Hirakawa Tetsubumi admitted that this visit had been somewhat rushed.
But there was no other choice. The deadline set by Tsutsuhara's mother was drawing closer. And just yesterday, the teacher in charge of club activities, Toda, had once again put forward a "suggestion."
Even though that suggestion had been rejected, as he already knew, his rejection had been nothing more than sounding cool—it had achieved absolutely nothing.
If he didn't take further action, Tsutsuhara Shiori would likely end up "voluntarily" giving up music.
So he had to act first.
And now, there was no point wondering whether he was fully prepared or not.
Looking at Tsutsuhara's mother, who sat properly in seiza across from him, dignified and composed, Hirakawa steadied himself.
"Mrs. Tsutsuhara, hello. I am your daughter's Japanese language teacher and homeroom teacher, Hirakawa Tetsubumi. I sincerely apologize for this sudden visit."
The Tsutsuhara residence was built in a traditional Japanese style—though larger, grander, and more luxurious than ordinary homes, its essence was the same.
They were currently seated in a reception room, surrounded by a distinctly Japanese aesthetic.
Dressed in a kimono, Mrs. Tsutsuhara returned the greeting with equal formality.
"Mr. Hirakawa, thank you for taking care of my daughter."
"You're too kind. It's my duty as a teacher."
After this exchange of polite but nutritionally empty formalities, Mrs. Tsutsuhara finally brought the conversation to the main point.
"Now then, Mr. Hirakawa, what brings you here today?"
As the host, she poured him a cup of tea with flawless etiquette.
Hirakawa accepted it with both hands.
"I came today for a home visit. I'd like to discuss Tsutsu—"
He paused, realizing both mother and daughter shared the same surname, then corrected himself:
"Tsutsuhara Shiori's wishes. There were matters not fully clarified during the three-way meeting."
"I see."
Well-maintained and composed, Mrs. Tsutsuhara glanced briefly at her daughter, who sat quietly in the corner with her head lowered, before responding with a smile.
"I had received your request for a home visit earlier, but I must apologize—I haven't had the time to respond."
"I'm the one who should apologize for coming unannounced."
Though he spoke politely, Hirakawa couldn't help but complain internally.
"I don't have time"—what a universal excuse.
No matter the situation, as long as the other party wasn't looking to argue, it was impossible to refute.
Time was a mysterious thing.
People could always make time for some conversations, yet somehow never for others.
In many cases, "I don't have time" was simply another way of saying: "You're not important enough."
Hirakawa understood this perfectly.
But there was no need to expose it.
That was what social etiquette was all about.
After taking a sip of tea with a faint smile, Mrs. Tsutsuhara continued:
"Regarding the three-way meeting… what issues do you believe remain unresolved?"
"Tsutsuhara Shiori's wishes—specifically, her desire not to give up music."
"Ah, that."
Mrs. Tsutsuhara spoke lightly.
"I have always supported Shiori's interest in music. It's good for her to have her own thoughts."
That statement alone was enough to irritate.
Especially the phrase: "It's good to have her own thoughts."
From the corner of his eye, Hirakawa could already see Shiori raising her head slightly.
"However, Mrs. Tsutsuhara, as I understand it, you also wish for her to pursue finance and eventually inherit the family business."
"Yes."
"To be honest, I understand that perspective very well. Parents want what's best for their children. If you believe that studying finance and inheriting the family business will benefit her more, that's entirely reasonable."
"Oh? It seems Mr. Hirakawa agrees as well."
"No matter how you look at it, leaving the family business unattended wouldn't make sense."
"I think so too."
She nodded gently, then shifted the conversation:
"However, if Shiori is unwilling, there's nothing we can do."
"Changing one's thinking takes time."
"Oh? You mean…?"
"I believe that if she is unwilling to inherit the family business, more time should be given—time for gradual communication between parent and child. Communication is very important."
"Yes, communication is indeed important."
"So at the very least, until her final year of high school, she could remain in the wind ensemble and continue participating in national competitions."
After circling the topic for so long, Hirakawa finally reached the core point.
"This period can serve as a buffer. During this time, you and Shiori can have proper discussions."
"That does sound like a good plan."
Mrs. Tsutsuhara appeared to agree readily.
"Therefore, there's no need to rush her into leaving the club now."
"Oh? Shiori wants to quit the wind ensemble?"
She turned to her daughter in apparent surprise.
"I don't."
Facing her mother's gaze, Shiori naturally denied it.
"Then there's no issue.
She smiled.
"I also hope to see Shiori perform at the national competition."
Faced with this—
Faced with a mother who embodied perfect surface-level etiquette—
Hirakawa felt utterly powerless.
It was as if she had listened to everything… and yet absorbed nothing.
What he had been saying all along was to give Shiori more time—not to wait until she "voluntarily" gave up music.
And yet
Mrs. Tsutsuhara remained perfectly reasonable, perfectly composed.
Flawless.
She even appeared fully supportive of her daughter's music.
And that
That was the biggest problem.
Because of this outward agreement, the contradiction could never surface.
If all problems were hidden, did that mean they didn't exist?
Of course not.
This so-called "respect" Was suffocating.
"Mr. Hirakawa, is there anything else?"
She asked with a gentle smile.
After a brief silence, Hirakawa took a deep breath.
"Mrs. Tsutsuhara, forgive my bluntness."
"Of course. Please speak freely."
"Why are you in such a hurry to make Shiori give up music?"
No more beating around the bush.
Looking directly into her eyes, he asked the question plainly.
And was immediately denied.
"Give up? Not at all. I have always respected Shiori's wishes."
That answer…
Silence filled the room.
A long silence.
And then It broke.
"Mother."
Shiori, who had been listening quietly, could no longer endure it.
"Yes, Shiori? Do you have something to say?"
She met her mother's gaze.
For a moment, she hesitated.
But in the end, she clenched her teeth and spoke:
"You say you respect my wishes… but in reality, you've never respected what I want, have you?"
"How could that be?"
Another light denial.
And then Crash.
A teacup shattered on the floor
Tsutsuhara Shiori stood up.