"I don't get it. Your father and I both graduated from top universities, so logically you should've inherited our intelligence. How did it all backfire and skip you entirely…?"
Mrs. Sawamura grumbled as she drove, muttering under her breath.
In the passenger seat, Sawamura Eriri pouted, turning to the window with an unhappy face. She couldn't find a retort.
Twenty minutes later, the car pulled over to the side of the road, hazard lights flashing.
Mrs. Sawamura removed her sunglasses and looked across the street at a sign: March Seventh Bar.
On either side of the entrance stood two large wreaths of white flowers.
Yes—white wreaths.
Japan wasn't like that big eastern country. Here, when someone opened a new business, people didn't send flower baskets. They sent wreaths instead.
White symbolized purity and cleanliness. In Japanese culture, it was a positive, auspicious color.
Just like how brides wore shiromuku—the pure white wedding kimono—when they married.
"Alright, get out. Don't forget the orchids I picked up from the florist earlier. When you hand them to your Uncle Minamoto, be sweet about it. Say something nice. Don't just stand there like you did at New Year's, mouth zipped shut like you'd swallowed the key."
Mrs. Sawamura was always attentive to detail. In Japan, orchids were a common congratulatory gift for openings.
After all, orchids symbolized happiness and good fortune, wishing prosperity for the new shop.
"I knooow!" Eriri whined.
Her mom had been nagging her the whole drive over something this small.
Sure, her English grades were a little bad, but she wasn't stupid!
She pulled the orchid pot from the trunk and leaned against the driver's side window. "We came all this way. Mom, are you sure you're not coming in with me?"
Mrs. Sawamura brushed a strand of hair behind her daughter's ear. "I know what you're thinking. I'll visit Senya's father's bar eventually, but not today. Once his shop finds its footing, I'll come with your dad and our friends, maybe even open a membership tab. That way, you'll have a bit more standing in front of little Senya."
"I-I wasn't thinking that!" Eriri blushed. Her mother had nailed her unspoken thoughts, and she wanted to protest—but realized there was no need. She nodded instead, pretending she understood.
"Stay as late as you want tonight. I'll have your dad pick you up… unless you've got other plans? Our guest room has been empty for ages, you know."
"Mom, what are you even talking about?" Eriri asked, bewildered. She didn't catch her mother's teasing smile.
"Well… you're in middle school now. You should've picked up on things already. When I was your age, I understood everything. That boy is so exceptional… if you don't act soon, what will you do? Anyway, call when you're ready to come home!"
Not wanting to explain further, Mrs. Sawamura pressed the accelerator and drove off, leaving Eriri standing on the sidewalk, confused.
"…Huh?"
She tilted her head, lost, but she wasn't the type to overthink things. Her mother's cryptic words fluttered out of her mind within seconds.
Clutching the orchids, she skipped across the street, secretly delighted.
She might have acted annoyed in the car, but she was grateful. Her mother hadn't forced her to study today and had even prepared the orchids for her.
After all, when her friend Rikka had first mentioned that Uncle Minamoto was opening a bar, Eriri hadn't thought about bringing a gift at all. She'd just been swept up in Rikka's excitement.
Maybe… just to keep Mom happy, she'd force herself to study English for a bit when she got home. Maybe even aim for… thirty points next time? No, forty!
With that optimistic thought, she pushed open the door of the bar.
"Excuse me for intruding…"
Her voice faltered.
Blue eyes met crimson ones across the room.
Eriri and Kasumigaoka Utaha froze at the same time.
It was Utaha who recovered first, smiling as she rose from her seat at the bar.
"Well, if it isn't Sawamura-san. Long time no see."
Why is she here?!
Eriri cursed silently but didn't show it on her face.
As the saying went, you couldn't slap a smiling face. Even though she didn't like Utaha much, she couldn't glare at her when Utaha was being polite.
Their relationship wasn't nearly bad enough to warrant open hostility.
"Yeah… long time no see, Kasumigaoka-san. When did you get here?"
"Not long ago."
"I see…" Eriri glanced around, trying to change the subject. "Where's everyone else?"
"Uncle Minamoto went to the store. Senya's handing out discount flyers to the neighboring shops. Toka and Rikka are in the back, signing off on deliveries."
As Utaha finished speaking, Rikka and Toka entered through the rear door, struggling to carry a heavy box of liquor between them.
Seeing this, Eriri quickly set down the orchids and hurried over to help.
Utaha moved to assist too, but Toka shook her head firmly. "Utaha, could you please stay at the bar? Our phones are there, and there's money in the register. Just keep an eye on things for us."
Tokyo had grown dangerous lately. Petty theft, street robberies, even arson—crime rates had been climbing unnervingly.
Better to be cautious.
With Toka's clear instructions, Utaha nodded obediently and returned to her seat.
Meanwhile, the others lugged the box to the storage room. Clearly, more shipments awaited outside.
Left alone, Utaha noticed the orchids Eriri had dropped carelessly on the bar. The stems were already bent.
Sighing softly, she picked them up, gently straightening the petals. Spotting an empty vase behind the counter, she filled it with water and arranged the orchids at the entrance where they'd catch every guest's eye.
Just then, Minamoto Sanada—Senya's father—returned, arms full of fresh fruit. He paused, spotting Utaha arranging the flowers.
As a bartender used to chatting with customers, he knew a little about everything—including the meaning of orchids. Seeing her thoughtful gesture raised his opinion of her considerably.
"Thank you, Utaha-chan. You even brought flowers! They're beautiful."
Utaha blinked, realizing his misunderstanding.
She had no fondness for airheaded Eriri, but she wasn't the type to steal credit either. She quickly waved her hands. "Ah, no, Uncle Minamoto—these orchids are from Sawamura-san, not me—"
Before she could finish, the door swung open. A man with an armband and a clipboard walked in.
"Good evening. We're with the local Fire Safety Committee. We're here to inspect your equipment."
"Of course, right this way," Sanada said immediately, setting down his fruit and leading the inspectors inside.
Her explanation cut short, Utaha could only sigh, glancing at the orchids again with a helpless smile.
Just then, Senya returned, finished with the flyers.
"Senya-kun, you're back. Thank you for your hard work," Utaha greeted brightly.
Senya shook his head modestly. "I should be thanking you for watching the shop. You've helped a lot."
Their interactions had grown smoother lately. Utaha's persistence was paying off, the distance between them shrinking little by little.
"It's nothing compared to what you've done for me," she replied, stepping out from behind the counter and handing him a tissue. The humid air clung heavily, a storm brewing.
Senya wiped his forehead, glancing—without meaning to—at her legs.
Utaha really did love stockings. Even in this heat, she was in black tights and leather shoes, her school uniform unchanged. Probably hadn't even gone home before coming here.
She noticed his gaze but misunderstood it as admiration, her cheeks flushing as she subtly shifted to show her legs at a better angle.
"Oh, right—those orchids were from Sawamura-san. But your dad thinks I brought them. You should clear that up later."
"…Got it," Senya replied.
Before they could continue, Toka waved Senya over to help with the heavy lifting. Despite his slim frame, his muscles were defined and practical, strong enough that even when Rikka sat on his back during push-ups, he hadn't broken a sweat.
It would've been a waste to let him sit idle while others struggled.
When the deliveries were finally finished, everyone gathered to relax.
Since the girls were underage, Sanada made them mocktails and coffee, crafting each to their tastes.
Utaha, unsurprisingly, charmed him with her eloquence, her flattery so elegant it didn't even sound like flattery. His grin stretched wider and wider, until he promised to treat her parents to drinks on the house someday.
Utaha beamed.
She'd once thought of herself as awkward and gloomy, but clearly, she just hadn't met the right people. Maybe she did have a talent for conversation after all.
Around six in the evening, Busujima Saeko arrived.
The moment she saw Sanada, she bowed in apology.
Her father had caused a scene at his workplace weeks earlier. Though she had already apologized to Senya in private, facing Sanada himself made her uneasy.
"…It's alright, Saeko-chan," Sanada said warmly. "Honestly, I enjoyed talking with your father. Don't worry about it. Sit down. What would you like to drink?"
He waved off her concerns, but in his heart, he understood perfectly.
Utaha flattering him. Saeko apologizing.
It wasn't him they were really after.
It was his son.
Sanada hid a sigh. His boy was trouble—in the way girls flocked to him.
First Yukinoshita and Eriri when he was little, now Saeko and Utaha in middle school… both brilliant, beautiful girls, already blooming.
And the kid was only in his first year.
What would happen in high school? In university?
He didn't even want to imagine.
Hopefully, this was just good fortune—not a disaster in the making.