January 17, 2021 – Sunday
3rd POV
Minutes after that sudden encounter with Rinko—though calling it a reunion might be a stretch—Riku, Ayabe, and the rest of the former OG continued on their way to the Nagae mansion. The wintry air was sharp, but the warmth of laughter trailed behind them like a lingering echo. Riku had been smiling ever since, and it did not escape the notice of his teammates.
Ayabe, Johan, and Ceb wasted no time capitalizing on it.
"So..." Ayabe smirked, leaning slightly toward him, "that was some reaction you had back there. Don't tell me you miss her that much, Riku-sama."
Riku's smile faltered immediately, his head whipping around. "Eh?! No, no, no! It's not like that. It's been long since I've seen her...I mean she's a very important friend. That's all."
"Ohhh, an important friend, huh?" Johan pressed, his grin widening with mischief. "Funny, because you looked like someone who saw an angel descend from the heavens."
Ceb crossed his arms and added with exaggerated seriousness, "If this were a drama, I'd say that was the exact moment the childhood-friend-to-lover trope kicked in."
"Cut it out, all of you!" Riku barked, his face now flushed.
Topias and Sumail, walking a little behind, couldn't hold back their chuckles. They weren't directly involved in the teasing, but they found endless entertainment in watching their friend—usually composed and calculating in-game—reduced to a flustered mess in real life.
For thirty straight minutes the banter continued, with Riku firing denials that only fueled the group's laughter further. By the time the mansion gates loomed into view, Riku's patience was stretched thin, and his friends wore grins that betrayed no intention of letting him live this down.
Nagae Estate – Main Entrance
The black iron gates creaked open, revealing the grandeur of the Nagae Estate. The mansion stood like a relic of timeless authority, with its traditional architecture balanced by subtle modern flourishes. Neatly-trimmed hedges lined the entrance path, and the rhythmic crunch of footsteps on gravel carried the boys to the main door.
The moment the doors opened, a small company of uniformed servants bowed deeply.
"Welcome back, Riku-sama!"
The chorus echoed through the high-ceilinged foyer. Riku paused, his chest tightening at the sight.
"I'm back," he said softly, his voice carrying both warmth and a faint ache. "After eight years... I'm finally home. Hopefully, this time, I'll stay here longer."
From the formation of servants, a figure stepped forward. A man in his fifties with an impeccable posture and calm dignity. His every movement radiated decades of discipline, the sort that could only come from a lifetime of loyal service.
"Welcome home, Riku-sama." The man's tone was formal yet touched by genuine affection. "How was your journey?"
He clapped his hands lightly, dismissing the servants back to their duties.
Riku inclined his head slightly. "It was... eventful, to say the least. And how is my grandfather these days, Eiji-san?"
The man was Kamiki Eiji—father of Ayabe and the current head butler of the Nagae family. He had served the Nagae head for over twenty years, and tradition dictated that once Riku inherited the position, Eiji would step aside and his son, Ayabe, would assume the role of head butler.
Eiji's lips curved into a faint smile. "Oyakata-sama is well. He has been awaiting your return in his office since he first heard you had arrived."
"I see." Riku nodded, his demeanor straightening. "Ayabe, guide Johan and the others to their rooms. Make sure the luggage is placed properly, and have the instruments brought to the studio."
Ayabe bowed slightly. "Understood, Riku-sama. Everyone, please follow me. I'll show you to your quarters."
The group dispersed, following Ayabe's lead. Riku, meanwhile, turned back to Eiji and silently followed the elder butler deeper into the mansion.
Riku's POV
As I trailed behind Eiji-san, my footsteps felt heavier than the marble floor beneath me. Each corridor we passed seemed to whisper memories I hadn't asked to recall. For all the grandeur of these halls, they carried an unbearable weight—the silence of years I had spent away, and the unspoken expectations waiting for me at the end of this walk.
I couldn't help but feel torn. What would I even say to him when I finally stood before him again?
That day from four years ago still burned vividly in my memory. The day that should have been one of triumph instead became one of my darkest.
It was after TI8. The moment I should have been celebrating victory, a phone call shattered everything. My parents... gone. An "accident," they said at first. But by the time I landed in Japan, reality had stripped away even that fragile lie.
When I arrived home, I found my grandfather kneeling beside their coffins. His face—once stern and commanding—looked pale, drained of the fire that had always burned in him. His eyes were hollow, emptied of life itself, as though something within him had been extinguished alongside them.
I had knelt beside him, grief clawing its way up my throat.
The pain was unlike anything I had felt before. My parents were never constant figures in my early years, but their absence now carved an ache I couldn't explain. Why did it hurt this much? Why, when I had learned to live without them, did their loss leave me broken?
The tears came unbidden, falling faster than I could wipe them away. I mourned as long as I could, clinging to the faint warmth of memory. But I knew, even as I wept, that I couldn't allow myself to remain like this. I had to stand.
My mother was gone. That truth meant only one thing: I was now the sole successor to the Nagae family. The weight of that inheritance pressed upon me immediately, heavier still with the shadow of victory from TI8. The world saw me as a champion, but I understood in that moment that my battles were only just beginning.
I clenched my fists at my sides as we walked. The thought of facing him again—my grandfather, the man who had carried the weight of this family for decades—stirred a fear I hated to admit. What if I wasn't strong enough? What if all he saw in me was weakness?
Eiji glanced back at me once, his expression unreadable, though I caught a flicker of concern in his eyes. He said nothing yet. Perhaps he knew that this was something I would have to confront on my own.
Still, the silence grew louder with every step, until finally we stopped in front of the tall wooden doors that led to my grandfather's office.
My grandfather had carried the loss harder than I had. For me, it was my parents. But for him, it was his only daughter—the light of his life—taken in an assassination attempt meant for him.
The truth came swiftly and mercilessly. The orchestrator had been Shinomiya Oko, the eldest son of the Shinomiya family. His motive? Spite born from my grandfather rejecting his offer—that I, the heir of the Nagae, be engaged to the Shinomiya's youngest daughter, Kaguya.
The message was clear: defy the Shinomiya, and you pay in blood.
Even now, the thought twisted something dark inside me. Their philosophy of control, of treating human lives like pawns on a board, was something I could never accept. Bastards—every last one of them.
But my grandfather... he did not let grief consume him into silence. Instead, he turned his sorrow into iron resolve. Once he learned the truth, he committed himself fully to bringing the Shinomiya down, not just for revenge, but to give justice to his daughter and her husband.
Two weeks after the funeral, the storm began. He called in favors, debts owed by the powerful, and few could ignore him. The response was staggering—six influential families answered: the Hinanawi, Kicchou, Saigyouji, Houraisan, Hijiri, and Yakumo. And to my surprise, the Tsurumaki family as well.
The conflict that followed was brutal, a clash of power and politics carried out behind layers of civility and shadow. But the message was undeniable: the Nagae would not be trampled.
And in the end, my grandfather prevailed.
The Shinomiya head himself, Shinomiya Gan'an, broke the silence. He admitted his son had acted alone, pursuing his own ambitions under the guise of family honor. Oko's proposal had never been sanctioned.
Gan'an was cornered. Even the Shinomiya, who held sway over much of Japan, could not face down seven of the nation's most powerful families—not when the Yakumo stood among them. The Yakumo name was enough to end any resistance. Everyone in the upper echelons of influence knew the truth: the Yakumo controlled the criminal underworld. If that secret ever spilled into the public eye, the panic would be catastrophic.
Gan'an, knowing this, yielded.
The punishment was swift. Oko was disowned and banished from the family. Every account, every asset he possessed was frozen. A man who once carried the Shinomiya name was reduced to nothing.
But what stunned me most was the gesture that followed. As compensation, Gan'an offered the Nagae family ten percent of Shinomiya shares—an unheard-of concession. Furthermore, he promised that the Shinomiya would assist the Nagae when called upon in the future.
And my grandfather, after a long silence, accepted.
Perhaps I had judged them too harshly. Or perhaps Gan'an knew better than anyone how dangerous it was to lose face before seven families united in purpose.
Still, that day had changed everything.
Eiji-san's voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. He must have noticed the tension etched across my face.
"Getting nervous, Riku-sama?" he asked, his tone warm, almost fatherly.
I let out a long sigh. "Honestly? Yeah. It's been so long since I last saw him... and we barely talked, even when Mom and Dad were alive."
Eiji's smile was faint but reassuring. "I believe Oyakata-sama will do his best to speak with you. Do not weigh yourself down with worries about the future. For now, focus on what stands before you. Aside from your cousins, he is your only family left. And you, Riku-sama, are all he has left. He cares for you more than you realize. Talk with him. Truly talk, as you once did. The bond between you is still there—it only waits for you to reach for it."
His words pierced through the fog of doubt clouding my mind. He was right. I had been overthinking, letting old fears gnaw at me. What mattered now wasn't the past, nor the uncertain burdens of the future. What mattered was this moment—this chance to face him again.
I drew in a slow breath, letting the air steady me. My chest loosened.
We reached the tall double doors of my grandfather's office. The carved wood loomed before me, its surface etched with the crest of our family. For a moment, I simply stared, the weight of expectation pressing against my shoulders.
Eiji stopped and turned to me, his expression solemn.
"We have arrived," he said quietly. "Riku-sama... once I knock on this door, the rest will be entirely up to you."
I nodded in silence, too full of thought for words.
Eiji raised his hand and rapped twice on the door.
Knock. Knock.
From within came a steady voice, deep and commanding despite age.
"Yes."
Eiji bowed his head. "Oyakata-sama, I have brought Riku-sama."
"Bring him in."
Eiji glanced back at me, giving a subtle nod of encouragement before turning the knob. The door opened with a soft groan, revealing the study beyond.
I inhaled deeply, steadying the storm inside me. My hand clenched once at my side, then released. This was it.
With deliberate steps, I crossed the threshold.
The door closed behind me, leaving only myself and my grandfather in the room.
3rd POV
When Riku entered the office, the air seemed to grow heavier, not with malice but with the sheer weight of legacy. Behind a grand mahogany desk stood an elderly man who, at first glance, looked to be in his early fifties. In truth, he was seventy-four years old. His presence defied his age.
Short, light violet-blue hair framed a face carved with discipline and authority. His dark red eyes held a sharpness that reminded Riku of a predator measuring its prey—merciless, yet dignified. Standing at five-foot-nine, his frame remained muscular, as though time itself had been forced to bend to his will. He wore a black suit tailored to perfection, paired with a dark-blue tie that gave him a regal aura.
This was Nagae Kyoya, the current head of the Nagae family and Riku's grandfather.
Riku involuntarily flinched, a gulp slipping past his throat. That look—intimidating, commanding, almost suffocating—was one he remembered vividly from childhood. But before he could recover, the man's expression softened.
"Welcome back home, Riku," Kyoya said, his tone warm and almost disarming.
"I'm back... grandfather," Riku replied, bowing slightly.
Kyoya gestured toward the sofas near the window. "Don't just stand there like a mannequin. Sit. I'll get you some tea."
Riku obeyed without hesitation, lowering himself onto the sofa. As he settled in, his eyes wandered across the office. On a nearby table, stacks of newspapers and magazines lay neatly arranged. Headlines leapt out at him: OG Wins TI9 – Back-to-Back Champions! and Prodigy Riku Nagae Dominates International Competitions.
For a moment, his chest tightened.
(So Grandfather really has been following everything I've done...)
The thought left him unsettled, a mixture of pride and guilt clashing within.
A few moments later, Kyoya returned with a tray and two cups of tea. He handed one to Riku, who accepted it with a quiet thank-you. The first sip stopped him cold. His eyes widened in surprise.
"This is..." he murmured.
Kyoya's lips curved into a small smile. "Lemon Mint Iced Tea, isn't it? I remembered it was always your favorite."
The warmth in his voice, the careful attention to such a small detail—it was enough to confirm what Riku had doubted: his grandfather truly cared.
"Now then," Kyoya said, settling into his seat opposite him, "we've got a great deal of catching up to do."
"Yeah," Riku replied with a faint smile. "Now where do I even start?"
Riku's POV
One and a Half Hours Later
Time slipped by without either of us noticing. For an hour and a half, we spoke—not of politics or responsibilities, but of memories, stories, and the years we had lost.
I told him about life overseas, about the grind of competitive gaming and the unending tours with the band. He listened, nodding with that faint smile that betrayed his satisfaction. For once, the weight pressing on my chest seemed to lift. I could breathe freely, and for the first time in years, I felt like a grandson rather than an heir.
Grandpa smiled warmly at me. "It makes me proud to see you doing what you love most."
His words struck something deep inside me. Despite the pressure of succession, despite the trials our family had endured, he had still cared enough to take pride in my passion.
But the ease of conversation eventually gave way to something heavier. His smile faded, replaced by the seriousness I had always associated with him.
"Riku," he began, his tone deliberate, "you already know why I called you back, don't you?"
I straightened instinctively. "...Yeah. This is about my condition to become the next head, right? You already know that I value the family most."
"Correct." He leaned back slightly, folding his hands. "Normally, you would be able to succeed me right now. You already hold the qualifications. But I cannot hand over the family so easily. Before you inherit, I need to test you—to see if you are truly fit."
I blinked, caught off guard. A test? This was the first I had heard of it. My mind churned with possibilities. What kind of trial could he possibly mean?
"So... what's the test?" I asked cautiously.
Grandpa rose from his seat and walked to the window, gazing out over the estate grounds. His silhouette against the fading light felt imposing.
"You see, one of the families who aided me during the Shinomiya conflict—the Saigyouji family—recently cashed in a favor. The head of their family also serves as the principal of a prestigious school. They've been planning to convert their all-girls institution into a co-ed school by the end of this year."
I tilted my head. "Alright... and what's the catch?"
Grandpa chuckled lowly, as though he had predicted my suspicion.
"Sharp as ever. Yes, there is a catch. The favor they asked of me was simple: they want you to attend their school as a trial case. If your presence results in positive reviews, the school will officially go co-ed the following year."
My mind went blank. Silence stretched between us.
Wait. Hold up. Did I hear that right? Did this old man—my grandfather—just suggest sending his grandson, who had next to no experience talking to women his age, into an all-girls school?
"...Excuse my language, but what in the flat living fuck?"
Kyoya turned back to me, utterly unbothered by my outburst. "Like I said—you'll be attending an all-girls high school."
I stared at him, trying to process the insanity of it all. My life had been stages, competitions, and strategy. Now he wanted to drop me into a den of girls and expect me to come out alive?
I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to calm down. "...Let me guess. The transfer's already done, isn't it?"
A grin tugged at his lips. "Impressive. You figured it out already. Yes, the transfer has been arranged. You'll start next term. Until then, you'll stay here and reacquaint yourself with your surroundings."
"Are you seriously sure this is the right move?" I asked, rubbing my temples.
"Without a doubt," he replied firmly. "This is two birds with one stone. It helps the Saigyouji with their endeavor, and it helps you."
"Helps me? I get how it helps the school, but what do I gain from being thrown into this mess?"
He turned from the window, his gaze sharp but not unkind.
"Remember earlier," he said slowly, "when you told me about that feeling you experienced during our talk?"
I nodded silently.
"You may find that feeling again, but not for the wrong reasons. You already know what it is—you just need to confirm it."
I leaned back in my seat, his words echoing in my head. That feeling. I had been chasing it for years. Winning Future World Fes two more times. Winning TI again. Each victory gave me a rush, but none of them matched what I had felt that day, the day everything changed.
Grandfather believed I could rediscover it, not through triumph or fame, but in a place I least expected—within the walls of a school I never imagined attending.
Maybe... just maybe... he was right.
Riku drew in a slow breath, steadying his nerves before finally giving his answer. "All right. I'll do it. So... which school am I going to?"
His grandfather, Kyoya, leaned back against the edge of his desk with that familiar mix of composure and quiet authority. "Hanasakigawa. The principal there will fill you in on the details once you arrive."
"Okay. I'll trust your gut on this one." Riku nodded, though part of him still felt like the rug had been pulled from beneath his feet. He had been expecting a challenge, yes, but this was nothing close to what he imagined.
The faint smile that tugged at Kyoya's lips wasn't intimidating this time—it was almost paternal, the sort of smile that made Riku's chest tighten with both relief and unease. His grandfather returned to his desk, pulling out a small stack of neatly arranged papers. He slid them forward as though they carried more weight than their slim size suggested.
"Good. That's one matter settled. But as I mentioned before, there's a second." Kyoya said as Riku blinked a few times.
"...Wait. Second? There are two things?" Riku said as Kyoya folded his hands over the desk, his sharp eyes narrowing with amusement at his grandson's expression.
"While you were on your way here, you must've noticed just how many live houses are operating now, compared to the last time you were in Japan." Kyoya told his grandson as Riku thought back to the ride through the city, Ayabe's voice echoing in his mind.
"Yeah. Ayabe said there are at least seven hundred now. Something to do with TI, right?" Riku said as Kyoya gave a firm nod.
"Exactly. After your victory at TI8, Japanese music began drawing attention worldwide. The number of bands exploded practically overnight, and agencies scrambled to establish live houses to train talent—some hoping their protégés might one day stand on the same stage you did." Kyoya said as he drank his coffee while Riku leaned back in his chair, the reality of it dawning on him in waves. To think that one win could spark such a ripple... and then winning twice more on top of it. Music in Japan was thriving. My music had become a part of that growth. A quiet warmth stirred in his chest, pride mingled with awe.
Kyoya picked up one sheet from the pile and handed it over. "Here. Take a look at this." Riku accepted the document, scanning the bold letters across the header.
"...Live House CiRCLE? And you're showing me this because...?" Riku wondered as Kyoya's smile returned, softer now, almost teasing.
"Because I wanted to give you a fitting gift for your birthday last year. Since you couldn't come home then, I put it on hold until now. Now that you're here... this is my gift to you." For a long moment, Riku just stared at the paper, the weight of his grandfather's words hitting him like a freight train.
"A live house? As a gift? Don't you think that's a bit much?" Riku said, but his grandfather explained
"It may seem excessive, but this is also meant to be your first step. Consider it a foundation. A place from which you'll rise once you succeed me." Riku's instinct was to protest further, to say it was too much responsibility. But then another thought flickered to life in his mind. My own live house... a space not just for me, but for music, for my band, for others chasing the same dream. This... this is perfect.
He shot up from his seat, clutching the paper, his composure breaking in an outburst of boyish excitement. "I'll take it, Grandfather! I'll happily accept this gift!" He sounded like a child on Christmas morning, and Kyoya chuckled, shaking his head as though amused by the contrast between Riku's usual calm and this sudden enthusiasm.
"By the look on your face, you're already scheming. Care to share?" Riku scratched the back of his neck, grinning despite himself.
"Well... truth is, the rest of my band is here on an extended vacation. We were looking for a space where the new members of OG could rehearse, especially if any events pop up while we're in Japan."As Riku said that, Kyoya raised an eyebrow, interest flashing in his eyes.
"New members? I thought you and the original lineup retired."
"We did retire. But that doesn't mean OG disbanded. Johan and the others took the reins, and from what I hear, they're doing well. Really well." The elder Nagae regarded his grandson in silence for a beat, then exhaled slowly, the weight of his approval clear in his voice.
"It seems that band changed you more than I realized. You've opened up—to people, to the world—and that is something I never thought I'd say about you. For that... I'm proud of you, Riku." The words struck deep. Coming from his grandfather, who had always measured worth in discipline and achievement, this was more than just praise—it was recognition.
"...Thank you, Grandfather." A silence lingered between them, not heavy this time, but warm, filled with the unspoken understanding of two generations bound by both blood and ambition. Kyoya finally leaned back, folding his arms behind his back.
"Well, that concludes our matters for today. You may go. I'm glad we had this talk." Kyoya said as Riku gave a firm nod, rising from his seat.
"I'll see you later, Grandfather." He closed the door gently behind him, letting the weight of the conversation settle. His steps quickened as he made his way toward the studio, a fire of determination burning brighter than before. Pulling out his phone, he dialed Johan's number, already hearing the faint buzz of the line connecting.
"We've got a lot to figure out." He said to himself. With that, he reached the exit, the future already unfolding in his mind as he prepared to gather his band and take the first step toward a new beginning.