"Thank you… today was really nice."
It was past eleven at night. Standing at the gate of her own home, Tōma Kazusa fumbled with her words as she bowed slightly toward Minamoto Senya.
Senya shook his head lightly, not making a big deal out of it. "Go in and rest early. You have my number—call me if anything comes up. It's late, so I won't intrude."
Intrude… it wouldn't have mattered even if he did.
Kazusa simply nodded in silence.
Senya waited until she stepped inside, watching the warm glow of the lights flicker on through her window. Only then did he turn away and head back to his car.
After returning to her room, Kazusa went straight to the kitchen and took out a deep ceramic bowl. She filled it with tap water, set the bouquet from dinner inside, and placed it carefully on the coffee table in the living room.
She stared at it for a long moment, then allowed herself a small, quiet smile.
Next, she carried the stuffed capybara plush that Senya had insisted she take, setting it neatly on her bedside table—right beside the older stuffed animals her mother had given her.
She paused, reconsidered, and rearranged them so that the new capybara sat squarely in the center, claiming the prime spot.
Yes. That looked much better.
Looking closer, she realized this little capybara really was cuter than the bears and rabbits.
Admiring her handiwork, she was just about to snap a photo of her "family of plushies" when the doorbell rang.
Kazusa froze. On the monitor by the entryway, the face she had just said goodbye to reappeared.
Her breath caught. Without thinking, she hurried to open the door.
"Sorry to bother you again," Senya said sheepishly, "but I realized I left something unfinished."
Senya didn't know the details of every pianist's life, but he did know this much: in the Tōma household, both mother and daughter had expensive insurance policies taken out on their hands. Their hands were their livelihood, the most important tools of their trade.
Because of that, Kazusa and her mother avoided anything that could risk burns or cuts—cooking, especially, was practically taboo.
On his way home, Senya remembered the rice he had already washed earlier, still sitting on the counter. Leaving it wasted seemed wrong. Asking Kazusa to cook it herself? Impossible.
And beyond that, he recalled how unwell she had looked earlier that evening, as well as the doctor's warnings.
So, he had turned his car around. Just a small thing, really.
Now, standing in her kitchen, he busied himself at the stove, adjusting the flame under the pot of porridge.
Kazusa stood behind him, watching his back, and felt something stir in her chest. That strange, inexplicable emotion that had come over her several times tonight rose up again—only now, it was sharper, stronger, undeniable.
"You came back just for this?" she asked quietly.
Senya glanced back. "If I didn't, would you have cooked porridge yourself?"
"…No."
If her mother or the housekeeper, Shibata-san, weren't around, she never even stepped into the kitchen. When hungry, she always just ordered delivery.
"Then see? Coming back was worth it."
Senya checked the refrigerator. Plenty of fruits and vegetables inside.
"Want me to make a couple of side dishes too?"
Kazusa shook her head quickly. "No."
She preferred her porridge sweet, with a spoonful of sugar stirred in. No need for side dishes.
That made things easier for him.
While waiting for the porridge, Senya didn't sit idle. He unwrapped the bouquet she had left in the bowl, trimmed the stems and leaves with scissors, and arranged them properly in a vase.
The result looked far better than her careless attempt.
When the porridge was done, he ladled it into bowls. Just then, his phone rang.
It was Tōka, asking when he'd be home. He answered briefly and hung up.
"Once the porridge cools, cover it with wrap and put it in the fridge. Tomorrow you can just reheat it in the microwave for two minutes."
He pulled out a pair of oven mitts, setting them on the counter with a tap. "Be careful when taking it out—don't burn your hands. Use these."
"Do you really need to spell that out? Don't treat me like an idiot!"
Kazusa's cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and irritation.
She wasn't helpless. Just because she didn't cook didn't mean she couldn't handle basic tasks. It felt like her intelligence was being insulted.
And yet, strangely… being fussed over like this made her feel a little happy too.
"You should head home. Your family's waiting," she said finally.
"Yeah. Just have the porridge in the morning then. And in the evening—"
"Shibata-san will be back by then."
"Good. Then I won't worry."
With all instructions given, Senya finally took his leave for real this time.
Once he was gone, Kazusa sat down, spoon in hand, and tried a taste of the porridge.
It was… sweet.
Even without sugar.
Meanwhile, in the backseat of his car, Senya blinked as a system message appeared before his eyes:
[Affinity requirement met. Tōma Kazusa is now eligible to be bound as a designated partner.]
"…Huh?"
No quest? No warning? Just like that?
The surprise reminded him of an old memory—playing GTA V online, cruising the streets of Los Angeles in his car, sipping a beer, when suddenly a hacker appeared. Instead of killing him, the guy showered him with free cash.
He'd gotten banned later, but in the moment, it had been an absurd, unexpected windfall.
Yukinoshita Yukino. Sawamura Eriri. Busujima Saeko. Kasumigaoka Utaha…
And now, Tōma Kazusa. The fifth.
Senya checked her stats and involuntarily leaned back, impressed despite himself.
[Name: Tōma Kazusa][Skills: Piano LV7, Guitar LV5, Saxophone LV4, Bass LV4, Drums LV3, Violin LV3…]
…If she wanted, she could practically be a one-woman band.
"I thought you weren't coming home tonight."
At the sound of the front door opening, Minamoto Tōka rose from the couch, walking to the entryway. She looked at Senya, who smiled as brightly as the sun itself, and for some reason her first words carried a faint note of reproach.
"Sorry, sorry. Things took longer than expected. I should've called ahead."
His words said apology, but his expression showed none of it.
Even so, her irritation softened noticeably.
She stepped forward, taking his coat, smoothing it, spritzing it with disinfectant spray, and hanging it neatly.
"Where's Rikka?"
"Do you see the time? I sent her to bed ages ago."
"I see… Oh, right. Here, this is for you."
Senya handed her the capybara plush.
Earlier that evening, Tōka and Rikka had watched a livestream where Senya was interviewed on the street. They'd seen the host hand him this plush at the end.
At the time, Tōka had thought it was ugly—definitely not cute.
But now, holding it in her hands, she found it oddly charming. Still ugly, yes… but in that so-ugly-it's-cute way.
Her eyes softened. "…Why give this to me?"
"It's actually for Rikka. She really wanted it earlier."
"…"
Tōka's smile froze. She tossed the plush back at him with a frown. "Then give it to her yourself."
She turned on her heel and left without another word.
She had even been planning to run his bathwater. Not anymore.
Senya stared at the plush in his hand, then at her retreating back.
He finally understood something—sometimes even sisters could get caught up in the complicated feeling of not-envying-what's-absent, but resenting what's unequal.
He had just spent hours keeping one lonely girl company outside, cheering her up… and yet when he returned home, somehow, he was in trouble again.
Like the weary salaryman coming home late to a pouting wife on Christmas Eve because only the kids had gotten presents.
An oddly familiar domestic déjà vu.
Shaking his head, he headed into the living room.
There sat Tōka, tidying up the couch cushions and gathering orange peels.
Beautiful, capable, domestic—she really was all of that.
And right now, still adorably sulking.
"What are you standing there for? Go take a bath and sleep."
Hands on her hips, she scolded him with all the authority of an older sister.
"…Father and Mother aren't back yet?"
"This time of year? You know how it is."
Lately, an influenza outbreak had been spreading through Japan. A foreign public figure had even passed away because of it.
Sensing trouble ahead, Minamoto Sanada had thrown himself even harder into managing his bar. Originally, his work started mid-afternoon. Now, he was out the door by noon, running the bar from day café to late-night pub.
Revenue had climbed, but so had the strain.
Fortunately, there was a small storage room in the bar where he could set up a folding bed.
That way, Takanashi Junko, after finishing her shift at the cosmetics store, could join her husband at the bar, help out until closing at three or four in the morning, then head home together.
Exhausting, yes. But they were both practical, grounded people. Entertainment could wait—providing for their three children came first.
That was adulthood: shouldering the weight of responsibility without complaint.
Senya sighed. "Don't go yet, I have something for you."
"…What?"
"Wait here."
Tōka watched him disappear into his room, muttering under her breath. What's with the secrecy…
When he returned, he carried a neatly wrapped gift box with a ribbon.
"I was planning to give this to you on Christmas Day itself, but it's past midnight now, so the timing works."
Her ears turned visibly red as she accepted it, heartbeat quickening.
"…Well? Open it."
She carefully untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. For a moment, she froze, then pulled out the item inside.
A black leather band with small buckled holes along its length.
An animal collar.
Her gaze lifted slowly, dark eyes narrowing with dangerous intent.
Senya chuckled, but when she reached toward his throat, he quickly surrendered. "Kidding, kidding! Look under the insert."
"…If it's another weird thing, you'll be doing your own laundry for a month."
"It won't be. Just check."
Reluctantly, she lifted the inner tray of the box.
There it was—the true gift.
A soft black choker, delicately made, with a small star-shaped pendant at its center.
Her crimson eyes flickered. She held it gently in her hands.
"When Mathilda was at her lowest, she found her sun. I hope you'll find your own starlight one day, too."
That night months ago, when she had been crushed by her disappointing gymnastics results, they had watched Léon: The Professional together.
She had called the heroine's necklace "beautiful."
And in that moment, Senya had decided on her Christmas gift.
Now, her lips trembled as she forced her face into calmness, though her heart surged with joy. "…Thank you."
"I wanted the exact replica, but couldn't find it. Still, I think this one looks just as nice."
"…Yes. It's beautiful."
Not a blazing sun for everyone to see—she preferred a quiet star, known only to her.
"Want me to put it on for you?"
She nodded softly.
He leaned close, brushing her neck as he fastened the clasp. She shivered at the touch.
"Sorry. My hands are cold."
"…It's fine."
When he stepped back, he smiled in satisfaction. "Perfect. As expected of me—it suits you."
And it did. The simple accessory transformed her neckline, emphasizing her femininity, radiating allure.
Suddenly flustered, she rose. "Wait here."
She disappeared into her room, returning with a pair of gray fingerless knit gloves.
"…These are for you."
"Oh? A return gift?"
"Did you think I'd accept yours for free?"
He laughed, slipping them on. They fit well… mostly.
"Strange. Why does the left glove feel tighter than the right?"
Her cheeks pinkened. "…I made them myself, in home economics. It's my first time knitting."
"You made these?"
"…If you don't like them, give them back."
"Like them? I love them."
He dodged her grab, clutching the gloves close. She stumbled, falling against his chest.
(They were not related by blood.)
"What are you two doing? It's noisy…"
Rikka shuffled out in her pajamas and pointy nightcap, rubbing her eyes.
Tōka and Senya sprang apart instantly.
"Nothing," Tōka said firmly, ushering her little sister back to bed.
Senya retreated to his room, grabbing clothes for a quick shower. Too late for a bath—just a rinse tonight.
He was halfway undressed when a knock came.
"…Hungry? Want me to make you a late snack?" Tōka's voice asked softly.
"No, it's fine. I'll sleep right after. You rest too."
"…Alright. Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
Kasumigaoka Utaha was not in a good mood.
And the reason was obvious: Rikka had posted in the group chat, sharing a TV clip of Senya being interviewed alongside some unfamiliar girl.
He had handled himself well—calm, polite, unshaken. The "couple vibe" the show teased was clearly just for variety effect.
Utaha told herself it didn't bother her.
But it did. A little.
She herself had invited Senya out on Christmas Eve. Dinner, maybe an activity afterward.
He had declined, saying he already had plans.
At the time, she hadn't minded. Until she saw that broadcast.
The way that unfamiliar girl tugged gently at his sleeve…
Combined with his rejection of her, it left her feeling strangely discarded, as though she had lost some unspoken competition.
And for a proud girl like Utaha, that stung.
Senya had helped her greatly before—true. But even so, dignity mattered. If he had chosen someone else, then she had to maintain her own pride.
So, she resolved: three days… no, a full week. She wouldn't reach out.
Let that be her silent punishment.
Of course, Senya remained completely oblivious.
And all her resolve crumbled instantly the next morning when she woke to his message:
[Want to come to my place for Christmas night?]
Her icy heart melted in an instant.
[I'll come. What time?]