The morning sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, falling upon Kanjuro and Yuigahama Yui as they prepared breakfast. This scene looked warm and harmonious, yet it stung the eyes of Yui Yuigahama, who had just stepped out of her room.
She had barely slept all night; her eyes were red and swollen, her face pale, and the heartbreaking sounds from outside the door last night echoed repeatedly in her mind. Seeing Kanjuro now acting as if nothing had happened, even wearing his usual, heart-stirringly gentle smile while helping her mother set the table, a huge sense of absurdity and betrayal nearly suffocated her.
"Morning, Yui." Kanjuro raised his head, his smile as warm as ever, as if nothing had transpired between them. "Shall we go to school together later?"
Yui Yuigahama puffed out her cheeks, pulled a chair back heavily, and sat down, turning her face away, expressing her displeasure with silence and obvious anger. The weakness in her character prevented her from confronting him directly, so she could only protest in this childish manner.
Yuigahama Yui's heart sank when she saw her daughter's expression, immediately confirming her suspicion from last night—Yui had indeed heard something. Strangely, however, she felt a sense of relief. Having Yui dislike Kanjuro and distance herself from him because of this might actually be the best outcome right now. She quickly tried to smooth things over: "Yui, hurry and eat breakfast. Kanjuro-kun woke up early specifically to help."
Kanjuro acted as if he hadn't noticed Yui's anger, pushing an exquisite breakfast toward her. His tone was so gentle it could melt butter: "Here, try it. I wonder if it suits our Yui's taste."
Yui Yuigahama abruptly turned her head and stared fixedly at Kanjuro. Her gaze swept over his peerlessly handsome face, trying to find even the slightest hint of guilt or pretense in his deep, smiling eyes, but she only saw a placid, even slightly playful depth. This massive contrast—the vague intimacy in the room last night versus his open tenderness now—made her feel a wave of nausea and confusion.
"What's wrong?" Kanjuro tilted his head slightly, his smile widening. "Staring at me like that—am I overwhelming you with my handsomeness?"
This teasing remark was like lighting a fuse, and Yui Yuigahama's suppressed anger and grievance instantly erupted.
"Stop being so conceited!" She suddenly stood up, her voice sharp with agitation, her eyes turning red again. "Now I know why Teacher Kitami told me to stay away from you! Scumbag! Idiot! Moron! Fool! Baka!!"
She threw every insulting word she could think of at Kanjuro, her chest heaving violently.
"Yui!" Yuigahama Yui's face turned pale with fright, and she rushed to cover her daughter's mouth. No one knew better than her the cruelty and violence hidden beneath Kanjuro's gentle facade. She looked at Kanjuro in terror, afraid that the next second would bring thunderous rage.
However, to her surprise, Kanjuro didn't get angry. Instead, a smile appeared on his face—a smile that was... almost excited? That smile carried the novelty and pleasure of discovering a new toy.
He even leaned forward with interest, his voice carrying the coaxing patience of a gentle inquiry: "Yui, what's wrong? If you have any complaints about me, feel free to tell me."
He completely ignored the mention of "Teacher Kitami's warning" in Yui Yuigahama's words, and a nearly imperceptible trace of mockery flashed in his eyes. Reika Kitami, the woman who had been most deeply entangled with him and was now trying to stop him, her warning sounded to Kanjuro like nothing more than the feeble cry of a loser. Furthermore, as Yui Yuigahama unintentionally pointed out, Kitami did indeed occupy a special place in his heart—a "White Moonlight" existence that he hated intensely, yet... could not completely erase. But this did not prevent him from enjoying Yui Yuigahama's vibrant, lively anger directed at him right now.
Seeing his impervious attitude, acting as if he even enjoyed her tantrum, Yui Yuigahama felt a lump in her chest and nearly passed out. She glared fiercely at him, unable to utter another word, turned, and rushed back to her room, slamming the door shut with a deafening crash once more.
At the breakfast table, only the frightened Yuigahama Yui and Kanjuro, with his profound and mysterious smile, remained.
"It seems," Kanjuro said leisurely, picking up a slice of toast with a relaxed tone, "our cute Yui is throwing a tantrum." "I'm full!" Yui Yuigahama dropped her chopsticks onto the table, having barely touched her breakfast. She grabbed her school bag and rushed out the door, walking quickly toward the school without looking back. She just wanted to immediately distance herself from the man who made her heart race, whom she hated, and yet... couldn't completely despise.
Kanjuro watched her retreating figure, slowly stood up, and gave a wicked smile to the worried Yuigahama Yui beside him. "Our daughter really is getting cuter, Yoko." His tone carried the satisfaction of examining a possession. "You weren't entirely useless, after all. At least... you gave me such an interesting baby girl."
These words pierced Yuigahama Yui's heart like a venomous thorn, leaving her feeling both humiliated and terrified for her daughter's future. She knew better than anyone that Kanjuro rarely failed to obtain the woman he desired. And now, he clearly had a strong "interest" in Yui. What puzzled her was that given Kanjuro's abilities and methods, he could easily use more direct and forceful approaches, so why did he insist on playing a cat-and-mouse game like this, enjoying the struggle and resistance of his prey?
Kanjuro said no more, casually walked out the door, and blended into the warm spring breeze outside.
Yui Yuigahama walked ahead sullenly, clearly hearing the unhurried footsteps behind her. Annoyed and angry, she suddenly stopped and turned around, making a huge face at Kanjuro, who was a few steps away. She shouted with all her might, "Kanjuro, idiot! I hate you!! Please don't follow me anymore!" Her voice was exceptionally clear on the quiet morning street, carrying the stubborn defiance of a young girl.
Kanjuro stopped, and faced with her fury, he merely smiled helplessly. That smile looked exceptionally handsome in the sunlight, and also exceptionally punchable.
"Yui," his voice was gentle, yet it carried a penetrating insight into the human heart. "Sometimes, the more you emphasize hating a person, the more it signifies how much you actually care about them. Because true indifference doesn't bother expending the emotion of 'hate.' " He shrugged, looking completely unconcerned. "So, being hated by you, I actually don't mind."
He took two steps forward, closing the distance. His deep gaze fixed on Yui Yuigahama's face, flushed red with anger: "However, before you say anything more decisive, there is something I want to tell you."
His tone became subtle, carrying an unmistakable seriousness that instantly piqued Yui Yuigahama's curiosity, making her momentarily forget her anger as she instinctively pressed, "...What is it?"
Kanjuro's lips curved into a meaningful arc, and he slowly spoke: "Actually, the way you just scolded me..."
He paused deliberately, watching Yui Yuigahama unconsciously hold her breath.
"...makes my heart flutter even more than when you blush shyly." His voice dropped, imbued with a dangerous, ambiguous magnetism. "It's full of life, like a little kitten baring its claws. It makes me... want to hold you tightly and see what other interesting expressions you can make."
These words struck Yui Yuigahama like a bolt of lightning again. She had expected an explanation or an apology, but instead, she received a more direct, more... blush-inducing provocation! This unexpected reaction, which even seemed to enjoy her fury, completely threw her off balance.
"You... you pervert!!" she stammered out, yet her cheeks uncontrollably burned again, and her heart pounded almost out of her chest. Unable to face Kanjuro's gaze that seemed to see through everything and his unpredictable words, she turned and ran away quickly, like a startled rabbit.
This time, Kanjuro did not follow immediately. He simply stood there, watching her frantic retreating figure, the smile on his face deepening.
Resist, struggle, my dear Yui.
The more you do so, the sweeter this game becomes.
Let me see what brilliant... or rather, dark colors I will eventually paint onto this blank canvas of yours. Yui Yuigahama's accusation of "You pervert" and her frantic escape seemed not to affect Kanjuro in the slightest. He watched her run a few steps before slowly speaking again, his voice clearly reaching her ears:
"Of course, besides that, there is one more very important thing I want to tell you."
Yui Yuigahama's steps unconsciously slowed. Curiosity, that most primal and easily exploited emotion, once again overcame her anger and shyness. She couldn't help but turn back, asking with a hint of wariness and lingering anger, "W-what else?"
Kanjuro slowly stepped forward until they were close enough to feel each other's breath. He raised his hand and gently brushed aside the pink strands of hair slightly messy from her run, then placed his warm palm on her forehead, as if checking her temperature, or perhaps making a possessive declaration.
"In the future, don't go to the Tennis Club." His voice was low and gentle, yet carried an undeniable command. "Your leg was injured yesterday; it hurts me to see it." His fingertip slid down lightly, grazing her slightly flushed cheek. "I want to recommend you join the Service Club."
"Service Club?" Yui Yuigahama repeated the name. The cool, aloof figure of Yukinoshita Yukino immediately surfaced in her mind, along with that excessively quiet and empty classroom. She instinctively wanted to refuse; that place had the inscrutable Uncle Kanjuro, and Classmate Yukinoshita, who subtly pressured her... However, when she looked up and met Kanjuro's eyes—deep as a sea of stars, currently filled with tenderness and focus—the refusal instantly caught in her throat. His face, handsome as a sculpture in the morning light, possessed a contradictory blend of mature masculine charm and youthful clarity, a quality fatally attractive to a girl her age.
(No! I can't agree!) she screamed at herself internally. (He and Mom clearly... he is a dangerous person! Teacher Kitami also warned me!)
The internal struggle made her clench her teeth. Finally, her remaining rationality and the shock from last night made her abruptly step back, breaking free from the touch of his palm.
"I'm not going!" she shouted, as if trying to cheer herself on, but her voice held a hint of imperceptible tremor. Having said that, she dared not look into Kanjuro's eyes again, turned, and ran away faster than before, as if being chased by a demon.
Watching her fleeing figure once more, Kanjuro did not stop her this time, but burst into laughter. The laugh was low and pleasant, echoing in the empty street.
(She's truly too cute...) He felt a surge of excitement within him, almost like a hunting instinct. (This struggle, this appearance of being clearly attracted yet desperately resisting...)
He licked his slightly dry lips, his gaze darkening.
(The harder something is to obtain, the more interesting the process of taming it. Things easily acquired are always dull.)
(Such personality, knowing how to resist, knowing how to set boundaries... Truly worthy of being my Kanjuro's daughter.)
This mix of twisted paternal love, dark possessiveness, and pure playful mentality put him in a state of exhilaration. He gazed in the direction Yui Yuigahama had disappeared, as if he could already see the finish line of this destined long and interesting "game."
Sunlight shone upon him, outlining an elegant yet dangerous silhouette. He was not in a hurry; he had all the time and patience needed to slowly guide this little kitten trying to escape, step by step, back into the net he had carefully woven. After all, watching the prey gradually head toward its predetermined fate under his guidance was the pleasure he enjoyed most.
The afternoon sunlight lazily streamed through the windows of the Service Club activity room, illuminating the floating dust motes in the air. Kanjuro and Yukinoshita Yukino maintained their pattern of tacit coexistence—he sat by the window, casually flipping through a hardcover poetry collection; she sat at the other end of the long table, focused on her schoolwork. The only sounds were the faint turning of pages and the scratch of a pen on paper.
This tranquility was broken by a soft knock on the door. Hiratsuka Shizuka entered. Her gaze first swept complexly over Kanjuro—who merely raised an eyelid and returned a cryptic, half-smile—before settling on Yukinoshita Yukino.
"Classmate Yukinoshita," Hiratsuka Shizuka's voice carried a hint of imperceptible fatigue and solemnity, "Could you step out for a moment? The teacher has something to say to you."
Yukinoshita Yukino put down her pen, her cool face showing no surprise. She stood up and followed Hiratsuka Shizuka out to the corridor outside the activity room.
The door was not completely shut, allowing Kanjuro to clearly hear the conversation outside. He settled into a more comfortable position, enjoying himself as if watching a play related to him.
"Yukinoshita," Hiratsuka Shizuka's voice was very low but clear enough. "Take the teacher's advice: stay away from that guy inside." She paused, her tone carrying the gravity of experience. "He is not a good person. Getting close to him... will not end well."
Inside the activity room, Kanjuro's lips silently curved, as if he had just heard an amusing comment.
In the corridor, Yukinoshita Yukino was silent for a moment. Then, her clear and calm voice rang out, carrying her characteristic coolness and detachment: "Teacher Hiratsuka, thank you for your concern."
She slightly raised her chin, her eyes sharp and honest: "I know exactly what kind of person Kanjuro is. Indecent, frivolous, and his attitude toward relationships is that of a Scumbag. I am fully aware of these things."
Her bluntness made Hiratsuka Shizuka pause in surprise.
"However," Yukinoshita Yukino continued, her tone firm, "I also do not wish for the teacher to constantly interfere with my judgment using a tone of command or warning. I have my own opinion, the ability to distinguish right from wrong, and I know how to keep my distance. Whether to approach or distance myself is a choice I make based on my own observation and reflection; I do not need anyone else to decide for me."
These words both expressed her clear understanding of Kanjuro and defended her independent stance.
Hiratsuka Shizuka looked at the intelligent yet stubborn girl before her, as if seeing her past self—equally confident, yet ultimately plunging headlong into the abyss. She opened her mouth, wanting to say more, but it ultimately dissolved into a helpless sigh. She glanced at the slightly ajar door, knowing the person inside could certainly hear them.
"Never mind..." She shook her head, a bitter, knowing smile appearing on her face. "Right now, you think he can't get to you, that you can control the situation and stay clear-headed." Her gaze seemed to pierce through time, carrying a kind of prophetic pity. "But once he truly has you in his grasp, once you're trapped... you will find that everything will be out of your control."
After speaking, she said no more, turning and leaving the corridor, her retreating figure appearing somewhat lonely and powerless.
Yukinoshita Yukino stood rooted, slightly frowning. She felt a touch of displeasure toward Hiratsuka Shizuka's final, almost cursed words, but mostly she was dismissive. She believed she was rational and strong enough.
She pushed the door open and returned to the activity room, finding Kanjuro resting his head on one hand, smiling as he watched her. His deep eyes sparkled with undisguised admiration and... a deeper, elusive interest.
"It seems," Kanjuro said with a lazy chuckle, "my image in Little Yukino's heart is truly terrible." He seemed completely unbothered by being called a Scumbag to his face; on the contrary, he found it amusing.
Yukinoshita Yukino ignored his teasing, walked straight back to her seat, picked up her pen again, and stated flatly, "I was merely stating objective facts."
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