"You play beautifully, Sakiko."
Her mother's voice, as Sakiko remembered it, was gentle enough to smooth out any wrinkle, the stable foundation of Sakiko's entire world.
"Because Mother likes this song, I practiced for a long, long time!"
"Next time, I'll call Mutsumi too... Oh! This has to be a secret until Mother's birthday!"
Little Sakiko's heart was so joyful it almost took flight; the happiness of her fingertips dancing on the keys, along with her little secret desire to surprise her mother, flushed her cheeks with excitement.
That pure, untainted innocence and childishness, now that she thought of it, was like fragile glass, making her heart tremble with pity.
Her mother's warm palm gently ruffled her hair, her gaze filled with a certain expectation, as she softly probed:
"Speaking of which, Sakiko..."
"Would you like to have an older brother?"
The bright spring light in her memory shattered abruptly at this moment.
What followed was the suffocating sensation of her heart being squeezed by an invisible giant hand, and the weightlessness of her body uncontrollably plummeting into an abyss—
"...Sakiko? Sakiko-san?"
A clear, slightly concerned voice, just right, seemed to come from deep water far away.
"Huh? What is this...?"
Sakiko opened her eyes blankly, her vision blurring then sharpening.
She found herself leaning in Fuuki's strong arms, her hands clutching his arm tightly as if grasping a lifesaver. Her body, trembling violently from the fear of falling, gradually calmed under the steady support of the young man, but the instinctive, bone-deep terror still pulsed wildly at her nerve endings.
"I didn't expect my little sister to occasionally have such a bewildered side."
Fuuki's voice carried a hint of helpless amusement, yet his movements were exceptionally gentle.
He steadily helped the girl, who had almost tumbled down the stairs, upright, and only after confirming she could stand independently did he wave to the servants who had rushed over at the sound, signaling that everything was fine.
"Are you feeling unwell anywhere? You really startled me just now." He leaned down slightly, his emerald pupils filled with [concern,] carefully scrutinizing the still-shaken Sakiko.
As he spoke, his fingers very naturally brushed the nape of the girl's light blue hair, as if merely tidying her stray strands, but his fingertips secretly twisted, as if crushing something invisible.
"I... I'm fine." Sakiko's consciousness finally fully returned, and immense embarrassment instantly overwhelmed her, her fair cheeks rapidly flushing red.
'This was a crucial moment to properly show him around the mansion, arrange his room, and demonstrate the reliable side of the Heir of the Togawa Family...'
'How could... how could I be so flustered!'
'To miss a step on the stairs and almost make a fool of myself by rolling down in public...'
'And in the end... to tremble like a startled small animal in his arms, accepting his comfort...'
'He is clearly—'
Sakiko instinctively looked up at the young man beside her again.
The worried expression on his handsome, sculpted bronze face was impeccable. However, in the depths of those profound emerald eyes, Sakiko caught a familiar, lingering undertone—like what she had seen on the day of the funeral, a kind of almost vacuum-like indifference buried beneath the surface.
They were of similar age, and both had experienced the abyss of losing a loved one.
They were so close at this moment, their bodies having even just had intimate contact.
But why... why did she feel as if an unbridgeable chasm, bottomless and vast, separated them?
That silent question weighed heavily on her heart.
============
The unexpected interlude on the stairs did not disrupt Togawa Sakiko's rhythm.
She quickly composed her surging emotions and disheveled appearance; the composure and dignity befitting a sheltered young lady re-armed her.
Sakiko continued her duties as a guide in an orderly manner, leading Fuuki through the mansion's halls and corridors, introducing the functions of each area. Only, behind them, several servants, still shaken and constantly on edge, followed closely, never leaving their side.
Fuuki wore a gentle smile and followed quietly, but his gaze was like a precise surgical knife, easily dissecting Sakiko's barely maintained facade of composure.
He could clearly see that the girl's delicate and sensitive soul, after a brief exposure, had once again retreated deeper into that seemingly hard yet fragile armor, plastered together with upbringing and responsibility.
Finally, they stopped in front of the living room prepared for Fuuki.
This was once the study of Sakiko's father, Togawa Kiyotsugu.
Her grandfather, hoping to train this adopted son in the family business, had allocated this room with its expansive view and rich collection of books to him.
Kiyotsugu was busy with work year-round, rarely returning home to reunite with his wife and daughter, let alone dragging his weary body back here to work, making the room seem overly spacious.
Pushing open the door, a wide and bright space came into view. Sunlight generously poured through the long French windows, spilling onto the antique long desk, and the air was filled with the unique scent of old book pages mixed with wooden furniture. The walls were occupied by towering bookshelves, and the dazzling array of books silently spoke of the former owner's knowledge and busyness.
Fuuki set down his roughly handled but undamaged suitcase and strolled around, surveying his new environment. Sakiko also stood at the doorway, her gaze complex as she scanned this now unfamiliar father's study, pondering the status and expectations her grandfather had for this adopted brother.
Her gaze involuntarily drifted to the door directly opposite the study—the tightly closed door of her own piano room. Countless fragments of memory instantly surged forth, bringing both sweetness and bitterness.
'I'm sorry, Fuuki... Nii-san.' She mentally composed her words, trying to find a way to address her earlier lapse and current silence.
'Today was supposed to be my day to lead everything, yet...'
'Regardless, thank you for just now...'
"So... so, are you satisfied with this room, Nii-san?" Before she could sort out her thoughts, Sakiko spoke somewhat flustered. She found that Fuuki had quietly come to her side at some point, silently observing her slightly distracted profile with a hint of curious inquiry.
"I am deeply satisfied with everything I have seen today, my sister, thanks to your kindness." Fuuki's voice remained gentle, but his gaze passed over Sakiko and landed on the closed piano room door.
He seemed to be lost in some memory, his tone carrying a perfectly pitched nostalgia and emotion.
"Mizuho-san often spoke of you when she was alive." He said slowly, each word like a carefully crafted key, precisely probing the keyhole of Sakiko's heart.
"She said she had a very lovely, very excellent child. No matter how heavy and arduous her work, just thinking of that child's smile seemed to instantly purify all her fatigue."
'Mother...'
Sakiko's heart tightened abruptly, her mother's gentle face and smile vividly appearing before her eyes, and a bitter ache instantly welled up in her nose.
"She also often felt regret," Fuuki's voice deepened, carrying a sympathetic sadness.
"Regret that the time spent with her child was ultimately too little. She worried about missing too much, afraid she couldn't properly accompany your growth, couldn't witness every important milestone in your life."
Sakiko's fingertips trembled slightly, and her eyes uncontrollably reddened.
"So, during Mizuho-san's severe illness, I made a promise with her." Fuuki turned around, his emerald eyes deeply gazing into Sakiko's misty ones, his tone unprecedentedly solemn and [sincere.]
"Huh? A... promise with Mother?" Sakiko looked up in astonishment, her voice carrying a barely perceptible catch.
"Yes." Fuuki nodded, his expression utterly solemn, "I promised Mizuho-san that I would take her place and witness your life properly. Whether by your side or watching from afar. I will deeply engrave your joys and sorrows, your every growth and transformation, in my heart."
He took a step forward, an invisible oppressive feeling spreading with his words, yet it was masked by the [gentleness] on his face, like a bodhisattva.
"When we finally reunite in the glory of the Lord, I will tell her all of this in detail, making up for the regrets she could not witness in this life."
This devout promise, with its unquestionable certainty, heavily struck Sakiko's most vulnerable defenses.
Under the girl's almost dazed gaze, Fuuki carefully took out a silver-gleaming cross pendant from his embrace. The cold touch of the metal pressed against Sakiko's cool palm, carrying a heavy weight, as if bearing some sacred covenant.
"This is the oath I made with my soul before the Lord's holy image." His voice was low and powerful, with a certain bewitching magnetism.
The cross in her palm was heavy, and amidst its coldness, there seemed to be a strange heat, as if an immense emotion not her own surged into her mind.
Togawa Sakiko's vision instantly blurred, and hot tears could no longer be suppressed, quickly accumulating and swirling in her eyes.
Her mother's unspoken concerns before her death seemed to be miraculously connected by this person at this moment. A mixture of immense sorrow, belated comfort, and an unspeakable complex emotion towards the person before her, surged and broke through the dam of her heart.
"...Fuuki... thank you." Her voice trembled, thick with a nasal tone, almost sobbing. The defenses and suspicions she had built up for so long seemed so pale and powerless in the face of this profound promise.
"Then..." Fuuki's smile deepened, like melting ice in spring, but with a subtle hint of control.
He reached out and gently pushed open the tightly closed piano room door.
Inside, the afternoon sun gently spread across the polished piano lacquer, as if opening a passage to warm times past.
"Would you play a song for me, Sakiko? As a small ceremony to witness us truly becoming a family?"
"With pleasure, desuwa!"
Sakiko almost blurted it out, her voice carrying a lightness akin to relief and an unprecedented sense of closeness. She wiped away the moisture from her eyes, and a long-lost, heartfelt, brilliant smile bloomed on her face.
The young man and girl exchanged smiles and stepped side-by-side into the piano room, bathed in golden sunlight. Light and shadow outlined their harmonious figures, and the air was filled with an almost perfect tenderness.
—If one could ignore the strange, faintly glowing disc that quietly appeared behind Sakiko's head, rotating slowly like a record, at the moment her brilliant smile bloomed.
—If one could penetrate the flawless gentle smile on Fuuki's face and see the cold calculation of a predator locking onto its prey, frozen deep within his eyes.
A moment later, a magnificent yet slightly melancholic melody flowed from the piano room.
Por Una Cabeza (A Head Start).
The piano notes were winding and plaintive, as if destiny danced playfully on the fingertips, speaking of eternal distance that was close at hand, yet ultimately unreachable.
============
At the deep end of the corridor, Wakaba Mutsumi stood quietly in the shadows.
Her amber eyes gazed unblinkingly at the open door of the piano room, at the piano music flowing from within, and at her dearest friend's overly brilliant, almost unfamiliar smile.
The green-haired girl frowned slightly, an indescribable sense of unease, like a vine, quietly entwining around her heart.
Her fingers, resting by her side, unconsciously curled.
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