Kasumigaoka Utaha pinched Yukima Azuma's cheeks, her fingers gently kneading his face like it was her own personal stress ball.
Inside, she felt it: a warmth, soft and golden, bubbling up from her chest and spreading all the way to her fingertips.
Sweet honey—that's what it felt like.
'All that worry… was pointless,' she told herself.
Yukima tilted his head in confusion, his brows drawing together slightly.
That alone nearly made her melt again.
If this were the past, she would've hugged him tight and tugged on those cheeks until he shouted her name in protest.
But now?
Well, times had changed. Still—she held his face between her palms for a few seconds longer, as if memorizing its warmth.
Then, with a satisfied sigh, she let go and met his gaze.
"That club," Utaha said, her tone suddenly serious, "is untrustworthy trash. I would never join it without a damn good reason."
"Sure, I know Aki-kun. He's helped me once or twice. I owe him a small favor. That's it."
"But writing a script based on a 'plan' with two lines of text?" She scoffed. "Do I look like I've lost my mind?"
Yukima blinked slowly.
"Then why did you—"
Before he could finish, Utaha tapped his forehead with her index finger.
"Because you were going to be the programmer. That's the only reason I agreed."
"That idiot told me you were joining the club. So, yes, I reluctantly accepted."
"You're seriously such a dummy. What the hell were you even jealous of?"
"God, high school boys really are nothing but hormone-fueled chaos in human form."
Yukima let out a slow exhale and covered his face with one hand.
Of course. It all made sense now.
He'd been played.
Not by Utaha—but by Aki Tomoya.
His chest tightened—not out of heartbreak, but embarrassment.
How had he not seen through it sooner?
It was such an obvious setup.
He cared too much, and because of that, his thoughts had twisted. Distorted.
He let memories from his past life cloud his judgment—illusions of timelines, destiny doors, and second chances.
But how many real memories did he and Utaha actually share?
How much weight did a single divergence in time actually carry?
Probably none.
In the end, Aki Tomoya was just a manipulative opportunist.
He'd dangled Azuma's name in front of Eriri and Utaha, using it to bait them into joining.
Then he turned around and used them to pressure Yukima.
A scam. Plain and simple.
Yukima let out a soft laugh, low and bitter.
"Did he seriously try to pull that off?"
Utaha noticed the shift immediately.
His smile was off. The kind that came before something… not quite peaceful.
Her expression cooled. Instinctively.
"Want to back out?" she asked. "If you leave, I leave. I'll find another way to repay that favor."
Debt was one thing.
But that wasn't why she was here.
And she didn't need to think long to answer the question echoing in her heart.
She was here for him.
"No," Yukima said, lips curling in a sharper grin. "On the contrary—I think it's time I ended this."
He picked up the kitchen knife and spun it once in his hand.
"Consider this script your way of paying back that favor."
"But quietly fading away after being used? That's not me."
"I'll let Aki Tomoya keep chasing his fake dream… right into a nameless sea. Let him drown in his own delusions."
The blade slid through the fish like it was nothing.
Scales peeled. Innards removed. Bones extracted.
Every movement precise. Efficient. Controlled.
Utaha watched him, her brows subtly furrowed.
There was something different in the way he moved now.
Sharper. Colder.
"Ex-boyfriend-kun… You've become more extreme since we last parted, haven't you?"
Yukima paused, hand resting lightly on the clay pot.
Had he?
Of course he had.
That much was obvious.
He'd been forced to grow teeth.
To survive.
To crawl out of the trap he'd once fallen into three years ago, when the world closed in like a pack of wolves.
To keep from being devoured, mind and soul, until only bones remained.
So yes, he'd changed.
"Yeah," he admitted. "I guess I have. Growing up has a cost. I just… adapted."
Utaha didn't respond right away.
Then, almost hesitantly, she asked:
"Hey… what happened after we broke up?"
It wasn't a demand. More like a whisper to herself.
'He gave up shogi. Why?'
'What happened that made him twist like this?'
She stared at him—at the smile he wore now, full of shadowed calm.
Not threatening. Not dangerous.
Just… sad.
Yukima smiled faintly, catching her unspoken thoughts.
"If you want to know, I'll tell you."
But even as he said it, he knew there were pieces he'd hold back.
Some things—like the other girls, the countless shallow relationships—were better left unsaid.
"No need," Utaha replied. "If I hear it from you, it'll lose something. I want to find out on my own."
Elsewhere…
"I'm home!"
"Welcome back—eh? Eriri, you look… happy?"
Sayuri peered at her daughter with a curious glint.
It wasn't hard to tell.
Something had changed.
Something good.
And that made Sayuri all the more confident that transferring her from Class 1-B to 1-E had been the right move.
Eriri smiled—genuinely, for once—as she took off her shoes.
"Something good?" she echoed. "I guess you could say that."
She'd joined a club.
A club he was in.
The thought alone was enough to send her heart into a quiet flutter.
But of course, she wasn't about to tell her mother that.
Sayuri, however, had no interest in playing coy.
"Is it about Yukima-kun?"
Like a critical hit, the words struck Eriri square in the chest.
"W-What!? How did you even—! No! Why would you think it's him of all people!? Seriously!"
Sayuri just smiled, utterly unbothered.
And Eriri's face turned red enough to match a tomato.