Southern Home Japan Branch – 11:30 A.M.
Riku's POV
The drive from Lashinbang wasn't long—maybe fifteen minutes at most—but the city noise softened as we pulled up to the next stop. Ahead stood a broad, two-story building styled like something straight out of the American South. The walls were lined with rustic red brick, tall wooden beams framed the porch, and the faint smell of smoked meat hung in the air.
I parked in front of the sign that read Southern Home – Authentic Southern Cuisine, written in looping gold script.
"We're here," I said, turning off the engine.
Miyu leaned forward from the back seat, peering out the window. "What is this place, Riku-san? It looks… different."
"Southern Home," I replied, stepping out of the car. "One of the few restaurants in Japan that actually serves genuine American Southern food. My parents used to take me here when they had the time. When they didn't, I usually came with Yuyuko-san. It's not just good—it's affordable, too. That's why the locals love it."
Rinko squinted at the sign. "Then I take it the owner must be American?"
Before I could answer, a thunderous voice exploded from inside the restaurant.
"I TOLD YOU TO PUT IT ON THE GRILL A FEW SECONDS AGO, DAMMIT!"
The shout was powerful enough to rattle the windows. Miyu and Rinko flinched at once, instinctively stepping back.
Miyu's eyes widened. "Was that… the chef?"
"Yeah," I said with a faint smirk. "That's him. Don't worry, I know who that is."
"You know him?" Rinko asked, hesitant.
"Yup. He's loud, but he's not dangerous. Come on—Rinko, you're hungry, right?"
"Riku!" she shot back, her cheeks flaring as she smacked me on the back.
I laughed quietly and pushed the door open. Warm air, heavy with the scent of butter, bacon, and grilled meat, washed over us. The place had that classic Southern charm—checkered tablecloths, wood-paneled walls, and a row of framed photos of famous guests.
Then he appeared.
A tall man—well over six feet—stood near the counter, dressed in a dark green chef's coat with matching brown pants and black boots. His skin was deep and warm, his muscles filled out the uniform like he'd stepped right out of a recruitment poster. His hair was cropped short, military-style, and a thick mustache framed his smile.
The girls froze. You could practically see them shrink under his presence.
The man turned toward us, his booming voice dropping mid-sentence. "How can I hel—" He paused, his expression lighting up instantly. "Riku! My boy! Good to see you!"
"Good to see you too, Chef Rush," I said with a grin.
He strode over in a few heavy steps and wrapped me in a hug that felt more like a bear trap. I swore I heard my spine pop. Then he pulled back and slapped me on the shoulder before giving me a high five that nearly sent me stumbling.
Miyu blinked. "Riku-san, you know him?"
"Girls," I said, motioning toward the man beside me, "this is Chef Andre Rush. Former U.S. Army master sergeant, now one of the most renowned chefs in America. He's cooked for presidents, celebrities—you name it. Specializes in Southern food and desserts."
Both girls straightened instantly.
Rinko bowed politely. "It's an honor to meet someone of your status. I am Shirokane Rinko… pleased to meet you."
Miyu followed her lead. "And I'm Sakurada Miyu. It's truly a pleasure, Chef Rush."
Chef Rush smiled, his deep voice softening. "Pleasure's all mine, ladies. Like Riku said, I'm Andre Rush, but you can just call me Chef Rush. Welcome to my kitchen. So, what brings you all here?"
"I'd like a table for three," I said.
"Sure thing." He turned sharply toward the staff behind the counter. "HEY! MOVE YOUR ASSES AND GET THESE THREE A TABLE FOR THREE, DAMMIT!"
The shout echoed through the restaurant. Rinko and Miyu both jumped. I just chuckled.
"Don't worry, girls," I said. "He does that all the time."
"Really?" Rinko murmured, half-hiding behind her hair. "Wouldn't that… discourage the staff?"
Chef Rush overheard and laughed heartily. "Quite the contrary, young lady. Discipline comes from pressure. I don't yell to break them—I yell to build them up. Teaches them to stay sharp and not crumble when things get rough."
Miyu tilted her head, intrigued. "Did you learn that from the military, Chef Rush?"
He smiled, eyes gleaming. "Partly. But the discipline? That came from my father. He taught me to hold my ground, no matter what. To stay humble and never let my temper run wild."
I folded my arms. "So what brings you to Japan this time, Chef? Thought you'd be back in D.C. by now."
He chuckled. "Came out here for a little inspiration before I head back to the capital. I've been scoping out the local flavors—miso, soy, that sort of thing. Thought I'd stop by this branch to see how it's holding up."
Then he gave me a teasing look. "So, Riku… you out here on a date or somethin'?"
I hesitated, glancing at the girls, both of whom looked about ready to combust. "…Something like that," I admitted. "I'll spare you the details for now, but once we're seated, I'll fill you in. You got time?"
He looked at his watch and nodded. "Yeah, got about an hour before I gotta catch my flight. Let's make it quick."
A waiter appeared. "Table for three is ready. Please follow me."
We followed the waiter through the rows of booths until we reached a cozy corner near the window. The room smelled like fresh cornbread and smoked brisket. Rinko and Miyu slid into their seats, still glancing around at the framed photos—presidents shaking hands with the chef, TV hosts smiling over barbecue platters, even a photo of Chef Rush standing next to a tank.
After placing our orders, Chef Rush dragged a spare chair from the next table and joined us.
"Alright," he said, crossing his massive arms. "Let's hear it, kid. What's been going on in your life?"
I sighed and leaned back. "Where do I even start…"
For the next several minutes, I told him everything—my brief retirement, the chaos that followed, the tournaments, the betrayals, the quiet victories. I spoke about the team, about Rinko's comeback, Miyu's persistence, and the complicated balance between fame and freedom.
Chef Rush listened without interrupting, nodding occasionally, his expression shifting between surprise, amusement, and quiet approval. When I finally finished, he exhaled through his nose and leaned forward.
"Damn, kid," he said, chuckling softly. "You really have been through it these past few months."
"Yeah," I admitted. "But things are settling now. The path ahead's clearer than it's been in a long time. If all goes well… I might even come out of retirement early."
He grinned, the corner of his mouth lifting. "That's the spirit I like hearing. But don't rush it—no pun intended. You've got these two fine ladies with you now. Don't forget that you can lean on them when things get heavy."
I nodded. "Yeah. I know."
"Good," he said simply, then looked toward the kitchen as the smell of grilled steak filled the air. "You've got the right mindset, Riku. Stay focused, but don't burn yourself out. Remember—discipline isn't just about pushing harder. It's about knowing when to rest."
His words carried the same weight as his voice—firm, grounded, real.
The waiter returned a few minutes later with our meals: plates of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and collard greens, with cornbread on the side. The girls stared at the spread in awe.
"This looks incredible," Miyu said.
Rinko nodded, eyes wide. "It smells… amazing."
Chef Rush smirked. "Told you—Southern food feeds the soul, not just the stomach."
We ate, and for a while, conversation drifted easily—music, travel, the differences between Japanese and American flavors. Miyu even dared to ask about the time he cooked for the U.S. president, and his story had all three of us laughing.
Eventually, he glanced at his watch again and stood. "Well, that's my cue. Flight's in less than an hour."
I stood up too. "Thanks for sitting with us, Chef. Have a safe flight."
He gave me a firm handshake, then raised his hand in a sharp salute. "You too, kid. Keep your head up—and make sure these girls eat more than just sweets."
Rinko and Miyu laughed, offering polite bows as he made his way toward the door, his voice already booming across the kitchen again.
When the door closed behind him, the restaurant felt a little quieter—but warmer somehow. I leaned back in my chair, the faint sound of country guitar filling the background.
The moment chef Rush left for his flight, the restaurant seemed to grow quieter. The faint sound of country music lingered through the speakers, and the scent of grilled meat and butter hung thick in the air. Rinko and Miyu sat across from me, still a bit dazed from the conversation that had unfolded minutes ago.
Rinko finally broke the silence, her voice soft but curious. "Chef Rush is a very interesting person."
Miyu nodded, smiling faintly. "And he's not as scary as he looks. When he smiled at us, it was kind of… comforting."
I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed. "He may look like he could bench-press a car—and he probably can—but deep down, he's a big softie. Just don't tell him I said that."
Both girls chuckled, the tension finally easing off. But I could tell Rinko had something else on her mind. Her fingers tapped against her drink, hesitant at first, then steady.
"Riku," she began, "there's something I wanted to ask you yesterday, but I didn't get the chance." Her tone was careful, like she was walking on glass.
I smirked a little, already knowing where this was heading. "You want to know how much my net worth is, right?"
Rinko froze mid-sip, nearly choking on her iced tea. "H-how did you—"
"It's kinda obvious, you know?" I said, taking a calm sip of my own drink.
Miyu tilted her head with that sly, mischievous grin she always had when teasing someone. "An interesting question, Rinko-san. Considering Riku-san's… unique circumstances, it's only natural for us to wonder. After all, if he's destined to have a harem of his own, his finances might be… relevant."
I sighed. "You too, Miyu?"
She shrugged, unbothered. "Just being practical."
"Alright," I said, giving in. "If we're talking about what I earned from my professional career—my winnings from The International and Future World Fes—that totals around ten million U.S. dollars. Then add in sponsorships, endorsement deals, and my contract with OG… that's another eight million."
Rinko's eyes widened slightly, and Miyu let out a low whistle. "So, eighteen million dollars total," Miyu said, tapping her chin. "But the rule states that a male from a high-ranking clan—"
"I know," I interrupted gently. "But I didn't say that's all my income."
I turned to the window beside our table and pointed across the street. A pristine white building stood there, its western-style architecture standing out against the rest of the district. The name Pantasia gleamed proudly on its signboard in gold cursive.
Rinko squinted. "Isn't that one of Japan's top bakeries?"
Miyu blinked, recognition dawning. "Pantasia? You're right. But why point it out, Riku-san?"
I smirked. "Because I own Pantasia."
Both girls froze like their brains had just blue-screened. Then, in perfect unison—
"EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!?"
Their voices echoed through the restaurant so loudly that a few heads turned. One of the waiters rushed over in alarm.
"Is something wrong, sir?"
I raised a hand, half-apologetic. "It's nothing. They just found out something surprising, that's all. Sorry for the noise."
The waiter blinked twice, nodded, and retreated. The moment he was gone, Rinko slammed her hands on the table, eyes blazing with disbelief. "Riku, what do you mean you own Pantasia!?"
"I meant what I said." I kept my tone calm. "I own sixty percent of Pantasia."
Miyu's mouth fell open. "How is that even possible? Pantasia's owned by the Azusagawa family, not the Nagae!"
"You're not wrong," I said. "The Azusagawa family still runs Pantasia, but it's legally under Nagae ownership now. Let me explain."
They both leaned forward, hanging onto every word.
"Years ago, Pantasia had a long-standing rivalry with another bakery—St. Pierre. Their feud got so bad that their employees practically treated each other like sworn enemies. Then one day, the owner of St. Pierre, Kirisaki Yuuichi, tried to force Pantasia into a merger, essentially buying them out. Before that could happen, Sanzaemon-dono stepped in to mediate. Both sides agreed to settle it through a Shokugeki."
"SHOKUGEKI?!" Rinko's voice jumped an octave. "You mean—like the ones held at Totsuki Academy?!"
Miyu blinked, tilting her head. "What's a Shokugeki?"
Rinko took a deep breath, her eyes glowing with fascination. "It's a formal culinary duel—two chefs, one competition, and something valuable at stake. The winner takes everything. But, Riku… how did you end up involved in that?"
"Both sides needed a neutral representative—someone not affiliated with either family," I said. "Pantasia asked Sanzaemon-dono for help, and he recommended me. I was still fifteen at the time, just before I joined OG."
"Fifteen?!" Rinko's voice trembled between awe and worry. "And you agreed to that?"
"I didn't realize it was an all-or-nothing match," I admitted. "If St. Pierre won, they would've gained Pantasia and all of the Azusagawa family's assets."
Miyu's jaw dropped. "That's insane! Why would they risk so much?"
"Ambition, probably," I said quietly. "Kirisaki Yuuichi wanted to expand St. Pierre into a global empire. He was ruthless enough to risk everything to do it."
"But you won," Rinko said, her tone soft but sure. "Pantasia still stands."
"Yeah," I said, smiling faintly. "Pantasia won. And as part of the victory terms, St. Pierre was dissolved, and Yuuichi was permanently banned from the pastry world."
Miyu exhaled in disbelief. "That's… unreal. But you said there was more?"
"Yeah." My tone darkened slightly. "Turns out that Shokugeki wasn't just a competition. It was a front for underground gambling. Influential people from all over the world were betting fortunes on the outcome."
Rinko's hands went cold around her glass. "You mean—"
"Yeah," I said, leaning forward. "Every single one of them bet on St. Pierre to win. And when I didn't lose… well, the payout was massive."
Miyu's voice wavered. "Riku-san… how much did you win?"
I looked them straight in the eye. "One hundred billion yen."
Both girls went dead silent for a moment. Then—
"ONE—ONE HUNDRED BILLION?!" Rinko nearly shouted.
Miyu clutched her head, eyes wide. "THAT'S INSANE!"
"Yeah," I admitted, laughing under my breath. "It was a lot. I actually tried to refuse it at first. But Pantasia's general manager, Sylvan Kirisaki, insisted I take sixty percent as thanks for saving the company."
Rinko did the math quickly, muttering, "Sixty percent of a hundred billion… that's sixty billion yen…"
Miyu stared blankly. "Which means… roughly three hundred eighty million U.S. dollars…"
I nodded. "That's right. Just from that Shokugeki alone. And thanks to that, I met the condition that Okina-sama placed down for me."
Rinko whispered under her breath, almost as if she forgot I could hear, "So Riku can have at least five wives, including us… or more…"
I pretended not to notice, focusing instead on my glass of water. Some things were better left unaddressed—for now.
Miyu, still processing, leaned forward again. "But how did you end up owning Pantasia after that?"
"When the match ended," I said, "the previous owner stepped down and offered me full ownership. I refused, obviously. So we negotiated a compromise—the Nagae clan would hold ownership under my name, but the Azusagawa family would continue managing operations. They became a vassal family under us, ensuring Pantasia stays stable."
Rinko nodded slowly, her expression softening. "And it worked out."
"Yeah," I said, smiling faintly. "Sales have been incredible ever since. We've expanded internationally, too—still small, but growing steadily."
Miyu giggled, resting her chin on her hand. "So, the heir to the Nagae, a former world champion musician, and the owner of Japan's top bakery. You're just checking off life goals, huh?"
"Guess so," I said. "Though now I'm wondering how Yamabuki-san will take it once she finds out. Her family runs a bakery, too."
Rinko blinked. "Right… that might get awkward."
"Yeah," I murmured. "I might have to adjust some branch locations later."
Just then, the waiter returned, balancing three steaming plates.
"Thank you for waiting, dear customers," he said politely. "Here are your orders."
Miyu's dish came first—crispy golden chicken and waffles drizzled with red maple syrup, paired with a creamy scoop of butter mashed potatoes. Rinko's plate followed—a Louisiana shrimp po' boy, filled with plump shrimp, lettuce, and a tangy remoulade sauce. Finally, my order arrived: spicy shrimp jambalaya, with an extra kick—exactly how I liked it.
The rich aroma filled the air, making all three of us unconsciously lean forward.
"Please call me when you're ready to pay," the waiter added before leaving.
The girls' eyes sparkled as they stared at the food. Rinko's stomach gave a tiny growl again, and Miyu laughed quietly.
"Well," I said, picking up my fork, "let's not wait any longer."
We placed our hands together almost in unison.
"Itadakimasu."
And just like that, the quiet hum of conversation faded beneath the sound of laughter, clinking utensils, and the warmth of good company.
----------
Yokohama Batting Center – 5:00 P.M.
3rd POV
After their lunch and a lively afternoon in the arcade, the day had begun to take on a new rhythm. What started as simple fun had turned into one of those rare days where time felt slower—soaked in laughter, teasing, and quiet contentment.
It began at the crane machines. Riku and Rinko had been floored by Miyu's uncanny luck; she won prize after prize, each on the first try. The onlookers gathered in disbelief as plushies and figures piled up around her feet. Riku only sighed and muttered to himself, "Better keep her away from any gacha game before she breaks the economy."
From there, they migrated to the fighting game cabinets, where the real competition began. Rinko put up a strong fight, but Riku was on another level entirely—untouchable. Challenger after challenger fell before him, his in-game health bar untouched. When he finally clocked in his 250th consecutive win, the arcade staff erupted in cheers and enshrined his name on their Hall of Fame board. Rinko rolled her eyes with a small smile, pretending to be unimpressed, though she couldn't hide her pride.
By the time the trio stepped into the cool air outside, the afternoon sun had already begun to dip low. On Miyu's suggestion, they decided to try something different—the batting cages. Riku had raised a brow but ultimately agreed. "Sure. Haven't swung a bat in a while."
He took them to the Yokohama Batting Center, the training ground of the professional team Yokohama Blue Oceans. It helped that the Nagae family owned the team, while the Saigyouji owned its Tokyo counterpart, the Warriors. When the manager spotted Riku, his demeanor shifted immediately, and he offered them a private session. In exchange, the staff asked if they could record Riku's swings for analysis—he agreed without hesitation.
The hour that followed was a blur of laughter, cheers, and sore arms. Riku's hits were something else—each crack of the bat echoing through the cage as balls soared into simulated stands. Some were perfect line drives, others clean home runs. Miyu surprised herself with a few strong swings, even managing two clean homers, while Rinko… well, she made contact more than once, which was good enough for her. By the forty-minute mark, her shoulders trembled from fatigue.
"Let's take a break," Riku said, noticing Rinko's labored breathing.
She sighed in relief and collapsed onto a nearby bench. Miyu quickly fetched her a sports drink from the vending machine, offering it with a soft smile.
"Thank you, Miyu-chan," Rinko murmured, catching her breath.
"You're welcome," Miyu replied, taking a seat beside her.
Riku leaned against the chain fence, wiping sweat from his brow as he turned toward Miyu. "So, how was your first time at a batting cage?"
"One of the best things I've ever done!" she beamed. "Next time, I'll drag Haruna-chan and the others here. They'll love it!"
Rinko chuckled softly. "Shiratori-san and Takeshita-san will most likely enjoy that… though I can already picture Haruna struggling to even hold the bat."
That thought earned a shared laugh between the three, the kind that came easily and left a warmth behind.
When the laughter died down, Riku's voice softened. "Rinko, Miyu. Did you enjoy today?"
Rinko's answer came without hesitation. "It was one of the best days of my life, Riku… I enjoyed every moment of it."
"Me too," Miyu said. "It's the first time I've gone out with you like this. I didn't expect it to feel so natural."
"I'm glad," Riku murmured, smiling faintly. But before he could continue, Rinko's tone shifted—curious, but edged with something more.
"Riku," she began, "I've been meaning to ask. What would you have done… if Okina-sama and the other Celestial Family heads hadn't created the harem plan?"
That question caught even Miyu off guard. She blinked, turning toward Riku. The curiosity in her eyes mirrored Rinko's.
Riku exhaled slowly. "Honestly? If that plan never existed, I would've used my Pledge to ask for both of you to become my fiancées."
"Pledge?" Rinko echoed, tilting her head.
He nodded. "A sacred vow among the Celestial Families. You make it once in your life—and once you do, you're bound to it until its terms are fulfilled. Breaking it… means death. It's meant to prove one's devotion, or to seal an unbreakable promise."
Both girls fell silent. The weight of those words hung in the air.
"I would've stood before your parents," Riku continued, "and declared my vow. I'd commit my life to you two. And only you."
Rinko and Miyu's faces flushed pink. The sheer conviction in his tone—steady and unflinching—struck something deep within them.
"So you dodged the bullet thanks to the plan," Miyu said lightly, trying to hide how fast her heart was racing.
"Yeah," he admitted, chuckling faintly. "I suppose so."
She hesitated for a moment, then pressed further. "When the heads announced the plan, you could've chosen either of us… but you didn't. Why?"
Riku's eyes softened. "Because I couldn't bear the thought of one of you breaking down from heartbreak. The idea of either of you in tears, or with someone else—it was unbearable. I couldn't choose without destroying something precious. So I decided to protect both of you instead, even if it costs me everything."
Miyu's lips parted slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. "If you say things like that, Riku-san, I might fall for you even more…"
Rinko smiled faintly at her friend's words, though her own heart mirrored the same thought. She rose from the bench, stepping closer to Riku. Her hands found his.
"I told you this back at Hakugyokurou," she said softly. "I don't care how many wives you end up with. You're the man I want to spend my future with. I made that choice the moment I fell for you. So stop worrying about us finding someone else. Because in our eyes, there's only you."
Miyu nodded, her expression tender. "Rinko-san's right. You're the only one for me, Riku-san. And to prove it…"
Before he could react, Miyu reached up, cupped his face, and kissed him.
It wasn't sudden or rough—it was deliberate, tender, filled with the quiet intensity of someone who had waited far too long. Her lips lingered on his, and his arms instinctively wrapped around her waist, drawing her closer. Time dissolved between them.
When they finally broke apart, Miyu's eyes shimmered. "Is that proof enough for you?" she whispered.
Riku's voice trembled slightly. "Miyu… I… thank you."
"That was my first kiss," she admitted, her tone half shy, half teasing. "And you're a damn good kisser, Riku-san~"
That earned her a faint laugh—and something rarer. A blush crept across Riku's face.
Miyu blinked. "Wait… did you just blush?"
Rinko covered her mouth, wide-eyed. "That's the first time I've ever seen him blush."
Riku averted his gaze. "I blush too, you know."
Miyu chuckled softly. "Guess that shows you're human after all, Riku-san." Then her expression softened. "Though… I think you forgot someone."
It took him a moment to realize what she meant. His eyes found Rinko's, and in that wordless exchange, the air shifted again. She stepped closer, resting her hand against his chest before leaning in. Their lips met, familiar yet new each time.
This kiss was quieter than Miyu's—gentler, but heavier with memory. It wasn't born from surprise or boldness, but years of quiet devotion and unspoken longing.
The batting cages stood still around them. The usual whir of the pitching machines faded, and even the security cameras had gone dark—the owner discreetly switching them off to protect their privacy.
For that brief moment, the world was theirs alone.
The faint sound of bat swings and distant laughter still lingered in the air when the three finally stepped out of the cages. The golden light of the late afternoon filtered through the netting, casting soft lines of shadow across the benches where they'd sat moments ago. Riku leaned against the railing, his breathing even, his expression calm—until Rinko's next question cut through the gentle quiet.
"Riku… are you planning to take in more wives in the future?" she asked, her tone steady but edged with curiosity. "I mean… you've already passed several of the conditions Okina-sama laid out."
Her words hung there, not accusatory, but searching.
Riku blinked once, then looked away, his thoughts briefly spiraling inward. She's got a point.
"That depends," he finally said, voice low. "But… I can already name two girls who might have some interest in me."
Rinko raised a brow. "Really? Who?"
"Wakana Rei."
Both girls straightened at the name.
"Wakana-san?" Rinko echoed.
Miyu tilted her head. "Isn't she the vocalist from RAISE A SUILEN?"
Riku nodded. "The very same. She kind of gave it away before their performance at CiRCLE. She told me, 'I'll make sure your eyes are always on me.'" He smirked faintly. "Didn't take much to figure out what she meant."
Rinko folded her arms, half impressed, half exasperated. "You figured it out from that alone? You really don't miss anything, do you?"
"Then who's the second?" Miyu asked, curiosity lighting up her face.
"Ayase Eli."
Both girls froze.
"Eh? Ayase-san?" Rinko blurted out.
Miyu leaned forward, stunned. "As in Ayase Eli—the school idol? From μ's?"
"The same," Riku confirmed. "She's a third-year like me and Rinko. We met about a year ago in Russia. She'd flown there to watch her cousin perform."
Miyu's eyes widened. "Her cousin? Oh my… if this ever went public, that'd be quite the scandal!"
Rinko grimaced lightly. "You're right… after what happened with Chisato-san, I don't think you need another close call. If people caught wind of you and a μ's member… it could explode overnight."
"True," Riku said simply.
"But how are you so sure she has feelings for you?" Rinko asked, still processing the shock.
Riku rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a short breath. "Because she confessed to me. Two months before TI10 started."
"EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH?!"
Their screams practically echoed across the cages. Riku winced, immediately clamping his hands over his ears.
"You two are too loud," he muttered.
Rinko covered her mouth, embarrassed. "Sorry… it's just—Ayase-san? Really? I never would've guessed."
"Neither did I," Riku admitted. His voice softened, a faint melancholy threading through his words. "She just… confessed out of nowhere. I can still remember how nervous she looked. Took everything she had just to say it."
Miyu sat forward, genuinely intrigued now. "How did that even happen? What made her fall for you?"
"Well," Riku began, "remember how I said her cousin's a pro player?"
"Right."
He smiled faintly. "Take a guess who it is."
Rinko furrowed her brows, thinking hard. "Hmm… someone Russian… pro-level… don't tell me…" She shook her head in defeat. "I can't think of anyone."
"Her cousin," Riku said, "is Miposhka."
Rinko froze, eyes wide. "Wait—the Miposhka? The captain of Team Spirit?!"
"The very same," Riku replied with a shrug. "Trust me, I was just as shocked. I didn't expect Eli and Yaroslav to be related."
"Yaroslav?" Miyu repeated.
"That's Miposhka's real name—Yaroslav Naidenov. But yeah, back on topic." Riku leaned back slightly. "Before Eli met me, she hated men. With a passion."
Both girls blinked in surprise.
"She… hated men?" Rinko repeated softly.
"Yeah," Riku said. "Except for her relatives. When we first met, she was constantly on guard—didn't want to talk, barely looked me in the eye. But she saw how well I got along with her cousin, how we worked together without ego or pretense. That… seemed to make her curious. Slowly, she started opening up. Asking questions. Talking about music, about life back home. It took time, but she began trusting me."
Miyu leaned back, listening intently. "And that trust turned into love."
"Eventually, yeah," Riku said quietly. "Though I didn't see it coming. One afternoon, she just… told me. It was the first time someone had confessed to me like that."
Rinko tilted her head. "What about Chisato-san?"
Riku gave a small chuckle. "That was different. Chisato's been with me since childhood. Eli's confession was… something else entirely. She was shaking, but she stood her ground. And I—well, I had to tell her the truth."
"Everything?" Miyu asked.
He nodded. "Everything. About the Celestial Families. The pledge. My feelings for Rinko."
The two girls fell silent, the weight of that admission settling in.
Miyu broke it first, quietly. "Did she lash out? Cry? Anything?"
"I expected her to," Riku said. "I even braced myself for it. But instead… she smiled. Said she understood. That she was grateful I told her the truth, and that she'd rather stay as my friend than force something that would hurt me." He paused, eyes distant for a moment. "She's strong. Stronger than people give her credit for."
Rinko crossed her arms. "Then with how things are now… she might get another chance."
Miyu nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. If she still has feelings for you, this could reignite them. You think she'll try again?"
Riku shrugged. "Maybe. Like I said, it depends on them. If they decide to pursue it, I'll deal with it when it comes. But…"—he looked at both of them—"…you two get the final say. You're my first and second wives-to-be. So any future wife will need your approval. Both of you."
Rinko blinked, surprised by how seriously he said it. "That's… a lot of pressure, Riku."
"I know." He smiled faintly. "But I also know you two can handle it. You've both shown more grace and strength than most could ever manage."
For a while, silence filled the space again—soft, contemplative, and comfortable. The last rays of sunlight slanted through the batting cage netting, painting the floor in gold. Rinko checked her watch.
"It's already five," she said quietly. "We should probably head back."
Riku glanced at his own. "You're right. Guess we lost track of time."
Miyu laughed gently. "We did spend almost an hour just watching you hit every ball like a machine."
"That too," Riku said with a small smirk. "Anyway, we've got school tomorrow. You two go ahead—I'll tell the owner we're leaving."
"Got it," Rinko said, gathering her bag. Miyu followed her toward the car, their laughter soft but steady.
As Riku walked over to the counter, the staff members who had been quietly watching their session earlier bowed slightly. The owner, a middle-aged man with a weathered face and kind eyes, handed him a small flash drive.
"Your data, Nagae-sama," he said respectfully. "We gathered a full analysis of your swing metrics. Quite impressive, if I may say."
Riku accepted it with a nod. "Thank you. Appreciate you letting us use the cages."
"Anytime, sir," the man replied. "It was an honor watching you play."
Riku offered a polite smile before heading out to the parking lot. The sky had already deepened into a faint orange hue, the first stars barely peeking through. Rinko and Miyu were already by the car, waiting patiently, their earlier blushes faded but not forgotten.
As Riku slid into the driver's seat, he glanced at them through the rearview mirror. For all the chaos, laughter, and revelations of the day, there was a strange peace between them now—a quiet understanding that whatever came next, they would face it together.
He turned the key, and the engine rumbled softly to life. The day was ending, but the warmth it left behind lingered—like the faint echo of a bat meeting ball, clean and sure.
----------
Nagae Estate – 6:30 P.M.
Riku's POV
The drive back from Yokohama was quiet, almost serene. The city lights flickered past the windshield in streaks of gold and white, and Rinko sat beside me this time—just as I promised. Miyu, half-awake in the backseat, clutched a paper bag of leftover takoyaki from the stand we'd stopped at. The faint scent of grilled batter and sauce still lingered in the car.
Earlier, the owner of the batting center had assured me that all the video footage from today was deleted. That was a relief. The last thing I needed was a viral clip of us—especially after everything that had just happened.
Yuyuko-san's message came through during the drive. Rinko and Miyu's companions had returned home safely, and apparently, news of our engagement had already reached the Celestial Families and several prominent figures. Even His Majesty had sent his blessings. I wasn't sure whether to feel honored or exhausted. Maybe both.
By the time we reached the estate, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, and the garden lamps illuminated the path like soft constellations guiding us home. We unloaded everything from the trunk—the shopping bags from 7 Rainbow and Lashingban, plus the plushies and keychains Miyu had proudly won at the arcade. The maids had already brought out a cart for us, efficient as always.
As we rolled the cart up the front steps, Rinko finally asked the question that had clearly been sitting in her mind since the drive.
"Riku… why are we here again? I mean—me and Miyu?"
I gave her a faint smile. "You'll find out soon enough. It'll make sense once we're inside."
When we entered the grand hall, my grandfather was already waiting near the staircase, his presence filling the room even before he spoke.
"Welcome home, Riku. And welcome to you too, Rinko and Miyu." His tone carried that familiar mix of warmth and authority. "How was your date?"
I gave a small shrug. "Eventful. One of the best rest days I've had in a while."
"Good," he said, a smile tugging at his lips. "I'm glad you made the most of it. As for Rinko and Miyu's belongings—those have already been brought here and arranged in their rooms."
Rinko blinked. "Wait… what do you mean our belongings are here?"
Grandfather folded his arms behind his back. "Ah, right. You two weren't informed. While you were enjoying yourselves, I arranged for your things to be collected and brought here. Everything should already be unpacked and organized."
Miyu's eyes widened. "So… that whole date was just a distraction?"
Both girls turned toward me, suspicion written all over their faces.
"Hey," I raised my hands defensively, "don't look at me. I had nothing to do with that. It was all planned by Grandfather and your parents."
"Mom and Dad were in on this?" Rinko muttered, still stunned.
Grandfather nodded. "Yesterday, while you three were at the studio, we discussed the moving arrangements. It made more sense to handle it today—this way, you'll have time to settle in and adjust to the estate."
Rinko exhaled softly, a sheepish look replacing her suspicion. "I see… sorry for doubting you, Riku."
"It's fine," I said with a small smile. "I'd be suspicious too."
"Now then," Grandfather continued, his gaze turning toward the girls, "since you're both now officially engaged to Riku, there's an old Nagae tradition you'll need to follow."
I let out a quiet sigh. "Ah, that." I glanced at them. "Rinko, Miyu… whatever happens next, just go along with it."
Before they could ask what I meant, Grandfather snapped his fingers. Two maids stepped forward from the hallway.
The first one, standing to his left, was tall—almost my height—with long blue hair neatly braided down to her hips. Silver eyes glimmered behind her glasses, and a spade-shaped clip adorned her bangs. Her posture was immaculate.
The second, standing to his right, was her opposite in appearance—short, with cropped dark red hair, bright green eyes, and a diamond-shaped clip catching the chandelier light.
Grandfather gestured between them. "As per Nagae family tradition, each of you will receive a personal aide to assist you in daily life. On my left is Kenzaki Kazehana, who will serve Rinko. And on my right, Tachibana Sakurako, who will assist Miyu."
The two women bowed in perfect sync before stepping forward.
Kazehana spoke first, her voice smooth and measured. "I am Kenzaki Kazehana. It is a pleasure to serve you, Rinko-sama."
Rinko straightened nervously, unsure how to respond to such formality. "S-same here… Kazehana-san."
Then Sakurako stepped up, her tone far more cheerful. "And I'm Tachibana Sakurako! I'll be your aide from now on, Miyu-sama. Let's get along, okay?"
Miyu's nervousness melted instantly at the girl's energy. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Sakurako-san!"
Grandfather nodded approvingly. "Good. Now, Kazehana, Sakurako—your top priority is the safety of those under your care. Whatever happens, report directly to me or Riku. Understood?"
Both maids snapped to attention. "Hai, Oyakata-sama!"
The sound echoed through the hall like a command given in a dojo.
Grandfather gave a satisfied nod. "Now then, you may escort Rinko and Miyu to their rooms. I need a private word with my grandson."
"Yes, sir." The two bowed again before turning to the girls.
"Come with us, please," Kazehana said politely.
"Right this way!" Sakurako added, already motioning toward the grand staircase.
Rinko gave me a small smile before following, while Miyu gave a playful wave as she trailed behind.
Once they disappeared down the corridor, the house grew quiet again.
Grandfather turned to me, his expression softening slightly. "Come, Riku. Let's talk in my office."
I nodded. "Understood."
Before we left the hall, he called out to one of the passing maids. "Youmu, please take Riku's things to his room."
"Yes, Kyoya-sama," she replied, bowing before taking the remaining bags from the cart.
As we made our way down the dimly lit corridor toward his office, I could feel the shift in atmosphere. The playful energy from earlier was gone—replaced by something heavier, more deliberate.
Whatever he wanted to discuss wasn't just family tradition.
And I had a feeling tonight's conversation was going to change the pace of things again.
Nagae Estate – Kyoya's Office
6:15 P.M.
Riku's POV
The familiar scent of polished wood and aged paper filled the room as we stepped inside. The office was lit softly by the amber glow of a hanging lamp, its light pooling over the dark oak desk and the wall of scrolls behind it. Grandfather gestured toward the couch opposite his desk, and I took a seat beside him while Eiji-san entered quietly, placing two cups of steaming tea on the low table before bowing out.
For a brief moment, the only sound was the faint ticking of the antique clock by the bookshelf.
"So," I said, leaning back slightly, "what did you want to talk about?"
Grandfather rested his hands on his cane. "We received the results regarding what happened yesterday."
My brow lifted. "Already?"
He nodded gravely. "Yes. The investigation was thorough. And we now know what caused the incident."
A heaviness settled in my chest. "Alright… what's the result?"
He exhaled through his nose before answering. "Do you remember the time Aya and Momiji brought that grimoire to young Kosuzu?"
"I do," I said, recalling the moment clearly. "They wanted her to examine it, see what kind of magic it contained. Don't tell me…" My voice trailed off as the thought clicked. "The hole that appeared—was that caused by the grimoire?"
"That's what Marisa-kun, Alice-kun, and Patchouli-kun determined," Grandfather said. "They spent the entire day studying it."
I frowned, realizing something. "So that explains why Alice wasn't at 7 Rainbow today." I let out a low sigh. "But the real question is… how did it even happen? That kind of spell doesn't just go off by itself."
He folded his hands together. "Young Kosuzu explained it herself. The magic was invoked through her own curiosity."
My eyes narrowed slightly. "Her curiosity triggered the spell?" I leaned forward, thinking it through. "Then the grimoire must have a passive lure. A charm or enchantment that tempts the reader to open it, even if they don't intend to. Dangerous kind of magic."
Grandfather nodded. "Exactly. That's why they've decided to transfer the grimoire to Patchouli for safekeeping and reinforcement. She's the best option we have."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. "If Patchy's the one handling it, then it's in good hands. I suppose that's one less thing to worry about." I took a sip of the tea—strong, earthy, the kind grandfather favored. "Is that everything?"
"Not quite," he said, shifting his tone. "There's also the matter of the invitation from the Moriya Shrine."
I let out a soft hum. "Ah, that. Yeah, I'm planning to attend. I bought something for Sanae, actually—thought it'd be a fitting gift for the party. I'm planning to bring Mafuyu, Tina, Rinko, and Miyu along. The invitation did say I could bring up to four people."
Grandfather's gaze sharpened slightly. "It did. But I'd like to hear your reasoning for each."
"Of course," I said, setting the cup down. "For Tina—it's simple. She's close friends with Cirno and Daiyousei, and I figured it'd be nice for her to meet them again. As for Mafuyu… Kokoro's bound to be there, and if I bring Mafuyu along, it might give me an opportunity to speak with her about a few things. And Rinko and Miyu…" I paused, a faint smile softening my face. "I want to introduce my fiancées properly to the people of the mountain. It's about time."
Grandfather studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "Reasonable. Very well—you have my approval."
"Thank you," I said with a short bow of my head.
He leaned back in his chair, his tone easing. "You should get some rest. It's been a long day, and you've got school tomorrow."
I stood up, grateful the conversation wasn't turning into another one of his long lectures. "Then I'll turn in for the night. Good evening, Grandfather."
As I reached for the door, his voice stopped me.
"Oh, Riku—before I forget."
I turned back, one hand on the doorframe. "What is it?"
He looked at me with a faintly amused expression. "Regarding your engagement to Rinko and Miyu—aside from informing the other family heads, His Majesty, and a few select names… I also informed your childhood friends."
I froze. "…You what?"
His expression didn't falter. "I told them earlier this evening."
"Why would you—?! Especially Kokoro!" I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "I was going to tell them myself tomorrow!"
He chuckled softly, clearly unbothered by my frustration. "I expected that reaction. Don't worry—they've been instructed to keep it secret until you make it official. Not a word will leave their lips unless you say so."
I sighed in defeat. "So they'll keep quiet until I give the green light?"
"Exactly."
"Fine," I muttered. "I'll take that. When did you tell them, anyway?"
"Right before you arrived home," he said, smiling faintly as he sipped his tea.
I shook my head, a resigned grin creeping in despite myself. "You really don't waste time, do you? Alright then… I'll be heading off." I turned the knob, then glanced back one last time. "And Grandfather—try taking a break for once, alright?"
He chuckled again, the sound deep and genuine. "I'll take you up on that. Now go on, before Eiji-san finds another excuse to lecture me about overworking."
That earned a small laugh out of me. "Goodnight."
As I stepped out of the office, the heavy door closed softly behind me, muting the ticking of the old clock. The corridor ahead was dim, lit only by the lanterns along the wall. I let out a quiet breath, feeling the fatigue of the day finally settle in.
Tomorrow would bring its own share of noise, but for tonight, the silence of the estate was enough.
Meanwhile with Riku's Childhood Friends…
Third POV
Seta Residence
A pale curtain fluttered against the evening breeze as Kaoru sat by her desk, the edge of her quill tapping absently against the spine of a thick, leather-bound copy of Hamlet. The amber light of her reading lamp washed over the mahogany desk, illuminating a scattered pile of notes written in her neat, cursive hand.
She was just turning the final page when her phone buzzed.
Kaoru frowned slightly—few people messaged her at this hour. She reached for the device, and when she saw the sender's name, her brow lifted.
From: Kyoya-sama
Curiosity replaced fatigue. She unlocked the phone and began reading, her eyes moving quickly, the faintest shimmer of surprise passing through her expression before it bloomed into a radiant smile.
For a second, she didn't move. Then, with a sudden burst of emotion, she rose, gliding toward her balcony doors. She threw them open and stepped out into the cool twilight.
"Magnificent!" she cried, her voice carrying softly into the evening air. "To think this day would come—the moment when ani-sama and Rinko's love finally finds its answer!"
She twirled once, her joy bubbling over. The night sky, painted with streaks of violet, seemed to echo her delight. But then, remembering the closing line of the message, she pressed a finger to her lips.
"Yet... since Kyoya-sama requests discretion, I shall honor it."
With a final look at the stars, she returned to her room. Sitting once more at her desk, Kaoru began typing a message to Riku—just a small one, private and sincere.
Congratulations, ani-sama. May your union be a blessing of peace and strength. And perhaps, someday... someone will look at me the same way you look at them.
Her thumb hovered over the send button for a moment, then she smiled gently and pressed it. The phone chimed, and silence reclaimed the room—save for the faint whisper of pages turning in the wind.
Shirasagi Residence
Across town, Chisato sat cross-legged on her bed, her bass guitar resting against her thigh. The rhythmic pulse of Yura Yura filled the air as her fingers danced across the strings, precise yet fluid.
She stopped when her phone vibrated beside her amp.
"Hmm?" she murmured, setting the bass aside. The name on the screen made her blink. "Kyoya-sama?"
It wasn't often that Riku's grandfather reached out directly. Her heartbeat quickened, just slightly. She swiped open the message and read carefully. The corners of her lips softened into a quiet smile.
"So... Rinko-chan finally did it," she whispered. "I'm happy for you, onii-sama."
Her gaze fell to the floor, her fingers tracing an invisible pattern in the air. "A harem, though..." She gave a faint laugh. "That's just like him."
For a moment, an old memory flickered through her mind—two children sitting by a riverbank, the sun reflecting off the water as Riku promised to protect them both, no matter what.
"Maybe I…" she started, then shook her head firmly. "No. I made my choice. And I'll keep walking my own path."
Chisato leaned back, letting her body sink into the mattress. She stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts drifting with the faint hum of her amplifier.
"A boyfriend, huh…" she whispered to no one in particular, and the quiet swallowed her words whole.
Mitake Residence
At the Mitake residence, chaos reigned in its usual, warm-hearted way.
Tomoe sat cross-legged on the carpet beside Himari, who was hunched over her workbook, scribbling furiously.
"Come on, Himari! Just a few more questions!" Tomoe cheered.
"I can do this!" Himari declared, determination burning in her eyes.
Across the room, Ran, Moca, and Tsugumi were sprawled across the couch, controllers in hand, battling it out in a co-op shooter.
That peace—or whatever counted as peace in Afterglow's world—was short-lived. Ran's phone buzzed in her pocket. She frowned and paused the game.
"Who is it?" Moca asked lazily, leaning over to peek.
"Message from Kyoya-san," Ran said, her tone suddenly serious.
"Wait, you mean Riku-san's grandfather?" Tsugumi blinked.
"Maybe it's important~" Moca sing-songed, earning an eye roll from Ran.
She opened the message—and her eyes widened. The words froze her in place.
"Ran-chan?" Tsugumi asked, worried. "What is it?"
Ran didn't answer right away. Then, slowly, a small smile formed at the corner of her mouth.
"Here," she said simply, handing the phone over.
Moca and Tsugumi leaned in, reading. Their gasps were perfectly in sync.
"Riku-san and Rinko-san are engaged?!" Tsugumi blurted.
The words carried across the room, and suddenly all eyes turned their way.
"Huh?! For real?!" Himari nearly dropped her pencil. "Riku and Rinko-san?!"
Tomoe raised a brow. "That's a big step."
Ran crossed her arms, trying to keep her tone calm. "It's true. Kyoya-san sent it himself. But listen—he also said it has to stay secret until nii-san makes it official."
Himari puffed her cheeks, then nodded solemnly. "Hmm... okay! I won't tell anyone!"
"Same here," Tomoe said with a grin.
Moca raised a hand lazily. "My lips are sealed~ As long as Riku-san still gives me free bread sometimes."
Ran gave her a flat look before smacking her lightly on the head.
"Ow~ Ran, that's abuse~"
"Idiot," Ran muttered, though the corners of her mouth betrayed a small smile.
The room filled with laughter again, the moment softening into warmth. Beneath it all, though, Ran's eyes lingered on her phone, the screen still glowing faintly in her hand.
"Congrats, nii-san," she whispered under her breath, just loud enough for no one to hear.
Tsurumaki Mansion
Far from the noisy hum of the city, the Tsurumaki mansion stood in stately silence. Inside, Kokoro Tsurumaki practically bounced into her father's office, her golden hair swaying behind her.
"Papa! You called me?"
Her father—Tsurumaki Youji—looked up from the papers on his desk. A man in his late thirties, he carried the calm composure of a seasoned businessman, though his eyes held a familiar mischief that matched his daughter's.
"Yes, dear. Kyoya-sama sent me a message earlier."
"Kyoya-sama? From the Nagae family?" she asked, tilting her head.
He nodded. "That's right. He wanted to inform me that your big brother, Riku, is now engaged to Shirokane Rinko."
Kokoro's eyes widened with delight. "Really?! That's amazing! I knew onii-chan and Rinko-chan would end up together!"
Youji smiled, amused by her enthusiasm. "There's more. He's also engaged to Sakurada Miyu, daughter of the Sakurada family."
The brightness in Kokoro's face faltered, replaced by curiosity. "So... he has two fiancées?"
Her father nodded. "Yes. That means Riku will likely form what's called a harem."
Kokoro blinked. "A harem? What's that?"
Youji chuckled softly. "It means a man who has more than one wife. It's... uncommon, but not unheard of in certain circles."
"Oh…" She tilted her head again, trying to process it.
Before Youji could continue, a different tone emerged—a voice that wasn't Kokoro's, though it spoke through her lips.
"No need to ask,"Shinzo said flatly as she took control of Kokoro's body. "She declines."
Youji's eyes narrowed slightly. "Shinzo… why?"
"Simple," Shinzo replied, his voice cool and certain. "She's already satisfied being nii's little sister. That's the bond she cherishes most. He may have a blood sister in Mafuyu, but to Kokoro, Nagae Riku is her one and only onii-chan. Nothing more, nothing less."
Youji studied his daughter—her expression now serene, calm, no trace of confusion. Slowly, he nodded.
"I see. Then I'll respect that. Still, keep this matter quiet until Riku himself makes the announcement."
"I'll see to it," Shinzo said before yielding control back to Kokoro, who blinked in mild disorientation.
"Papa? Did I miss something?"
Youji smiled, shaking his head. "Nothing important, dear. Just… be sure to keep your brother's secret for now, alright?"
"Okay!" she said brightly, already humming a tune as she skipped out of the room.
Chiyu's Penthouse
The city lights below flickered like constellations as Chiyu leaned back in her recliner, exhaustion pooling in her limbs after another long rehearsal. Her penthouse was quiet—everyone else had already gone home, save for one.
Her phone buzzed once on the side table.
She sighed. "Who now?" She reached over lazily, glancing at the name. "Kyoya-san?"
That got her attention. She opened the message and read it once. Then again.
Her eyes widened slightly. The silence that followed was long enough to make the ticking of her clock seem loud. Then, slowly, she exhaled, closing her eyes.
"So… it's begun," she murmured.
"Begun? What has, Chu²-sama?" came a bright voice from behind her.
Chiyu turned her head to see Reona—her loyal right hand—entering the room, balancing a tray of cookies. She set it gently on the table, curious.
"It's Iku," Chiyu said at last, her tone oddly soft. "The Nagae family just confirmed—he and Shirokane Rinko are officially engaged."
Reona blinked, unsure whether to smile or frown. "Then that means… LAYER-san…"
Chiyu plucked a cookie from the tray, leaning back again. "Exactly. She'll have to make a choice."
Reona tilted her head. "What kind of choice?"
Chiyu bit into the cookie, her gaze distant. "To accept it and grow… or hold it in and implode. It's her turning point."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with quiet understanding. Outside, the neon glow of the city pulsed against the glass, painting their faces in soft pink and blue.
Chiyu closed her eyes again, the faintest smirk touching her lips. "Let's see how strong she really is."
The clock ticked on, steady and patient, as the ripples of one decision spread quietly through the night.
To be continued…