343 "Oh, you're back? At least you remember you have a home?"

After dropping off Katou Megumi, the black business van headed toward its next destination.

The pitch-black exterior of the car gleamed faintly under the moonlight, gliding through narrow residential alleys before rejoining the wider main roads.

The windows were coated with a special protective film that distorted the streetlights into strange, dreamlike colors.

Fortunately, this wasn't an area often frequented by organized crime.

If it were, any Tokyo native worth their salt would assume some high-ranking yakuza boss was out on patrol.

These spacious and luxurious business vans weren't just favorites of financial firms—they were the ride of choice for the aging upper brass of underground syndicates, whose average age was pushing fifty.

"Goldman Sachs with guns," they used to say—and it wasn't just a joke.

While the world still viewed otaku culture as something to be ridiculed, the syndicates running much of Tokyo's commercial districts had already flooded Akihabara with maid cafés.

They didn't ban other types of shops, of course.

But they did enforce strict rules on how many maid cafés could open within a given area.

And it wasn't just maid cafés.

Those "financiers" knew exactly where the real money was.

Kyousuke stared out the window, the amber-tinted glass painting the world in surreal hues.

White streetlights and crimson signs blurred together, dragging long reflections across the surfaces of pale green skyscrapers.

He found himself spacing out, following those dreamy streaks of light.

'Still, compared to maid cafés, anime's an even faster way to make cash.'

'Once an anime becomes a hit, you can open a themed café, toss in a lottery for every 20,000 yen spent, and boom—exclusive posters, badges, fans eat it up...'

'Those old guys might have decent business sense, but not enough. If you really want to make money, leave it to the younger generation—'

'Wait, hold on a second.'

'Why the hell am I, sitting in a yakuza boss-style van, thinking about optimizing their business model?'

Kyousuke abruptly snapped out of his self-congratulatory thoughts.

He wasn't just in a sketchy black van.

The driver had a face full of bruises, and even the janitors at his company could throw a punch.

Something was seriously wrong here.

'No, no, this isn't what it looks like.'

'I got into anime because I wanted to help Shouko and Eriri achieve their dreams.'

'Right. And I only hired this motley crew of weirdos to keep them from falling into a bad crowd after graduation. I'm saving them, not enabling them.'

Just like back in middle school—under his watch, the entire Bunkyo ward had become free of those obnoxious biker gangs revving their engines all night long.

Crime rates had dropped so low, the area was practically the safest in Tokyo.

'That's right. I'm doing good things.'

Didn't Akamatsu, the editor, once say that thanks to Kyousuke's novel The Devotion of Suspect X, the number of homeless people in Tokyo had gone down recently?

Granted, most of them had mysteriously vanished like in the novel, but hey—politicians had always hoped the homeless would just disappear.

Nobody was asking questions about where they went.

'My heart and actions are as clear as a polished mirror. Everything I do is righteous.'

Kyousuke gave himself this self-assured conclusion, then promptly tossed the whole train of thought out of his mind.

'Whatever. I'll just make an anime someday that exposes the dark secrets of the maid café industry. Let those old fossils try to hold their ground then.'

What Kyousuke didn't know was that the only reason the companies near his office hadn't reported him yet was because, despite how terrifying his employees looked, not a single one of them was missing a pinky finger.

Ten fingers, fully intact—that was their best PR.

"Wasn't Haruno-sab in Osaka today?" Kyousuke asked casually, looking at Yukinoshita through the rearview mirror.

She sat by the window, dazed, her face blankly turned to the night outside.

"Mm," she answered, her tone cool and distant—yet lacking her usual spirit.

"Haruno-senpai?" Mitsuha echoed in surprise. "Wow, small world."

"If by that you mean the woman who can instantly befriend anyone and makes it impossible for anyone to dislike her… then yes, that's her," Yukinoshita replied flatly.

Her voice carried no particular emotion, and the dim lighting in the car barely revealed her expression.

Only the occasional flash of passing headlights illuminated half of her delicate face—and for a moment, Kyousuke saw it.

'Loneliness.' He blinked. 'Wait, am I seeing things?'

This was Yukinoshita.

The girl who'd survived a barrage of academic humiliation that afternoon with her pride fully intact. Could she really be feeling… lonely?

And then there was what she said...

"Hehe… Haruno-senpai is definitely popular at school," Mitsuha chimed in with a smile. "She's always so nice to me. Helped me out a lot too."

Yotsuba, sitting in the back, rolled her eyes so hard they almost got stuck.

She remembered when this same girl used to complain that her sister looked like a clueless country bumpkin.

Now that Mitsuha had transformed into a chic Tokyo beauty, she suddenly wanted her sister to go back to being "pure and rustic."

Good thing Mitsuha didn't know what her sister was thinking.

Otherwise, Yotsuba might've ended up performing a dramatic "pinky-cut" yakuza loyalty act right there in the van.

As Haruno showed off her signature "never drunk" skill at some party in Osaka, Yukinoshita stared through the cityscape at a future she didn't belong to.

"But Yukinoshita-san , you're super cute too," Mitsuha added with a giggle. "I bet you're really popular at school too, right?"

"…"

Yukinoshita's shoulders twitched.

She didn't need to respond—Kyousuke already knew the answer.

Her classmates "liked" her so much that they couldn't bear seeing her wear the same pair of indoor shoes for two days straight.

So they formed a squad to monitor her daily footwear changes.

Even the dog she feared most had somehow joined the watch team.

"…Yeah. Someone as cute as me…" Yukinoshita muttered, voice barely audible.

The moment she spoke, silence fell over the van like a blanket.

After a while, Sachiko and Kayo were dropped off.

Unlike Megumi, who could be trusted to get home on her own, Yotsuba's two tiny companions needed proper handoff—so Kyousuke and Mitsuha stepped out to greet their parents.

"Oh dear, Yotsuba just loves playing. Time really flew by! I'm so sorry for the trouble," the girl's father said with a polite chuckle.

Kyousuke stood beside Mitsuha, both of them looking every bit the doting couple, as they faced the man.

But seeing how young they looked, the father blinked, puzzled.

Just as he opened his mouth to ask something, he spotted the sleek black van—and the driver's face, still faintly visible through the half-rolled-down window.

That was all he needed.

His leg twitched.

He flashed an even brighter smile and shoved all curiosity to the back of his mind.

'Don't be nosy. Just comment on the weather like a good citizen.'

"Yotsuba is a lovely friend for Sachiko to have. We'd love to have her over sometime," he said, pulling his daughter gently behind him.

"Thanks again. We'll take our leave now," Kyousuke said with a perfect nod, his manners flawless.

Mitsuha stood beside him like a newlywed wife, her serene smile never faltering.

"Make sure you watch TV tomorrow, okay, Sachiko?" Yotsuba called out.

Sachiko and Kayo weren't just friends—they were key players in Yotsuba's plan to brag to the entire class about how amazing her "Hojou-nii" was.

"Mm-hmm!" Sachiko nodded enthusiastically.

Not that she had a choice—Yotsuba had made it very clear that the big bag of exclusive merch she was holding was a special reward reserved only for the most loyal members of the Hojou Kyousuke Fan Club.

If she didn't follow orders, it was going to be taken back on the spot.

With two more passengers dropped off, the number of people in the car dwindled again.

Kyousuke and Mitsuha now sat with Yotsuba in the very back row, as the black van moved away from the crowded streets toward quieter neighborhoods.

In the rearview mirror, the glowing red taillights of the van looked like the bloodthirsty eyes of a beast.

Inside her house, Sachiko's father wasted no time pulling his daughter aside, eyes full of concern.

"Wait, isn't Miyamizu-san supposed to be some section chief for special disaster response? Why the hell did he look so... off tonight?"

"Hehehe, that's the Boss, Dad. The Boss! He's got a whole room full of weapons at home!" Sachiko said, spreading her arms wide like she was describing a dragon's hoard.

"Weapons!?" Normally, he would've laughed it off as childish imagination. But tonight…

"So that man is Yotsuba's father?" he asked, already bracing for the answer.

"As if!" Sachiko scoffed. "He's got so many girlfriends, there's no way he's settled down yet. Marriage? Way too early for that!"

"Then who is he?" Her dad struggled to reconcile the man's calm, parental demeanor with that terrifying presence.

"He's Yotsuba's sister's boyfriend."

"Her... boyfriend? Future son-in-law?!"

Bureaucracy. Yakuza.

Two very dangerous words surfaced in the man's mind.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

He wanted to say something—maybe that Yotsuba should stay friends with his daughter, or maybe that she should stay far away—but looking at Sachiko, he knew she wouldn't listen anyway.

Remembering Kyousuke's impeccably polite behavior earlier, the man wisely decided to shut his mouth.

In Japan, the truly dangerous ones were always the most polite before they pulled the knife.

They'd even smile as they handed it to you and guided your hand to their stomach like it was some weird courtesy. Absolutely terrifying.

The van came to a slow stop in front of a towering apartment complex.

It had a massive footprint and was so tall you'd need to bend your neck 90 degrees just to see the top.

Security was tight—no surprise, it was one of those luxury towers Kisaki had strongly recommended.

"Thanks," Yukinoshita said softly, holding her bag in one hand and gripping her sleeve with the other.

She looked... a little cold.

"No problem," Hojou Kyousuke replied with a smile.

She hesitated for a moment, lips pressed together as if she wanted to say something.

But in the end, she just nodded and turned away, heading toward the lobby.

Right at the door, she paused and looked back.

She couldn't explain why. Maybe she was hoping for something.

Maybe she wasn't. But to her quiet delight, the black van was still there.

A small smile tugged at her lips.

She gave a slight bow and stepped inside.

The receptionists smiled like familiar family members.

Yukinoshita kept her gaze forward and walked toward the elevator.

Back to that lonely home again.

"Wasn't Yukinoshita's sister, Haruno-senpai, supposed to be in Osaka today?" Mitsuha asked from her seat, watching Yukino disappear through the glass doors.

"Yeah. Her whole family's there," Kyousuke replied with a nod. "Let's go, Hirata. Head to the Miyamizu house."

"Living in such a huge place all alone… must be lonely," Mitsuha said quietly.

She didn't know Yukinoshita very well—they'd even had a bit of a debate earlier—but she bore her no ill will. In fact, she kind of liked her.

Yukino was a completely different type from Haruno-senpai, but just as charming in her own way.

"Maybe," Kyousuke said. "But she's Yukinoshita Yukino."

Snow beneath the snow, she was both beautiful and strong.

Like a layer of frost hiding even colder ice beneath.

She didn't need sunlight to shine—she was lovely in her own icy way.

As he thought about it, memories of Haruno's voice on the phone and the quiet sadness on Yukino's face in the car began to blur together.

Haruno hated being the heir to the Yukinoshita family name.

She'd drink bitter wine at formal events, then secretly force herself to vomit later just to keep up the facade of being charming and "unshakable."

Yukino, on the other hand, admired everything her sister did.

She studied how people's hearts worked, hoping that by understanding others, she could change the world.

She wanted to take over their father's business, to live up to the expectations placed on her shoulders.

Like a little kid staring up at a wine glass, wondering if what was inside tasted better than yogurt.

Kyousuke didn't know what Yukino's true intention was—whether she wanted to become like Haruno, or prove that she could succeed without becoming her.

Either way, it was her family's business.

Until she herself came to the Service Club with a formal request to "help Yukinoshita Yukino achieve her dream," no one had the right to interfere.

The "tower" was the name given to skyscrapers like this, embedded in the heart of the city. From here, you could see the glittering cityscape, be surrounded by convenience stores and train stations, and live life perched in the sky.

To get to Mitsuha's home, they still had to drive through this vibrant part of the city.

At night, Tokyo's wide roads were mostly empty.

Neon signs and lights along both sides of the street flashed like crazy—magenta and emerald green, two colors that shouldn't go together, clashing and blending in a hypnotic dance.

It gave the whole city a futuristic sheen.

Driving through it was like stepping into a time machine, heading toward another world.

The tall buildings gradually disappeared into the distance, replaced by the warm, scattered glow of yellow lights.

Ahead lay a quiet residential area, lined with individual houses.

The car came to a stop in a familiar alleyway. Kyousuke raised a hand to stop Hirata from speaking and gestured for him to get out.

Yotsuba had already fallen asleep, her head resting on Kyousuke's lap.

One of her hands still clung tightly to Mitsuha's.

"After you and Sakura got out earlier, your face didn't look too good. Did something happen?" he asked.

Mitsuha didn't seem surprised by the question.

She hadn't even blinked when Kyousuke asked the driver to stop the car earlier.

Now, her expression was calm—eerily so.

She looked down, gently brushing aside the bangs on her sister's forehead, then cupped one of Yotsuba's small, pale ears in her hand.

"It's something Sakura asked me to hold on to," Mitsuha said quietly. "During the cherry blossom festival."

Before Kyousuke could press further, she continued:

"If you want to stay friends with someone, you should never expose their secrets—especially not the ones tied to what's most important to them. If you really want to know, Kyousuke, you should ask Sakura yourself."

"Sakura, that idiot, could she really have—"

"Yotsuba, wake up. Grandma says it's time to practice your Kagura dance," Mitsuha suddenly cut him off and began shaking her sister gently.

"Huh!? What!?"

Yotsuba bolted upright like someone had just plugged her into a power outlet.

If Kyousuke hadn't quickly raised a hand to shield her head, she might've smacked it straight into the roof—and the car would've needed a trip to the repair shop.

"Can't I take the day off? Just one day!" Yotsuba begged, still half-asleep and completely unaware of what was going on.

"No way!" Mitsuha said loudly.

Yotsuba blinked, bleary-eyed, looking around the pitch-dark car.

The interior lights weren't on, and it felt like she'd been transported to another world entirely.

After a few moments, she felt the warmth of a large hand on her head and finally came to her senses.

"Idiot sister," she snapped. "The Miyamizu Shrine's long gone. Who the heck still needs to do Kagura dances?"

She scolded Mitsuha without holding back.

Really now, where was this enthusiasm back when it actually mattered?

And now she was using it to scare her for no reason.

What a dumb prank.

Grown up on the outside, still a kid on the inside.

Now that Yotsuba was wide awake, Kyousuke had no choice but to stop the conversation and open the car door.

He hadn't expected the reason behind Mitsuha's distracted state to be Sakura.

Back at the house, Sakura had seemed completely normal.

Her voice, her expressions, her gestures—everything was just like always. But Mitsuha… her every move had been drenched in unease.

And Mitsuha hadn't expected Kyousuke to come asking her instead of Sakura.

More than that, she hadn't expected him to be completely oblivious to Sakura's unusual behavior.

He always had such sharp eyes, especially when it came to Sakura…

It was only then that Mitsuha finally understood what Sakura meant when she said:

"It's because he's Kyousuke that I was able to keep it from him~"

Someone like Kyousuke—an intuitive genius with eyes like a hawk—being fooled by an airhead like Sakura… Maybe it really was fate. Every force has its counter.

Whatever Mitsuha was thinking, reality soon caught up with her—specifically, in the form of her father, who was standing at the front gate, glaring like a beast guarding its territory.

"You're back?" Miyamizu Toshiki stood with his arms crossed, every word sounding like it had been expelled through his nose.

At least, that's how it looked to Kyousuke—he was sure he saw the man's nose hair fluttering.

The only thing missing was actual fire and brimstone.

The guy looked like a demon straight out of hell.

"Oh, come on, Dad! Why are you standing out here so late? You'll catch a cold!"

Mitsuha rushed up to him, slipping her arm through his and whining like a child.

Not to be outdone, Yotsuba shouted that she was so sleepy, clearly trying to cause a distraction.

But she wasn't doing it for her dumb sister.

She was covering for Hojou-nii.

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