By the time the last guests began leaving, the Somei residence had finally quieted. A few members remained downstairs to help clean up after the celebration, while Yoshino and Shouma returned to her bedroom to collect what she would need for the weekend.

Her suitcase lay open on the floor, already half-filled. Shouma sat on the edge of her bed, watching her retrieve another shirt from the closet.

“You’re staying two nights.”

“I know.”

“You packed six shirts.”

“I like options.”

He glanced at the suitcase. “And four pairs of pants.”

“Options bro.”

Shouma decided against arguing. Yoshino had always packed more than she needed, and he doubted anything he said would change that now.

After rearranging her belongings, Yoshino changed out of the elaborate ivory dress Tsubaki had chosen for the party. She slipped into mid-rise Skyline jeans and a fitted white V-neck T-shirt, keeping her platform sandals for the drive. She adjusted her hair in the mirror, careful not to undo the style Shouma had created earlier, then zipped her suitcase closed.

“Okay. Done.”

Shouma stood and reached for the suitcase. “We have to stop at my room.”

“Why?”

“I need to change.”

“Oh. Right.” Yoshino glanced at his dress shirt. “Yeah, you should probably get out of that.”

His bedroom was a short walk down the hallway. She followed him inside and immediately noticed how little remained of his belongings.

The furniture was unchanged, but several shelves that had once been crowded with personal items were almost empty. Most of his things had apparently been moved to Kyoto.

Shouma placed her suitcase near the door and opened his closet. Yoshino, meanwhile, walked directly to his dresser.

He removed his dress shirt and tossed it onto the bed, turning just in time to see her opening the top drawer.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re going through my stuff.”

“Sorry, it’s a hard habit to break.”

She closed the drawer and opened another.

Shouma stared at her. “You just said sorry.”

“I know.” Yoshino examined the contents with mild disappointment. “I remember doing this when we were kids. You always had random knickknacks from traveling. Sometimes stuff from your girlfriends.”

“There’s nothing in there anymore.” Shouma stepped into a pair of black chinos. “Hinata didn’t want anything to do with me after we broke up.”

Yoshino stopped searching and turned toward him.

“Oh, wow. Sorry about that.” She hesitated. “Weren’t you two together for, like, four months? That’s the longest relati—”

“I don’t care.”

His interruption was quiet but firm.

Shouma fastened his pants and reached for his belt. “I didn’t love her. She wanted someone who’d spend every hour of the day with her, and I couldn’t do that. I’ve got school and work. Renji needs me to handle things, and I have responsibilities to you, too. I don’t have time for women who expect me to drop everything whenever they want attention.”

Yoshino studied him briefly. She knew he could be dismissive when discussing relationships he considered finished, and pressing him rarely produced a more satisfying explanation.

“All right.” She closed the dresser drawer and joined him at the closet instead. Most of the clothes hanging inside were familiar. She recognized several shirts she’d purchased for him during their shopping trips together.

After looking through the selection, she pulled out a black short-sleeve button-up with a subtle navy geometric pattern woven through the fabric. Its lightweight material and open collar made it appropriate for the warm May weather.

“This one.”

Shouma glanced at the shirt.

“It’s lighter. You’ll be more comfortable in it.”

He accepted it with a small smirk. “Thanks.”

While he slipped it on, Yoshino continued examining the closet. She moved several hangers aside before laughing.

“Wow.”

“What?”

“You really only have clothes I either bought for you or picked out.”

“Well, yeah.” Shouma buttoned the shirt. “The only time I go clothes shopping is when I’m out with you.”

Yoshino smiled. She’d always enjoyed helping him choose clothes, partly because he looked good in nearly everything and partly because he rarely cared enough about fashion to object to her suggestions.

“You know, most guys eventually learn to shop for themselves.”

“I know how to buy clothes.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because you keep doing it.”

Yoshino laughed. “You’re welcome, then.”

Shouma finished buttoning his shirt and reached for a black duffel bag.

“Ready?”

She turned and looked him over. The shirt suited him, its dark pattern complementing his black hair and black piercings. “Yeah. Looks good.”

“Alright, let’s go.” He picked up his bag and reached for her suitcase.

Yoshino followed him toward the door, glancing once more around the sparsely furnished room.

“So, are you not going to live here anymore?”

“I am. This is still my room.” Shouma stepped into the hallway. “But I have the apartment in Kyoto because of Renji.”

“School?”

“That. Other things.”

Yoshino understood the implication. Renji frequently assigned responsibilities that required members of the organization to remain in particular locations, and Shouma’s work had increasingly taken him away from Osaka.

“You might end up having your own place outside the main house, too,” Shouma added.

“Yeah, that’s pretty customary. Gramps did that with my dad and Ane-san. Tsubaki has her own place, too.”

“Mhm.”

“I guess it’ll happen eventually.”

They continued downstairs, where the remaining members of the household were finishing their cleanup. Yoshino went to the main meeting room to say goodbye to Renji, while Shouma headed toward the garage with their luggage.

The little gray kei truck stood in its usual parking space, looking almost comically small beside the larger vehicles belonging to the organization. Shouma loaded Yoshino’s suitcase and his duffel into the cargo bed, securing them before climbing into the passenger seat.

Yoshino had already announced that she would be driving, and he had little interest in arguing about it again. He settled back and glanced through the windshield, waiting for her to finish speaking with her grandfather. His thoughts returned to Kirishima.

Shouma remembered the man’s face with irritating clarity, particularly the smug expression he wore whenever he approached Yoshino. Kirishima had a talent for presenting himself as charming while deliberately testing the patience of everyone around him, and Shouma had disliked him almost immediately.

I can’t stand that motherfucker.

He rested his elbow against the passenger door, remembering how casually Kirishima behaved as though Yoshino already belonged to him.

He’d better not show up here.

The possibility of Kirishima following her back to Osaka made his jaw tighten.

I’ll fucking kill him.

The garage door began opening before he could dwell on it any longer. Yoshino appeared a moment later, walking toward the truck with her keys in hand. She climbed inside and adjusted her seat.

“Okay. Gramps has officially been informed.”

Shouma glanced toward her. “You have your phone?”

“No.”

He frowned. “What?”

“I threw it away before leaving Tokyo.”

“Why?”

“Kirishima was tracking me.”

Shouma turned fully toward her.

“He was what?”

“Tracking my phone.” Yoshino reached for her seat belt. “I wasn’t going to bring it back here and give him another way to find me, so I got rid of it.”

Shouma stared at her before looking through the windshield again. He’d heard about Kirishima’s tracking, but having Yoshino confirm it only made him angrier.

Smart girl.

“I’m getting a new phone tomorrow,” Yoshino continued. “So we’ll pick up your bike first, and then we can go do that.”

“Sure.”

She started the engine, the little truck vibrating beneath them as it came to life.

“Oh, and we have to make sure we’re back here Monday morning.”

“Fine.”

Yoshino shifted into gear and glanced at him with a grin.

“Food first.”

“Yoshino, we are not staying up late and running through the city..”

“We’re not; I just want food.”

It was nearly one-thirty in the morning when they left Osaka. The roads were quieter than they’d been earlier, allowing Yoshino to navigate through the city without much difficulty. The bright signs of the entertainment districts gradually disappeared behind them as they made their way toward Kyoto. She kept the windows slightly open, letting the cool May air circulate through the cab. Neither felt compelled to fill the silence. Yoshino concentrated on the road while Shouma rested one arm near the window, occasionally glancing at the passing streets.

They had taken this route together countless times over the years. Yoshino appreciated that she never had to entertain him, and Shouma had always preferred her company to unnecessary conversation.

As they approached Kyoto, the surrounding buildings became lower and the streets narrower. Traditional houses appeared between newer construction, their tiled roofs briefly illuminated beneath streetlights. Yoshino recognized several familiar intersections and adjusted their route without consulting the navigation system. Their destination wasn’t Shouma’s apartment.

They had another stop to make first.

Ponto-chō had been their preferred destination for late-night meals long before Yoshino left for Tokyo. Whenever they found themselves hungry after midnight, they inevitably ended up wandering through the narrow alley in search of somewhere still serving food.

By the time Yoshino parked the kei truck on a nearby side street, most of Kyoto had settled into the early hours of the morning. Ponto-chō, however, remained quietly active. Lanterns glowed above the entrances of small restaurants and bars, casting warm light onto the stone pavement. A few groups walked between establishments, their conversations subdued by the hour.

Yoshino climbed out of the truck and stretched her arms above her head, breathing in the cool night air. She looked along the narrow street, recognizing several places they used to visit.

“I missed this.”

Shouma locked the passenger door and joined her. “Yeah.”

They walked farther down the alley until Shouma stopped outside a small izakaya called Shatira. Its entrance was understated, marked by a modest sign and a warm glow spilling through the doorway. Yoshino looked at it with interest. “This one?”

“Yeah. Come on.”

Inside, the restaurant was warm and softly lit. Light wood covered much of the interior, and small bamboo arrangements decorated the tables. Cushioned booths lined one wall, while a few customers remained seated near the counter, finishing their meals.

Shouma led Yoshino toward an empty booth, and they slid into opposite seats. An older woman approached almost immediately, her expression brightening when she recognized him.

“Oh, you’re here late tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“The usual?”

“Please.”

She nodded before turning toward Yoshino.

“And for you?”

Yoshino opened the menu. After spending the entire evening greeting guests instead of eating properly, she was prepared to order almost anything that sounded appealing.

“Gyoza, karaage, yakitori—the chicken thigh and tsukune, please. Dashimaki tamago, edamame…” She scanned the remaining options. “And ochazuke.”

The woman waited patiently.

Yoshino considered the menu for another moment.

“And rice.”

Shouma snorted.

Yoshino looked up. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“I haven’t eaten.”

“Yeah, I know but what hell…you out-gluttoned me.”

The older woman laughed as she collected the menus.

“I’ll bring enough for both of you.”

“Thank you!”

Once she left, Yoshino leaned back against the cushioned booth and sighed.

“I’m starving.”

“It’s not good to waste food.” Shouma reached toward the small bamboo arrangement in the center of the table, absently tracing the edge of one leaf with his fingertip. He remained quiet for a while, considering how to approach the subject that had occupied his thoughts during their drive.

Eventually, he looked up.

“So what did he say?”

Yoshino tilted her head. “Who?”

Shouma gave her a look.

She understood immediately.

“Oh.”

He released the bamboo leaf and leaned back against the booth.

“Should I be worried about him coming back?”

“Kirishima?”

“Yeah.”

Yoshino sighed and folded her arms on the table.

“We talked all night.”

“About?”

“Everything, pretty much.” She considered where to begin. “I told him we’re too different. That if he seriously expected me to marry him, the cheating and controlling behavior would have to stop. I’m not spending the rest of my life putting up with that.”

“What did he say?”

“Mostly Kirishima things.”

“That doesn’t answer anything.”

“I know.” Yoshino rubbed her forehead. “He said he’d let me go.”

Shouma’s eyes narrowed.

She immediately raised a hand.

“I know. Believe me, I told him I don’t need his permission.”

“Good.”

“But he also said he’d never disappear completely. That he’d always be wherever I am.”

Shouma’s expression darkened. “Of course he would say some dumb shit like that.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not particularly interested in entertaining that nonsense.” Yoshino shrugged and continued, “Apparently, he’s got overseas business for the next couple of months, so I don’t think he’ll come here immediately.”

“You believe him?”

“About leaving Japan? Yeah. About leaving me alone forever?” She shook her head. “No. I’m not that naive.”

Shouma looked down at the bamboo arrangement again. Kirishima had already demonstrated how little respect he had for Yoshino’s boundaries, and Shouma doubted a single conversation would convince him to abandon his interest. Yoshino watched him for a moment before sighing.

“Regardless, I’m not worried.”

“Well, if he comes back, I’ll take care of him.”

“How about you don’t?”

Shouma looked at her.

“Last time you two fought, you almost died.”

“He almost died, too.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“No, but I will kill him next time.”

“Then don’t say it like it’s some kind of accomplishment.” Yoshino leaned forward, her expression serious. “Both of you could’ve died that night, Shouma. I don’t want that happening again.”

He said nothing.

“I need you here,” she continued firmly. “Alive.”

Shouma held her gaze for a moment before looking away.

Yoshino had lectured him about his recklessness plenty of times before, particularly when he’d returned from an assignment with injuries he considered too minor to mention. He’d grown accustomed to her worrying about him, but hearing her say she needed him still affected him more than he cared to admit. He had spent years questioning whether his attachment to Yoshino came from the responsibilities Renji had entrusted to him or from growing up together. Protecting her had become part of his life long before he understood his feelings, and he’d occasionally wondered whether he would have loved her under different circumstances.

But he knew his feelings for her had never been a matter of duty. He wanted to be the person she relied on, even when there was no danger to protect her from. The thought of another man taking his place in her life had always bothered him, although he’d rarely allowed himself to dwell on it.

Kirishima irritated him more than most.

During his visits to Tokyo, Shouma had watched the liberties Kirishima took with Yoshino. He behaved as though their arrangement entitled him to an intimacy she hadn’t willingly offered, all while openly pursuing other women. The hypocrisy disgusted him.

He looked across the table at Yoshino.

“So did you have sex?”

She blinked. “What?”

“With Kirishima.”

The question was so direct that she needed a moment to process it.

“HELL NO.”

Shouma watched her without speaking.

Yoshino glanced aside. “Well…”

His eyes narrowed.

“He hugged me. A lot. And he’s held me before.”

“Yoshino.”

“But yeah no… sex never.” She shook her head. “And definitely not fooling around. Ew. Not with him.”

Shouma exhaled. “Good.”

Yoshino studied him, catching the relief he’d failed to conceal entirely.

“Okay.”

“What?”

“If we’re asking personal questions now, it’s my turn.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Tell me what happened with Hinata.”

Shouma’s expression immediately soured. “Yoshino.”

“You interrogated me first.”

“I asked about Kirishima because he’s dangerous.”

“And I’m asking because I’m nosy.”

He looked at her before shaking his head. “At least you’re honest..I dunno.”

“So?”

“What do you want to know?”

Yoshino leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “How do you court women?”

Shouma stared at her.

She smiled. “I’ve always wondered.”

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t court them.”

Yoshino frowned. “Then what do you do?”

“They plan everything.”

“Everything?”

“Dates. Restaurants. Places they want to go.”

“And you?”

“I drive.”

Yoshino burst into laughter.

“That’s not dating. You’re an Uber.”

“I also pay.”

She laughed harder, covering her mouth with one hand.

“So you’re a glorified Uber and a piggy bank?”

“Pretty much.”

“Shouma!” She shook her head in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

He shrugged.

“You buy them things?”

“If they want something.”

“Food?”

“Yes.”

“Clothes?”

“Yes.”

“Whatever they ask for?”

“Usually.”

Yoshino stared at him, her amusement gradually giving way to disbelief. “Shouma, that’s terrible.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you keep doing it?”

“It’s easier.”

“Easier than what?”

“Arguing about it.”

She sighed dramatically. “So… if you don’t like them romantically, why date?.”

“Intel, mostly for Renji, or to get out of bullshit.”

Yoshino considered him for another moment before curiosity got the better of her.

“Do you at least kiss them?”

Shouma looked increasingly irritated, “this is stupid.”

“You asked whether I slept with him. Fair’s fair.”

He shifted against the booth and released a long sigh. “Yes. They kissed me.”

“They kissed you?”

“Yeah, I never kissed first, I just let them do whatever to me I guess…”

Yoshino stared at him. “And you’ve slept with them?”

“Some.”

She hesitated. “Hinata?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Shouma glanced toward the table, “it doesn’t matter, we broke up and I don’t care.”

“What happened?”

“She cried. Threw a bunch of things at me, including a vase. Asked why I wouldn’t do more for her.”

Yoshino’s eyebrows rose. “And?”

“I didn’t want to.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“Yes.”

She stared at him, trying to imagine the argument. “And then?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to think about it again.”

Yoshino sat back. She’d always known Shouma struggled to maintain romantic relationships, but hearing him describe them so plainly made her wonder why he’d bothered dating those women at all.

“You said to get out of bullshit but still doesn’t seem like a good enough excuse to date them.”

Shouma’s expression became more serious. “Renji gives me names sometimes.”

Yoshino understood immediately.

“To get information?”

“See what I can find out.”

She considered that before speaking. “So you’re like Kirishima.”

“No.” The response came sharply enough to startle her. “I don’t prostitute myself,” he said quietly. “I know Kirishima does it for money.”

Yoshino didn’t interrupt.

“And from what I’ve seen, he enjoys it.” Shouma’s mouth tightened. “I don’t.”

She watched him, uncertain whether to respond.

“After they touch me, I go to the springs for a full day and scrub them off.”

Yoshino stared at him.

“Even when they kiss me, I never close my eyes.” There was no embarrassment in his voice. He described the encounters with the same blunt detachment he used when discussing an unpleasant assignment, and Yoshino suddenly understood why his relationships rarely lasted. She pictured him allowing a woman to kiss him while offering little affection in return, his expression as unreadable as ever.

No wonder they hate him.

For several seconds, she remained silent. “Shouma…”

“What?”

“Sorry.”

His expression softened slightly. “It’s fine.”

“No, I shouldn’t have compared you to Kirishima.”

“I said it’s fine.” He leaned back against the booth. “I just don’t want to talk about my exes. They’re nothing to me.”

Yoshino considered his answer before nodding. “Fine.”

She held out her hand across the table. “Compromise.”

Shouma looked at it. “What?”

“I won’t bring up your exes again.”

“Okay.”

“And you can’t bring up Kirishima anymore.”

His expression changed. “Yoshino—”

“I don’t want to think about him.”

That stopped him. She lowered her hand slightly. “I spent enough time in Tokyo dealing with that entire situation. I’m home now, and I want to enjoy being here. I don’t want every conversation turning into another discussion about Kirishima.”

Shouma looked at her before nodding.

“All right.”

“This is a fresh start to my life.”

She reached farther across the table and grabbed both of his hands before he could withdraw them, lifting them dramatically between them. Shouma stared at her, immediately suspicious of whatever performance she was preparing. Yoshino lowered her voice into her best imitation of a heroic proclamation. “It’s the fresh start of our new lives!”

Shouma stared at her before a reluctant smirk appeared. “You’re an idiot.”

“Shouma, agree to it.”

“Fine.”

“Say it.”

“No.”

“You better freaking say it or I’m about to be loud and embarrass you….OH MISS RESTAURANT OWNE–”

He sighed, and covered her mouth with his hands, “Ok ok ok ok, knock it off. Fresh start.”

Yoshino grabbed his hands to move them away from her mouth, and mouthed exaggeratedly, “Of our new lives.”

“Fresh start of our new lives or whatever.”

Yoshino burst into laughter, releasing his hands just as the older woman returned carrying the first dishes.

“Oh my God.”

The woman smiled as she began arranging the plates on the table. Crisp karaage arrived first, followed by gyoza browned along their bottoms and served with a small dish of dipping sauce. The yakitori skewers had been brushed with glossy tare, while the dashimaki tamago rested in thick slices beside bowls of rice and a serving of edamame. Shouma’s usual order arrived separately: a deep bowl of motsu nikomi filled with beef and tofu simmered in a rich broth, accompanied by rice and grilled meat.

Yoshino stared at the spread with open admiration.

“This is beautiful.”

The older woman laughed. “You really were hungry.”

“I’m about to cry.”

Shouma shifted several plates to make more room. “Please don’t cry into the food.”

“I won’t.” T.T

Yoshino reached eagerly for her chopsticks but paused when Shouma brought his hands together. She followed his example, and they bowed their heads slightly. “Itadakimasu,” they said in unison.

Yoshino immediately picked up a gyoza and bit into it, careful not to burn herself on the hot filling. The wrapper was crisp along the bottom, and the savory pork filling was still steaming.

“Oh.”

Shouma had already started eating.

“Shouma.”

“What?”

“This is so good.”

“I know.”

“Why haven’t you brought me here before?”

“You were in Tokyo.”

“Before Tokyo.”

“You never asked.”

Yoshino stared at him. “I didn’t know it existed! We come to Ponto-chō for late-night food all the time, but we’ve never been to this place together.”

Shouma shrugged. “Now you know.”

She shook her head in disbelief and reached for the karaage. “Unbelievable. UN-BELIEVABLE”

The older woman chuckled as she returned toward the counter, leaving them to their meal.

For the next several minutes, neither had much interest in conversation. Yoshino worked her way through the dishes she’d ordered, occasionally pushing a plate toward Shouma whenever she wanted him to try something. He accepted a piece of karaage before casually taking one of her gyoza without asking.

Yoshino noticed immediately.

“Hey.”

Shouma looked up.

“You took mine.”

“Yeah.”

She reached across the table and took a piece of grilled meat from his plate.

Shouma raised an eyebrow. “Hey, that’s mine.”

They continued eating, occasionally exchanging comments about the food. Yoshino tried nearly everything, although she eventually admitted defeat on the amount she’d ordered and pushed several dishes toward Shouma to finish. Halfway through the meal, she leaned back against the booth and rested a hand against her stomach. The unpleasant hunger she’d experienced since the party had finally subsided. She looked across the table at Shouma, who was finishing another portion of his meal.

“You really are my favorite person to eat with.”

He glanced up from his bowl.

Yoshino smiled. “Even though you’re a glutton.”

Shouma chuckled. “So are you.”

“Am not.”

“You ordered half the menu.”

“I hadn’t eaten.”

“You’re still eating.”

Yoshino picked up another piece of karaage. “That’s irrelevant.”

He shook his head, amused by her refusal to acknowledge the obvious. Watching her enjoy herself reminded him how rarely she’d appeared genuinely relaxed during his visits to Tokyo. He was glad she could laugh about ordinary things again.

“Yeah,” he said, returning his attention to his bowl. “Let’s keep eating together.”

Yoshino smiled. “Deal.”

Outside, Ponto-chō had grown quieter. Several establishments had begun closing for the night, although Shatira remained open for its last few customers. Yoshino reached across the table and stole another piece of meat from Shouma’s plate. He glanced at her but allowed her to take it without complaint. Near the far end of the restaurant, the older woman who had served them stood beside the bartender and a younger busboy. Their attention had drifted toward the booth where Shouma sat with Yoshino. They had seen him come into Shatira countless times before, usually alone or occasionally accompanied by someone from the organization. He was always polite enough, although his conversations rarely extended beyond ordering food and thanking the staff. Tonight, however, he had been talking throughout the meal. More surprisingly, he was smiling.

The bartender leaned toward the older woman. “I’ve never seen him make that many faces.”

The busboy nodded. “I didn’t know he could.”

The older woman smiled as Yoshino gestured enthusiastically with her chopsticks while telling Shouma something. He listened with an expression of patient disbelief before responding, earning another burst of laughter from her.

“Well,” the older woman murmured, “apparently he can.”

Across the restaurant, Yoshino reached for another piece of Shouma’s food, and he caught her wrist lightly before she could take it. She protested, laughing as he moved the plate just beyond her reach. Eventually, he relented and pushed it toward her. The employees exchanged amused glances before returning to their work. Whoever the young woman sitting across from Shouma was, she clearly knew a side of him they had never seen.

CHAPTER 5 ->