Chapter 79 - Chapter 79

Minamoto Senya was in the middle of breakfast when a message from Yukinoshita Yukino appeared on his phone. The text was short and straightforward: she was asking if, between January 1st and 3rd, everyone wanted to go to the shrine together for New Year's prayers. Senya was a little surprised—not about visiting the shrine itself, but at the fact that Yukino had taken the initiative to invite him at all. As he was still considering how to reply, Rikka, who noticed him staring motionlessly at his screen, leaned over curiously. When she saw Yukino's message, her face lit up. Her small hand peeked out from the oversized sleeve of her sweater and tugged gently at his shirt. "That sounds great! A New Year shrine visit—let's all go together, Senya. My luck's been terrible lately, so let's pray for good health and good fortune this year!" Bad luck? Senya and Tokika, sitting on the other side of the table, both stiffened. Had this little airhead somehow found out that their parents had gotten into an accident during their trip and were now hospitalized? But Rikka quickly clarified, puffing up her cheeks in frustration. "I've sent so many reader letters to Shonen Jump and anime magazines, and none of them ever reply. And at the supermarket's year-end raffle—you could enter once per 1,000 yen spent—I even went out of my way to split the payment into four transactions, but all I won was consolation prizes. Toilet paper! Obviously, I need to ask Ebisu-sama to reset my luck for next year." "…" Still the same airhead. Tokika lowered her gaze and resumed eating calmly. Senya sighed in relief, then reached out to ruffle Rikka's messy bedhead—her hair stuck up in spiky tufts, like a work of avant-garde art. "I'm actually a little worried," he admitted. "Huh? Worried about what?" Rikka tilted her head. Tokika, perfectly in tune with her foster brother, answered for him. "The flu, of course. It's been spreading badly lately. Even at our shop, we've started disinfecting regularly and keeping sanitizer at the entrance. Imagine the crowds at a shrine during New Year's… the risk of infection would be huge." "Ehh~" Rikka pouted. "But Senya, you didn't seem worried at all when you went running off with other girls on Christmas Eve to Tokyo's busiest places—getting all lovey-dovey and even excitedly giving an interview!" Senya pinched her cheek, his fingers sinking into soft, collagen-rich skin. "And who do you think I did all that for, huh? Hand over that capybara plushie. I'm taking it back!" Rikka squirmed in protest, still arguing through puffed cheeks. "I was really happy to get the plushie, but that doesn't change the fact that you're being two-faced—saying one thing, doing another, trying to play both sides like a hypocrite!" What kind of logic was that? Tokika, however, was secretly pleased. Looks like those workbooks she bought for Rikka were paying off—at least her vocabulary was expanding. Even if her proverbs were still a little clumsy, she was getting smoother at using them. "This is exactly why I kept telling you to set a proper example," Tokika said, sighing. "You spoil her too much. Look—she doesn't dare talk back to me like that." Senya released Rikka's cheek. But Rikka, emboldened by rebellion, cast a sidelong glance at her older sister and whispered, "But didn't you eat roasted sweet potatoes yesterday, sis? Last night you kept on—" "Shut it, brat!" "I'm serious, Senya! I couldn't sleep all night! In the end I had to open the window for fresh air—" Bam! Tokika slammed her chopsticks down and leaned forward menacingly. Rikka bolted from her chair, but in terms of agility she was no match for Tokika, who trained her body every day. Within two steps, Rikka was seized, pinned, and mercilessly "purified" on the sofa. From Senya's perspective, all he could see was Rikka's little legs kicking wildly in the air—almost like she was having fun. Moments later, Tokika returned to the table looking refreshed, while Rikka clutched her reddened forehead, eyes glistening, and sat back down in silence. Even so, she still wanted to go out with everyone. "You don't need to look at me with those puppy-dog eyes," Senya said. "I only said I was worried, not that I wasn't going." He turned his phone around so she could see his screen. He had already replied to Yukino, setting the meet-up for the third day of the New Year. Just like back home, Japan had its own version of "rushing for the first prayer," so the crowds would be overwhelming at the start of the year. By the third day, though, the numbers would drop significantly. Besides, since Yukino had taken the rare step of inviting him herself, it didn't feel right to refuse outright. This was a compromise—balancing practicality with Yukino's feelings. "…Then you should've said that earlier," Rikka muttered under her breath. Thanks to him, she'd gotten scolded by the household tyrant for nothing. Meanwhile, in the Yukinoshita household living room— Yukino's elder sister, Haruno, noticed the faint smile playing on her sister's lips as she looked at her phone. Intrigued, she tiptoed up behind the sofa. "Oh? Not bad. You've already made plans with Senya, huh?" "—!" Startled, Yukino sprang to her feet and spun around like a cat caught off guard by a cucumber. Haruno leaned casually over the back of the sofa, resting her chin in her hands. Her body arched in a graceful seventy-degree curve, highlighting the elegant line of her waist and hips. She smiled slyly. "Though, if you ask me, when Mom suggested you invite him, she probably meant for you to do it alone. Sending 'everyone' along kind of ruins the point, don't you think? What's the difference from your usual group outings?" Catching her sister peeking at her phone, Yukino scowled. "That was my decision. I don't need you interfering." "Is that so?" Haruno shrugged. "Well, let's hope you never come to regret saying that." She turned to leave, only to glance back mid-step. "Oh, and since you did say 'everyone'—mind if I tag along too?" The look of horror on Yukino's face was priceless. Haruno grinned, satisfied, before waving it off. "Kidding, kidding." With her hands clasped behind her back, she sauntered away. ——— As usual, around eleven o'clock, Senya arrived at the family bar with his father. Together, they swept the floors, wiped down the tables, and straightened the chairs. Tokika would be late today—she had planned a thorough round of household chores, from laundry to bedsheets, plus a full year-end cleaning. New Year, new beginnings. The house had to sparkle. Naturally, Rikka got dragged in to help. She didn't mind—actually, she seemed eager to lend a hand to her sister. And no, it had nothing to do with the 2,000 yen her onii-chan had secretly slipped into her pocket before leaving. Definitely not. By now, Senya had grasped the bar's daily rhythm. From lunchtime until around two, customers were sparse. Between two and five, the place filled with afternoon tea-goers. After that lull, the real rush came from seven until deep into the night. Today was no different. By noon, only two tables were occupied—more than manageable for his father alone. So Senya slipped over to the electric piano that Tooma Youko had bought on a whim for the shop. Unlike an acoustic piano with hammers and strings, this one simulated sound electronically, outputting tones through digital processing. Purists swore by the tactile feedback of traditional pianos—the resistance, the inertia, the subtle nuance—but for Senya, the electric model was perfect. With headphones on, he could practice without bothering customers. He set his phone on the stand, sheet music open, just as a notification arrived. Happy New Year, little Senya! Wishing you health, happiness, and good fortune all year long! It was from Tooma Youko. Senya replied politely, then asked how she was doing. That set her off. She'd been locked in hotel quarantine since the day before Christmas Eve. A whole week already, with no idea when she'd be released. At this rate, she might be stuck another two weeks. For a free-spirited artist like her, it was torture—worse than prison. Senya could only sympathize. Words of comfort felt useless in this situation. But clearly, Youko had been bottling up her frustration. Since Senya had replied, she wasn't about to let her conversational partner go so easily. Besides, she'd always held a peculiar interest in this boy who was the same age as her daughter. By the way, you got the thank-you gift I sent for your help the other day, right? Did your mom and sister like it? Senya sighed. The "thank-you gift" in question had caused nothing but trouble. Two Hermès bags—worth over two million yen. His mother had nearly fainted. Tokika had pulled her hand back as though burned. And both had shot him the same suspicious glare: You really only went out for dinner with her daughter that night? There was no way they could accept something so excessive. My mom and sister said to thank you, but we really can't accept them. What? But I spent so long picking them out—they should be perfect for them. It's just… not appropriate for a family like ours. People would think we're pretending. Or that they're fakes. That gave Youko pause. She realized he was right. Luxuries could uplift the wealthy, but on ordinary people, they only invited questions. After much back-and-forth, Senya convinced her to drop the idea entirely. Helping her on Christmas Eve had been no big deal—certainly not worth a fortune in handbags. Still, their chat had its perks. A world-class pianist, mentor to a daughter of remarkable talent… it would be wasteful not to seek her advice. So Senya asked about learning piano properly. Youko, starved for conversation and delighted at his interest, perked up immediately. Instead of typing, she called him on video. "Hellooo! Oh! Look at you, little Senya—black-and-white bartender uniform suits you. You look handsome!" "Thanks, Youko-san. You're looking good too—you've really kept your glow. If anything, you look younger… wait, did you gain weight?" "Alright, that's enough out of you!" she huffed. Back to the topic. "So? Why the sudden interest in systematic piano study?" "Because I'm curious," Senya said simply. "Curious for the sake of drawing customers to your dad's bar? Or curious enough to make it a career, to aim for fame in Japan—or even the world?" "Does the distinction matter?" "Of course it does." She angled her phone carefully away from her legs as she sat on the sofa by the window. "If it's just for the bar, I have a fast-track method. Skip the unnecessary basics. In a month—or three, to be safe—you could play songs that sound impressive enough to amateurs. But if you're thinking of competing seriously… I should warn you now. The world of piano is far more brutal than you think. Wealth, time, discipline—all-consuming. Most start as children, four hours of daily practice just the baseline, for years on end. Even then, only a handful stand out. The persistent fall to the talented. The talented fall to those who have both talent and persistence." "Like you, Youko-san?" Senya asked. "Me? I suppose I had talent. But persistence? Compared to Kazusa, I fall short. Unless she's sick, that girl spends a solid eight hours a day at the piano. Every single day." Senya's eyes widened in awe. Youko smiled knowingly, letting the silence linger before asking, "So what's your answer, little Senya?" He shook his head. "Neither. I don't plan to make a career out of it, and I don't just want shortcuts either. I just want to raise my piano skills as much as I can. I want a proper plan from a professional like you—so I don't end up developing bad habits. That's all." It was like when he first learned kendo. His grip, footwork, and timing had been full of flaws—flaws that only Saeko Busujima's guidance had corrected before they hardened into bad habits. "I see. Fair enough. Have you been practicing recently?" "Yes. I bought Beyer's Piano Basics and the Bastien Adult Piano Method. I've been following their lessons." "Those are good. Alright then—play me something. Aim the camera at the keys. I want to see your hand posture." "Sorry to trouble you." "Oh? Pulling out the polite honorifics now? Cute. Don't worry about it—just play. Let's see if you've improved since that day at my house." "Alright." Senya rested his hands on the keys, inhaled slowly, and began to play. …