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378 At Last, We Meet
🕑 Added 2025-07-14 15:33:07 +0000 UTCYukinoshita Yukino froze under her sister’s gaze—those violet-tinted eyes staring intently at her.
She’d seen that look countless times growing up.
Every time she thought she had finally landed a solid blow against her sister, Haruno would respond with something even more overwhelming.
But now, the younger sister stood her ground.
As she’d said earlier—she would never hide her flaws.
There’s no such thing as perfect in this world. Perfection doesn’t exist.
But a person who acknowledges their shortcomings and strives each day to become better—that is what a truly perfect girl looks like.
Nakamura Sindo once wrote in The Moon Over the Mountain:
"I feared I was not a gem worthy of polishing, so I avoided the pain of refinement. Yet half-convinced I was a gem, I refused to mingle with the rubble."
Yukino understood well that she was not unshapable driftwood.
She believed in her own potential.
That’s why she was so relentlessly strict with herself, even if it meant embracing solitude to temper her heart and polish her wisdom to brilliance.
“It’s that so… You’ve grown so much, Yukino-chan,” Haruno said warmly, her unsettling gaze lingering for just half a second before she smiled. “When that day comes, I’ll be sitting in front of the TV with Mom, watching you shine.”
“How wonderful, Yukino~” Sakura beamed and clasped her friend’s hand.
From the side, Hojou Mikiko, who had been quietly observing all this time, chimed in as well.
“If your family wants to come too, just let Kyousuke know,” Mikiko offered.
“Mm... Oh, alright. Thank you for your kindness,” Yukino replied flatly, like a scarecrow brought to life.
She could muster competitiveness toward her sister—but when it came to her mother, that energy evaporated entirely.
Watching Yukino from across the room, Kyousuke sighed quietly.
If she truly wanted to surpass her sister, the road ahead was still long.
In fact, if she stayed on her current path, she’d never surpass Haruno, who was already locked in open battle with “society” itself.
As he’d said before, Haruno only looked like she was paying attention in conversations.
In truth, she might already be wondering what time to go to bed tonight.
Unless Yukino could show her growth with irrefutable results, words alone would never reach her.
“Is this your own twisted form of love?” he asked Haruno.
She raised an eyebrow, glancing at him from beneath her lashes, then looked down to adjust the pleats of her thick skirt.
Once satisfied that her posture was as perfect as ever, she met his gaze again.
“Tell me, Hojou—do you know what truly leaves a lasting impression on the human mind?”
Without waiting for a reply, she picked up a large bottle of sake labeled Yakugawa and placed it on the table.
She nodded at it, and Kyousuke—reading the gesture—shrugged and filled her dish with the oversized bottle that looked almost comically large in her hands.
There was a proper sake flask sitting right beside them, but neither of them paid it any attention.
Haruno even pulled the huge bottle closer, setting it snugly by her side on the tatami as if declaring it hers alone.
“Something that carves itself deep into the soul,” Kyousuke answered casually.
Then, reaching for the small sake flask, he poured drinks for Yukari and Miki, who were quietly listening nearby.
Frankly, he felt a bit embarrassed.
All the older women around him could drink like pros—yet he was still stubbornly clinging to his no-alcohol rule.
Haruno blinked at his answer, then burst into laughter.
“Full marks, full marks! No wonder my mother’s taken a liking to you. You’re a master at saying nothing with style—you’d make a perfect secretary for my dad.”
“Well thank you for that...” Kyousuke took a sip of the peach soda Eriri had placed in front of him.
He knew better than to touch Utaha-senpai’s drink—doing so might get him an upturned table courtesy of a jealous Eriri.
Everyone at the table knew the answer Haruno truly wanted—but none of them liked it.
None of them wanted to agree.
“You’re a writer, so you should know—tragedy evokes far more complex emotions than comedy ever can.
It’s easier to destroy something beautiful than to create it, and the emotional impact is greater too. That’s why love stories and romantic films so often end in tragedy.”
Haruno sipped the clear sake from her cobalt-blue dish.
Though every word was about her and her sister, she never once looked Yukino’s way—instead, her eyes remained locked on Kyousuke.
“All art comes from life. Maybe seeing Yukino all alone, isolating herself, made you feel sorry for her. That’s why you want to help her out of it, right?
But what you don’t realize is—she can only grow when she’s curled up alone in the darkness, watching me shine under the spotlight.
Only then, when it feels like the whole world has abandoned her, will she experience the pain necessary to truly evolve.”
She finished the dish in a single gulp, letting out a contented “Haa~” from her throat before ending with:
“Only when she’s left with bitter memories, constantly reminded of her mistakes, endlessly comparing herself to me—only then will she push herself not to repeat those failures.
That kind of experience sticks with you far more than someone just telling you what to do.”
“…”
Kyousuke drank his water in silence, finally understanding how Yukino had developed her current personality.
This was some kind of hellish method of education.
He didn’t think Haruno was doing this out of malice.
If anything, based on her stories from childhood, her own experiences were probably even more painful than Yukino’s.
And her current excellence was the strongest proof that her harsh philosophy worked.
Yukino often relied on "experiential reasoning" in debates, usually ending her points with: “This is based on my own experience.” No doubt she’d picked up that habit from Haruno.
Now Kyousuke was truly curious—what kind of mother could raise both of these girls?
Just then, someone grabbed his arm.
He turned to find Eriri, her eyes shimmering with tears.
Ah, crap. Not her.
She’s way too easy to mess with—she believes anything people say.
He didn’t need to ask.
Clearly, Eriri was thinking about her own bullying experiences.
Everything Haruno had said applied to her perfectly.
Kyousuke gently took Eriri’s cold hand and quietly called for a waiter, requesting a tall glass of ice-cold cola as quickly as possible.
If she hadn’t met him, Haruno’s words might’ve sent Eriri sobbing into her pillow for a whole day.
But now…
“Destruction without purpose is meaningless. What makes tragedy powerful… is the rebirth that comes after.”
Well said.
That’s exactly what I was about to say.
You’ve got this, Shouko-chan!
Kyousuke nodded enthusiastically.
He had sensed something was missing—and now he realized it was the presence of someone else who had endured Haruno-style hell: Nishimiya Shouko.
That soft, cloudlike voice came from behind him—gentle, yet crystal clear.
And in its quiet conviction, even Haruno found herself lifting her gaze to look at the girl who had spoken.
“You’re back, back, back… ah—!”
Kyousuke turned around—and then used every last ounce of his willpower not to immediately turn back again.
Forcing a smile onto his face, he quickly stood up and greeted them cheerfully:
“Welcome, Miyamizu-san, Nishimiya-san. We’re honored to have you!”
He had expected to see Mitsuha and Shouko walking in with four adorable little girls.
Instead, it was Miyamizu Toshiki and Nishimiya Yaeko, the parents themselves, arriving in full parental glory.
Seriously? He could maybe deal with Shouko’s mom showing up—but what’s with this old man crashing the party too?
This gathering’s for young people! You're going to feel just as out of place as Yukino did earlier.
No one’s going to talk to you out of kindness, no one’s going to pour your drink, and no one’s going to scoot the food toward you.
You’ll starve, I swear.
Still smiling like a proper host, Kyousuke guided them to their seats.
What he didn’t know was—he wasn’t the only one whose scalp was tingling right now.
Hojou Ichirou, his father, had been having a blast.
Surrounded by his son’s brilliant and charismatic friends, every conversation was a pleasure.
He’d even been mentally drafting how he might—humbly, of course—brag about his wayward son to his old Tokyo acquaintances.
Then, the moment he saw the Yukinoshita sisters arrive, his heart sank.
‘Sigh…’
With a long, pained groan, the old man drained his cup and exhaled heavily, the alcohol helping him let go of the emotional damage.
‘My son…’
He had long since stopped hoping to teach his son life lessons.
Honestly, even with all his years navigating Tokyo’s legal world, he had never encountered something like this.
Teachers. College girls. Restaurant owners.
Now a pair of sisters?
He only prayed that these two would be the last ones.
Luckily, his misery was short-lived.
Kyousuke’s energetic friends soon returned with raised glasses and loud voices.
With them, Ichirou felt alive again—so alive, in fact, that he and Makki Hojou were already planning a car-racing meetup later. (Yes, with four wheels.)
But again, that joy didn’t last long.
As his son stood to welcome the newcomers, Ichirou stood too, like a marionette.
His gaze landed on a sharply dressed middle-aged man in a crisp suit outside the room—and beside him, Shouko’s mother.
‘I knew it. I knew this day would come.’
Watching his son flash a sincere smile, Ichirou, for the first time, saw his own reflection in Kyousuke.
To be able to smile like that in this kind of situation… you really are my son.
So he forced his numb heart to move, stretched the stiff muscles of his face, and offered a smile that matched Kyousuke’s perfectly.
Outside, Miyamizu Toshiki needed no introduction.
That mirror-image smile told him all he needed to know—this man was Hojou Ichirou.
After Kyousuke introduced him, Toshiki chuckled inwardly, of course, and casually returned the greetings of those around him.
Without hesitation, he sat down right next to Ichirou.
No one found the sudden addition unusual.
People arriving mid-banquet was nothing new.
Everyone shifted seats like it was second nature.
But this time… the shuffling went unusually far.
The two editors who had originally been sitting on either side of Ichirou had already moved far away.
That table, which could easily seat six, was now nearly empty—except for Eikichi Onizuka and Gorou, the buzz-cut idiot duo, who were still bickering over who deserved the title of Kyousuke’s number one underling.
Ichirou sat upright now, abandoning his previous cross-legged posture in favor of a formal seiza.
His back was ramrod straight.
If he had pomade, he’d have used it to slick back his pompadour into a mirror shine just to feel more confident.
He didn’t dare steal a glance at the stern, silent man sitting beside him.
He knew—knew—that the guy was staring at him.
The silence lasted for what felt like three whole minutes.
From another table came the lively voices of Yotsuba and Yuzuru, as well as the gentle laughter of Hojou Mikiko and Nishimiya Yaeko.
There was even the distant sound of Shouko and Yukinoshita Haruno deep in debate.
But those voices were barely audible beneath the heavy silence hanging over this table—one that not even Eikichi and Gorou seemed to notice.
They were still shouting and arguing like the idiots they were, completely immune to the oppressive atmosphere.
If not for a shred of remaining sanity, they might have raised their drinks and demanded to know why the gloomy old man hadn’t joined them—didn’t he trust their boss to pay the bill?
Was he disrespecting the vibe?
Come on, lighten up!
“It’s really hot today. Tokyo’s already heating up, huh?” Ichirou broke the silence with that lifeline of a sentence.
“Mm.” Miyamizu Toshiki replied with a single, stingy syllable.
Oof.
Moments ago, Ichirou had been the center of attention—surrounded by flattering words and admiration.
Whether it was during his glory days in Tokyo’s legal world or even back in his hometown’s cow sheds, people always treated him with respect.
Now?
His molars hurt from clenching his jaw.
And the nagging voice of his rebellious son echoed in his ears.
He thought of that Miyamizu girl—so polite, so well-behaved—and the bitterness only grew.
Still, he grit his teeth and tried again.
“Taking the day off today, Miyamizu-san? Work must be going really well.”
For a man, few things are more worth boasting about than a fulfilling career and a happy family.
Complimenting someone’s family was risky—praising their daughter might even backfire—so Ichirou wisely chose the safest route: work.
He already knew Toshiki’s profession, thanks to Mitsuha’s visit to their home last time.
A senior official at the Tokyo Fire Department, Toshiki had climbed remarkably high for his age.
With the right support behind him, a future promotion into the Ministry of Internal Affairs was very much on the table.
From what Ichirou had gathered, the Miyamizu family hailed from the powerful Goguchi clan in Nara—land-rich, cash-rich, influence-rich.
Even without family backing, if Kyousuke became Toshiki’s son-in-law and provided enough political donations, Toshiki could rise even further.
That thought rekindled the spark of his lawyer instincts. Ichirou’s eyes gleamed with the old strategist’s glow.
“That’s right,” Toshiki said with a sigh, “On a day like this, as a public official.
I should be on the shinkansen inspecting disaster-prone areas in Tokyo—not drinking in broad daylight and shirking my duties like some overpaid bureaucrat.”
With his square jaw and stern face, Miyamizu Toshiki radiated an air of authority even when he wasn’t trying.
But now, reminded of his daughter’s absolute resistance before leaving the house, his sadness turned to fury.
