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Red hair, red eyes, and a neatly tied ponytail. She was a mature woman—tall, curvaceous—one hand on her hip as if gripping an invisible longsword. Her whole presence was a sharp blade flashing cold light, carrying a palpable killing intent.
Kiyono raised an eyebrow. If this hadn't been a signing event, he would have assumed she'd come to pick a fight. Yet she felt strangely familiar.
There was none of the fanlike excitement one showed an idol; her expression remained composed.
"Hello, my name is Kōsaka Akane…" Her voice was lazy, almost old-man languid.
Ah. It was her.
Kiyono remembered, though he didn't particularly care. Strictly speaking, they weren't in the same field. He offered a professional smile.
"Do you want an autograph?"
"Mm, of course I do. I'm a huge fan of yours."
The woman with that unique charm dropped her domineering air and, for the first time, smiled.
"I wonder if Fuyutsuki-sensei could share his contact information?"
The signing concluded successfully. Kiyono rose from his chair, stretching his tired body, then offered the staff a textbook bow of thanks—polite geniuses are always the most beloved.
After a brief chat with his editor about the new book's future, he finally left the bookstore.
Dusk had settled; a crescent moon already hung in the sky.
At that moment, a black-and-white car glided out of the shadows. Streamlined, it eased to a stop in front of him; the side mirror perfectly reflected Kiyono's profile. The driver's window lowered like a curtain, and Yukinoshita Haruno's breathtaking smile appeared under the neon glow—the kind of confident ease a noble youth shows when stopping the girl he likes at the school gate.
"Get in."
Wind chimes tinkled under the eaves, startling a single fallen leaf into the courtyard.
When Kiyono and Yukinoshita Haruno stepped into the tea room under the moonlight, a kimono-clad beauty knelt to prepare tea—every motion graceful, as if drawn from the legendary Senke-ryū. A landscape hung on the wall; a white plum blossom in a vase nearby evoked the refined women of ancient Kyoto.
A long-haired girl sat quietly at the low table, teacup in hand. Her bearing was dignified, her profile as delicate as porcelain—like a handful of ethereal new snow that might melt into the world at any moment.
The fresh scent of black tea filled the air.
Haruno, however, ignored proper young-lady etiquette. She strode onto the tatami, chin propped in her palm, posture loose and relaxed.
Kiyono took the seat opposite. A steaming cup slid to a stop before him.
"Kiyono, congratulations on the great success of your signing," came the gentle voice.
He sat upright, lifted the cup, took a polite sip, and thanked her with a sunny smile.
The next second, his smile froze. The cup trembled in his hand, almost spilling.
"Haruno says Kiyono has been staying up all night playing games lately?"
Yukinoshita's mother regarded him with soft brows and eyes.
Her expression and tone were clearly concerned, but Kiyono felt as if several silver needles had been placed under his seat. It was like hearing your mother call your full name in a calm voice.
"Th-this is just…"
A bead of cold sweat traced his forehead. His eyes darted as he scrambled for an excuse.
Haruno hid a smile and gracefully defused the crisis.
"Mother means you should use your time better."
Kiyono shot Haruno a grateful look; her favorability clearly rose. Subtle methods or not, she'd diverted the attention. As for why he'd ended up in this predicament—don't ask.
The short-haired beauty tipped him a knowing wink, her gaze and trailing tone sweet as sugar—impossible to resist.
"For example, spending more time with your fiancée… and going to try on wedding dresses with me?"
—This woman had just dropped an even bigger bomb!
Kiyono's eye twitched. Before he could speak, Yukino's teaspoon scraped sharply against her cup. She looked up, voice flat:
"Sister is saying strange things again."
"Oh my, is Yukino-chan trying to steal my groom?"
Haruno's smile turned provocative. She had never feared her younger sister.
"That good-for-nothing who's addicted to games has no hopeful future. Whoever wants him can have him."
Yukino Yukinoshita's tone was cool, though a clear light flashed in her eyes.
"However, his time should be spent contributing to the family. That's his duty—not wasting it with Sister."
"Mm? Is that really what Yukino-chan thinks?" Haruno pressed a finger to her rosy, fire-red lower lip—an innocent motion that somehow looked seductive.
Kiyono glanced between them, feeling like a small seal trying to survive between two icebergs.
"Absolutely," Yukino replied without a ripple.
"Then let's agree now—by the time Yukino goes abroad, this boy's first time will already be mine, okay?" Haruno said airily.
Hey, what are you saying in front of Mother?!
Yukino's teacup gave a soft clink. "Wasn't it Sister who went with Mother to write ema at the shrine last month…?"
(Ema: a wooden plaque for wishes, offered to the gods for protection.) That day at Izumo Taisha, she'd seen her sister rising on tiptoe to hang one. The name on the vermilion board hadn't been clear—but Yukino believed she knew.
Haruno still believes in this?
Kiyono glanced at the short-haired beauty in surprise, noting the faint blush at the tips of her ears.
Yukinoshita's mother swept her gaze over the three youths and chuckled, cutting in.
"Kiyono will be seventeen after the New Year, won't he?"
The tea room fell silent. They all understood. Yukino's cup tilted; the black tea lapped at the rim. Her expression turned complex. Haruno still smiled, but if one looked closely, the expression had stiffened—always hiding her true feelings under a veil.
In silent accord, two pairs of indigo eyes slid to Kiyono's face.
All three Yukinoshitas waited for his answer.
Kiyono suddenly thought of Tang Sanzang in the Women's Kingdom. Faced with the enchanting queen, even a high monk had to close his eyes and steel his heart to withstand the greatest temptation. How could a mere pure-love warrior resist?
He held the mother's gaze.
"Auntie, if the family needs it, I can… at any time. But shouldn't their choices be respected in matters like this?"
To be frank, given the Yukinoshita family's kindness to him, he had no reason to refuse. They truly treated him as an heir—as family. Perhaps it was sentimental, but he still hoped that too much interest wouldn't be mixed into relationships.
This was also for Yukinoshita Haruno.
If she followed a predetermined script and let her life be decided for her, she would regret it.
"Oh? So Kiyono means he dislikes Haruno?" The kimonoed beauty arched a brow, unsurprised.
Miss Haruno smiled gently, expression unchanged.
Yukino pursed her lips and looked away.
Yanami's image flickered through Kiyono's mind, then the cool, clear girl under the moon—then the devilish young lady before him.
For years in the Yukinoshita household, this woman had taken care of him. They walked the garden paths together, chatted on the veranda; when shopping for clothes, she sought his opinion on each outfit. Her smile was always perfect; at times she showed a fragile side.
If asked whether he liked or disliked her—
"Of course it's impossible to dislike her."
Kiyono reddened slightly.
But to shoulder a lifetime—it hadn't reached that point.
After a pause, Yukinoshita's mother smiled.
Leaves rustled onto the stone lantern in the courtyard. Under the table, Haruno suddenly clasped his right hand; her palm was warmer than the tea.
"Since that's the case…"
She was about to continue when Yukino suddenly spoke. Her pale fingertips pressed into the tatami's edge, as if trying to grasp something insubstantial.
"I—I can also suc—"
Liar. Didn't you promise to help me achieve my ideals?
Her breath came unevenly; a tightness clogged her chest. She knew perfectly well this was about succession. If Kiyono and her sister… then she would never have another chance.
From every angle, Sister and Kiyono better fit their parents' expectations, but—but…
"Yukino, when expressing your feelings, you should look more earnestly into the other person's eyes."
The kimono-clad beauty's voice and expression were both gentle.
"Eh—does Mother mean she's willing to give Yukino a chance? Little Kiyono is someone I watched grow up, you know." Haruno's lips curved into an impeccable smile. "But don't dig your nails into my hand. It hurts."
And you're definitely not talking about me!
"That, of course, depends on your wishes," their mother replied, tone unreadable.
"Then would it be all right if I eloped with Kiyono?" Haruno seemed to smile—but there was no smile at all.
Kiyono looked out at the moonlight washing the karesansui. He sighed inwardly. He understood her subtext—simple dissatisfaction. Raised as the heir, she alone had borne the hardships and restraints.
Now that her sister might also have a claim—even as a hint—it felt unfair. Yet he sensed Haruno's concern wasn't merely rights or effort; it was something else.
Even with how close he was to the Yukinoshita family, he couldn't step into the knot between mother and daughters.
He wasn't truly family—yet—and he lacked the power to help them change course.
Is there a way to have the best of both worlds?
A thought that strayed from pure love crept in…
In the end, nothing was decided. But Yukinoshita's mother gently hinted at a deadline: by his third year of high school, a choice of life or death—no third option.
Kiyono strolled the veranda. Moonlight like gauzy sharkskin draped the mossy stones. The bamboo spout welcomed the clear moon; each drop sent rings across the pond.
Passing Haruno's room, he found her practicing a smile before the mirror. The glass also reflected a hanging scroll—a congratulatory verse she had improvised when he won the Akutagawa Prize:
"May I be a green pine guarding the bright moon."
—
Summer approached.
Sitting before her easel in the art classroom, Eriri suddenly had the thought.
Summer is beautiful: endless holidays, the boundless blue sky, cicadas singing, clear streams reflecting the sun, fireworks festivals, popsicles and soda amid drifting smoke…
The season itself feels vibrant and colorful, embodying a child's yearning for adventure, chance encounters, and wonderful journeys.
But Eriri hated summer.
Since childhood, her health had been poor. One day she'd go swimming with her parents; the next, she'd be laid up with a fever. Sports days and PE classes were rare for her.
She had no memories of the quintessential childhood things: sneaking out to run through fields, laughing with friends while catching cicadas.
Her image of summer was staying home—anime after anime, game after game.
And—
That incident she regretted to this day had also happened in summer.
After that, it felt as though she'd been trapped in an endless summer vacation.
Would this year be the same?
Clang!
A high, metallic crack rang out.
Eriri opened the window; the scorching wind made her squint.
—The explosive crack of a baseball seemed to herald a brand-new summer.
This year's rainy season seemed to end unusually quickly. She barely remembered any rain before the heat turned humid—or perhaps she'd simply been too busy to notice the changing seasons.
After all, she was preparing for the summer comic market, drawing illustrations for Kiyono's second light-novel volume, and helping her childhood friend finalize character designs…
Cicada cries rattled the windowpanes like hairline cracks.