Chapter 52

After leaving Takahashi Mio's apartment building, Shiratori Kiyoya did not head straight home.

He took out his phone, glanced at the dinner address Fujiyama Takao had sent, and brushed off the man's teasing with a few perfunctory replies. Then he strolled beneath the neon lights at an unhurried pace.

By now his mind had let go of the day's events. If anyone asked why he was simply drifting, he would probably mutter something like "I've thought it through," or "I'm too tired."

First the Kitajo sisters, now Hasegawa Saori—his ex-girlfriends were popping up in rapid succession. Saori's raw emotion earlier had hit him harder than he expected.

Too fast, too sudden, too fierce.

A wave of exhaustion rolled over him, the reckless urge a driver feels to let go of the wheel on a freeway.

Yet the thought lasted only an instant. Kiyoya snapped back, reason tightening its grip on the steering wheel.

He had been here before—when his parents died and he was left alone, when he lived under his aunt's roof, when he went under the knife, when money ran out, when failure loomed again and again.

Self-destructive thoughts always whispered, but controlling them had become second nature.

There has to be a better choice.

He drew a long breath; his eyes steadied. Lowering his gaze to the navigation on his phone, he confirmed he was one traffic light away from where Saori's club was eating.

Just as he looked up, right foot half-lifted, a figure halted in front of him.

Under the streetlamp's glow he recognized her and spoke her name without thinking.

"Saori?"

"Mm."

The girl nodded dazedly. She had changed into a black-and-white tracksuit, her hair gathered in a high ponytail.

She stood so close that Kiyoya caught the clean scent of laundry detergent.

He stepped back half a pace. "What are you doing here? Didn't you go to the club dinner?"

"Um..."

Hasegawa Saori hesitated, her clear eyes flickering. She pressed her lips together and murmured, "Because... because Kiyoya said he would buy Saori dinner, so... Saori didn't go..."

She dared not admit she had followed him the whole way, had watched him see Takahashi Mio home, then realized he was heading toward her own club gathering and jumped out to intercept him.

Kiyoya studied her for a long moment. Instead of asking how she had managed to appear so conveniently, he simply nodded.

"I did promise you dinner—but only if you answer my questions properly, right?"

Saori's eyes widened; her breathing quickened. She swallowed. "Did Saori... answer wrong?"

Kiyoya met her gaze, voice calm. "Lying is wrong, isn't it? And stabbing people at random is also wrong. I remember telling you, Saori—unless your life is in danger, you never draw your sword against another person. Did you forget all that?"

Her heart seemed to crumple. Color drained from her face. She bit her lip and reached for his sleeve.

"I'm sorry... Saori was wrong..."

Her voice cracked, pleading. "Then let Saori treat Kiyoya to dinner, okay..."

Where would you get the money? Kiyoya thought, exasperated. High-school and college kendo tournaments were educational showcases with no prize money. Saori's funds came from a meagre allowance and whatever she scraped together at part-time jobs—most of which vanished into her stomach.

He glanced at her worn but spotless tracksuit and sneakers, at her bare face that still managed to look lovely.

"Sigh..."

He pulled his gaze away and shook his head. "Let's go."

"Okay."

All the way to the ramen shop Saori followed like a scolded bride, keeping a careful half-step behind. When the gap between them felt too wide, she bit her lip, hesitated, then timidly caught the hem of Kiyoya's jacket.

He stopped. Her heart lurched, panic flashing in her eyes—

But he merely paused, then walked on.

Relief loosened her shoulders; the corners of her mouth lifted, eyes curving into crescents.

See? Kiyoya's the best. He won't abandon Saori...

They crossed one street from the kendo-club dinner venue and entered a tiny ramen shop Kiyoya frequented. The menu was short, the portions artisanal, the flavor close to what he remembered from Kyoto.

"Three bowls of tonkotsu, three chicken skewers, three beef skewers, and one seafood soup, please."

He chose a corner table for two and waved the owner over.

"Er... there are only two of you, isn't that—"

The owner knew Kiyoya well, but the order made him glance up in surprise. When he noticed the girl at Kiyoya's side, understanding dawned; he closed his mouth, scribbled quickly, and asked, "Anything else?"

Kiyoya caught the owner's look, then studied Saori again. She sat like a quail facing the wall, hands clenched in her lap.

"That's all for now; we'll order more if we need."

"Right, coming up."

Aware his regular customer disliked small talk, the owner withdrew.

Kiyoya poured tea and slid the cup to Saori, took a sip himself, then fixed his gaze on her smooth forehead.

"Saori, you've been following me since university started, haven't you?"