"Senya, what's wrong?"
Rikka tilted her head in confusion. Her older stepbrother, who was supposed to be heading out, was instead standing in the hallway outside the living room, staring blankly at the television screen.
The short international news clip finished, and Minamoto Senya snapped back to reality. He shook his head without a word, then reminded Rikka to behave at home and not to anger Touka before stepping out the door.
But even after arriving at the March 7th Bar, his mind remained restless.
On the surface, he looked like he was helping his father—greeting customers, carrying plates of the experimental desserts and new side dishes he'd written on the chalkboard outside, delivering them with a polite smile.
But in truth, his thoughts were a mess. That piece of news he'd just glimpsed weighed heavily in his mind.
This world's history and trajectory overlapped with his original one, but only loosely. Some things were the same, others drastically different. Which meant he could never be certain about anything at first glance.
The new menu items he'd developed with Saeko Busujima had been well received tonight. Customers praised them endlessly, and even the quiet types who said nothing still left their plates clean.
It was proof that Senya's idea of refining the food menu had been the right one.
His father, Minamoto Sanada, though a little guilty that his young son had to shoulder part of the bar's work, was also quietly proud. Especially when chatty customers, upon learning the boy was his son, lavished Senya with compliments.
Normally, Senya would have brightened the atmosphere even more, keeping in line with his belief that "the customer is king." But tonight, with his mind troubled, he simply couldn't.
By seven o'clock, Junko Takanashi—rushing over straight from her shift at the cosmetics shop—immediately noticed that her son wasn't his usual self. She didn't know why, but she was concerned.
"Senya, go home first. Leave the rest to me," she said gently, taking over his work.
"It's still early," Senya shook his head. "You just finished work yourself, Mom. You should be the one resting."
Junko sighed. "Really now, you're way too mature for your age. Work is for adults, not little kids. Don't tell me you really plan to spend your youth slaving away under your dad as a part-time worker."
Before Senya could argue, she untied his apron and physically pushed him out from behind the bar.
"But what about the new dishes—"
"They're just trial runs, not officially on the menu. Don't worry. Bring the chalkboard back inside and call it a day. Go home, relax, play some games with Rikka if you want. You don't need to overdo it."
Her voice was soft, but firm, and Sanada echoed her words in agreement.
And Senya… well, he had something else more pressing on his mind tonight anyway. He didn't resist further.
On his way home, his steps quickened.
When he entered, the TV was off and Rikka had vanished into her room. Instead, Touka was in the living room, practicing rhythmic gymnastics with her ribbon. Even in the cramped space, her movements were mesmerizing—circles, spirals, elegant spins. Beautiful, but constrained; she couldn't go full out for fear of knocking into furniture.
Watching her, Senya understood his father's wish to move into a larger place.
"You're back." Touka had noticed him the moment he entered, though she didn't stop until now.
"Yeah," Senya nodded. "Your form looks sharper than before. More refined."
Touka smiled lazily as she coiled up the ribbon. "What did you think, all my training was pointless?"
They restored the living room together, then sat down. Touka poured him milk, which he declined in favor of warm water.
"You came back early today," she remarked.
"Mom insisted."
"You've been running straight to the bar after school lately. A break will do you good."
Senya shrugged.
After downing her milk with a satisfied sigh, Touka offered, "I'll run you a bath."
"I've got something to do first," Senya said. "Use the computer. You and Rikka can go ahead."
"Wow. You skipping your bath first thing? That's rare."
Ignoring her teasing, he rinsed her glass for her. "Go on. Don't catch a chill after sweating like that."
As he leaned close, Touka sniffed faintly. "Did you eat garlic?"
Senya blinked. "Yeah, I added some fried garlic to the Mexican empanadas Dad and I tried earlier. We each had one. Smell that strong?"
"Only if you're close."
She left for the bath. Rikka's voice echoed faintly, saying Touka could go first.
Senya retreated to his room, shut the door, and exhaled into his palm. Barely noticeable. He pushed it aside and opened his computer.
The internet here wasn't censored like his old world. Typing in the keywords from that afternoon's news, he quickly found what he wanted.
His English LV5 skill—earned from Yukino—shone here. He could read foreign news and reports effortlessly, bypassing the mental translation step entirely.
Bless the Study System!
Scrolling fast, he pieced together the situation in Chicago: over a hundred people at local clinics already showed fever, coughing, fatigue. Some children and elderly had severe breathing problems, requiring ventilators.
Doctors insisted it was no different from seasonal flu, fully "controllable."
The government didn't care. Neither did the public. Social media barely mentioned it.
But Senya's frown deepened.
It was the same as before—the start of the global pandemic he remembered. First ignored, dismissed as nothing. By the time people woke up, it would already be out of control.
Arrogance destroyed humanity, not ignorance. Titanic. Financial crises. Nuclear meltdowns. History proved it again and again.
Senya expanded his search. Canada, Mexico—similar symptoms. Even reports in Ireland and Spain.
Bad news. Very bad news.
Especially because Yukino was studying abroad in London, only a short distance from Dublin.
Heart pounding, Senya immediately dialed her. Two rings. She declined. Right—afternoon classes.
Just then, Touka—fresh from the bath—called him to take his turn. Senya nodded, grabbed his phone and clothes, and headed in.
The bathroom still carried her scent. He showered quickly, then sank into the still-warm bathwater. Normally, sharing bath rotations with Touka left his thoughts wandering somewhere dangerous… but tonight, his mind was filled with worry for Yukino.
Ten minutes later, his phone lit up. Yukino called back.
"You calling me? That's unusual. What happened?" Her voice wasn't playful, but softer than usual.
Senya didn't waste time. "Listen. A new flu strain is spreading abroad. Wear masks—real ones, N95, not those thin dust masks. Avoid crowds, avoid anyone coughing. When you get home, disinfect your clothes and bag with alcohol before entering your room. Gargle, wash your hands. Every time. Don't take chances."
Yukino blinked in surprise, standing in her school garden, cold November wind nipping her. Yet her chest felt strangely warm.
"You called me just to say all this?" she asked quietly.
"'Just'? Don't underestimate this!" Senya's tone was sharp. "If you catch it early, it could damage your senses permanently—or worse. You and Eriri both have weak constitutions. You're abroad, alone. Please… take care of yourself."
For once, Yukino was shaken. His seriousness reached her. "…I understand. I promise."
"Go buy masks and disinfectant after school. Vitamins too—boost your immunity."
"…Alright." She smiled faintly, unseen on the other end. The gloomy sky broke, sunlight streaming down like her mood.
"Not just you," she added softly. "Take care of yourself, too."
"I will. I'll warn Eriri as well. Oh, and Yukino…"
"Yes?"
"Wouldn't it be safer if you told your mother about this and came back early? Maybe study in Japan instead?"
"…I'm already returning mid-December," she admitted quietly.
Senya let it be. They exchanged a few more words before hanging up.
Later, Yukino searched online but found little about the flu. Still, she'd promised—and she wouldn't break it. After school, she'd go to the pharmacy.
Her fingers brushed the silver panda pendant at her neck—the one Senya had given her. Soon, they'd see each other again.
She smiled.
Senya knew he couldn't save the world. But he could protect those close to him.
The next day, he bought masks and sanitizer for his family, excusing it as precaution for Touka's upcoming competition. His parents and sisters went along. He warned Saeko, Eriri, Utaha, even his classmate Haruhara Yohei.
The girls, honestly, were less concerned about the flu than about Senya's sudden, earnest care for their well-being. Their affection for him ticked even higher.
Soon after, their school held health check-ups. Senya finished early and shared lunch outside with Haruhara, citing fresh air as prevention.
When invited over later, Senya declined—he was dining with Eriri's family.
That evening, he and Rikka walked to the Sawamura household, masks on, drawing stares. But Eriri's mother, Sayuri, welcomed them warmly, showering them with food and affection, like part of the family.
Her husband, Spencer, joined too, chatting stocks with Senya. Confidently, he spoke of airlines, hotels, oil companies—the very industries Senya knew would collapse if the flu spread. Senya cautiously hinted that tech and home-entertainment companies might fare better in the near future. Spencer seemed intrigued.
Dinner was a lavish British spread—fish and chips, bacon and eggs, seafood platters, hearty soups. Sayuri fussed over Senya and Rikka, peeling shrimp and cracking crab for them. Warmth filled the room, laughter bouncing off the walls.
By the time they left, Sayuri sent them home with bags of food for Touka and their parents, refusing to let them take the train.
Eriri, watching, could only sigh: her mother was unstoppable.
December arrived. Touka competed in the Tokyo qualifiers for national rhythmic gymnastics. Though strong, she faced child prodigies groomed from age seven. Her results were good enough to advance to nationals, but not enough to satisfy her.
She pushed herself harder, late nights training, Senya faithfully walking her home after practice.
At nationals, her performance was excellent—but others were stronger. She came home with only second place in clubs and a "Best Newcomer" award.
Despite her family's and Rikka's cheers, her disappointment was plain. That night, she left for a walk alone, and Senya quietly followed from a distance.
…