The visitors were medical staff from a nearby hospital, temporarily dispatched on behalf of the district health office.
After introducing themselves, Minamoto Senya followed their request and stepped outside to the gate to speak with them.
Kazusa, having just finished washing up, noticed the wide-open front door. Curious, she slipped into her house slippers and walked over.
"What's going on?" she asked.
Senya, still talking with the medical staff, turned his head toward her with a wry expression. "Something came up."
Kazusa tilted her head, puzzled and about to ask again when the lead medic spoke up.
"Excuse me, are you the head of the Touma household?"
Kazusa nodded.
The medic gave a short explanation.
Apparently, the flu outbreak that had been in the news recently had mutated. Infected patients were now developing severe symptoms—persistent high fevers, vomiting, and diarrhea.
Hospitals in the area had admitted a large number of such cases. They reported the situation to the national health agency, and the government responded swiftly.
They traced the patients' movements, identified the areas they frequented, and implemented immediate quarantine measures.
For the time being, residents in these zones were forbidden from going outside. Everyone was ordered to remain at home, to prevent the virus from spreading further and endangering more people.
It was, in principle, a sound measure—one taken for the greater good.
Unfortunately, the Touma residence happened to fall squarely within the lockdown zone.
Which meant that not only Kazusa, but also Senya, who had just come to visit, were now trapped here.
Kazusa's expression, after hearing the medic's explanation, mirrored Senya's earlier one—a mixture of resignation and helplessness.
But soon, something shifted in her. She tilted her head slightly, stealing a sidelong glance at Senya, who was still listening seriously to the medic's instructions.
Her heart began to beat faster. Along with her unease came an odd, subtle warmth.
She lowered her head, letting her black hair fall across her cheeks, and pressed a fist lightly against her lips as if to hide the restless emotion threatening to escape.
"Minamoto Senya and Touma Kazusa… understood," the medic said, tapping notes onto a tablet. "At present, it's just the two of you living here, correct?"
The information would later be used for allocating supplies. After all, if residents weren't allowed outside, the government would need to deliver essentials directly.
"Yes," Kazusa replied.
"Please don't take unnecessary risks. Stay indoors. Patrols will be monitoring the streets twenty-four hours a day. If you have an emergency, call this number immediately."
"Understood," Senya said.
"Just endure it for a while, and it will pass. Thank you for your cooperation."
"We understand. Thank you for your hard work," Senya replied politely.
The medical staff moved on, heading to the next house down the street.
Senya and Kazusa returned indoors.
They sat together on the sofa in silence. When their eyes finally met, both let out a small, almost helpless laugh.
Kazusa spoke first. "I don't even know how to describe your luck. If you'd come late like the last few nights instead of early, you would've dodged this perfectly."
Senya only shrugged.
Was he depressed? Not exactly. But his mood was undeniably complicated.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the fortune slip he'd exchanged with Eriri at the shrine.
He hadn't taken it seriously before, but now…
Could a "bad fortune" really be this accurate?
With a shake of his head, he tore the slip into pieces and tossed it in the trash.
"I'd better call home," he muttered.
Kazusa nodded as he stood.
For the third time, Senya explained his current predicament to his family, reassuring them that he was safe.
Kazusa didn't want to hear it. She quickened her steps and slipped away into the piano room.
Kazusa's irritation came suddenly—and disappeared just as quickly.
When Senya finished his call and entered the piano room, the very first words out of his mouth softened her expression.
"You just woke up and haven't eaten yet, right? Want me to make you something?"
Such a simple question. Yet it was exactly what reached her.
She liked that feeling—being cared for. It reminded her she wasn't completely alone.
Kazusa drew her hands back from the piano keys and shook her head. "No need. You should practice first."
But Senya insisted. "I'll be here for a while anyway. I can practice anytime. But you, on the other hand, need to eat."
Kazusa's gaze flickered. "…I'm not hungry. I don't have much appetite."
Senya had visited often enough to chat briefly with Yoko-san, the housekeeper. He'd learned bits about Kazusa's habits.
Whenever she said she "wasn't hungry" after waking up, Yoko would always prepare some fruit for her anyway—at least enough to put something in her stomach.
That was simple enough. Easier than cooking a full meal.
"I saw dragon fruit and apples in the kitchen. How about I cut some for you?"
Though it sounded like a question, he was already striding toward the kitchen.
Kazusa hurried after him. "I can do it myself."
"No way. You don't usually even step into the kitchen. You'll just cut your hand. Besides, I promised Yoko-san I'd take care of meals while I was here."
"…What else did my mom tell you?"
"That the guest room closet has sleepwear. So I don't need to worry about clothes—just use what's there."
Senya took out a dragon fruit and two apples. While he peeled the fruit, Kazusa quietly returned one apple to its place—she knew she wouldn't finish that much.
And in that moment, it hit her more strongly than before.
For the next two weeks, this house would hold only the two of them.
Was she happy?
Watching Senya slice the fruit neatly and hand it to her on a plate—yes, she was happy.
But not just happy. Something else stirred inside her chest.
"Were you playing Beethoven's Fifth earlier?" Senya asked.
Kazusa nodded. "Mm."
"When do you think I'll be ready to start learning that piece?"
"Don't overreach. At your level, it'll be a few more months at least."
She wasn't trying to discourage him—just stating facts.
The piece wasn't the hardest in the world, but it demanded great speed and strength from the pianist's fingers.
For someone like Senya, who was still practicing Ode to Joy, Für Elise, and Turkish March, it was impossible.
It would be like expecting a toddler who had just learned to crawl to suddenly stand and sprint.
Senya chuckled, unfazed.
He stored the confident look on Kazusa's face in his memory, vowing that when he caught up someday, he'd recall this moment with smug satisfaction.
"Same as before then. I'll cycle through the pieces I've memorized—two hours straight."
Kazusa carried the fruit back to the piano room with him.
Here, in her territory, her confidence returned.
Senya was a good student—Saeko Busujima had once praised the same qualities when training him in kendo.
Hardworking, obedient, perceptive.
He always lowered himself completely when seeking guidance, a humility that naturally pleased the teacher.
Now, he brought that same earnestness to the piano.
No complaints, no excuses. He followed Kazusa's instructions to the letter, practicing diligently.
Two hours passed in a blink.
Senya focused entirely on the keys, while Kazusa sat cross-legged beside him, watching silently.
On other nights, this would have been the time for him to leave. But today it was only five in the afternoon, and he wasn't going anywhere.
Troublesome circumstances, perhaps. But for his piano studies, nothing could be better.
Kazusa finally stood. "If you're tired, take a break."
"I'm fine," he said, shaking his head. "Actually… could I ask you for a favor?"
Her eyes softened. "What is it?"
He moved her bench to sit right beside him.
Her thoughts scattered.
"I feel like my posture's still off. If you sit next to me, maybe you can point out what I'm doing wrong."
His tone was serious, his gaze sincere.
She couldn't refuse.
Not that she wanted to.
And so, for the first time, they sat together.
The boy practicing seriously. The girl beside him, silent, watching.
No one else around. No interruptions. Just the two of them—for the next two weeks.
The atmosphere was almost painfully romantic.
Senya's playing grew smoother, freer. He was improving rapidly, his spirits lifting with every note.
Kazusa, meanwhile, found nothing to correct. His form was practically flawless.
But she didn't move away.
Just sitting beside me makes you this happy…
You want to show off so badly… even your touch on the keys has lightened…
You really are…
Different thoughts, different reasons, yet both reached harmony.
The only sound was the piano.
Eventually, Kazusa broke the spell. "That's enough. Rest."
Senya nodded, shaking out his sore fingers.
"They hurt, don't they? Soak them in warm water later. It'll help."
"Got it. But honestly, I think I could keep going—"
"No. That's enough. Do you even know what time it is?"
He checked his phone—and froze.
Eight o'clock.
He'd lost track of over three hours.
"Ah—sorry! You barely ate at lunch, so you must be starving. I'll cook right now."
Kazusa followed him out, resting her chin on her hand at the counter, smiling faintly.
"I'm not that hungry. Don't rush."
He was already rummaging through the fridge. "You should've said something earlier."
"I wanted to see how long you'd last. Your focus was impressive. But if I hadn't stopped you, your fingers would've given out."
"…I must've disrupted your own practice schedule, huh?"
"Not really. I was supposed to compete on the tenth, but now I can't go."
"Bad luck. You must've trained hard."
"It wasn't serious. Just a small competition. I knew I'd win. No one else had a chance. I wasn't motivated, but my mom insisted I collect more titles for my résumé."
Senya shot her a look. "Touma-sensei, word of advice? Don't say things like that outside. Someone might punch you."
She smirked faintly. "Don't take me for an idiot. I know what I can and can't say in public. And what I can say… to a student."
"That's fine then. Anyway, what do you want for dinner?"
"I'm not picky."
"That's not what I heard from Shibata-san."
Her cheeks flushed. "…If it's good, then I'm not picky."
Senya spun a carrot in his hand. "All right. I'll improvise."
Forty minutes later, three dishes and a soup were ready: stir-fried broccoli, kung pao chicken, sautéed pork with peppers, and tomato-egg drop soup.
Not perfect—no scallions for garnish—but good enough.
Kazusa thanked him softly, taking the rice bowl he handed her.
"You like Chinese food, don't you?" she asked.
Senya had been starving while cooking. Now, he didn't bother with dignity, stuffing rice and vegetables into his mouth.
"Mm? You don't? Next time I'll make you pasta. Tomato beef, maybe."
She shook her head. "I was just asking."
"Then eat up."
And eat they did.
Senya polished off three bowls of rice without hesitation, finishing nearly everything Kazusa had left.
When she caught his sheepish glance, he insisted it was only because her bowls were too small.
She only smiled. Boys with big appetites weren't a bad thing.
By the time they finished, it was past nine.
Senya's routine was a mess, but Kazusa didn't seem to mind.
"You can rest in the living room for a while," she said. "I'll practice. When you're tired, I'll show you to your room."
"I'll come with you."
She blinked. "With me? Why?"
"I think piano's a lot like kendo. Watching someone skilled up close should help me improve."
Kazusa nearly laughed. That logic was ridiculous. If that were true, no one would need lessons—they'd just shadow famous pianists and get better.
But she didn't argue. She only nodded faintly.
Still, she hadn't expected him to walk right in and plop down beside her.
"I'll sit here. That won't bother you, right?"
Her lips trembled. "…Do what you want."
Inside, however, her heart pounded.
This idiot. Saying nonsense like that…
How badly do you want to stick close to me?!