The whistle blew for the end of the PE class, and students left the playground in small groups, the scent of sweat and youth permeating the air. Hayama Hayato took advantage of the gap as the crowd dispersed and quickly walked to Kanjuro, who was resting under the shade of a tree.
"Uncle... Kanjuro." He used that title again, one that carried distance and awe, his voice very low and his eyes filled with earnestness. "About what I mentioned earlier..."
Kanjuro was wiping the sweat from his forehead with a towel. Hearing this, he looked up, the sunlight filtering through the gaps in the leaves and casting mottled light and shadow on his handsome face. He looked at this junior whom he could be said to have watched grow up, who was now coming to him, an "eternal" outsider, for help with matters of the heart. A faint, indescribable sense of subtlety crossed his mind.
"You want me to help you ask Haruno out?" Kanjuro pointed it out directly, his tone flat, revealing no emotion.
Yukinoshita Haruno... his eldest daughter. Thinking of that girl who was as clever and cunning as a little fox, whose depth of mind was not at all inferior to her mother Seiga's, a trace of almost imperceptible complexity flashed in the depths of Kanjuro's eyes. Time flies; the little girl who used to follow behind him and peek curiously was now a graceful eldest miss of the Yukinoshita family, navigating social circles with ease.
Hayama Hayato nodded quickly, his face full of obvious expectation and tension: "Yes! I know Sister Haruno... she has always had a good relationship with you and listens to you. I... I just want to have a good talk with her. Some words have been bottled up in my heart for a long time." His tone was almost humble, carrying the exhaustion and unwillingness of a long-term unrequited love.
Looking at Hayama Hayato's typical "simp" posture, Kanjuro felt little sympathy. Instead, a near-cold curiosity rose within him. He really wanted to know what kind of end this Hayama Hayato, who had been outstanding since childhood and surrounded by many girls, would meet before his unfathomable eldest daughter. Would he get what he wished for, or would he be played in the palm of her hand, eventually ending up heartbroken?
This joy of observing human nature, especially observing emotional entanglements, was a good pastime for his long and boring life.
"Sure." Kanjuro didn't hesitate, a faint arc curling at the corner of his mouth as he agreed readily. "Don't worry, I'll help you ask her out tonight."
Hearing this, Hayama Hayato's eyes lit up instantly, as if he had caught a lifeline, and he thanked him repeatedly in excitement: "Really? Thank you so much! Thank you, Uncle Kanjuro!"
His heartfelt gratitude sounded somewhat ridiculous to Kanjuro. Thanking a person who might be pushing you into an even deeper abyss? How naive.
"Don't mention it," Kanjuro waved his hand, his tone still gentle but carrying a trace of imperceptible detachment. "I'll send you the location later. As for whether Haruno is willing to listen to you, that will depend on your own ability."
"I understand! I'll definitely do my best!" Hayama Hayato nodded vigorously, as if he could already see the dawn of hope.
Kanjuro said no more and turned to walk toward the teaching building. The sunlight stretched his shadow long, carrying a depth and mystery that felt out of place with the surrounding youthful campus.
Hayama Hayato watched his departing figure, letting out a long sigh of relief, his heart filled with anticipation and trepidation for the evening's date. Little did he know that the "opportunity" he was so looking forward to was, in Kanjuro's eyes, nothing more than the opening of an interesting play with a preordained conclusion.
Kanjuro walked into a secluded corner of the teaching building's corridor, leaned against the cold wall, and took out his phone. His fingertips slid across the screen, quickly finding the familiar number labeled "Haruno." Without much hesitation, he pressed the call button.
After a few rings, the call was connected. A crisp, slightly lazy, and playful female voice came through the receiver, sounding as if she were smiling:
"Moshi moshi? What wind blew Uncle Kanjuro here today, making you call me of your own accord?" It was Yukinoshita Haruno. She had already entered university, so her time was much freer than during high school. Her tone carried more of an adult's ease, but her innate cunning and vivacity hadn't diminished in the slightest.
Hearing her voice, a face similar to Yukinoshita Yukino's, yet brighter and more adept at hiding real emotions, seemed to appear before Kanjuro's eyes. The corners of his mouth curled up unconsciously as he spoke in a relaxed, teasing tone:
"What, can't I check in on my dear niece even if there's nothing wrong?" He deliberately used a vague title before getting straight to the point, his voice carrying a hint of imperceptible playfulness. "But there is indeed something today. Someone likes you very much and asked me for a favor, wanting to arrange a meeting with you. Well, is Eldest Miss Haruno willing to do me the honor?"
Haruno on the other end of the line was silent for a moment. Kanjuro could almost imagine her raising an eyebrow, a calculating light flashing in her eyes. Her mind was far deeper and more complex than her sister Yukino's.
(Someone likes me? Asked Uncle Kanjuro to ask me out?)
(Could it be... Uncle Kanjuro himself? Using this as an excuse?)
As soon as this thought arose, Haruno's heart skipped a beat for some reason, but what followed wasn't joy, but a mixture of tension, resistance, and a... nameless sadness.
She could never forget how, many years ago as a child, she had accidentally passed by her mother Yukinoshita Yukino's room late at night and heard the suppressed, labored gasps coming from inside, as well as Kanjuro's low, muffled voice. That scene was like a thorn buried deep in her heart. She didn't know that Kanjuro was her biological father, but she instinctively felt that there was an overly intimate, even dangerous relationship between this eternally young "Uncle" and her mother that she could neither understand nor intervene in. This created a complex sense of detachment toward Kanjuro, involving both a dependence on an elder (he had once doted on her) and a mysterious wariness that made her want to draw a line.
"Who is it?" Haruno's voice lost some of its playfulness, gaining a hint of inquiry and caution.
Listening to the change in her tone, the amusement in Kanjuro's eyes grew stronger. He paused deliberately before saying slowly, his voice carrying an ambiguous vagueness:
"It's me."
Those two simple words were like a stone thrown into a calm lake, instantly sending ripples through Haruno's heart.
(So it really... is him?)
Why was he using this method? Was it a test? Or... Haruno's thoughts became even more chaotic. She pursed her lips; her reason told her she should refuse and stay away from this dangerous man. But deep down, her complex and unspeakable feelings for Kanjuro, along with a curiosity she didn't even want to admit to herself, eventually won out. She let out a soft sigh, barely audible, but carrying a sense of resigned compromise.
"I understand," her voice regained its calm, even carrying a bit of business-like crispness. "Tonight, at Yukuro Cafe, seven o'clock. Is that alright?"
Yukuro was an old place they used to go to occasionally; the environment was quiet and suitable for conversation.
Kanjuro wasn't surprised at all that she directly set the location and time. This was exactly Haruno's style—appearing compliant while actually controlling the pace.
"Fine," he agreed readily, his tone relaxed. "See you tonight then."
Hanging up the phone, Kanjuro tucked it back into his pocket, a meaningful smile appearing on his face.
He hadn't specified it was Hayama Hayato; this small misunderstanding was exactly the opening he was happy to see.
He was very curious to see what kind of interesting expression would appear on that face, which always wore a perfect smile, when Haruno saw that it was Hayama Hayato waiting for her tonight.
And Hayama Hayato's full expectations would likely fall through.
This meeting he had casually arranged hadn't even begun yet, but it was already full of dramatic tension. He looked forward to the "performance" tonight.
Night quietly blanketed the city as neon lights flickered on one after another. Kanjuro arrived at the cafe named "Yukuro" as scheduled. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, the crisp sound of wind chimes rang out, and a warm atmosphere mixing the aroma of coffee and old books greeted him.
The lights inside were dim and soft, playing soothing jazz music. Kanjuro's gaze swept across the room and quickly spotted Hayama Hayato sitting upright and looking somewhat nervous at a window seat. He didn't go over immediately, but instead found a relatively hidden booth to sit in, acting as a detached observer.
His gaze casually took in the surroundings, finally landing on a figure busy behind the counter. It was a girl in a maid's uniform, with rare silver-white hair flowing like moonlight. She stood tall and moved efficiently. She was focused on wiping a coffee cup, her profile lines elegant and serious.
Just as Kanjuro looked at her, the girl seemed to sense it and looked up as well. A pair of clear and curious azure eyes met Kanjuro's gaze directly.
The moment their eyes met, Kanjuro felt a mysterious stir in his heart. This face... He frowned slightly, a strong, unspeakable sense of familiarity surging within him. It wasn't an everyday familiarity, but one that seemed to pierce through long stretches of time, coming from a dust-covered corner deep in his memory.
(This face... seems familiar?)
(It looks a lot like... eighteen years ago, in the Old School Building of the Sacred Scripture Academy, during that dark ritual...)
(That woman with the stubborn gaze, who even in that chaotic and frenzied atmosphere, carried a hint of out-of-place sobriety and resistance...?)
A bold and absurd thought flashed through Kanjuro's mind like lightning—could this silver-haired girl also be of the bloodline left behind back then? Another one of his... daughters?
Just then, the girl, carrying a tray, walked toward him with light steps, seemingly to serve a guest at the neighboring table. As she passed Kanjuro's booth, her pace faltered for an imperceptible half-second, and those azure eyes once again landed on Kanjuro curiously and without evasion.
Kanjuro composed himself, putting on his usual, impeccable gentle smile. He took the initiative to speak, his voice low and magnetic: "Hello, may I ask what your name is?"
The girl stopped and turned to face Kanjuro directly. She didn't show the shyness or fluster typical of girls her age when facing him; instead, she showed a candid seriousness. She nodded slightly and replied, "Kagawa Kuroe. Is there anything I can help you with, sir?" Her voice was crisp and pleasant, like wind chimes.
"Kagawa... Kuroe..." Kanjuro repeated the name, his gaze still fixed on her face with a hint of inquiry. "You've been staring at me. Is something the matter?"
Having been called out, a very faint blush flashed across Kuroe's face, but she quickly returned to normal. She said honestly, "It's nothing special. I just felt... you have a very attractive and unique aura. My apologies, I was being rude." She bowed slightly again, her attitude neither humble nor overbearing, and then turned back to her work, leaving behind a graceful and independent figure.
(An attractive aura?)
Kanjuro watched her leave, his eyes deep. This wasn't a typical compliment or flirtation; the girl's gaze was too clear and direct.
"That's Kuroe," a gentle male voice sounded beside him. Kanjuro looked up to see Inaho Shin, the 0.5 manager of the cafe, walking over at some point. He held a clean rag, a warm smile on his face, his gaze also following Kuroe. His tone carried the praise of an elder: "She's a student at Sora Academy and even the Student Council president. She's very outstanding and capable. She comes here to work part-time when she's free and has been a big help."
"Sora Academy... Student Council president..." Kanjuro nodded, noting down this information. Inaho Shin's appearance and explanation seemed like a typical manager introducing an employee, but Kanjuro keenly sensed that deep in Inaho Shin's gaze was an imperceptible hint of inquiry and realization, as if he knew Kanjuro wasn't just an ordinary guest.
"Yes, a very remarkable girl," Kanjuro responded simply, asking no more.
Inaho Shin smiled and said nothing more, turning to attend to other guests.
Kanjuro picked up the glass of water that had just been served by another waiter and swirled it gently, his gaze once again cast toward the silver-white figure behind the counter.
Kagawa Kuroe... Student Council president of Sora Academy... suspected daughter of that woman from eighteen years ago... things seemed to be getting more and more interesting.
He had originally only come to see Hayama Hayato's "performance," but had unexpectedly discovered another clue that might lead to the past—and to a new "game." With a faint smile that no one could understand, he waited patiently for Haruno's arrival, and for... more unexpected developments.
---------------------------------
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! If the story has you hooked and you can't wait to see what happens next, you can unlock 30 chapters in advance over on my Patreon: patreon.com/TLHimejima1
Every bit of support means the world to me so if you're loving the ride, don't forget to drop a Power Stone and let me know.