Everyone at the table—Yukino Yukari, Nishimiya Shouko, Miyamizu Mitsuha, Eriri—could understand what Yukinoshita Haruno meant when she said "pain makes you grow."
The idea of trauma was not new to any of them.
And when it came to how to heal, they all had their own philosophies.
But if anyone had the most authority to speak on surviving a hellish upbringing, it was Nishimiya Shouko.
Not even Mitsuha's mayor-dad, who once yelled through a megaphone for her to "stand up straight when you walk," could compare.
Nishimiya Yaeko had given birth to a daughter with a speech disorder—Shouko.
And while pregnant with her second daughter, Yuzuru, her husband and in-laws abandoned her.
With only her own mother's help, she raised both daughters alone.
Compared to the fragile, glass-like elegance of the name "Shouko," she named her second daughter "Yuzuru" — like a taut bowstring, capable of snapping back against the cruelty of life.
To pay for their medical bills and daily living, she worked herself to the brink of collapse—overworking to a level where sudden death wouldn't have surprised anyone.
She led by example and demanded the same relentless discipline from her daughters.
Kyousuke would never forget that evening in the staff office of Suimon Elementary.
He had protected Shouko that day, but instead of gratitude, Nishimiya-san looked him in the eye and said:
"Hojou-kun, thank you for protecting my daughter. But could I ask you… to never do it again?"
"As long as you protect Shouko, she won't learn to be strong.
You won't always be there for her.
She needs to grow stronger on her own if she's going to survive this life."
It was more than tough love—it was a brand of parenting that could only be described as demonic.
A typical Japanese person would've probably apologized on the spot, worried about having caused trouble.
Even a well-meaning person might have felt indignant—Why am I being scolded when I was only trying to help?
But Kyousuke wasn't just anyone.
He was Hojou Kyousuke.
When he saw little Shouko, her round face on the verge of tears as she peeked out nervously from behind him, he knew:
If he let her fall into that abyss and walk a lonely, painful life alone…
Then on the day he died—at the very last moment, before his eyes closed for good—he'd still be asking himself:
"Why… why didn't I hold on to Nishimiya Shouko's hand back then?"
And he would die filled with regret.
So he stood tall, shielding Shouko, and said to Nishimiya Yaeko:
"No matter what the future holds, I'll stay by Shouko's side—until the day I die."
He couldn't say for sure whether Yaeko's approach was right, or if his own was even the best for Shouko.
But what he could say was this: he would take full responsibility for his choice.
He had the strength to take responsibility for Shouko's life.
And thankfully—
Whether it was the teary, trembling Shouko who'd stood up to her mother back then, or the one now, puffed up with righteous anger and glaring at Haruno with her big brown eyes beside Yukinoshita Yukino…
It was clear that Shouko had become the kind of strong, radiant person her mother never even dared dream of.
You could see it in the relaxed corners of Nishimiya Yaeko's eyes as she sipped her cocktail with contentment.
Yes—while the two fathers had already shared drinks and laughs, the debate between Shouko and Haruno still raged on.
And Hojou Kyousuke?
He didn't plan to intervene.
Just like he once pulled Shouko back from the edge, he wasn't going to do the same for Yukinoshita now.
Back then, Shouko was just a sixth-grade girl.
But Yukino… she was already of marriageable age.
Her worldview was fully formed—no three lines from him would change that.
Besides…
That girl had walked the "path of solitude" Haruno talked about for years.
He'd seen it himself, twice in fact:
First, during their dance training—
In Yukino's world, there was no such thing as "collaboration."
She saw teammates as dead weight, inefficiency.
So she chose a duel. No—a competition.
And when Mitsuha proved her overwhelming strength, Yukino willingly stepped down from the lead role she had fought tooth and nail for, even invoking religious rites.
Second, during Katou Megumi's tutoring—
Again, there was no "teamwork."
To her, he was just in the way.
She challenged him to a duel—and lost.
But Kyousuke knew: that girl, who seemed powered by "victory" as fuel, was out there right now, working just as hard in the shadows as she had when she mastered 3D animation overnight.
Yes, Haruno was right.
Yukino was desperately honing her ability to survive on her own.
From all his interactions with her, he could tell—if she had the chance, she would absolutely build a country of one: "Yukinoland."
She would draft an entire legal system with only herself as its sole citizen.
Because deep down, she knew:
In a world of absolute justice, she would be the only one left standing.
So no—Yukino didn't need saving.
No one had the right to judge the path she walked.
That's why, right now, Kyousuke just sat there, softly comforting the emotional Eriri beside him, while quietly enjoying the rare sight of Shouko losing her temper.
He finally understood why Yukino seemed to have such a problem with Kasumigaoka Utaha.
She saw Haruno in her.
Yukinoshita Haruno— A woman who embodied every kind of delightful cruelty.
She didn't even have to speak to piss people off.
Just like now—she hadn't said a word, and yet Shouko's rage was visibly boiling over.
Even someone who hadn't taught Shouko to speak could see it in her flushed, round cheeks still holding the faintest trace of baby fat.
Shouko was very, very angry.
Back at the train station, when she first saw her mom, she had been surprised—maybe a little nervous.
But that was quickly replaced with joy that filled her entire tiny body.
Kyousuke-kun won an award today!
This was a day to celebrate—just like when she first voiced her anime role.
They should all be sharing that joy as a family.
She even asked her grandma why she hadn't come, though she already knew it wouldn't be easy for her at that age.
Nervous. Happy. Nervous. Happy.
All the way from the station to the izakaya, Shouko's heart kept flipping between those two emotions.
Why is Mom here?
She's here to celebrate—our families together, how wonderful!.
Will Hojou-kun be uncomfortable seeing her?
Even Sakura's parents didn't come—my mom did! That's kind of special!.
Will she make things hard for Kyousuke-kun?.
Good thing she's here, though.
Otherwise if only Mitsuha's parents would be here.
That would've felt weird.
...
Through the open car window, everything on the street seemed to take on a dreamlike filter—vivid and alive.
The cars on the road moved at an easy pace, no longer spewing noxious exhaust.
The pedestrians strolled leisurely, no longer rushing to work.
The fallen pink cherry blossoms floated gently back onto their brown branches.
Though it was still daytime, the Tokyo Skytree had already lit up in brilliant summer colors...
Even when Yuzuru leaned out the window with her camera, snapping photos nonstop, Shouko didn't stop her or warn her about the risk of dropping it.
Instead, she simply asked the driver to take the scenic route—as long as it wouldn't cause too much trouble.
Just two tickets had transformed the world in Shouko's eyes into a fairytale.
And all because of that one line from Kyousuke-kun:
"Since Mitsuha's little sister is coming, Yuzure's should come too."
Well—he hadn't said it exactly like that.
But Shouko understood.
Just like Kyousuke-kun could always understand her, she could read his heart too.
Something that small, something that simple, made her heart overflow.
And it was precisely because it was such a small gesture, she could feel the depth of Kyousuke-kun's quiet thoughtfulness.
Her mother always worried that relying on Kyousuke-kun would make her weak—that she'd never become strong on her own.
But... humans are selfish creatures.
They don't truly show their strength when they hurt others—
They become their strongest when they're protecting something they cherish.
Shouko had been so happy leading her mother and sister down the old spiral staircase, even retelling Kyousuke-kun's silly joke about drunk people cracking their heads open on it.
Yuzuru had laughed.
So had her mother.
Even Mitsuha's little sisters giggled.
But Miyamizu-san…
He looked completely unamused.
Still, Shouko cheerfully brought her family into the izakaya, silently looking forward to the moment Kyousuke-kun would see her mom.
Would he smile?
Would he be surprised?
Or maybe... really surprised~?
But then—just as she stepped in, before she could even say her favorite words, "I'm home," a complete stranger spoke up—
—and said something awful.
Without thinking, Shouko snapped back:
"If destruction exists only for its own sake, then it's meaningless. A tragedy only becomes moving... because it leads to rebirth."
Uuuu~~~
Even though she'd said something cool, something worthy of an anime protagonist…
She didn't get to hear Kyousuke-kun say "Welcome back."
In her heart, Shouko let out a little sob.
She made a quiet promise to herself:
She'd escort her mother and sister home personally later, and once she returned to the dorms, Kyousuke-kun had better say it to her!
That "Welcome back" was in her top three favorite phrases ever.
Number one:
When Kyousuke-kun woke up and saw her first thing in the morning—
"Good morning."
Number two:
When he came home and saw her first—
"I'm back."
Number three:
When she came home and he greeted her—
"Welcome back."
Mmm~
Of course, she also liked it when Sakura and the others said it, but... Just a tiny bit less.
After she'd spoken, everyone at the table stared at her, shocked.
Only then did Shouko remember her mom and sister were standing right behind her.
She—this girl who looked as soft and delicate as a cloud drifting over a lake—suddenly panicked.
The kind of panic that would make her fluffy, light brown hair stand on end... if Mitsuha hadn't styled it so neatly that morning.
Even though her silky hair still clung gently to the back of her pale neck, her big, round eyes were practically spiraling.
But she wasn't that little girl anymore—the one who used to tear up every time someone said something mean.
Not that anyone dared to bully her now.
So she forced herself to stay calm.
At least until Kyousuke-kun stood up to help her out.
Hehe...
Forget that annoying woman.
At least Kyousuke-kun didn't look upset at all to see her mom.
That was all that mattered.
It was his big day.
And it was Shouko's family who got to celebrate it with his.
Just thinking that made her nerves vanish completely.
See?
She'd been right—
When someone has something they want to protect, they become so much stronger!
Just like now.
Even though she'd been flustered moments ago, Shouko now had the courage to sit right in front of Yukinoshita Haruno and glare at her.
Okay... her puffed-up cheeks and wide eyes didn't exactly make her look intimidating.
Probably even the zoo tigers would yawn at her.
Or worse, burst out laughing.
Still, she declared:
"If the only person walking beside you through life is yourself... that's just too lonely!"
A few moments later, realizing her death glare wasn't having much effect, Shouko finally spoke up again—this time, much more spirited.
Sure, maybe the line wasn't as dramatic as before, but...
Still! Shouko was awesome!
Kyousuke, Sakura, Eriri, and the rest of the group all silently cheered for her in their hearts.
"Oh, I see. Is that so~?"
Haruno replied with that same smiling, crescent-eyed expression.
Even the intimidating purple glint in her eyes had faded, hidden beneath her perfectly parted bangs as she nodded along in agreement.
'What do you mean by that!'
Shouko clenched her fists again.
This woman wasn't even trying to communicate seriously.
She didn't even care what anyone else was saying!
As someone with a hearing impairment, Shouko was more sensitive than anyone to whether someone was truly listening.
And this woman—Yukinoshita's older sister—seemed like she was paying attention, even chiming in with polite agreement... but...
'So annoying!!'
Still... she really did resemble Yukinoshita a lot.
Even as she fumed, Shouko found herself momentarily stunned.
Because Yukino was the same.
Stubborn to a fault—completely unwilling to change her mind just because someone else said so.