351 Since When Did You Have Such a Good Memory?

Yamauchi Sakura, who never read books, who forgot things the moment they happened, and who lived by the creed of the "Kyousuke Lazy Life Philosophy"—would she really remember those things?

Everyone at the table turned to look at her, curious about what she'd say—except for Kyousuke, who simply smiled quietly and continued sipping his cereal.

Even Shouko was curious.

She had always wondered about Sakura and Kyousuke's shared past.

She'd already seen glimpses of it through Sakura's odd little "lessons" and twisted logic.

Her strange wordplay and far-fetched arguments weren't just pulled out of thin air—they were often rooted in real experiences with Kyousuke.

As Mitsuha watched her with interest and Eriri's blue eyes kept sneaking glances from the side, Sakura let out a playful giggle.

"April 1st—we walked to school together. There were tons of people at the gate, and Kyousuke held my hand tight, muttering that if I got lost, I should just yell really loud.

May 1st—we went to Asakusa Temple on the west bank of the Sumida River. I tripped before we even left the house, so I spent all of Golden Week on the couch. We watched three movies together.

May 12th—a girl from our neighborhood got married. Kyousuke and I went to the wedding and ate so much food.

January 1st—our families went together to Hatsumode at Hoshiyama Shinmei Shrine.

September 4th—we went to a bookstore, fell asleep in the kids' section, and woke up when the store was closing...

..."

Sakura ticked each memory off on her slim fingers, rattling them off like she was reciting a script.

No, not like a script—because everyone here knew full well that Sakura never recited anything this fluently when she was actually supposed to.

Shouko, who knew her best, was stunned. Sakura's smile was light, like a dandelion drifting through the air, but—

"You even remember the exact dates?" Utaha's wine-red eyes were wide with shock.

Was this really the same Sakura who once finished a bag of chips and launched a full investigation over who the culprit was? Her jaw dropped.

"Don't tell me... you've been keeping a diary?" Mitsuha guessed.

"Come on. Who in their right mind keeps a diary?" Sakura shot back instantly.

She looked around at the stunned girls at the table, eyes glittering with amusement, and her gaze stopped on the one person who hadn't looked up.

That smile again...

Eriri frowned. Here it comes.

"Of course I don't actually remember it all. If I tried to remember everything, my head would get really heavy.

So heavy that it would crush my whole body. I'd have to hire three people just to hold up my head all day. Can you imagine how expensive that would be?"

Sakura said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

If Yukinoshita Yukino had been there, she would've sternly corrected her: memory doesn't increase the physical weight of the brain.

But she wasn't here.

And everyone else knew one thing very well—engaging with Yamauchi Sakura's nonsense was a trap.

Utaha let the second half slide and sighed.

So that's how it is, huh? She'd suspected as much.

This just proves love has nothing to do with how long you've known someone.

Relationships are about depth, not time. Just like how she and Kyousuke—

"But still," Sakura went on, "over all these years, through all those Aprils and Mays and Junes, there had to be at least one day when Kyousuke and I were doing those exact things together.

Oh, and our next anniversary is actually today. We're going to that award ceremony together~"

Sakura tilted her head slightly as she sat, her pale neck graceful like a swan's.

That relaxed smile on her face gave off a kind of careless elegance.

"..."

"..."

This is why the saying exists: don't talk while you eat or sleep.

Not only might you bite your tongue or spit food everywhere—hearing certain things can absolutely wreck your appetite.

And once your appetite's gone, you eat less. Eat less, lose energy. Lose energy… and die.

Truly terrifying.

Eriri lowered her head to hide her expression with her food, only to find her white porcelain bowl empty.

Down on the floor, Momotarou the dog was happily licking it clean.

Her anger flared.

"You! Refill my bowl!" she barked at Kyousuke. "I'm eating three bowls! I need max energy! I refuse to let her get to me!"

This is just… so very Sakura.

Mitsuha quietly shook her head and started eating again too.

Sakura, seeing everyone's reactions, wasn't fazed at all.

She let out a laugh and started teasing Naoka.

"Oh come on, you were there too, weren't you? Just didn't know Kyousuke that well back then, that's all~"

Naoka, grinding her teeth in frustration, wasn't the only one clenching her spoon.

While everyone else lowered their heads, Kyousuke raised his.

...Sakura. She remembered all of that?

April 1st—the reason he'd told her not to get lost was because she'd wandered off the year before.

He hadn't even managed to hold onto her, and by the time he found her, she'd spent the whole afternoon flipping through the guest sign-in book at the security booth.

During that Golden Week in May, both of their families were supposed to visit Tokyo together—ride the ferris wheel, go to Asakusa—but Sakura had fallen and gotten injured.

Her parents took the opportunity for a rare couples getaway, and Sakura stayed behind with him and his mom, watching movies all week.

The first one they watched was Home Alone.

And that wedding—they'd gone to one hosted by the granddaughter of the old lady who grew roses along her garden wall. It was a traditional Shinto wedding.

Sakura had eaten so much she almost fell over, and it was only thanks to the bride catching her that she didn't hit the floor.

In return, Sakura left two greasy yellow handprints on the pristine white kimono.

...

Kyousuke could remember it all because his mind was working at full capacity lately.

Even memories from his past life that he'd only skimmed were slowly resurfacing.

So of course, he remembered everything he'd experienced with Sakura.

But her? The girl who acted like memorizing vocabulary was worse than childbirth? She remembered all of it too?

Watching Sakura giggle like an idiot, he had the sudden urge to walk over and scoop her up—just to see if her head really had gotten heavier.

"Ah, hey, why are you just spacing out? Catch!"

After waiting forever with no response, Eriri, too proud to ask a second time, got up and served herself another bowl.

As petty revenge, she filled the largest bowl they had and handed it to him.

"Oh, thanks, Eriri! I was just about to get more," Kyousuke grinned, taking the bowl.

"D-Don't thank me, you idiot!"

Her pale cheeks flushed instantly.

Definitely not from embarrassment.

Definitely. It was the rage from her failed revenge boiling over.

After breakfast, Kyousuke had polished off enough food for five people—and yet his stomach didn't show it at all.

Even dressed in a sharp black suit, he still looked cool and refined.

Naoka reached over and fixed the top button of his shirt, which he'd casually left undone.

"No matter how uncomfortable it is, at least try to look proper for events like this," she muttered.

With practiced hands, she checked his silver cufflinks—each engraved with a delicate Yotsuba clover.

Checked for wrinkles in his tucked-in shirt. Checked everything.

Today, Kyousuke was dressed head-to-toe in black.

No tie, but the jacket was unmistakably formal.

The cufflinks had clearly seen use—they still shone, but they weren't brand new.

They were brought by Mitsuha.

Ueno Naoka wore a light blue sleeveless top with a high collar, made from an airy, delicate fabric.

It served more as a decorative layer to cover the expanse of pale skin revealed by the white spaghetti-strap dress underneath.

The dress had ruffled waves around the chest, cleverly disguising her modest figure and somehow turning it into a charming focal point.

Her long black hair, rarely tied, was now gathered in a low ponytail that draped over her chest like a soft scarf.

The dress ended just above her knees, revealing a stretch of smooth thighs and porcelain calves beneath.

Her vivid bluish-violet eyes were fixed on the boy in front of her.

Her lips moved in a near-silent mutter, mentally noting what could be improved—what he should wear next time he had a formal event.

This outfit had been in the works for three months.

She had scrapped countless prototypes in between, even delaying her side hustle just to make time for it.

But now, looking at him—dressed head-to-toe in a tailored black suit, with eyes that sparkled like stars—Naoka felt every effort had been worth it.

In fact, she was already itching to make his next outfit, something that would help him take home every bit of glory dressed in something crafted by her own hands.

"Okay, you're good to go. If it gets too uncomfortable, you can unbutton the top collar," she said—despite having just fastened that button herself.

No one knew whether it had all been pointless fussing or if she'd simply enjoyed the act of dressing someone she loved.

Standing obediently like a well-trained dog—much like Momotarou—Kyousuke had let Sakura, Shouko, Mitsuha, Eriri… and now Naoka all take turns adjusting his outfit.

With a smile, he gave a light spin to show them the full result.

Black hair, black eyes, black suit.

Only his handsome face and neck stood out in white.

Just by standing there, he looked like some kind of otherworldly being—something straight out of the cosmos.

A visual manifestation of the perfect male form hidden deep in human subconsciousness.

A face so sharply handsome it could've been carved with a blade, eyes deep and mysterious like a starless night, broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs…

Not only did Naoka nod in satisfaction, but even Kasumigaoka's eyes began to glisten.

Eriri, too, silently resolved that the next time there was a family banquet, Kyousuke had to wear this exact outfit.

"Wait, the knot's a little loose."

Mitsuha's cheeks flushed slightly as she stepped forward to adjust the red Tachibana-style braided bracelet on Kyousuke's left wrist, pulling it snug against the base of his palm.

Naoka frowned slightly.

That red string really didn't match the overall look.

But before she could say anything, Sakura stepped in.

"Hold up! It looks better if this part is showing!"

She reached up and unbuttoned two of the collar buttons, revealing a silver necklace underneath—the Yotsuba clover pendant she had given him.

"Mhm, perfect. Yotsuba necklace, Yotsuba cufflinks… today's Kyousuke is double-lucky!"

She nodded proudly.

Mitsuha nodded too, mimicking the gesture.

Like Naoka, both Sakura and Mitsuha weren't in formalwear but youthful, stylish outfits brimming with girlish charm.

Sakura wore a white sweatshirt with blue patterns and straight-cut light-wash jeans.

Mitsuha had on a soft cotton white blouse and a flowy blue linen skirt.

The two of them stood in front of Kyousuke, just like Naoka had earlier, admiring their "masterpiece" with approving nods.

One stared at his collar, the other at his wrist.

The last person set to leave that day was Nishimiya Shouko.

She glanced at Kyousuke, clearly tempted to step forward and adjust something too—but a quick look at Naoka's darkening expression made her reconsider.

'Hmm…'

'Once we're at the venue, and right before he goes on stage, I'll pin his boutonniere myself!' Shouko decided silently.

"It's about time. We should head out," Kyousuke called.

His driver was already waiting outside.

"Alrighty~!" Sakura chirped and bounced toward the front door without hesitation.

The other three girls followed her out.

In a way, Sakura was the true master of reading the room.

"I'll be watching from the TV, so make sure you win that award like a total heartthrob!" Eriri shouted after them.

Utaha didn't say anything.

She simply walked up, fixed one last detail, and—when no one else could see—rose onto her tiptoes and pressed her crimson lips softly to Kyousuke's mouth.

"When you give your acceptance speech, remember the happy times we had in the apartment," she whispered.

That alone triggered a flash in his mind—of the black stockings "accidentally" left behind by this very senpai in his Sendagi apartment.

Back then, he'd tossed the seemingly useless item straight into the trash.

In hindsight, he must've subconsciously known the day would come when he could fully appreciate a pair of black stockings in proper use.

Truly, a man of foresight. No doubt about it.

What good was a lukewarm, lifeless piece of cloth with just a faint lingering scent of girl, compared to the real thing—the way it hugged her soft, curvy legs?

Even the smooth white skin beneath made the fabric itself seem coarse in comparison.

That feeling, that texture…

"Yeah. I'll remember," Kyousuke replied with a smile, his hand casually landing on her thigh.

"Hurry uuuup~!"

Sakura's voice rang out from the front door, her tone as cheerful as if they were heading out for a picnic in the park.

"I'm heading out," he said at last.

Though she was the first to speak, she was now the last to leave.

Only Yukari stood at the door to see them off.

"Safe travels. May you return triumphant," she said with a graceful bow.

Draped in a soft white shawl, Yukari looked like a beachside lounge chair—calm, unmoving, and always there, quietly waiting.

Waiting for Kyousuke to rest on her, to enjoy peace by the sea when he was worn out.

"I'll bring you back a souvenir," he replied.

And just like that, the man who could somehow live under the same roof with all these girls and still keep the peace—who just seconds ago looked like he might ditch the whole award show for romance—now wore an expression of serene calm.

Yukino Yukari. That's the kind of woman she was.

Outside the dorm, cars were already lined up.

A sleek black sedan led the way, followed by two black business vans.

Because of the number of girls coming along, Kyousuke had no choice but to ride in the men's car, along with Osaka Gou and the rest of the guys.