When Minamoto Senya thought about it carefully, he realized that moments like this—being alone with a girl who needed looking after—were few and far between in his life.
The times he'd spent with Yukinoshita Yukino when they were children didn't count. She had never managed to blend in with kids her own age, so he had often ended up keeping her company. But most of their interactions were in public places, and Yukino had always been strong-willed and independent. She had never needed much care from him.
The same could be said of Busujima Saeko. Even now, he still visited her house from time to time, but their time together was usually spent sparring in kendo. When practice ended, it was usually Senya who wound up being cared for—borrowing her bathroom, eating meals she prepared.
The only situation remotely similar to tonight had probably been with Tokka.
Not long after Aunt Junko had moved in with the Takanashi sisters, Senya had occasionally stumbled upon Tokka suffering from cramps during her period. Just like now, he had bustled about, bringing her water and a hot water bottle.
He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but looking back, perhaps it was then that Tokka had truly accepted him in her heart, treating him as family, growing genuinely close to him.
After that, she had found it easier to ask him for help with things she might once have been embarrassed to say out loud—like pressing down on her legs or back while she stretched on a yoga mat—ordering him around without a hint of hesitation.
And now…
Senya sat on the sofa in the Tōma family's living room, sampling the Japanese sweets Aunt Yōko had asked him to buy and bring over. Each bite drew a surprised expression and an approving nod from him.
Expensive as they were, the price was justified. The handmade sweets were soft and chewy without being overly sweet or cloying, leaving a faint fruity fragrance in his mouth after swallowing. They were delicious, no question about it.
Beside him, Tōma Kazusa sat watching him with undisguised hostility.
"What can I say? The doctor told you no solid food for a while, only porridge at best. And when I bought these, the shop clerk warned me they should be eaten the same day—otherwise the flavor and texture would suffer."
Senya picked up another sweet. The wooden nine-section tray, once neatly arranged with nine different confections, now had only three left.
He really had been hungry. By now it was nearly half past six, and lunch was long since digested.
"Don't worry. I'll still leave you the cream cake. You can eat that tomorrow when you're feeling better."
He guessed that, after spending time with him, Kazusa had become somewhat used to his presence. Her expression had softened, gradually returning to the lively demeanor she usually wore when her mother was around.
That was good. When she kept her face stiff and expressionless, not only did she look uncomfortable herself, but it made the hours Senya had to spend with her today feel unbearably awkward.
"So what are you even doing here today?" Kazusa asked, eyeing the sweets from her favorite shop as he popped them into his mouth one after another.
She wasn't craving them herself—but she couldn't shake the feeling that Senya was deliberately sitting close to her, savoring each bite in exaggerated fashion, showing off to contrast with her own inability to eat.
In short: pure mischief.
"Did you already forget what just happened? I'm here to save you," Senya said.
At once, the little strength in her glare fizzled away.
Yes—she was willful. Yes, she sometimes lost control of her temper. Her thinking could be childish at times. Otherwise, she wouldn't have thrown a fit after her mother called to cancel, storming around her room tossing clothes from the closet, then stomping barefoot on the cushions in the living room.
Finally, sulking in despair—Even my mom doesn't care about me—she had dragged a tub of ice cream into the piano room and devoured it in a frenzy.
But even so, she wasn't unreasonable. She knew right from wrong.
And she couldn't deny that Senya had saved her.
When the stomach pain struck, she had thought for a moment she might die there, alone in the piano room.
First he had saved her mother. Now he had saved her.
How could she possibly stay defiant toward him?
Senya, unaware of the muddle of thoughts running through Kazusa's head, decided not to let the silence drag on. He spoke up again.
"You can't keep treating your body like that. Aunt Yōko couldn't make it back—that's not her fault. Life is full of unexpected circumstances. You need to get used to that and keep a level head."
Kazusa frowned at the lecturing tone, muttering under her breath, "You don't understand…"
"You're right. Everyone's circumstances are different. Unless two people are extremely close, it's hard to really know what the other is thinking. But I'd say, in a way, you and I fall into the same category. People like us can still understand each other, even if we're not that familiar."
"The same category…? Us?"
"Yeah. You grew up with just your mom. I grew up with just my dad. We're both kids from single-parent families, raised in that kind of environment. Doesn't that make us similar?"
Kazusa hesitated, then shook her head. "Our situations aren't the same."
"Oh? For example?"
"For example, did your dad ever dump you at home with a babysitter so he could run off overseas to study?"
"…No, I guess not."
"And when you compete, is the only one cheering for you in the audience your mom's secretary?"
"What about Aunt Yōko?"
"She's usually working. Too busy even to call. Until recently, at least during Christmas and New Year's, she would take time off and come home.
But this year she went too far. She never mentioned it beforehand—just suddenly announced she'd be stuck overseas working and couldn't return.
She only just had surgery. The doctor told her to rest and recover properly. But she wouldn't listen. Even with all the money we have, she insists on working. I can't understand what she's thinking at all…"
Without realizing it, Kazusa had poured out all the frustrations she'd bottled up toward her mother, drawn out by Senya's gentle prodding.
Until today, she had never said so much to anyone besides her mom.
The doctor earlier had eased her physical pain. Now, speaking with Senya lifted the weight on her heart.
Her complaints spilled out one after another—until she noticed him picking up the tray with the last sweet, holding it toward her with a smile as warm as morning sunlight.
His smile was… disarming.
For Kazusa, meeting it head-on felt like staring into a clear blue sky, spring rain sliding down green leaves, the freshness of a forest breeze.
It was strangely comforting. Strangely captivating.
It was as if he had cast some kind of enchantment.
All the words she had wanted to say stuck in her throat.
"The last one's for you," Senya said simply, offering the sweet closer.
"B-but… I'm not supposed to eat yet."
"It's just one bite. It won't hurt."
"…!"
Meeting his gaze at such close range, she thought she could see her own blushing reflection in his deep, clear eyes.
The air between them shifted.
Kazusa reached out, took the sweet, and nibbled it. It tasted sweet—sweeter than she'd imagined.
Maybe… he wasn't teasing her after all.
Maybe… he really was just being kind.
"…Eat it slowly. It's about time—I'll make you some porridge."
With that, Senya stood and moved to the kitchen.
The Tōma family was wealthy; their kitchen was spacious, with several varieties of rice neatly stored.
He turned back to ask, "Which kind of rice do you want for your porridge?"
Kazusa had finished the sweet. Now she sat quietly, head bowed, wiping her fingers with a tissue. The simple act of restraint made Senya oddly pleased.
But when she caught his approving glance, she misread it, feeling suddenly flustered.
"…Whatever."
Her brief spell of chatter ended. She was back to her usual aloof, cool pianist self.
Still, Senya much preferred the talkative version of her—the one brimming with life.
"I'll use millet, then. It's good for the stomach."
"Mm." After a pause, she added softly, "Thanks."
"No need. I promised Aunt Yōko I'd look after you tonight. This is nothing."
Senya moved smoothly, rinsing the rice with practiced care.
The living room was a little distance away, so their voices didn't need to carry loudly as before.
Kazusa disliked raising her voice—it wasn't in her nature. She also disliked sitting on the sofa while he busied himself in the kitchen, watching from afar.
So she pulled the blanket around her shoulders, clutching her hot water bottle, and padded over to the bar counter just outside the kitchen, sitting down much as she had the last time he visited.
Only this time, her mother wasn't here. It was just the two of them.
Still, it was closer. Sitting at the bar felt like being part of the kitchen itself.
Every performance needed an audience—whether piano or kendo. If Senya was cooking, then she could at least serve as the audience.
That counted as participating, didn't it?
Kazusa smirked proudly at her own genius logic.
Even with his back turned, Senya knew she had moved closer, and in his mind's eye he could picture the faint smile lighting her face.
All it took was one little sweet to cheer her up—just like Rokka. Easier to please than expected.
And when she smiled… she was beautiful.
But the moment he turned and caught a glimpse, her smile vanished.
"By the way, what did you and Aunt Yōko usually do on Christmas Eve?" he asked casually while wiping down the pot.
Kazusa thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Nothing special. Just dinner at home, the two of us. Before she got sick, she loved to drink. She'd come home and get drunk, calling it 'relaxation.' More than once, she passed out, and I had to drag her to bed."
"You really had it rough."
"…But there were good times too."
"Oh?"
"Two years ago, she'd just won a major international award. She was in such high spirits she actually took me out—dinner at the Sky Deck restaurant atop Tokyo Tower. From our seats we could see the light show outside.
Afterward, we walked around Shiodome, looking out over Tokyo Bay. The buildings glittered in the night, it was beautiful. We bought candied apples from a street stall. The sugar was sweet, but the apples were sour—we both gave up halfway.
On the way back, we passed an izakaya with a piano out front. Mom played a bit, got recognized, and was mobbed for autographs until the police had to intervene.
Funniest part? The officer who escorted us turned out to be a fan too. At the station, he even asked her for a photo."
As Kazusa spoke, her memories softened her expression, her usual sharp eyes turning gentle.
Senya had already placed the pot on the stove, but he didn't light it yet, listening to her voice.
Flu season wasn't too bad in Tokyo yet. A few cases. As long as they wore masks, it should be fine…
After weighing the pros and cons, he asked, "Kazusa, how do you feel now?"
"That sweet didn't hurt. My stomach's fine."
"And you can walk without trouble?"
She thought back to crossing the room earlier and nodded. Then she caught the implication behind his words.
"You… you mean—"
"Yeah. If you're feeling okay, why don't we go out? Just like you described—dinner, walking around. It's not even seven yet. We've got time."
Just then, his phone buzzed.
Tōma Yōko: Please take Kazusa out for a walk tonight!
…What?!
Both Kazusa and Senya froze.
Not a coincidence. No way.
Senya's eyes darted to the chandelier above the living room. Sure enough—hidden among the crystals was a camera.
Seriously… spying on her daughter from across the ocean?
Then again, stuck in a hotel room with nothing to do… fair enough.
Kazusa hadn't noticed his reaction. She only felt her heart pounding. "B-but… you…"
She faltered before finally whispering, "…Why did you suddenly say that?"
"When you talked about that memory, you looked so happy. I thought… maybe we could recreate it, even just a little. Of course, only if you really feel up to it."
"…Why?"
"Hmm?"
"Why are you so nice to me?" she blurted.
Senya chuckled. "Would you rather I be mean to you? Scold you? Treat you coldly?"
"That's not what I mean… I just… People don't do nice things for strangers for no reason."
"This is already our second time meeting. We've been talking for hours. We're hardly strangers."
"Then… what are we?"
Her voice dwindled to a whisper, courage fading.
Senya met her shy, uncertain eyes and smiled. "Friends. At least, that's what I think."
"Friends…? We're friends already?"
"Why not?" he shrugged. "Besides, I want to see that view from Tokyo Tower you mentioned. So hurry up and change—it's already seven."
"I—I'll be quick!" Kazusa leapt from her seat. The blanket slipped off, her bare feet thumping across the floor as she ran upstairs.
Pianists were supposed to protect their hands… but their feet mattered too. Next time, he'd remind her not to run around barefoot.
Her excitement was infectious. Senya found himself smiling too, finally feeling the lightness a holiday evening should have.
He picked up the blanket she'd left behind, still warm with her presence, and set it back on the sofa.
Meanwhile, messages from Aunt Yōko poured in.
[I've booked a restaurant for you at Tokyo Tower. Don't worry about the cost—someone will call you to meet up.]
[That girl hasn't talked to me like this in ages. I'm glad she's so happy. Enjoy yourselves tonight.]
[Oh, and I wasn't really spying! I was just worried since she wasn't feeling well. You understand, right? A mother's concern…]
[By the way, Senya, your family doesn't have a car yet, right? Ask your dad what brand he prefers…]
[Does your sister like limited-edition handbags…?]
[And for the record, I never drank that much. I just pretended so Kazusa would fuss over me—she looks so cute when she thinks she's taking care of me.]
…Aunt Yōko, mischievous as always.
And her fingers were as fast as ever—a true world-class pianist.
She'd typed out a full screen of messages in under a minute, without a single typo.
Senya unwrapped a stick of gum, popped it in his mouth, and sighed.
Minato Ward, Tokyo.
In a VIP room of an upscale kimono tailor.
Yukinoshita Yukino gazed out through the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring at Tokyo Tower in the distance, lost in thought.
Her sister's voice broke her reverie. "Wow. The streets are as lively as ever on Christmas Eve."
Yukino accepted the cup of tea her sister offered with a quiet word of thanks.
Beside her, Yukinoshita Haruno smiled. "Something on your mind? You look like you do."
"Not really. Just thinking."
"Which is the same thing."
"…," Yukino sipped her tea, unwilling to argue.
"You're not spending the evening with your friends this year."
"Mother arranged for us to come here to have kimonos tailored."
"Something like this could've been done another day, if you'd had plans."
"…," Yukino remained silent.
"So the real reason is that everyone else was busy?"
Yukino nodded. "Eri went with her parents to a party."
Haruno leaned closer, teasing. "You know that's not the name I wanted to hear. What about little Senya? Busy too?"
Yukino stood and moved to the window, turning her back on her sister. She shook her head slightly.
She wasn't about to answer. Not with Haruno. She had been teased too many times as a child to fall for it now.
"Oh, Yukino. When you were little, you used to cling to my clothes, crying 'Don't go, sis!' And now you're so cold to me. It hurts, you know."
"If you understand, then maybe you should reflect on why I've grown cold to you."
"Because the deeper the love, the scarier it is to get too close?"
"…I didn't realize you had a talent for comedy, sister. You should consider stand-up."
"What are you two talking about?"
Their mother had returned to the room after chatting with a friend outside.
Haruno shook her head, smiling. "Yukino was just suggesting I consider a career in show business. I think she might be right."
"Don't be silly." Mrs. Yukinoshita tapped her elder daughter's forehead with one finger.
Ten minutes later, the staff came in to take measurements. First their mother, then Haruno, and finally Yukino.
When it was Yukino's turn, her mother leaned in as the tape was wrapped around her chest.
"Mother…" Yukino's face flushed.
With others present, Mrs. Yukinoshita said nothing. But once the staff left, she spoke quietly. "Yukino, have you been eating properly abroad?"
Haruno, sharp as ever, caught on instantly. "Oh