The door to the tea room creaked open.
Sora Ginko had been waiting in the hallway for quite some time. Although she had been offered another tea room for her own use—as per the courteous hospitality of Hinatsuru Akina—Ginko had politely declined after a few minutes. Her heart simply wouldn't let her sit idly while Yukima Azuma, her precious junior, faced the overwhelming presence of Hinatsuru Ai's family.
She'd tried standing calmly near the shoji doors at first. But eventually, she began pacing lightly in the corridor, her anxiety mounting with every passing minute.
So when she saw Yukima Azuma emerge, unharmed and even chatting casually with Ai's parents, a weight visibly lifted from her shoulders.
"Azuma!" she called, stepping toward him, her brows drawn together in worry. "They didn't… do anything to you, right?"
Before answering, Yukima Azuma gently took her hand. His fingers lightly traced across the back of hers, soothing her concern with a calm smile.
"Of course not. They're Ai's parents. We just discussed her apprenticeship," he said, his voice steady and comforting.
Only then did Sora Ginko's shoulders relax.
Yes—he was still the same calm, unshakable Azuma. As long as he said everything was alright, then it really was. She could trust that.
Still, Hinatsuru Akina was no ordinary woman. Her status in the shogi world, her commanding presence, her sharp gaze—Ginko couldn't help but feel a little out of place. In the grand scheme of things, she herself was just a quiet, if talented, girl with no prestigious family backing. She didn't possess any intimidating titles or inheritances. Just the quiet devotion of someone who had always stayed by Yukima Azuma's side.
And yet—when he held her hand like this, nothing else seemed to matter.
Feeling their hands intertwined, Ginko blushed faintly and looked down, hiding her expression behind her bangs.
Hinatsuru Akina's gaze swept briefly across their joined hands.
Her eyes, sharp and analytical, immediately caught the subtle intimacy.
Then she glanced over at her own daughter, Hinatsuru Ai, who was currently clutching Azuma's sleeve with a bright smile on her face.
So there's more than one contender…
Still, Akina didn't comment on it directly. They were young. Things would evolve. And by the time Ai came of age, Yukima Azuma would only be twenty-five. In the grand scheme of a shogi professional's life, still incredibly young.
Whether Ai would win that future was not yet determined.
Turning toward the other girl, Hinatsuru Akina asked, "And this is…?"
"This is Sora Ginko, my shogi senpai," Yukima Azuma introduced. "Once Ai officially becomes my disciple, the three of us will technically be fellow apprentices."
That took Hinatsuru Akina by surprise.
Her expression briefly shifted, but she quickly recovered and offered a respectful bow. "I see… so you're someone Azuma trusts."
Sora Ginko bowed in return, her expression composed but slightly stiff. She was always cool and distant on the outside—but when facing strangers, especially powerful ones like Hinatsuru Akina, her social awkwardness bubbled just beneath the surface.
"So, we're family now," Akina said lightly. "I came rather hastily this time, so I didn't prepare a proper gift for this meeting. But once the apprenticeship ceremony is held, I'll be sure to bring something suitable."
"My daughter… I entrust her to you both."
"Understood," Sora Ginko replied, bowing slightly.
Yukima Azuma saw the subtle nervousness in Ginko's eyes, and with a small smile, he casually stepped between them and tugged her gently behind him.
"Alright," he said, smiling to smooth the atmosphere. "It's getting late. We'll take our leave now. Thank you both for your time."
The Train Ride Home
The trio boarded a train back toward Yukima Azuma's home.
Sora Ginko had returned to her usual self—cool, sharp-tongued, and full of latent sass. As soon as they sat down, her gaze turned pointed.
"Why is this brat coming with us?"
Her eyes landed on Hinatsuru Ai, who puffed up her cheeks like an indignant hamster.
"Oba-san, Ai is going to live with Shishou from now on!" she declared proudly, clinging to Azuma's arm with the smug confidence of a cat who had claimed her territory.
Sora Ginko narrowed her eyes. The temperature around her dropped a few degrees.
Ai shuddered, then clung even more tightly to Azuma's side like a frightened cub.
Sora clicked her tongue and averted her eyes, her pout unmistakable.
The tension between the two girls quietly sparked like flint against steel.
Azuma, as always, chose to pretend nothing was amiss.
"By the way, Ginko-senpai," he said, changing the subject smoothly. "You're entering high school next spring, right?"
She blinked. "Yeah, why?"
"I think you should apply to a Tokyo school. Toyogasaki has a direct admission path for shogi students. If you use that, the academic requirements are less strict."
He pulled out his phone and showed her the application guidelines.
Ginko's eyes widened as she scrolled. After reading for a moment, her lips curled into a small smile.
"…Umu. Since Azuma is going out of his way to invite me like this," she murmured, "it's not like I can't consider it."
In her mind, a future quietly bloomed.
A world where she and Azuma shared the same school life—walking to class together, attending events, studying (or not studying) in the library…
Without the hierarchy of "senpai" or "master-disciple" between them, the dynamics would shift.
And that brat?
She still didn't understand what a master-disciple bond truly implied.
It came with a sense of closeness, yes—but also a rigid formality. She wouldn't be able to cross certain lines.
But Ginko?
Once they were classmates, all bets were off.
Her eyes sparkled with secret delight.
The Return Home
As the train passed the statue of Hachiko and began to slow, the city lights of Shibuya glinted outside the windows.
The three stepped off at the North Gate, turned down a side street, and arrived at Yukima Azuma's apartment.
He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved the key.
With a soft click, the door swung open—
"Okaeri!" ×5
Five voices rang out in perfect synchronization.
BOOM! BOOM!
Two party poppers exploded, releasing clouds of golden confetti that floated like snowflakes around them.
Kasumigaoka Utaha and Eriri stood on either side of the doorway, poppers still in hand, their expressions smug and triumphant.
Inside the hallway, Yukinoshita Yukino and Kato Megumi waited, dressed in casual aprons. And in the living room, Kirisu Mafuyu—who had been absent for a while—sat with a glass of wine, looking unusually relaxed.
Yukima Azuma blinked, stunned. The cheerful atmosphere hit him like a warm wave.
"What's all this?"
"It's a celebration, duh!" Eriri stepped forward, brushing confetti from his shoulders. "For your promotion to the Ryuou league! We even baked a cake!"
"And it's also for your last official match," Utaha added, stepping in smoothly. "Azuma, you've been achieving so much, and yet you never say a word about it. You really are the most frustrating genius."
Azuma scratched his cheek, looking mildly embarrassed. "I've just gotten used to keeping things to myself…"
Because before… there had been no one to share anything with.
No one to celebrate victories. No one to wait for him at home.
He didn't need to say it. They understood.
"Well, you're not alone anymore," Utaha whispered.
She brushed a final strand of confetti from his hair, then gently rested her hand against his cheek.
"Lonely-kun, from now on, when something good happens—tell us. Let us share it with you."
"Come on, come in already!" Kato Megumi called from the kitchen. "The cake's waiting."
The Warmth of Celebration
Inside the cozy living room, a massive cake dominated the dining table.
"What do you think?" Eriri asked proudly, standing tall with her hands on her hips. "We made it ourselves!"
Kasumigaoka smirked. "More like you got frosting in your hair and barely followed instructions. Yukinoshita and Kato-san did most of the work."
"Hey!!"
"Ara… let's not fight in front of the guest of honor," Yukino said gently, already cutting a clean slice.
She handed the first piece to Azuma.
He tasted it slowly.
Moist. Sweet. Subtle hints of vanilla and almond. The whipped cream was delicate, not overly sugary. He savored it, feeling the warmth of the moment more than the flavor.
"It's the best cake I've ever had," he said simply.
His voice was steady, but the look in his eyes said more.
He looked around the room—at the girls gathered here for him.
This—
This was the reason he had worked so hard for so many years.
So he could come home one day and be met with smiles, confetti, warmth.
So that, even for just one night—
He would no longer be alone.