The summer fireworks festival—of course, the main attraction was the dazzling bursts of light exploding in the night sky.
But naturally, there was no shortage of other entertainment either.
Goldfish scooping, air rifle shooting, chocolate-dipped bananas, takoyaki, yakisoba—rows of stalls lined the park, each one filling the air with the smell of oil, sugar, and grilled batter.
Still, what Eriri looked forward to most was tonight's finale.
At the outer edge of Sumida Park, a large open space had been sectioned off. Safety tape divided the grassy fields from the bordering woods, and temporary water pipes had been stretched over from the restrooms, fitted with spigots and iron buckets.
This area was set aside specifically for people to enjoy small-scale handheld fireworks.
Earlier, while wandering through the festival stalls, Eriri had already bought an armful of sparklers and novelty fireworks.
She carried a pile herself, while Minamoto Senya had to help by holding two extra bags, one in each hand.
Once they reached the space, everyone began lighting their fireworks.
Eriri and Yukinoshita each held a sparkler, waving them slowly through the night air. Their faces were lit up with smiles that glowed as brightly as the sparks.
Rokka squatted on the ground, laughing to herself at a "doggy firework" that kept shooting out thick black streams from its backside.
Kasumigaoka and Busujima Saeko, on the other hand, each held a sky rocket cannon, aiming them upward and firing off bursts that resembled backward-shooting meteors.
Senya had been standing off to the side, content just to watch them play. But the moment he saw Rokka light up a novelty pigeon firework—a flash of sparks, followed by a balloon inflating from the rear with white smoke until it puffed into an egg—
"Holy crap, that's hilarious!"
He couldn't resist grabbing one for himself, lighting it, and recording the whole thing on his phone, marveling out loud.
Seriously, the creativity these manufacturers had nowadays was insane. Back in the day, fireworks were never this weirdly original.
The whole group enjoyed the fireworks together, laughing and chatting.
The atmosphere of the festival was so infectious that everyone around them was caught up in the cheerful mood.
Even Eriri found herself softening.
Kasumigaoka hadn't shown much interest in playing with the fireworks Eriri bought, but Eriri had been the one to speak first, telling her to pick whatever she liked. It was a small gesture, but meaningful.
Everything was going perfectly… until a small mishap.
Senya crouched down to light the fuse of a spinning "sky wheel" firework, then let Rokka tug him away to watch.
But the firework, poorly made, shot off at an angle instead of flying upward.
With a sharp hiss it careened toward the group of girls.
The glowing projectile rushed at them, dangerous sparks spitting in all directions. Yukino reflexively shielded her face, while Eriri and Kasumigaoka froze, wide-eyed in panic. Someone let out a sharp scream.
Only Saeko remained calm. Without hesitation, she snapped her leg up in a swift side kick, her skirt fluttering as she moved.
With a sharp crack, her foot sent the firework soaring upward—higher than any of the others had flown.
"Woooah!!"
Rokka's eyes went round, her mouth forming a perfect "O" before she broke into loud applause.
Saeko's kick was so sharp, so effortless, that it reminded Rokka of a gallant swordswoman from the old tales. A silent warrior who drew her blade to protect others.
No—wait. Drew her leg to protect others!
"You girls okay?" Senya rushed over, shaking off the lingering image of the purple sparks in his head.
The group was still pale from shock, but they all shook their heads at once.
Then their eyes turned, almost in unison, toward Saeko. She calmly accepted the tissue Senya offered, dipping it in water and wiping the scorch mark from her leather shoes.
"Th-thank you, Saeko," Kasumigaoka said earnestly.
The others quickly followed with their own thanks.
Saeko only smiled lightly, her narrow eyes softening. "As long as no one's hurt."
In that moment, the four other girls felt something unspoken shift in their hearts. A quiet respect, perhaps even awe.
The group played on until nearly ten o'clock.
In the end, despite that little scare, everything had turned out fine. Just as Eriri had hoped, the night closed with laughter and smiles.
Even Yukino, when they parted ways, wore a genuine happy smile.
Midnight Trouble
Later that night, after midnight had passed, Minamoto Senya dreamed.
In the dream, he was a wandering swordsman of the Sengoku era.
He cut down a band of lawless rōnin who had set fire to a village, saving the townsfolk.
A wealthy merchant, grateful, had his eldest daughter—dressed in an untouched silk kimono—pour him sake and dance for him.
Drunk, with beauty in his arms, Senya lowered his head to kiss her, hands loosening the ties of her robe as her cheeks flushed bright red.
Just as the moment was about to deepen—
Shouts and the clang of blades erupted outside.
The younger daughter burst into the room, kneeling before him.
"Please, my lord! The rōnin's comrades have come for revenge!"
Senya's eyes snapped open.
"Senya, save me!!"
"You've gone too far! Nobody can help you tonight!!"
There really was a cry for help. It sounded like Rokka's voice.
And outside his room, the sharp clatter of chaos echoed—though clearly not from any rōnin.
He sighed. If dreams were the subconscious fulfilling unspoken desires… then what did it mean that he'd been dreaming of that familiar face more and more lately, sneaking off for cold showers in the middle of the night?
He smacked his forehead.
"Psychology is bullshit."
No way. No matter what, he couldn't see his nominal older sister—no blood relation, sure, but still—as anything like that.
He shook his head hard, forcing the thought away.
It was just excess energy from kendo practice. Nothing more.
Senya sat up, glanced at his phone: 2 a.m.
So late that even the neighborhood roosters were asleep. Just what the hell were those sisters fighting about this time?
Yawning, he slipped on his slippers and reached for the door handle—
Only to stop dead when he felt a baguette-length loaf of bread pressed against the top of the door.
He stepped back silently, shut his eyes, and forced himself to picture Dumb Spring from the foreign comedy show, with his stupid grin.
…It worked.
Two minutes later, Senya finally walked out.
The living room lights blazed. Toka, dressed in a camisole nightdress, had Rokka pinned face-down on the sofa.
Rokka's wrists were twisted behind her back, her pale little feet kicking uselessly like a fish flopping on a cutting board.
The moment Senya appeared, Rokka's dim, hopeless eyes instantly lit up with desperate hope.
"Senya-oniichan, save me!!"
Her tear-streaked, pitiful face made him want to laugh.
But he ignored her first, glancing instead at her older sister. "What happened this time?"
Toka, still holding Rokka with one hand, used the other to pinch her sister's cheek, her glare shifting to Senya. "Why don't you ask her?"
Senya didn't need to. One look at the scene was enough.
The TV was still on, playing a late-night drama—Teacher and Classmate Sanomiya.
Officially marketed as a "modern school romance drama."
Rokka loved it.
Senya, however, thought it was absolute trash.
The one time she dragged him into watching a rerun, he'd nearly fried his brain from secondhand embarrassment.
Brain surgery plots. A supporting girl getting run over by a truck twice but somehow surviving to have twins. And one of the twins wasn't even her boyfriend's kid.
Garbage. Pure garbage.
But Rokka adored it.
And since summer vacation started, her sleep schedule had collapsed.
Not just reruns anymore—she insisted on watching the premieres live.
Which meant sleeping until noon, then staying up until dawn.
"It's summer break! What's the big deal?!" Rokka tried to argue.
Toka flicked her forehead sharply. "Summer break or not, school starts in a few days. You need to fix your schedule. And what about all these snacks? Didn't you promise you'd only eat them during the day? Look at your stomach! Look at the clock! If I hadn't caught you, were you planning to stay up until morning?"
Three strikes, all true. Rokka had no defense.
She turned pitiful eyes toward Senya instead.
He walked over, glanced at the evidence: two empty chip bags, half a pack of beef jerky, and an almost-finished two-liter bottle of cola.
"Yeah… you went overboard," Senya said, siding with Toka. "It's one thing to stay up late, but junk food on top of it? You really trying to become a shut-in?"
Toka let out a huff, slightly appeased.
Rokka's ahoge drooped.
"But still…" Senya picked up the remote and shut off the melodramatic scene of a girl chasing a taxi at seventy miles an hour. He gathered the trash into the bin. "It's late. Arguing won't solve anything. Go to bed. If there's still a problem, handle it in the morning. Toka, you too. Staying up late is the worst thing for your skin."
He reached over to free Rokka, but Toka shot him a cold look.
"This is exactly why she doesn't take things seriously. Back when Mom was busy working, she never dared to behave like this under my watch."
Senya raised his hands. "Whoa, why am I the bad guy here?"
"You always cover for her."
"Not always. I just scolded her, didn't I?"
"That was barely a scolding. A mosquito bite hurts more than your words."
"She's still a kid."
"No excuses tonight. If she doesn't rewrite her sloppy homework properly, she'll never learn. Go to our room and erase it for me."
Rokka's eyes widened in horror. "Not that! Please, anything but rewriting!! School starts in a few days!"
"Exactly. You'll thank me when you can actually focus on your studies."
"You're not my sister—you're a demon!!"
Senya chuckled, but when Toka glared at him, he straightened up. "C'mon, just this once, let her off. Next time, I'll handle it myself."
He looked serious now, calm and steady. Toka hesitated.
Senya seized the chance. "Rokka, apologize."
"I'm sorry, sis! I won't do it again!"
Toka loosened her grip, and Senya pulled her up by the wrist, giving her a way out.
"Next time this happens—"
"There won't be a next time!!" Rokka blurted.
Senya waved his hand. "Bed. Now."
And just like that, Rokka bolted for her room.
Left alone, Toka crossed her arms, still cold, though her nightdress revealed pale shoulders and a delicate neck that Senya quickly forced himself not to stare at.
"You keep spoiling her. If she grows up spoiled and can't get married, you'll be stuck supporting her forever."
Senya pulled the curtains shut. "We're family. No matter what, if she's in trouble, I'll always help her. Same goes for you."
She said nothing, but in the darkened hallway as they headed back to their rooms, her voice softened.
"…Sorry for waking you. I lost my temper."
"Don't worry about it. Honestly, I sleep like a log. If you really feel bad, just cook something I like tomorrow."
"What do you want?"
"Tomato and egg soup."
"…That's it?"
"More than enough. Besides, it'll punish Rokka too."
Realizing what he meant, Toka laughed softly. "Old style, with the eggs fried first?"
"Yeah."
"…Got it. Good night, Senya."
"Night."
And for once, he really did have a good dream—though it didn't last.
Parting Ways
On August 28th, Yukinoshita Yukino once again boarded a plane to England.
Her overseas studies would keep her away for another two and a half years.
No wonder her mother had been so determined. For the Yukinoshita family's future, this kind of elite international education was essential.
She would only return after completing junior high abroad.
This time, she refused to let anyone, not even Senya or Eriri, see her off at the airport.
"Making a scene would just exaggerate the sadness of goodbye," she'd said with a smile.
Before leaving, only the three of them—Yukino, Eriri, and Senya—shared one last quiet meal together.
Afterward, she pulled Eriri aside, whispering long and earnest words that only two close girls could share.
Then she waved goodbye, climbed into her family's luxury car, and was gone.
Eriri didn't cry as she had the first time.
But her eyes turned red, tears welling up as she lowered her head in silence.
To Senya, she looked like an abandoned puppy.
So he stepped closer, gently wiping her tears, and smiled. "Come on. Stay over at my place tonight. One last all-nighter before school starts. This time, we will conquer stage two of the Kitchen Chaos Challenge."
Eriri burst out laughing through her tears and nodded hard.
Back to School
September 1st—first day of school.
Unlike Rokka and Eriri, who wore faces of pure suffering at the thought of placement exams, Minamoto Senya felt nothing special.
Just as always.
Even without trying too hard, just flipping through the textbooks the night before was enough for him to easily hold first place in the year.
The teachers didn't bother him, worried that intervening might disrupt his steady excellence.
So they turned a blind eye, letting him spend class time napping by the window, reading novels, practicing calligraphy, holding stances to train his core, or even fiddling with sleight-of-hand magic tricks.
During the short breaks between classes, Minamoto Senya usually spent his time joking around with Haruhara Youhei.
At lunch, he would—as usual—drop by the kendo club. Occasionally, Rikka Eriri tagged along too.
The only real change in his routine was on the weekends.
Kasumigaoka Utaha always managed to find a reason to visit the Minamoto household.
One weekend, she claimed her relatives had sent some local specialties and insisted on sharing them.The next, she showed up with a stack of fashion magazines, saying she wanted Toka—whose sense of style was impeccable—to help her choose outfits.
Of course, while praising Toka, she casually lingered long enough to freeload a meal at the Minamoto house.Just like that, another weekend slipped by.
But it was clear her intentions weren't exactly innocent.
Not that she had much choice. Unlike Eriri, Utaha didn't attend the same school as Senya. They couldn't see each other daily, so weekends were her only chance to recharge on her much-needed "Senya energy."
One thing did catch Senya off guard, though.
The first time he saw Utaha after the fireworks festival, she was different from the previous two visits.
She had put on black stockings.
On reflection, though, Senya realized that this was closer to the Utaha he pictured in his mind.
Her legs had always been striking—shapely thighs, full but not heavy; calves straight and elegant, with barely a hint of muscle; and a naturally high waistline that made her legs look even longer than they already were. By any measure, they bordered on perfection. If she had debuted as a leg model on the spot, no one would have questioned it.
Now, wrapped in sleek black stockings, those already flawless legs carried a new allure.
It was a simple equation of one plus one equaling far more than two.
Senya was a man. He tried to restrain himself, but instincts were instincts.
There's an old Arabic proverb: "A beauty in black silk is like the morning sun—she brings life and energy."Maybe the wording wasn't exact, but the meaning was clear enough.
So, without really meaning to, his eyes lingered on her more than once.
That small detail was all Utaha needed.
She was overjoyed, her heart swelling, her earlier suspicions confirmed.
As expected of me!
She silently praised herself and decided that from now on, black stockings would be a permanent part of her arsenal.
Back home, she would stockpile designer pairs in bulk.
And so, peaceful, steady days flowed on.
Before they knew it, the new term had already been in session for two weeks. September was halfway through.
It was around this time that Minamoto Sanada and Takanashi Junko finally returned from their little "honeymoon trip," which they'd embarked on more or less on a whim.
They came back bearing gifts for their three children, filling the household with warmth and cheer.
That evening, while Rikka was soaking in the bath, the couple sat down with their eldest daughter and son to talk about their time away.
There wasn't much to say, really.
Back in late June, Sanada had been hospitalized, his leg in a cast. Most of his days were spent lying in bed, occasionally being wheeled outside by Junko for a bit of air.
The doctors had advised him to stay for further observation, even after recovery seemed assured. But Sanada had grown restless—staying in the hospital doing nothing but resting had left him ten pounds heavier.
If he didn't return to normal life soon, he was doomed to become a greasy, out-of-shape middle-aged man.
Sanada had been handsome for decades, and having recently remarried, he still cared about his image.
Once their own story was told, the couple asked about the household.
Hearing that everything had been running smoothly, they were relieved. Sanada even congratulated his son face-to-face for his kendo championship.
The very next day, both parents returned to their respective jobs.
At last, Toka could breathe a little easier. She set aside the burdens she had been carrying and focused entirely on preparing for the national rhythmic gymnastics competition.
Late September. A Saturday night.
It was past ten o'clock.
Junko, who had finished work early that day, returned home with Sanada.
For a Saturday, it wasn't especially late—no school tomorrow. Rikka was curled up in her room, happily absorbed in the game console she'd once won in a lottery.
Good thing I didn't sell it off… Zelda really is amazing!
Senya lounged sideways on the living room sofa, head resting on a cushion, every bit the picture of a lion dozing after a good meal.
Toka sat beside him, slowly peeling a mandarin orange. She popped a few slices into her own mouth before slipping one between her younger foster brother's lips.
On the TV, a manzai comedy act was playing, lighthearted and witty—something they both enjoyed.
"You're back," Toka greeted, turning when she heard the sound of the front door.
Senya pushed himself up a little, blinking in mild surprise. "Dad, you're home early today."
"…Mm."
Sanada nodded heavily, his gaze fixed squarely on his son. Without a word, he walked over and sank into the single-seater across from them.
But even after sitting down, his eyes never wavered, still locked on Senya.
Junko, who followed him in, perched on the armrest beside her husband. She leaned against him, her gaze on Senya just as steady—and just as strange.
Even Toka noticed how unusual their parents were being, let alone Senya, who was directly under their scrutiny.
Senya tilted his head, chuckled softly, and asked, "What's with you two?"
Junko exchanged a look with her husband. After he gave her a small nod, she finally spoke up.
"Senya… before I got off work today, a certain woman stopped by the store. Touma Youko-san."
She watched his face closely as she said it.
Senya blinked in surprise, clearly caught off guard. "Really? She went to support your shop, Mom?"
Junko gave a vague little laugh. "Support… well, something like that."
Sanada then cut in. "And earlier, at my workplace, I received a visit from your friend's father. He specifically came to see me, and we talked for quite a while."
"My friend's father…?" Senya frowned.
Sanada didn't leave him hanging. "He introduced himself as Busujima Dairyu—your friend Busujima Saeko's father."