at full speed, knocking down the half-hung shimenawa and breaking the thin kadomatsu without a care.
"Junko! What happened?!"
Junko gave a sheepish smile. "It's nothing, Sanada. I just cut my hand, that's all."
"You—cut your hand?! Senya! Senya!!"
"Coming, coming."
Without needing further instruction, Senya had already fetched the first-aid kit.
He thought his father was overreacting, but at the same time, he reflected that maybe he should've been helping with dinner preparations instead of leaving everything to Junko.
Still, in Toka's eyes, her stepfather's concern was touching. She took the apron from her mother's hands. "Mom, go rest. I'll handle this."
"But—"
"Don't worry. I'll help too," Senya added.
With her daughter and Senya insisting, Junko finally gave in and left the kitchen, scolding Sanada lightly for making such a fuss.
"I'll head back, then—" Senya started.
"No, you won't. You can cook or prep vegetables—your choice." Toka grabbed his sleeve.
Naturally, Senya chose to cook. Anyone who'd been in a kitchen knew the stovetop was easier than prep work or cleanup.
"Make it quick, okay? Eriri and Yukino invited me and Rikka to light fireworks later."
"Yukino's with Haruno at their grandfather's place, isn't she? She can't make it back tonight."
"Do you know what cyber fireworks are?"
"…?"
"You'll see."
Toka considered smacking him with the greasy ladle in her hand, but thought better of it. Senya's obsession with cleanliness meant one wrong move might permanently destroy their sibling bond.
That evening, around seven, the family gathered together, eating soba and watching New Year's programs.
Partway through, Senya slipped away, tugging Rikka along.
Curious, Toka followed them to the door—just in time to see Senya crouched by the roadside, lighting the small fireworks Rikka had bought.
Beside him, Rikka held up her phone, video calling Eriri and Yukino.
Toka pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. So that's what they meant by "cyber fireworks."
Still, in a way, it worked. Through the video call, the four of them were connected, smiling together despite the distance.
Senya thought the whole thing felt childish, but Eriri had insisted. She had said: Even if one day we're far apart, unable to feel the warmth of each other's hands, as long as our hearts stay connected, as long as we can see each other's smiles and hear each other's laughter, we'll always remain friends.
Corny, maybe. But when spoken so earnestly by a sixth-grader, it was oddly moving.
No wonder even Yukino, who rarely indulged such things, had agreed. And seeing her faint smile now, with fireworks sparkling on her side of the screen, Senya had to admit—she was enjoying it too.
He handed the lighter to Rikka and took her phone instead, waiting for the perfect moment before snapping a screenshot: Yukino and Eriri, both laughing at once.
Saved.
The new year came.
But unlike that cheerful night, Eriri soon grew quiet. The days passed, and she couldn't hide her gloom.
By January 4th, it all came to a head.
At Tokyo International Airport, Yukino sat bundled in a thick scarf, listening to her father and sister give her reminders. In less than an hour, she and her mother would be boarding a plane to England.
The schedule was tight—schools overseas started their new semester right after New Year's, and this was her only chance to enter on time.
English wasn't an issue for her; she had studied since childhood. Ever since dropping cram school, she'd even used the extra time to study foreign junior-high coursework.
Academics weren't the problem. The heaviness in her chest came from something else entirely.
"Yukino!"
Her eyes lit up instantly at the familiar voice. She jumped to her feet, looking toward the entrance.
Beside her, Haruno noticed her little sister's sudden brightness and smiled quietly.
Through the crowd, a small twin-tailed figure came running—panting, cheeks flushed.
"S-Sorry! It's snowing outside, the roads were jammed—we're late!"
Eriri grabbed Yukino's hands without even catching her breath. Behind her, Senya followed calmly, first bowing politely to Yukino's family before turning to her.
"Rikka's down with a bad cold. She asked me to apologize—she really wanted to be here."
"It's fine. I… I—"
Yukino faltered. She had thought she'd handle this farewell rationally. After all, she wasn't disappearing forever—just studying abroad. There would be holidays, chances to return.
She had believed she could smile, reassure her friends, maybe even wipe away Eriri's tears.
But facing Eriri's watery eyes, she felt her own composure unravel.
Friendship always felt light until the moment you risked losing it. Only then did its true weight reveal itself—something irreplaceable, something you could never do without.
Senya sighed softly. The two girls stood hand in hand, silent, overwhelmed. He decided to break it.
"Too bad you're leaving before finals. Guess you're dodging the exams this time."
His light tone, matched with a teasing smile, pulled Yukino back from the edge of tears.
She shot back, just as usual: "That line should be mine. With your halfhearted study habits, it's only a matter of time before I surpass you."
"Even if you do, I'll always have that photo of you losing—saved forever in my gallery."
"…You—!" Yukino blushed, glaring softly.
Senya just shrugged. "Over there, take care of yourself. Eat properly—you're way too thin."
Normally, Yukino would scoff at such comments about her weight. But today, she simply nodded.
That threw Senya off more than anything. Yukino, obedient? That wasn't her.
Fortunately, Eriri, watching their easy banter, managed to steady her own emotions. She rummaged in her little shoulder bag and pulled out a small gift.
"Here, Yukino. For you!"
Yukino blinked, taking it. A bright yellow alarm clock.
When Eriri had first chosen it, Senya nearly tried to talk her out of it. But she had insisted, saying: If Yukino wakes up every morning to this clock, she'll naturally think of me.
Yukino smiled softly. "Thank you. I'll put it on my bedside in England."
Then Senya handed over his own small box.
Inside lay a silver pendant—shaped like a stylized panda. Simple, but elegant.
"I had it made at a shop. Nothing expensive, just sterling silver. Don't feel pressured—just… take it."
"I love it," Yukino whispered.
She disappeared briefly, returning with gifts of her own. To Eriri: a pair of pink gloves. "You love drawing. Protect your hands in the winter."
To Senya: a gray scarf. "You never dress warmly enough. Even if you're strong, don't get sick—it'll just trouble Toka and Rikka."
Senya chuckled. "Thanks."
Yukino smiled faintly. "No need."
Soon after, her mother stood. It was time.
Yukino hugged Eriri tightly, then turned to Senya.
"…Goodbye, Senya."
"Yeah. Keep in touch."
On the plane, Yukino stared at the pendant in her hand.
"Mom, when I left this morning, I felt so empty inside."
Her mother softened. "And now?"
Yukino smiled, holding the little panda close.
"Now… I feel whole again."
Meanwhile, in the car leaving the airport, Eriri buried her face in Senya's chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
Sanada, driving, kept stealing glances through the mirror, unsure how to react.
Senya's brows knitted. He wasn't sad about Yukino's departure—he was just desperately trying to ignore the tears soaking into his shirt.
It wasn't just tears, he told himself. Just water and a bit of salt. That's all.
But when Eriri's congested sniffle rattled in his ear, Senya snapped.
"Uncle! Tissues! Quick!"