In the corner of the playground, Yui Yuigahama was subtly surrounded by several girls. The mocking glances and low whispers, both overt and covert, pierced her like fine needles, leaving her helpless. She kept her head down, trying hard to pretend she didn't care, but her slightly trembling shoulders and reddened eyes betrayed her distress.
Just then, a clear, cold, and familiar voice cut through the unfriendly atmosphere:
"Classmate Yuihama, are you alright?"
Yui Yuigahama suddenly looked up and saw Yukinoshita Yukino. She stood a few steps away, the setting sun outlining her slender and upright silhouette. Her icy eyes looked at Yui Yuigahama calmly, containing no pity or curiosity, only a pure, detached inquiry, as if she merely happened upon an injustice while passing by.
"Cl-Classmate Yukinoshita..." Yui Yuigahama instinctively forced out a strained smile, "I-I'm fine..."
Her forced cheerfulness clearly didn't deceive Yukinoshita. Yukino's gaze lightly swept over the girls surrounding them, who had become slightly subdued by her arrival, finally settling on Miura Yumiko, who was leading the group.
When Miura Yumiko saw Yukinoshita Yukino, her brow immediately furrowed, and her face openly displayed jealousy and displeasure. She had disliked Yukinoshita Yukino since childhood, hating her perpetually aloof and seemingly ethereal demeanor, and hating even more how easily she always drew attention—including now, where simply standing there made the atmosphere of isolation they had created seem ridiculous.
"Yukinoshita, this doesn't concern you," Miura Yumiko said stiffly.
Yukinoshita Yukino acted as if she hadn't heard the warning, speaking calmly in her characteristic tone, which carried a trace of inherent sarcasm: "Classmate Miura, bullying classmates weaker than yourself doesn't truly demonstrate your strength; it only exposes your cowardice and... poor taste."
These words were like precise ice shards, instantly infuriating Miura Yumiko. Her cheeks flushed red, but she couldn't immediately find suitable words to refute Yukinoshita's calm, almost harsh, accusation.
Yukinoshita ignored her, turning to Yui Yuigahama: "If you're alright, would you like to go somewhere else? The Service Club is quiet."
Yui Yuigahama desperately needed an excuse to escape, and quickly nodded: "O-Okay!"
Yukinoshita Yukino said no more, turning and walking ahead. Yui Yuigahama, clutching at her like a life raft, quickly followed behind her, escaping the corner that had suffocated her.
The two walked into the Service Club Room one after the other. Just as Yui Yuigahama sighed in relief, she looked up and suddenly met a pair of deep, smiling eyes by the window—Kanjuro was sitting there leisurely!
She was so startled she nearly cried out. Her heart abruptly tightened, she instinctively took half a step back, and her face instantly turned pale. Last night's truth and this morning's coldness flashed alternately in her mind, filling her with inexpressible fear and confusion when facing Kanjuro.
"What's wrong?" Yukinoshita Yukino keenly noticed her abnormality, stopping and looking back at her.
"N-Nothing!" Yui Yuigahama hurriedly waved her hands, forcing herself to calm down, but she dared not meet Kanjuro's eyes again.
Kanjuro took in her reaction completely, the corner of his mouth curving into an understanding smile tinged with malicious amusement. He spoke unhurriedly, his voice gentle, yet every word clearly struck Yui Yuigahama's heart:
"Yui, look," he spread his hands, looking helpless and innocent, "it's not that I didn't want to help you, it's that you... clearly stated you didn't need my help, and even said you hated me."
These words were like salt poured onto Yui Yuigahama's freshly scabbed wound. She remembered the spiteful things she had said that morning, which now seemed so childish and powerless under Kanjuro's smiling gaze. A wave of grievance and inexplicable panic washed over her. She was afraid her actions that morning had genuinely angered him, especially since... he was, after all, the person with terrible power and her biological father.
"Hmph!" To conceal her inner turmoil and that trace of fear—the fear of being completely abandoned by him, which she didn't even want to admit—Yui Yuigahama forcefully turned her head and said in the most rigid tone possible, "It's no big deal! I didn't need your help anyway!"
However, the slightly trembling final note and the fingers unconsciously clutching her skirt hem exposed her true state of being outwardly strong but inwardly weak. While speaking bravely, she anxiously speculated about Kanjuro's reaction, afraid he would really become completely indifferent to her from now on. This contradictory and painful emotion was practically tearing her apart.
Kanjuro watched her appearance of being clearly afraid yet insisting on being stubborn, and the interest in his eyes deepened. He stopped speaking, merely returning his gaze to the window, as if everything that had just happened was a small interlude.
Inside the Service Club, a subtle and tense silence descended once more. Yukinoshita Yukino looked at the clearly distracted Yui Yuigahama, then at the enigmatic "Uncle Kanjuro" by the window. A trace of imperceptible doubt flashed across her cool brows. Yukinoshita Yukino's clear, cold voice rang out in the silent Club Room, like a stone dropped into a lake, shattering Yui Yuigahama's forced pretense and the deliberate air of detachment Kanjuro had created.
"Classmate Yuihama," Yukino's gaze rested calmly on the pink-haired girl who was still holding back tears. Her tone remained level, yet she spoke a sentence that surprised both people present: "Actually, Kanjuro was the one who saw your situation on the playground first. He alerted me and told me to go down and help."
She paused, seemingly unaccustomed to speaking on Kanjuro's behalf, but continued, her gaze lightly sweeping over the seemingly indifferent man by the window: "He... is sometimes contradictory. He says he doesn't care, but his actions don't always reflect that."
This sentence was like the last straw, gently crushing Yui Yuigahama's taut psychological defenses.
Her body trembled violently, and her perpetually lowered head finally lifted. Tearfully, she looked toward Kanjuro by the window. The classmate she once thought was gentle and handsome, and for whom she developed feelings; the "stranger" she discovered last night might be involved with her mother, making her feel sick and betrayed; the "revenger" she pushed away this morning with "hate," who then treated her with cold indifference; the... biological father, according to Teacher Kitami.
So many chaotic, contradictory, and painful emotions intertwined, almost tearing her apart. Yet, Yukinoshita Yukino's seemingly plain explanation was like a faint light, piercing the thick fog, making her realize that even after knowing such an unbearable truth, and even after saying such hurtful things, this man whom she should hate and avoid, seemed to... still be watching her from a corner she didn't know, in a way she couldn't understand, and had even... secretly offered help?
"I... I understand..." Yui Yuigahama's voice was thick with congestion, so soft it was almost inaudible. She turned towards Kanjuro, bowed her head deeply, and tears streamed down onto the floor like broken pearls. "Th-Thank you, Kanjuro-kun..."
This single thank you contained too many complex emotions—the bewilderment upon learning the source of the "help," shame over her previous attitude, confusion over the blood relationship, and a deep-seated, humble longing and stirring for "fatherly love" (even if it was twisted and secretive).
However, this complex emotion lasted only a few seconds before the immense grievance and long-suppressed pain finally burst through the floodgates.
"Waaah—!!!"
She suddenly turned around, no longer looking at Kanjuro, and, as if finding a piece of driftwood to cling to, she threw herself onto Yukinoshita Yukino, who was nearest to her. She tightly wrapped her arms around the other girl's slender, yet seemingly strong, waist, buried her face in Yukino's chest, and began to sob uncontrollably.
The crying was heart-wrenching, filled with the helplessness of isolation, the fear of knowing the truth, confusion over her mother's actions, complicated and unspeakable feelings for Kanjuro, and bewilderment about her own fate. All her strength and pretense crumbled at this moment, leaving only a child who had suffered a great grievance and finally found an outlet for release.
Yukinoshita Yukino's body stiffened from the sudden action. She was never accustomed to such close contact, much less being hugged and sobbed on like this. She instinctively wanted to push her away, but feeling the girl's violently trembling body and hot tears soaking her shirt, a trace of extremely faint, almost undetectable softness and resignation flashed in her perpetually cool eyes. She ultimately did not push Yuigahama away, instead giving her a slightly clumsy, symbolic pat on the back—a gesture awkward yet quietly embracing.
Kanjuro watched the scene quietly.
Watching Yui Yuigahama sobbing hysterically in Yukinoshita Yukino's arms, watching her expose all her vulnerability and grievance without reservation. His face remained expressionless, but a barely noticeable ripple passed through his deep eyes.
(Truly... fragile creatures.)
(Can such a tiny, even calculated, piece of "goodwill" make her drop all her defenses and cry like this?)
He scoffed internally, judging from a position of superiority. But at the same time, a darker emotion was also breeding. He saw Yukinoshita Yukino's slightly stiff but non-rejecting movement, seeing his two "daughters" connected in this way—one providing awkward comfort, the other greedily absorbing illusory warmth.
The scene was absurd, twisted, yet possessed a strange... "warmth"?
In a corner unnoticed by others, the corner of Kanjuro's mouth slowly curved into an extremely faint, yet meaningful, arc.
This drama, orchestrated by him and filled with lies and truth, betrayal and dependence, seemed to be heading in a direction that even he found quite interesting.
Yui Yuigahama, amidst her painful sobs, only wished for all her suffering to wash away with her tears. As for how she would face Kanjuro, her mother, and this entire mess in the future, her mind was blank, leaving only instinctive release and the brief, borrowed, icy warmth from Yukinoshita Yukino.
In the Service Club room, Yui Yuigahama's crying gradually subsided, leaving only soft hiccups. Yukinoshita Yukino remained standing stiffly, allowing her to be hugged, a rare trace of bewilderment coloring her cool, clear expression.
"Classmate Yuihama," Yukino's voice softened slightly, "If there is still something troubling you... perhaps you can talk about it."
Yui Yuigahama shook her head vigorously in Yukinoshita's embrace, getting tears and snot all over Yukinoshita's expensive shirt, but she couldn't care less right now. She let go of Yukinoshita, wiped her face haphazardly with the back of her hand, her eyes swollen like peaches.
"N-nothing..." Her voice was hoarse and nasal. "I'm just... just a little sad... Thank you, Classmate Yukinoshita..." She dared not look at Kanjuro beside her, much less speak the secret that could overturn her world. This was a dirty and desperate secret belonging only to her, her mother, and Kanjuro. She could not, and dared not, let Classmate Yukinoshita, who was as pure as snow, know.
Yukinoshita Yukino saw that she was clearly hiding something but unwilling to speak further, so she stopped pressing. She simply handed over a clean handkerchief in silence.
"Wipe your face."
The dismissal bell rang, and students poured out of the school building like a tide. Kanjuro walked alone on the slope bathed in the setting sun, his shadow stretched long. His face was expressionless, as if the crying fit in the Service Club that afternoon had nothing to do with him.
"Mr. Kanjuro!"
A girl's voice, full of excitement and a hint of flattery, came from behind him. Kanjuro stopped and turned, seeing Miura Yumiko jogging to catch up, her face bright with a smile and her eyes filled with undisguised admiration and possessiveness.
She naturally reached out and intimately linked her arm through Mr. Kanjuro's, her body pressing close to his side. She looked up at him, her tone carrying a deliberately manufactured jealousy: "Why aren't you going home with your 'girlfriend' today?" She was referring to Yui Yuigahama, and her voice held contempt for the girl she usually ostracized.
Kanjuro lowered his head, looking at Miura Yumiko's face, which bore some resemblance to her mother in his memory but was currently brimming with youth and exuberance. The veneer of indifference on his face instantly melted away, replaced by the gentle, slightly mischievous smile that Miura Yumiko adored most.
Instead of answering her question, he exerted a slight force with his arm, and with a soft gasp from Miura Yumiko, he easily pulled her entire body into his embrace, holding her tightly.
"Uh..." Miura Yumiko unexpectedly crashed into his solid chest, her nostrils instantly filled with the clean, unique scent of Kanjuro. An indescribable, strong sense of closeness and security shot through her like an electric current, instantly making half her body go weak and causing a blush to rise on her cheeks.
This feeling was strange. Although they hadn't known each other long and their relationship had progressed faster than imaginable, every time she got close to Kanjuro, a strange urge to rely on him and draw nearer would surge from deep within her, as if they were meant to be this intimate. She didn't know this was due to Kanjuro's genes, dormant in her bloodline, acting up; she merely attributed it to Kanjuro's unparalleled personal charm.
Being held like this, listening to his steady heartbeat, and feeling the warmth of his chest, Miura Yumiko felt as if a honey pot had spilled inside her, sickeningly sweet. The displeasure and jealousy she had felt earlier because of Yuigahama were now scattered by this sudden intimacy. She wrapped her arms around Kanjuro's waist in return, burying her face in his chest and greedily inhaling his scent.
"Mr. Kanjuro..." she murmured, her voice filled with satisfaction and joy.
Kanjuro felt the soft body and unguarded dependence of the girl in his arms. Beneath the gentle smile on his lips lay cold amusement and a hint of imperceptible mockery.
(What an... interesting reaction.)
(Is this the pull of blood? Even without knowing the truth, she instinctively draws near and falls into ruin.)
(My good daughter, just... continue to be lost in the illusion your father has woven for you.)
He lowered his head, gently rubbing his chin against her soft hair, his voice low and magnetic, like a lover's whisper, yet carrying the composure of someone in complete control:
"Having Yumiko by my side is enough."
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