Yukima Household.
The summer sun filtered softly through the sheer curtains, casting dappled golden patterns across the polished wood floors.
On the living room couch, Kirisu Mafuyu sat in her usual composed posture, but her fingers betrayed her nerves, tightening slightly around the sleek phone in her hands.
She was reading the news.
"Yukima Azuma Triumphs in Ryuuou Title Match!"
"The Young Prodigy Clinches Victory After an Intense Final Game!"
Line after line praised her student—no, not just any student, but her student—for his astonishing climb to the pinnacle of professional shogi. From a high schooler battling nerves in his first official matches to now… the Ryuuou.
He had done it.
The corner of Mafuyu's lips lifted ever so slightly.
Her educational philosophy had always been clear: a teacher's role is to guide—not to shape, not to interfere, but to nurture the student's natural talents and lead them toward their destined brilliance. And Yukima Azuma—brilliant, stubborn, quietly passionate—had walked that path straight to the top.
"You've gone so far… Azuma-kun."
Deep down, Mafuyu felt something warm and fragile unfurl in her chest.
It wasn't pride.
It was something softer, more bittersweet.
Because years ago, she had abandoned her own dream—her talent—in figure skating, throwing away a future over a single impulsive moment. She had regretted it for so long that regret itself became a part of her identity.
But now, seeing her student fulfill his potential, realizing the very dream she had once forsaken…
It was like redemption.
It was like being saved.
But—
She abruptly turned off the phone screen, the article fading into black.
Thud.
She sat frozen for a moment before raising both hands to her cheeks, patting them gently—almost like trying to erase a blush that hadn't appeared yet.
"No, no, no. Stop it. Calm down!"
"Kirisu Mafuyu! Even if you want to get married someday, you absolutely cannot project those kinds of fantasies onto your own student!"
She scolded herself with the exact stern tone she used in class—but somehow, it lacked its usual effectiveness.
Her cheeks were definitely pink.
Her ears might've been red.
And her heart… was definitely acting weird.
"Why do I keep dreaming about him…?" she mumbled into her hands.
"That troublesome boy…"
Yukima Azuma.
Young, talented, absurdly handsome.
Rich. Independent. A shogi genius.
Polite. Gentle.
He could cook like a Michelin-star chef.
He took care of her when she was sick.
He carried her home when she drank too much that one time.
"He's practically… everything."
She knew it was wrong to think about him that way.
And so, ever since that awkward, drunken incident—where she might have leaned too close, might have said too much—she had been avoiding him. He'd left for Iwate for the Ryuuou tournament soon after.
Only then could she breathe again.
But now that it was over—
Now that he was coming back—
And now that she was the only one home today…
Clack.
Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest at the sound of the door unlocking downstairs.
Her spine snapped upright.
She sat ramrod straight like a student caught red-handed watching TV instead of doing homework when their parents returned unexpectedly.
"I'm home~ …Huh? No one's home?"
His voice echoed lightly through the house—warm, relaxed, familiar.
Only then did Kirisu Mafuyu remember:
She really was the only one home today.
Kasumigaoka Utaha was at Fujikawa Publishing for the final edits on The Metronome in Love.
Yukinoshita Yukino had left early for a strategy meeting at Laplace Corp.
Kato Megumi had returned to her family's home to help with her older sister's wedding preparations.
…Someone else?
She frowned.
There was someone missing, wasn't there?
…
…
Never mind. If she couldn't remember, it probably wasn't important.
"Do I… really have to go down there?" she whispered.
She paced a single circle in her room, hesitated by the door—
And then sighed.
"He just returned home after winning a national title. How can I let him come home to… nothing?"
The image struck her too vividly.
A boy who had been lonely since childhood, who now stood alone in the entryway of a house that was supposed to be warm and full of people.
She couldn't allow that.
Taking two deep breaths, Kirisu Mafuyu opened her door.
As she stepped down the stairs, she saw him.
Yukima Azuma was already waiting there, standing by the base of the stairs, looking up at her with gentle expectation—like he had known she'd come.
( ˶°ㅁ°)
"Welcome back," she muttered reflexively.
He smiled.
"Kirisu-sensei, I'm home."
The words.
The tone.
It was warm, playful—like a boyfriend returning from work.
Kirisu Mafuyu's face flushed again.
"U-umu… welcome home."
It was completely different from what she had braced for.
He didn't look lonely at all.
If anything, he looked… like he was teasing her.
She tried to look composed—but it was difficult with her heart doing backflips.
"Have you had lunch yet, Sensei?"
She glanced at the clock.
"Not yet."
"Then I'll cook. Just wait for a bit, okay?"
He walked past her toward the kitchen, and—without hesitation—grabbed the apron hanging by the door and began tying it behind his back.
His tall figure.
His rolled-up sleeves.
The way his arm muscles flexed slightly as he adjusted the apron—
Kirisu Mafuyu forgot how to breathe.
( ´ཀ` )
"W-wait, you just got home. Don't overexert yourself. I can order some delivery—!"
She tried to protest.
Weakly.
Very weakly.
"It's fine. I'm not tired. And… takeout can't compare to my cooking, right?"
He winked at her.
(//ω//)
Her legs carried her to the table before her brain even realized what was happening.
"What's wrong with me?!"
She cursed herself internally.
This entire scene…
It was exactly like a fantasy she'd secretly imagined before.
The two of them, living in a cozy apartment.
Returning from their jobs.
Exchanging soft "I'm home" and "Welcome back" greetings.
He'd wear an apron. She'd set the table.
He'd cook something simple.
They'd talk about their day while eating.
Just like a quiet domestic romance between adults.
And now—now that fantasy was unfolding right before her very eyes.
And he was even better-looking than in her imagination!
"Calm down… you're just hungry. That's all. You're not thirsty. Definitely not thirsty."
(╥﹏╥)
"Kirisu-sensei, what are you thinking about?"
His voice broke through her haze.
She blinked.
Two steaming dishes were already placed on the table—one stir-fried pork with garlic shoots, the other a light tofu and eggplant side.
He was holding a small bowl of freshly scooped rice.
"Is this enough?"
"U-umu! Yes! T-that's perfect!"
Her voice cracked. She took the bowl and chopsticks with hands that were definitely not trembling.
He served himself a bowl too, and they began eating.
The moment her lips touched the food—
It was like someone had poured cool, refreshing water over her parched taste buds. The flavors bloomed, savory and balanced, with just the right hint of heat. After days of dull takeout, her mouth was practically in heaven.
"So good…"
Her eyes fluttered shut involuntarily, a gentle smile spreading across her face.
After a few more blissful bites, she suddenly remembered why she had come downstairs in the first place.
"Ah—!"
She smacked her forehead.
"I almost forgot!"
She sat up straighter.
"Congratulations on winning the Ryuuou title! That's… really amazing!"
She paused awkwardly after just two sentences, realizing she was terrible at compliments.
Still, her sincerity was clear.
Azuma smiled softly.
"Thank you, Kirisu-sensei. It's all thanks to you—back then, you accepted me and supported me."
She shook her head quickly.
"No, I didn't do anything. That's something you achieved through your own effort. I just… approved your leave request."
"That was enough," he said, his voice quiet, serious. "Just knowing you were behind me… gave me strength."
His eyes met hers directly.
"Meeting you, Kirisu-sensei, is the greatest fortune of my life."
"You're the number one teacher in the world."
Her breath caught.
Even if she knew he was teasing just a little, her heart still trembled at the weight of those words.
(づ>/////<)づ♡