After closing the door, Tōka tiptoed back to her bed and lay down again.
She had always shared a room with Rikka before and never thought much of it, but now that she finally had her own space, she felt her happiness level rise significantly.
After all, she was a high schooler now. At this age, privacy mattered.
"What exactly are they talking about down there?" Minamoto Senya asked curiously.
The conversation had been too short for him to catch. All he had heard was Tōma Youko's laughter and the clinking of glasses, but he hadn't managed to make out the details.
"You really are nosy," Tōka sighed.
Senya shook his head. "Not nosy—just curious about why that lady came to our house. I doubt it's just to drink with our parents."
"Well, sorry to disappoint, but that seems to be exactly what it is. She went by the bar first, then came home with them around nine for a second round. They were enjoying themselves. I even went to the kitchen to prepare some snacks to go with their drinks."
"…Thanks for the effort."
"It's nothing."
The conversation stalled for a moment.
Then Tōka tilted her head slightly and changed the subject. "So, how have things been on your side?"
She wanted him to say it himself, rather than her having to pry.
In truth, aside from the very first day of his quarantine—when Senya had called to explain things at length—they had barely spoken, exchanging only short text messages.
All she really knew was that her stepbrother was alive and well. Nothing more.
As family, of course she worried.
"It's been fine."
And it really had been fine. He ate well, slept well. The Tōma residence was huge, with a beautiful garden, so even being cooped up didn't feel suffocating.
"Don't you feel awkward living in someone else's house?"
"If you put it that way, then of course I'd still prefer home."
"And the meals?"
"Great, actually. Their fridge was well-stocked to begin with, and ever since Youko-san's money started flowing, even the groceries the community association delivers have all been top quality."
Hearing that, Tōka finally understood—he wasn't exactly suffering.
His bright, energetic face on the screen confirmed it.
This was nothing like the weary, complaining tone Youko had put on earlier when recounting his quarantine "suffering" to their parents in the living room.
For others, isolation might feel like torture. For him, it had turned into a kind of luxury retreat.
She'd worried if he could sleep in a strange house, or whether he'd eat properly…
Clearly, that worry had been unnecessary.
And besides… Tōma Kazusa herself was a sweet, pretty girl.
If she were a boy, Tōka admitted, she'd probably also jump at the chance to spend time alone with someone like her.
She let out a quiet sigh, her mood complicated.
Suddenly, she didn't feel like talking anymore.
"Well, it's late. Get some rest."
"There's only a week left. Thanks for holding down the fort while I've been gone. I'll help with your stretches again once I'm back."
"…Do whatever you want."
Senya smiled, waved to the camera, and ended the call.
Tōka ran her fingers through her hair, stopping at her necklace.
Just one more week…
Kazusa had never felt time pass so quickly.
Two weeks had gone by in a flash.
It felt like only yesterday that Senya had shown up unexpectedly, startling the medical staff at the door.
The very moment his quarantine was lifted, Shibata-san, the housekeeper, came by.
She had expected to find the house in chaos—after all, two teenagers alone together for so long should have left the place a mess.
But to her surprise, everything was spotless. The living room gleamed, the kitchen counters were clean, no dirty dishes piled in the sink, even the exhaust hood above the stove shone like new.
Clearly, someone had been tidying up every day.
Knowing Kazusa's personality, Shibata immediately guessed who it was.
"Thank you so much, Minamoto-kun. I really appreciate you looking after Kazusa during this time."
Though technically just a housekeeper, she had been with the Tōma family for so many years that she was more like family herself.
"No need to thank me, Shibata-san," Senya said modestly.
To him, these were small things. If anything, he felt he had been the one looked after.
With Kazusa's guidance and his own determination, his piano playing had skyrocketed. Within just two weeks, he had already broken through to what his system called Level 5.
What had started out awkward and clumsy had now become fluid and confident.
His wrists, arms, and fingers moved in perfect coordination—like they belonged to someone else entirely.
At this stage, as long as he put in the practice, there was no piece beyond his reach.
"Stay for lunch," Shibata urged. "Youko-san will be back soon, and I'm sure she'll want to thank you herself."
And right on cue—
Youko returned, draped in a camel-colored coat. She glided into the living room, saw Senya, and immediately enveloped him in a warm hug.
"Ah, Kazusa told me you even used the gym together! As I thought, I was right to let you stay. Look at you—your physique's improved already!"
Kazusa flushed as her mother ran her hands over Senya's arms like an overexcited fangirl. With a scowl, she pried her away.
It wasn't jealousy. Just embarrassment. Her mother was far too familiar.
But Youko only laughed and pulled her daughter into a hug next.
"It's been too long, Kazusa. Did you miss me? …Wait, have you put on weight?"
Her hand went straight to her daughter's stomach.
Yes, there was definitely softness there.
"M-Mom!" Kazusa shoved her away, cheeks crimson, darting a mortified glance at Senya.
Anyone else would have been bitten for such an insult, but this was her mother.
"Ah, sorry, sorry!" Youko put her hands together in mock apology. "I was just so excited to see you again."
Still, in the back of her mind, she had honestly worried during the quarantine—wondering if a restless teenage boy might leave her daughter's stomach swollen in an entirely different way.
Who could have guessed it would turn out like this instead?
Their reunion ended in noisy laughter.
Unable to resist Shibata's and Youko's enthusiasm, Senya stayed for lunch.
Before the meal, Kazusa proudly showed off his progress in the piano room, convinced she had a knack for teaching.
Piece after piece rang out—Canon in D, a double-speed version of Summer, Dvořák's Humoresque.
As the final notes faded, Youko froze.
She sat utterly still, eyes wide, as if struck by a petrifying spell.
Inside, though, her heart reeled like a ten-magnitude earthquake.
Half a month ago, this boy had barely known his way around a piano. And now? This level of progress was beyond comprehension.
Kazusa smirked. She'd grown used to being surprised daily, the little shocks dulling with repetition.
But for her mother, it was the first time witnessing it.
It was like watching someone board a rocket.
Surely he must have been hiding his true skill all along?
But no. As a former world champion, Youko could tell when someone was feigning clumsiness. Technique left traces—subtle habits, practiced motions. None of that had been there before.
Which left only one impossible conclusion:
Minamoto Senya really did possess monstrous talent.
"…Mom? Mom!"
Kazusa's voice finally brought her back.
Senya had already risen from the bench.
Youko drew in a long breath, then looked him straight in the eye.
"Senya… have you ever thought about pursuing the same path as Kazusa?"
By two in the afternoon, Senya finally left the Tōma house.
Though Youko wanted to keep him longer, she relented—after all, he hadn't seen his own family in two weeks.
Once he was gone, she grilled her daughter endlessly about every detail of his stay.
Meanwhile, Senya returned to his own small but cozy home.
Rikka eagerly took his coat.
Tōka sliced fruit and brought it over.
The three of them gathered in the living room, laughing and chatting in front of the TV until late afternoon.
Then Tōka went to prepare dinner, with Senya following to help.
By nine, their parents were home, and the whole family spent the evening together, smiling and talking.
When the moment felt right, Senya asked about the household's income and savings.
They were surprised, but his parents were open. Both pulled out their phones to check.
Back in October, when their bar had just opened, business had been slow.
But once Youko had started drawing attention, the place had boomed.
From mid-October to mid-November, net profit was 1.7 million yen.
From mid-November to mid-December, 2.1 million.
But by mid-January, business had dipped, only 1.2 million.
Still, for such a small-scale operation, those numbers were strong.
His mother's beauty salon had followed a similar pattern—strong until the new year, then a slump.
Even so, they'd saved a lot.
After expenses, they had 8 million yen left over from before, plus another 7 million in recent profits.
Total savings: over 15 million.
Considering they had three kids, it wasn't bad at all.
But Senya thought they needed to accelerate things.
He could tell from his earlier call with Tōka—she really wanted her own room.
Later that night, after Rikka went to bathe, Tōka leaned close and whispered, "Why ask about savings all of a sudden?"
Of course, it was for her sake.
But what he actually whispered was: "After staying in a mansion with a garden, this place feels cramped. I need to figure out a way to make money fast, so we can move into a bigger house."
Tōka gave him a flat look, assuming he was joking.
"Oh, by the way," their father suddenly remembered. "Eriri's dad came by the bar. He wants to take the whole family out for dinner. He said thanks to you—apparently the stocks you mentioned really did go up. How did you know?"
"I didn't," Senya replied honestly. "We just happened to be talking about it, so I said a few things. If I could really predict stocks, I'd put everything in myself."
The truth was, this world wasn't the same as the one he remembered. Some famous figures were missing, new ones existed, and even the global political situation was different.
Even Japan's response to the flu outbreak had been exemplary—already rolling out vaccines nationwide. That alone had thrown his expectations out the window.
In such a mixed, unpredictable reality, making precise calls was difficult.
When he'd given Eriri's father advice, he'd only been fairly confident.
But fairly confident wasn't enough to risk his own family's savings.
He'd never gamble blindly.
There were plenty of ways for him to make small money, but they were too slow. What he needed was something that could yield big returns quickly.
By the time he bathed that night, following his sisters into the steamy bathroom, his mind was already working out a plan.
Back in his room, with fresh sheets Tōka had laid out, he buried his face in the pillow.
He could still faintly catch that familiar scent.
It felt… nostalgic.
The very next morning, Busujima Saeko arrived at eight.
She accepted the tea Tōka offered, then got straight to the point.
"Senya, recently the representatives of Nishiyamado Corporation contacted me. They want us to consider an endorsement contract."
Tōka blinked. "Endorsement contract?"
Rikka blurted out, "What's Nishiyamado?"
Senya shifted his gaze from Saeko's serene face and explained, "They're one of the country's most renowned manufacturers of kendo equipment. But beyond that, they also make gear for iaidō, aikidō, judo, and karate."
Rikka's eyes sparkled, her ahoge standing tall like an antenna. "So if they approached Saeko-nee, then that means—"
Saeko nodded with a gentle smile. "There are some conditions, but if we meet them, your brother and I will become their brand ambassadors. And in return, both of us will receive a substantial fee."