Chapter 53

When Shiratori Kiyoya asked, Saori's shoulders gave a startled twitch; her downcast eyes fixed on a crack in the tabletop as she nodded.

"Mm..."

"......"

Kiyoya's eyelid flickered.

He had known the answer for days, yet hearing it aloud still hurt. He couldn't help pressing her.

"Don't you have a life of your own? Don't you need to study? Where have you been putting your energy? Remember what I told you—once you're in university you have to hit the books. Even if your kendo's top-notch, becoming a teacher or a cop still depends on your academic grades. The bar isn't high, but can you even pass the next set of finals?"

Japanese diners prize silence; raise your voice and the staff will scold you. Mindful of Saori's feelings, Kiyoya kept his voice low, audible only to the two of them.

Saori still flinched at his tone. Crystal tears pattered onto the table.

Kiyoya opened his mouth, the anger draining out of him. He tore off two tissues and slid them over.

She had cried more today than in all the years he'd known her.

The girl's body shuddered with every sob, her words broken.

"I—I'm sorry... But, but Saori just wanted to see Kiyoya..."

"When I can't see you, it hurts right here..." She pressed a hand to her chest.

Kiyoya glanced: beneath the cloth, the spot was as flat as ever. He leaned over and dabbed the tissues against her cheeks, ready to offer comfort—at least to stop the tears—but she went on.

"I'm sorry... Saori, Saori will apologize to her. Kiyoya, please forgive me, okay?"

Kiyoya rubbed the bridge of his nose, resigned. "There's nothing to forgive..."

It's hard to resent someone who loves you wholeheartedly—especially when she used to be yours. Watching her cry, his anger evaporated. He moved to the question that mattered most.

"Tell me—did you come because Shione said something to you?"

This time Saori didn't dare hide; she bobbed her chin like a pestle, the two tissues fluttering against her face like white butterflies.

So that's it.

The confirmation landed; Kiyoya leaned back, exhaling quietly. He didn't want to admit it, didn't want to believe the once-innocent Shione had changed this much. But the truth was clear: Kitajo Shione was no longer the girl he remembered.

Using even Saori...

The owner arrived with three bowls of tonkotsu ramen. He took in their faces, kept his smile, and murmured, "Three tonkotsu—skewers will be a few more minutes..."

"Thank you." Kiyoya nodded, sliding all three bowls toward Saori. "Eat first."

Saori bit her lip; she had no appetite. She looked up at him, careful.

"Kiyoya, aren't you eating? Saori can't finish all this..."

"They're for you. Eat."

Saori sniffled; the smell of pork broth curled into her nose. She swallowed, fighting the urge to grab her chopsticks.

"Kiyoya's not mad at Saori anymore?"

"Eat first."

He peeled the "white butterflies" from her face and nudged the tissues closer. "Blow your nose."

"Okay."

Aware she'd misbehaved, she turned obedient, nothing like the girl who had cornered him that morning.

Slurp.

Saori lifted her wrist, gathered the noodles with chopsticks, and guided them into her mouth without breaking them. The broth painted her lips vermilion; steam curled up her pale neck. Lamplight caught in her eyes, turning them glassy, luminous. A clean, fragile beauty spilled from her.

Watching her dainty manners, Kiyoya's gaze softened—memories flickered. At least the lessons hadn't been wasted.

Soon three empty bowls sat before her. Afraid to waste a drop, she ran her chopsticks around the rims, clink-clink.

"If you're still hungry, order more."

Saori shook her head. "Saori isn't hungry today."

She glanced toward the kitchen, confirmed the skewers weren't ready, then looked back at him, lips pressed tight.

"Kiyoya... do you really like that girl?"

Kiyoya frowned. "Takashi Mio?"

"The one from this morning..." Saori chewed her lip, stole a glance, then whispered, "If Kiyoya likes her, Saori can like her too. Just... don't send Saori away... You still like Saori, right? Saori will be good—whatever you say, Saori will do..."

She rubbed her chest, eyes glistening with hurt. "Even though Saori's chest hasn't grown... books say massaging helps. Maybe later..."

An idea lit her face; the worry vanished. "Kiyoya likes Saori's legs, right? Look—they're still the same."

She stretched one leg past the table, grabbed the hem of her track pants to pull it up.

The moment an ankle flashed pale, Kiyoya's spine iced over. He bent, seized her wrist, and pinned it down, voice low and sharp.

"What are you doing? Is this how I taught you?"

Held fast, Saori froze, lower lip trembling, chin crumpling like crumpled paper.

"But... Saori has nothing else to offer. Don't make Saori leave, please..."

She seemed to shrink into the dust.

Kiyoya closed his eyes, drew a slow breath, fingers tightening around her wrist. At last, he opened them, gaze steady.

"Saori, let's make a promise."

"Mm-hmm!"

Saori sat up like an eager pupil, eyes sparkling.

Kiyoya raised three fingers in front of her.

"Three years. If, after three years, you still feel the same, I'll marry you."

"Okay!"

Without hesitation, Saori's smile bloomed like a flower.

"I'll always love Kiyoya."