Living in the Heart of Tokyo

Hearing what Kyousuke said, Yotsuba lowered her head and glanced down at her still undeveloped figure, then looked over at her sister—whose shapely curves were impossible to hide even beneath the flowing shrine maiden robes.

With a heavy sigh, she muttered:

"So this is the world of adults... full of lies, huh?"

The words caught Kyousuke off guard, freezing the smile on his face.

He couldn't help but stare at Yotsuba's innocent expression for a moment.

That's the Yotsuba I know... Always acting like a wise old soul trapped in a child's body, seeing right through everything.

"What are you even thinking? If you were developing that fast, you'd have to go to the hospital!" He ruffled Yotsuba's head roughly with one hand, shaking her side to side.

"Hey! My hair! You're ruining my hairstyle!" Yotsuba squeaked softly, desperate to maintain her precious idol image.

Still... if they really wanted their online shrine project to take off, it would have to be thanks to her sister.

Maybe they could even dig out their father's old ceremonial robes and have Kyousuke wear them as the shrine priest.

With a pairing like this shrine maiden and priest, they'd have no trouble attracting fortune and fame.

Mitsuha noticed the little commotion and turned to glance at them, a sweet smile curling at her lips.

Between the two of them, Kyousuke was clearly the more attentive "older sibling" when it came to Yotsuba—even more so than her.

Sakura had even written about it in her diary: how Kyousuke, despite being a guy, understood girls better than most, and how he somehow knew exactly how to guide and encourage little girls like Yotsuba.

'I admit you're qualified as a shrine maiden... but let's see where this confidence you have in teaching Kyousuke comes from.'

Yukino thought to herself, burying her imaginary "Cat God Cult" plans deep in her heart.

Her expression turned more serious, viewing Mitsuha as a heavyweight opponent.

And truly—judging by build alone—Mitsuha certainly was heavier.

"Hmm?"

Mitsuha paused, turning to look in Yukino's direction.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, the outer corners rising gracefully like fine eyeliner, giving her a breathtaking, seductive charm.

'Too sharp...' Mitsuha mused silently. 'This girl feels out of place here in this easygoing dorm.'

"Kyousuke, help me move the sofa back a bit." She spoke softly but firmly.

Even though the space between the two sofas in the living room was wide enough, a ritual must always be treated seriously—whether during the ceremony itself or in preparation.

It was like sports festivals, local fairs, or school ceremonies—the lengthy preparations before an event weren't just practical; they mentally prepared people, too.

They made you think: "Wow, this event must be amazing if so much effort went into it" or "After all this trouble, I better pay proper attention."

Washing hands at a shrine or tossing a coin into the offering box had the same purpose.

That was the true meaning of ritual.

"No problem." Kyousuke grabbed the sofa and, without breaking a sweat, slid the whole thing aside toward the kitchen.

Without Mitsuha even needing to ask, he also took out his phone, connected it to the home theater system, and started playing the familiar sound of gongs, flutes, and taiko drums.

As the music filled the room, everyone quickly scrambled to the sofas and chairs around the dining table.

Megumi and Utaha, who were already sitting there, scooted into prime viewing positions.

Kyousuke stood quietly behind them all, watching Mitsuha gently close her eyes as serenity settled on her face.

He felt a sudden wave of emotion.

'Finally... finally, this shrine maiden truly belongs to us now.'

Oh—he almost forgot Yotsuba.

The moment she heard the sound of gongs and drums, her instincts kicked in like a student reacting to a school bell. She scampered to Mitsuha's side, falling into place just as she always had back in Itomori.

As "chief examiner," Yukino had also been given a spot on the sofa, courtesy of the benevolent Sakura-sama.

Yotsuba's two friends, Sachiko and Kaeha, sat obediently on the carpet below.

'Boom! Boom-boom! Boom!'

The rich, resonant taiko rhythms poured out from the expensive speakers Kyousuke had splurged on, the vibrations rippling through everyone's eardrums.

As the familiar melody filled the room, Mitsuha slowly lifted her right hand—her wide, white sleeve unfurling fully, like the wings of a swan.

"It feels so nostalgic... as if the last time I saw this was only yesterday." Yukari murmured softly, her dark eyes reflecting Mitsuha's graceful movements.

Somehow, without realizing it, she had moved to the dining table, sitting right behind Kyousuke.

"It's a shame we never got to see the Miyamizu Shrine itself." Naoka chimed in as well.

When they'd traveled there last time, their original hope was to watch Mitsuha dance at her family shrine.

But in the end, not only was there no shrine—there was no Itomori at all.

"Itomori raised Mitsuha. And Itomori's destruction made Mitsuha who she is today."

Kyousuke whispered.

Besides Mitsuha herself, no one here understood that place as deeply as he did.

Yotsuba, being so young at the time, barely remembered any of it.

"That place isn't worth regretting. If we really wanted to, we could just build another shrine someday." He smiled faintly.

In his memory, the Miyamizu Shrine stood proud on the mountainside—glittering with morning dew, as if blessed by the gods themselves.

It had been beautiful.

Enchanting.

As if some true divine being had lived within.

But no matter how stunning a place was... if Mitsuha hated it, then it deserved to vanish.

Hearing his words, Yukari's eyes curved into a soft smile.

That's Hojou-kun for you, she thought. Always, utterly, unconditionally biased... toward her. Toward them.

As if—even if pressing the world's destruction button was the only way to save them—he would do it without a second thought.

And because of that, even when she thought of the little courtyard they'd built together, or the apple tree planted before the end of the world, she never wanted to go back.

Gentle white light filtered in from the courtyard.

The mystical sound of flutes drifted from the living room.

Outside, Mrs. Takemura, passing by with her shopping basket, paused by the wall, letting her hand fall as she tilted her head to listen.

She couldn't see the maiden dancing bathed in light, nor sense the supple grace and harmony of her body—but even so, the delicate music whispered something sacred to her heart.

"So lively, the Ruyi dorm these days... Maybe we should all go to the shrine tomorrow, since it's the weekend," she chuckled softly, glancing once at the neatly trimmed poplar trees before walking on.

Even a passerby could sense the holiness carried by that sound.

Sitting barely two meters away from the shrine maiden herself, Yukinoshita's heart was shaken in ways she couldn't put into words.

Though she didn't gape in awe like the two middle school girls in front of her, her hands clenched unconsciously, nails pressing into her palm.

"Amazing..." Megumi whispered softly, her eyes never leaving Mitsuha.

Her voice spoke for everyone.

Even Kasumigaoka Utaha—who'd originally intended to stir things up—felt a pang of admiration and envy.

'Someday, when Kyousuke and I have a daughter... I'll have Mitsuha teach her to dance like this...'

The sound of gongs and drums swelled.

Mitsuha's delicate steps swept lightly across the floor, her scarlet hakama flowing like a sea of red spider lilies.

Her wide, white sleeves billowed like the sails of a ship gliding through that ocean.

Even the light itself seemed to bend to her will—twisting and curling around her like silk ribbons—making her glow with a soft, ethereal radiance.

From the back of the room, Kyousuke watched her lithe waist sway with each movement, and—without meaning to—his mind drifted to that night... remembering the delicate, silky feel of her bare stomach beneath his hand...

Back then... why didn't I let Mitsuha dance, just once?

Even without her shrine maiden outfit, just holding her close after dancing—sweaty, breathless—that alone would've been a wonderful feeling.

Our lips meeting, her gasping softly as she stole my breath away...

"Mitsuha's body... is still as soft as ever."

He murmured in admiration as the thought crossed his mind.

At that moment, the sound of the taiko drums faded, and Hojou Kyousuke's voice rang clearly in everyone's ears.

"You scumbag!"

Yukinoshita's words were sharp as ice, each syllable landing like daggers, her gaze as chilling as winter itself—aimed to verbally slay the man ruining this perfect performance.

"Pervert!"

Eriri's voice followed, full of indignation.

This guy—he'd held her so many times before, and not once had he complimented her body's softness!

Sure, she twisted her ankle every time she tried wrestling, and she'd never scored a perfect ten on the balance beam, but wasn't softness supposed to be a basic trait of a girl's body?

This big pervert, who'd caught her fall countless times like a human cushion—shouldn't he know that best? Why was he praising only Mitsuha?!

"Oh my, isn't my body soft too, Hojou-kun~?"

Kasumigaoka Utaha's sultry voice sent a chill down Katou Megumi's spine, awakening something strange inside her.

"You scumbag!"

Yukinoshita immediately picked up on the underlying meaning and mercilessly unleashed her Snow Witch glare.

"Huh? Have you no shame at all? Kyousuke complimented Mitsuha's flexibility because she danced.

You? You're just a third-rate light novel author who lounges on the couch all day. Your shoulders are probably stiffer than mine. How can you possibly brag about being soft?"

Still fuming inside about her own embarrassment, Eriri turned her sharp tongue toward the crimson-eyed temptress.

Utaha blinked, surprised by Eriri's innocent remark.

She hesitated to reply—if she crushed Eriri's naivety now, wouldn't that actually wound her more deeply?

"But girls' bodies are naturally soft, you know?"

Utaha grinned as she wrapped her arm around Eriri's waist, who was perched on the back of the sofa, and gave her side a firm squeeze.

Yep. Soft, just as expected.

"S-Stupid Kasumigaoka Utaha! What are you doing?!"

Eriri squeaked, leaping back in panic and hiding behind Kyousuke, peeking out from behind him while pointing a trembling finger at Utaha.

"Just helping prove to Kyousuke that your body's soft too."

"W-Why the hell would I need you to prove that?! I can do it myself...!"

Eriri clamped a hand over her mouth.

"And W-Why do I even need to prove that to this errand boy?!"

"And yet here you are—"

And so began the daily lung-capacity training session between Eriri and Utaha.

"Eriri's so cute..." Megumi whispered.

"She's so hopeless... I seriously worry for her future," Yukinoshita sighed, watching the flustered Eriri get teased into a bright red mess by Utaha—as if she were considering her as a potential client.

…But Yukinoshita-san, you love a challenge more than anything... you're in no position to talk, are you?

Megumi glanced sideways at Yukinoshita with slightly rude eyes, remembering 'A Hundred Ways to Use Yukinoshita'.

Thankfully, that precious book was in the safe hands of Sakura and Hojou.

If it fell into the wrong hands, like in some manga...

'No, no—stop, Megumi! You're being terribly rude!'

Shaking her head, Megumi turned her gaze to Miyamizu Mitsuha.

"Miyamizu-san, that was amazing. Truly beautiful."

She gently tapped her fingertips together in a soft clap.

"Thank you. You're Hojou's friend, so you're my friend too. Just call me Mitsuha."

Mitsuha smiled, her forehead lightly glistening with sweat.

She felt no embarrassment about what Hojou had said earlier—in fact, she was quite satisfied.

After all, he'd just made their relationship crystal clear to everyone.

She didn't even have to say a word—her victory was already declared.

...Yeah, I get it.

You and Hojou are very close, Megumi sighed inwardly.

"Why don't you go take a bath?"

After assigning Sakura as referee for the ongoing Eriri vs. Utaha squabble, Hojou Kyousuke came over, picking up a towel he'd prepared beforehand and handing it to Mitsuha and her younger sister.

"Before that... there's one thing I want to confirm."

Mitsuha took the towel, wiping her forehead.

Her eyes gleamed brightly, even more radiant after her divine dance, as she turned to face Yukinoshita Yukino.

"..."

Yukinoshita stood up, meeting Mitsuha's gaze directly—not with frustration or biting her lip in defeat.

"I admit your dancing skill surpasses mine. But as you said—teacher and student are a team. A teacher's ability doesn't always directly reflect in their teaching. There are those who are skilled yet poor at instructing others."

Hearing this, Mitsuha smiled slightly and glanced at her younger sister. Her mother had taught her, as had her grandmother.

And Yotsuba? She'd mostly learned from Mitsuha herself.

Yukinoshita wasn't just being stubborn or salvaging pride. Before Mitsuha could respond, Yukinoshita continued:

"But for someone like you to waste time teaching Hojou Kyousuke—it's honestly overkill."

Like asking a world-class pianist to hammer nails—the sound produced wouldn't be much different from that made by someone like Yukinoshita, who'd only dabbled in the art.

"Time should be spent on what you love. Energy should be devoted to the one you love. As long as Hojou needs me, I'll do anything for him. You'd better remember that, Yukinoshita-san."

Mitsuha carefully folded the towel and handed it to her sister, her eyes sparkling with unspoken words.

"..."

Those weren't words worth remembering—or so thought Yukinoshita, whose love experience came solely from novels and psychological analysis.

She quietly nodded.

The victor had the right to speak their mind; right or wrong, there'd always be someone to praise them.

She only needed to listen.

"Wow! I can't believe you actually said something like that, sis! That line's a total score booster!"

Yotsuba clapped enthusiastically, holding both their towels.

Her two friends gasped as well, with Sachiko even pulling out a notebook to jot it down.

Megumi seamlessly joined their circle, clapping softly and murmuring in approval as if she'd just learned something valuable.

"Idiot! Go take a bath already! How can you be so sloppy as a girl?!"

Mitsuha smacked Yotsuba on the head.

"See? No gratitude for my kindness. So heartless. I'm not bathing with you, sis. Hojou-nii..."

"Hey, don't say weird stuff like that! I've never—never—bathed with you, not in the past or now!"

Kyousuke hurried to cut her off.

Sure, when he was in Mitsuha's body he'd enjoyed baths... but as for bathing with Yotsuba—though she'd whined countless times about wanting to—he'd firmly refused every time, always locking the door before bathing.

"What are you talking about, Hojou-nii? I meant finding another room to take my bath in," Yotsuba said with a mischievous grin, clearly pleased with herself.

"That's exactly what I meant!"

Kyousuke replied without missing a beat, keeping a straight face even as Yukinoshita shot him a cold, scornful glare reserved for lowlifes.

With that, he led Mitsuha and her sister upstairs.

Earlier, Mitsuha hadn't changed clothes in Naoka's room. Instead, it was a spare room on the third floor—the very one she had used when she first came to Kyousuke's house.

Though called a "spare" room, it was fully furnished, complete with a wardrobe where the clothes Mitsuha had changed out of last time still hung neatly.

Compared to the other rooms, it only lacked the custom nameplate that Kyousuke always made by hand.

Yotsuba, despite all her teasing talk about bathing in another room, obediently slipped into this one first, leaving space at the door for her sister and Hojou-nii.

"I thought the only surprise today would be meeting Yukino-sensei, but to think I'd make two new friends as well... and one of them being such an interesting person like Yukinoshita-san. What an unexpected bonus."

Unlike the open-concept corridor on the second floor, the fourth-floor hallway was enclosed, with rooms on both sides.

Standing there now, the two of them looked like an assassin couple stepping out from a completed mission, only to bump into her carefree husband coming home.

"Heh... hehehe..."

Kyousuke gave a stiff, awkward smile.

"Just to be clear—this isn't an excuse—but Megumi and Yukinoshita really are Sakura's friends. She's the one who invited them over!"

"Ohh~ I see~ So Sakura's the head of the household now, is she~?"

Mitsuha's words trailed into an exaggerated drawl, each syllable curling like a teasing hook.

Her brown eyes gleamed brightly in the dim corridor.

"Oh no... and here I came without even greeting her. I must've made things awkward for you, Kyousuke..."

"Don't worry about it. Didn't Masaki say she wanted to come visit sometime too? When you have time, Mitsuha, bring your friends over as well. I'll be happy to have them."

Kyousuke didn't bother making any grand explanations.

He knew Mitsuha was jealous—not because she wanted him to drive the others away, but because of his attitude.

As he spoke, he gently pulled Mitsuha into his arms, resting his chin against her damp, slightly slippery forehead, still warm from her dance.

"Teshigawara and Sayaka too—we're all friends. I should invite them over sometime as well. And Miyamizu-san... hmm..."

He paused mid-sentence as the name slipped out naturally, and Mitsuha gave him a playful look, amused by his slip.

After two thoughtful seconds, he muttered:

"Maybe not yet. This house is still too small to properly welcome someone like Miyamizu-san. It'd be rude to invite her here in this state."

"Still too small, huh? I'd say this place is already five times bigger than the Miyamizu house," Mitsuha grumbled, not entirely convinced.

"No way. The Miyamizu estate practically covers an entire mountainside!"

That sprawling compound, filled with countless detached buildings connected by covered walkways—that was basically Kyousuke's ultimate dream home.

Too bad a comet had shattered his chance to enjoy it effortlessly.

But that was fine.

He was still young.

Money, houses, annoying old men—they were all things he could handle, one by one, through sheer effort and determination.

That belief had carried him this far, and it would carry him further still.

"I meant the house in Mejiro, obviously."

Mitsuha rolled her eyes playfully, then as if remembering something, added:

"Though... come to think of it, Grandpa and Grandma's house in Nara is even bigger than the Miyamizu shrine. Maybe much bigger, actually."

The Gokuguchi family—the ancient, thousand-year-old clan of Nara.

Nara, the ancient capital no less historic than Kyoto.

Of course, Kisaki was right.

If you wanted to buy a proper traditional Japanese mansion, Kansai was the place to go.

For a moment, the thought of a future trip to Kansai filled Kyousuke with excitement and anticipation.