There are some things that even the best parents can't teach their children.
Like how to face their own hearts.
How to confront guilt, regret, or fear without hiding behind pride or pretense.
For Eriri, this had always been impossible.
Whenever someone got too close—touched the vulnerable core inside her—she'd instantly throw up the wall of her tsundere persona. Her words became sharp, her attitude cold, her emotions locked away, even from herself.
But not today.
Not this time.
"Someone as important as me…" Sayuri repeated in her mind, still stunned by her daughter's words.
And then she smiled.
If only Eriri had reached this point a little earlier… Sayuri wouldn't have to constantly worry that her daughter would one day be deceived by a smooth-talking playboy, tricked into giving away her heart—and worse, her inheritance—only to end up penniless and heartbroken in some shady nightclub, shivering in the winter wind.
No. She refused to let Eriri's future go down that path.
And so, she decided to give her daughter a gentle nudge in the right direction.
"Because this person is so important to you, Eriri," Sayuri said softly, "you need to apologize to him. Properly."
Eriri blinked in surprise. Her teary blue eyes widened, as if she couldn't quite believe what she'd just heard.
"…That's it? Just apologize?"
Sayuri nodded. "Yes. And since Eriri is so cute, I'm sure he'll forgive you."
"…But what about all the things I did before? Everything I messed up?"
"Mistakes can't be erased, no matter how hard you try. So instead, live better. Move forward. Fill the bad memories with good ones. That's the only way to make up for the past."
Eriri nodded slowly, deep in thought.
Sayuri, satisfied with the serious tone of their conversation, suddenly grinned.
"But still! Comparing me to some guy—you ungrateful brat!"
Before Eriri could react, Sayuri snaked her arms around her daughter's waist and started poking her sides.
"Stop! Mom—wait—hahaha! Stooop!"
Laughter filled the living room as the sadness melted from Eriri's face, her smile returning for the first time that day.
Toyonosaki Academy — After school.
As Yukima Azuma pulled out his phone, a new LINE notification popped up.
It was from Sayuri.
[Yukima-kun, please come to my house for dinner this weekend.]
The message looked polite… but Yukima could almost feel the underlying pressure behind the words.
It didn't feel like an invitation.
It felt like a summons.
Still, considering how upset Eriri must've been when she ran home, it was strange that Sayuri hadn't reached out sooner.
But some things couldn't be avoided forever.
[Yes. I'll be in your care, Sayuri-obasan.]
After a few quick exchanges, they agreed on Saturday evening.
Putting his phone away, Yukima walked out through the school gate with Katou Megumi.
Today, he needed to buy ingredients for his weekly cooking. When Megumi casually mentioned she was also heading to the supermarket, they decided to go together.
As they walked, Yukima glanced at her.
Megumi walked with the quiet grace of a spring breeze, as calm and delicate as wisteria in full bloom.
There was something effortlessly comforting about her presence—like sipping hot cocoa on a cold day. Warm, sweet, and safe.
Still, Yukima knew that no matter how well two people got along, they'd occasionally clash. If things always went smoothly, it just meant one person was always giving way.
"You're staring, Yukima-kun," Megumi said with a light smile. "It's rare for you to look at me like that."
He looked away immediately, flustered. "S-Sorry."
"Oh right. You still haven't thanked me for bandaging your hand."
"Huh? Oh—right! Thank you, Katou-san."
Megumi pouted.
"That's kind of annoying."
"…Huh? Why?"
She gave him a playful glance. "Aren't we friends? There's no need to thank each other for little things like that. Or…"
"Okay, okay! We're friends, we're friends!" he cut in quickly, waving his hands.
Megumi let out a soft laugh.
It was rare to see Yukima that flustered.
They arrived at the familiar supermarket near the station—the same one they'd gone to during spring break.
After shopping, they walked toward the station, bags in hand.
Halfway there, a soft sound echoed through a nearby alley.
"Nyaa~ nyaa~…"
The mewling was faint, fragile—yet full of life.
Yukima and Megumi turned toward the source.
At the edge of the alley sat a worn cardboard box. Inside, a tiny gray kitten was curled into a ball.
Its fur was dirty and unkempt, but what stood out most were its eyes—one golden, the other pale blue.
"…Looks abandoned," Yukima murmured.
Megumi nodded softly.
"Do you want to adopt it?" he asked.
"I wish I could," Megumi said with a faint smile. "But my mom's allergic to animal fur."
"I guess… we'll have to take it to a rescue center." Yukima sighed. "My house isn't suitable either. I'm renting a room—it wouldn't be right."
Megumi stayed quiet.
"Do you know any rescue centers nearby?" Yukima asked.
She seemed to hesitate.
When she didn't answer right away, Yukima pulled out his phone to search.
"I think there's one nearby," Megumi said, standing. "Let me take you there."
Yukima nodded, then bent down and gently picked up the box.
The kitten shifted at the movement, curling even tighter.
To calm it, Yukima reached in and lightly stroked its matted fur.
Then Megumi reached in too, brushing her fingers softly against its tiny body.
"If you scare it, it might run away," she warned, her voice unusually serious.
"…Yeah," Yukima replied.
But instead of fleeing, the kitten merely flicked its tail—lightly brushing against Megumi's hand.
Yukima looked at her curiously.
Megumi was usually so careful, so reserved. It was rare to see her act impulsively, even in small ways.
But here she was, gently coaxing a frightened kitten, her expression soft and unreadable.
Together, they carried the box and made their way to the nearby animal rescue center.
The kitten's mews followed them down the street.
Quiet. Fragile.
But alive.