Back in that cold, stifling room full of schemers—
Where greedy hands reached out like wolves craving flesh—
A young Yukima Azuma stood firm, facing them one by one, kitchen knife in hand.
He didn't flinch.
He didn't waver.
And in the end, he walked away with the best outcome possible.
Though he had to sacrifice a small shop that could never be reclaimed, the one thing he secured was priceless:
Custody remained under the Yukinoshita name.
With only what he could carry, Yukima Azuma withdrew from Chiba—
Alone, yet unbroken.
Sayuri, watching all this unfold through her investigation, found herself thinking:
If that had been me at his age… I couldn't have done it.
Not with that composure. That will. That terrifying clarity.
Even among adults, few had that kind of charisma, intelligence, and decisiveness.
After learning all this—
Sayuri's perception of Yukima Azuma changed.
She reassessed everything:
His relationship with Eriri. His presence in their lives. His future.
If she had been younger, more selfish…
Sayuri wouldn't have let a boy like that go.
She would've used every trick in the book to keep him close.
But Eriri was not Sayuri.
And when it came to choosing a partner for her daughter—
It wasn't about ability.
It was about happiness.
And in this regard…
Yukima Azuma had given Eriri more than anyone else ever had.
To a suspicious degree, in fact.
Sayuri had even briefly wondered if Yukima was aiming for the family fortune—
Because his affection for Eriri was that overwhelming.
Indulgent. Unquestioning. Unshakable.
Even when Eriri's arrogance became unbearable, Yukima stayed patient. Always.
Sayuri, observing quietly from the sidelines, had begun to approve.
To hope.
And then—Eriri broke up with him.
Sayuri had never been more disappointed in her daughter.
He was a man you held onto with both hands.
A man people would fight over, even kill for.
And she let him go… because of pride?
Sayuri almost needed medication for the blood pressure spike that followed.
She was supposed to be neutral—let Eriri live her own life.
But theory and reality rarely aligned.
In her heart, Sayuri was so biased toward Yukima Azuma that even she was embarrassed to admit it.
If they hadn't broken up?
She would've gone and fetched her son-in-law herself.
Even according to Eriri's own wishes—what she wanted in love—
Yukima Azuma was exactly the kind of man she should choose.
Let it be said again:
The flower symbolizing Eriri is the lily.
Pure love, solemnity, a harmonious heart.
A lily doesn't chase many; it offers everything to the one it chooses.
But once that flower blooms for someone…
It doesn't bloom again.
The next morning — at Yukima Azuma's apartment.
"Please come in."
Kasumigaoka Utaha offered a gentle smile as she handed the guest a pair of disposable slippers.
Behind her, Yukima Azuma sighed and rubbed his forehead.
He hadn't fully thought this through.
Standing at the doorway, sharp gaze cutting through the room, was—
Sora Ginko.
Silver-haired, unsmiling, clad in her cute sailor uniform.
She said nothing, merely removed her polished leather shoes—
And stepped barefoot onto the wooden floor.
Then, without hesitation, she brought her foot down squarely on top of Yukima Azuma's foot.
The light pressure of her black stocking-clad toes increased steadily.
"Ah, Ginko… your feet…"
Yukima tried to gently remind her.
But Ginko pressed down harder.
Her tone, cold and clear:
"Do you have a problem?"
"…No. It's an honor to be stepped on by you, big sister."
Yukima replied instantly, lowering his stance without hesitation.
Anything less would only provoke her further.
"Hmph."
With a faint snort, Sora Ginko lifted her foot at last.
Today was an important day.
The official match.
The one that would determine whether Yukima could advance to 6-dan.
And his opponent was formidable—an eight-dan master who'd shattered countless challengers.
Ginko clearly wasn't at ease.
So, once again, she made the trip from Chiba to Tokyo.
"Alright, senpai. We're heading out."
Yukima waved to Kasumigaoka Utaha as he finished getting ready.
"Mm. Good luck in the match," she replied with a serene smile.
She didn't speak to Ginko directly.
But her eyes lingered on her.
There was something… unspoken between the two.
If Utaha wanted to understand Yukima's past—
Sora Ginko was undoubtedly the best source.
They had grown up through shogi together.
And while they were technically just senpai and kouhai…
Utaha couldn't help but see them as family.
Even when Yukima withdrew from the professional shogi world—
Ginko never left his side.
But getting that girl to open up honestly?
That would be a challenge.
The train ride to Ishikawa.
Despite the early hour, Yukima hadn't skipped his morning run.
He sat beside Sora Ginko, the hum of the Shinkansen creating a gentle rhythm beneath them.
She glanced at him now and then.
Hesitating. Almost as if she wanted to speak.
But each time, the words got caught in her throat.
Yukima waited patiently.
And then—he felt it.
A cool, soft sensation brushing against the back of his hand.
Just as he turned to look—
"Don't look!"
Her voice came sharply, tinged with embarrassment.
Yukima paused. Then slowly turned his hand, wrapping it around hers.
Her hand was just like her—
Cool, quiet, trembling slightly.
He gently applied pressure, offering warmth in silence.
"…Mmm…"
Sora Ginko let out a tiny, accidental sound.
Her fingers squirmed a little—hesitant.
But when he tightened his grip, she stopped resisting.
Her hand lay obediently in his.
Small. Soft. Almost weightless.
As if it might melt if held too tightly.
Yukima couldn't help but give her hand a tiny playful squeeze.
THUMP.
His foot was stomped.
Yukima winced and shut up immediately.
Lesson learned.
When it came to Sora Ginko…
You had to savor things slowly.
Because for a girl like her—
Even holding hands was a monumental act of courage.