Yuki left the café feeling even angrier than when he'd arrived.
First, Giyu—showing up last night like a ghost from a grave that should have stayed sealed. Then Conrad—the pervert who was going to marry Sophia tomorrow. And on top of all that, he still hadn't resolved things with Seri.
His hands were shoved deep into his pockets. His jaw was clenched. The world around him blurred into meaningless shapes—passersby, traffic, the gleam of shop windows.
He walked in the direction of home, too lost in his thoughts to notice anything.
Someone called out from behind him.
He didn't hear it.
They called again.
Still nothing.
Then—a light tap on his shoulder.
Yuki snapped out of his spiral and turned around.
A girl stood there. Familiar. Blonde hair, bright blue eyes, a face that tugged at the edge of his memory.
The waitress.
From the café. The one who had paid for his cake in exchange for his number.
She smiled up at him, cheeks faintly pink. "You really don't text, do you?"
Yuki blinked.
She continued, undeterred. "I noticed you from across the street. I could never forget your face—it's, um... distinctive." She laughed nervously. "Handsome. Very handsome."
Yuki didn't smile. He just nodded.
She faltered slightly, then pressed on. "So... why didn't you ever text me?"
"I forgot," he said simply.
It wasn't a lie. The past few weeks had been a storm of violence, trauma, and tournaments. A waitress's phone number had been the least of his priorities.
She studied his face—really studied it. The dark circles under his eyes. The hard set of his jaw. The way his shoulders stayed rigid even when he was standing still.
"You're different today," she said softly.
Yuki tilted his head.
"The other day," she explained, "you were shameless. Asked me to pay for your cake in exchange for your number. You were bright. Smiling. Today..." She hesitated. "You look like a completely different person."
Yuki's expression flickered.
Then, almost mechanically, he smiled—the easy, lopsided grin he wore like armor. He scratched the back of his head.
"Is it that noticeable?"
She nodded. "You look angry. Frustrated."
He let the smile soften into something more honest. "I am. Really frustrated."
The admission hung in the air between them.
Her heart skipped a beat when he looked at her—really looked, with those light blue eyes that seemed to see right through everything.
"Let me buy you a drink," she offered.
Yuki considered it. A few minutes to clear his head. A distraction.
"...Okay."
---
They walked to a vending machine near the corner—one of those old, sun-faded models that had probably been there since before they were born. She inserted coins, pressed buttons, and handed him a can of cold fruit juice.
They sat on a nearby bench.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It was just... quiet.
She stole glances at him as they drank. The way the afternoon light caught the silver piercings in his ear. The sharp line of his jaw. The way his throat moved when he swallowed.
I'm sitting on a bench with a boy who looks better than idols, she thought. Drinking fruit juice. Like this is normal.
She couldn't help but smile.
"What's your name?" Yuki asked finally.
She turned to him, surprised he'd asked. "Nora. Nora Kugisaki."
Yuki smiled—a small, genuine one, she had the same name as someone he knew. "That's a pretty name. I'm Yuki Kinatarou."
The moment the words left his mouth, Nora's breath caught.
Kinatarou.
The famous warrior bloodline. Worth trillions. The head of the family—Satoshi Kinatarou—was one of the strongest people in the country. A family with a legendary thirst for battle, for beheading enemies, for power that bent the world around it.
And she was sitting next to one of them.
Her shoulders tensed. Her grip on her juice can tightened.
Yuki noticed immediately.
He bumped her shoulder lightly with his—playful, gentle.
"Relax," he said. "I don't bite."
She let out a shaky laugh and forced herself to breathe.
"What's bothering you?" she asked. "Really."
Yuki looked down at his can, watching a droplet of condensation slide down the side.
"...Struggles of a Kizo user," he said finally. It was the simplest way to sum it up.
Nora couldn't fully understand—she wasn't a Kizo user herself, just an ordinary human who served coffee and cake to people who could level buildings with their minds. But she tried anyway.
"Kinatarou-kun," she said softly. "I can tell whatever's bothering you is serious. Really serious. But..." She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I'm sure you'll get through it. If you smile more."
Yuki looked at her.
"When I saw you earlier, not smiling," she continued, "I wondered if you were even the same person I met before. You're very pretty. Don't let life dim your smile."
She hesitated, then pressed on.
"You must be pretty smart. At least, I hope you are." A nervous laugh. "If you calm your mind and think things through, you'll know what to do. Don't overthink it—just... sit with it. Ponder it. You'll find a way eventually."
She reached out and tapped his knee gently.
"So please. Don't stop smiling. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Yuki stared at his drink in silence.
Then, slowly—genuinely—he smiled.
Not the armor smile. Not the performance.
Just... a smile.
Nora cheered quietly. "That's what I want to see!"
Yuki looked up at the people passing by—ordinary lives, ordinary worries—and then back at her.
"Thank you," he said. "For the advice, even though we don't know each other."
Their eyes met.
Nora's face went crimson instantly. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"Go out with me!" she blurted.
Yuki blinked.
Then he laughed—a real laugh, short and warm.
"I'm serious!" she insisted, cheeks burning.
"How about we start as friends?" Yuki offered.
She nodded eagerly, then asked, "How old are you, anyway?"
"Sixteen."
Her eyes widened a fraction. But she recovered quickly and waved a hand. "Age is just a number. I'm eighteen."
Yuki stood up, stretching his arms overhead. "I should get going. I'll call you sometime."
"Promise?" she asked.
"Promise."
He walked away, and Nora sat on the bench for a long time, clutching her empty juice can, wondering if she'd just imagined the whole thing.
---
When Yuki got home, he greeted Yukari and Luna with a smile.
Not a fake one.
They exchanged glances—relieved, curious, slightly suspicious.
Yuki walked to his room, pulled out the black earpiece, and slid it into his ear.
Then he turned and headed back out.
Luna watched him go, then looked up at Yukari. "What's wrong with Yuki?"
Yukari watched the door close, her expression unreadable.
"He's going to do something," she said simply.
"What?"
"The right thing."
---
Outside, the afternoon sun was beginning its slow descent.
Yuki walked until he found a quiet spot, thanks to Nora's words, he knew where he needed to go. He spoke into the earpiece.
"Kira. Locate the Uzushi estate."
The AI's voice hummed in his ear, crisp and efficient. "Coordinates sent to your phone. It's on the eastern outskirts. Approximately twenty minutes by taxi."
"Thanks."
"I notice you didn't ask for Sophia's location. You're going to see her parents."
Yuki hailed a cab. "Observant as always."
"I'm an AI. It's literally my job."
---
The Uzushi estate rose before him like a monument to fallen glory.
It wasn't as grand as the Kinatarou residence—nothing was—but it was still impressive. Tall wrought-iron gates. A winding driveway lined with ancient cherry trees. Stone walls that had stood for centuries.
But Yuki could see the cracks.
Literally. Small ones, in the outer wall. Unpainted. Unrepaired. The kind of neglect that spoke of money stretched too thin.
They're broke, he thought. That's why they're selling her.
Guards stood at the gate—two of them, broad-shouldered, wearing expressions that said they'd heard every excuse in the book.
Yuki approached.
"I'm here to see Sophia Uzushi," he said. "I'm a friend."
The guards frowned. "She's not here. Get lost."
Yuki's expression didn't change—but something behind his eyes shifted. Cold. Condescending. The look a king gives a peasant who's forgotten his place.
"You'd dare insult a Kinatarou?"
The words landed like a physical blow.
The guards froze.
Yuki pulled out his phone, held it to his ear, and said—loud enough for them to hear—"Hello, Sophia? The guards won't let me in. Can you please fire them?"
The gates swung open so fast one of the guards nearly tripped.
"A-apologies, Kinatarou-sama! Please tell the young mistress we're sorry!"
Yuki strolled past them without another word.
I'm a genius, he thought smugly.
"You're not a genius," Kira cut in. "The guards were just dumber than you. Don't let it go to your head."
"Let me have this."
"No."
---
The interior of the Uzushi mansion was lavish but dated. Crystal chandeliers that had yellowed with age. Paintings that needed restoring. Silk curtains that had been mended more than once.
They're holding on, Yuki realized. Barely.
A maid approached—older, with kind eyes and tired hands.
"How may I help you, sir?"
"I'm here to see your masters," Yuki said. "Tell them a Kinatarou requests their presence."
The maid's eyes widened. She bowed quickly. "Please wait in the living room. I'll fetch them immediately."
Yuki sat on a plush velvet couch that had probably cost more than his entire apartment. He counted the seconds.
Five minutes.
Then two figures entered the room.
They moved with the unconscious grace of true Royals—heads high, spines straight, every step deliberate. The ki they exuded was immense, pressing against Yuki's senses like a hand on his chest.
Sophia's father was tall, silver-haired, with sharp golden eyes that had once been kind. He looked younger than his age—the kind of aging that money and good genetics bought.
Her mother was a mirror of Sophia—same delicate features, same elegant posture—but with black hair and black eyes. Her smile was warm, practiced, and completely fake.
Yuki stood and bowed deeply.
"Thank you for seeing me."
The father studied him. "I remember you. The tournament. You're the Kinatarou boy."
"Yes. Yuki Kinatarou. I'm here about Sophia."
The mother's smile didn't waver, but something flickered in her eyes. Wariness. Disappointment.
She was hoping for someone else, Yuki thought. Or no one at all.
They sat. A maid served tea. Yuki stared at his cup and muttered under his breath, "Why do Royals love tea so much? I prefer soda and chips."
Kira's voice whispered in his ear. "Focus."
"What about Sophia?" the mother asked, cutting to the chase.
Yuki set down his cup and met her gaze.
"I'm concerned about her," he said. "Have you met the man you sold her off to?"
No pleasantries. No careful wording. He wasn't here to be polite.
The father's jaw tightened. "I have not met Conrad Leonhart personally. But I've met his father."
"I have met Conrad," Yuki said flatly. "And I know exactly what kind of person he is."
He leaned forward.
"You sold your daughter to a thirty-year-old pervert with six wives. He doesn't respect them—he treats them like possessions. Like numbered dolls he can do whatever he wants with, whenever he wants."
The mother looked down at her hands. Her eyes were already watery.
"That's the man you chose for Sophia."
Silence.
The father's face remained stone. But his hands—resting on his knees—trembled slightly.
"It was necessary," he said.
Yuki's eyes widened.
"Necessary?" His voice was quiet. Dangerous. "So you're the one Sophia looks up to. The one she's been trying to make proud her whole life."
He stood.
"Don't you love your daughter?"
The father shot to his feet. Ki erupted from his body like a physical wave—hot, overwhelming, suffocating. The teacups rattled.
"HOW DARE YOU?"
Yuki didn't flinch.
"You obviously don't love her," he continued, voice steady. "You sold her to a pervert for money and power. What kind of parent does that?"
He gestured to the mother.
"It's obvious your wife was against it. One look at her and I can tell. I can also tell Sophia is already living with that man. When was the last time you saw her?"
The mother pressed a hand to her mouth.
"I saw her this morning," Yuki said. "She isn't well. She had tears in her eyes—tears she was desperate to hold back. But she didn't back out. Because she believes it will help her family. Help her father."
He looked directly at the man.
"The father who doesn't love her."
The mother was sobbing now—quiet, broken sounds she tried to muffle with her hand.
The father couldn't take it anymore.
He lunged across the room.
His hand closed around Yuki's throat.
Yuki was lifted off the ground, gasping, feet kicking uselessly. The grip was iron—stronger than anything Yuki had felt since Tetsu's stone fists.
"DO NOT BELITTLE MY LOVE FOR MY DAUGHTER!" the father roared, golden eyes blazing. "I LOVE HER MORE THAN ANYTHING IN THIS WORLD!"
Yuki looked down at him—choking, struggling, but still defiant.
"Then... why... did you do this... to her?"
The grip loosened.
Yuki dropped to the floor, coughing, rubbing his throat, gasping for air. The father staggered back and collapsed into his chair, head in his hands.
"We're broke," he whispered. "The Uzushi family... we have nothing left. All our assets are gone. This estate is all we have—and no one knows how close we are to losing even that."
He looked up, eyes red.
"Without this marriage, the Uzushi Royal family will cease to exist."
Yuki stood up slowly.
And smiled.
"I figured this was the case," he said.
He squatted in front of them—both of them—and took their hands in his. The mother's were cold and trembling. The father's were stiff, reluctant.
"I know you love your daughter," Yuki said softly. "I'm going to help you. Please—call the wedding off."
"We can't," the father said. "The Leonharts—"
"I will talk to my brother. Satoshi Kinatarou."
Their eyes widened.
"You're a well-known family," Yuki continued. "I'm sure you'll be of use to us. How about forming an alliance with the Kinatarou family instead?"
The mother looked up, hope flickering in her tear-streaked eyes.
"You wouldn't need this marriage," Yuki said. "You wouldn't have to sell your daughter."
"Please," the mother whispered. "Please."
Yuki squeezed her hands.
"I'll help you. I'll help Sophia. Just call off the wedding."
The father shook his head slowly. "It's not that simple. The Leonhart family has to agree. Legally, contractually—"
"Don't worry." Yuki stood up, brushing off his knees. "I'll handle them. Just lend me your support. Tell them you've changed your mind. I'll take care of the rest."
Tears rolled down the mother's cheeks.
The father stared at the floor for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"You have our support, Kinatarou."
Yuki left the Uzushi estate with a lighter step than when he'd arrived.
The sun was lower now, casting long shadows across the driveway. The guards bowed as he passed.
One problem down, he thought. Now I just need to convince the Leonharts.
Kira's voice hummed in his ear.
"For an idiot, you have a way with words."
Yuki smiled—small, tired, but genuine.
"I made a promise," he said. "I told Sophia I'd get her out."