March 28th
At exactly 7 a.m., Kyousuke was already up.
Today was the day Sakura would return home. He had originally wanted to go to Kyoto to pick her up, but she shot the idea down immediately.
"Waaah~ That's so embarrassing! It'd feel like I ran back to my parents' place after a fight, and now my husband's coming to take me home," Sakura had laughed teasingly over the phone.
Even though he said he didn't mind if people misunderstood, Sakura firmly rejected the offer:
"My parents will drop me off at the Kyousuke house. You should focus on how you're going to face them~"
Face them? He'd do so with confidence, of course.
If Uncle Yamauchi and Auntie decided to stay in Tokyo for a while, he'd treat them like his own parents and take good care of them.
Eriri shuffled downstairs, still half-asleep, wearing her red, yellow, and blue cotton pajamas.
As she descended, she stretched with a big yawn, revealing a sliver of her pale, slender waist and a peek of her delicate belly button.
Sadly, no one was there to admire the view.
In this household, she and Kyousuke weren't even the latest risers—Utaha-senpai held that title.
She didn't care at all about "healthy development" and stayed up every night binge-reading all kinds of novels.
Thanks to Utaha, Eriri had started to doubt Kyousuke's claim that "early to bed, early to rise" helped growth.
Thankfully, they still had Shouko, a model student of that philosophy, to prove otherwise.
"Huh? Is it someone's birthday today?"
Eriri wandered over to the kitchen counter and reached out to dip her finger into some whipped cream, popping it into her mouth.
The soft sweetness made her feel like she was dreaming—light, fluffy, and barely awake.
In the kitchen, Kyousuke was carefully placing pickled cherry blossoms onto a cream-covered cake with tweezers.
Noticing Eriri's arrival, he brought over a small cake and set it down in front of her.
"Hey! Why doesn't my cake have cherry blossoms?"
She shamelessly scooped up a big bite with her spoon and stuffed it into her mouth, protesting with her cheeks full.
She wasn't referring to the small cake in front of her—it was beautifully made, with smooth whipped cream like a mousse cake, adorned with scattered pink cherry blossoms.
Some were real, pickled flowers; others were drawn with strawberry syrup.
If her brain weren't still foggy, she probably would've taken a picture before digging in.
"Well, this cake doesn't have any eggs, either," Kyousuke replied dryly.
Eriri's birthday was on March 20th. She hadn't moved in yet back then, but Kyousuke had still made her a cake by hand.
He'd crafted hollow chocolate ovals—like Easter eggs—and decorated them with various patterns and little bunny figures.
In terms of detail, it had definitely outshone the cherry blossom cake before her now.
"I don't care. Next year, I want a cherry blossom cake too. It has to be different from this one though. I want twenty blossoms, each with petals ranging from five to twenty!"
Still, it bothered her.
Watching this idiot so tenderly prepare a birthday cake for someone else—how could she not feel annoyed?
Why wait until the cake's done to bring it over? I don't need surprises, thank you very much.
"And I get to watch you make it! Otherwise, you'll slack off!" she pouted. "The process is the most important part, you dummy!"
"As you wish, my princess," Kyousuke said, placing a hand on his chest in a mock bow.
"You still haven't told me—whose birthday is it?"
Eriri pulled up a high stool at the counter, munching on her cake as she asked.
"Sakura's."
"Sakura? So today's her birthday? She never mentioned it…" Eriri paused, spoon in mouth, and realized with a pang of guilt that in all the years they'd known each other.
She'd never once celebrated Sakura's birthday.
"Don't worry about it," Kyousuke said without even looking up. "That dummy celebrates her birthday more than three times a year, but she's never celebrated it on her actual birthday."
"More than three times?" Eriri blinked. Was such a happy life even possible?
"Yup. 'Cherry blossoms bloom when they choose to,' she says. So she celebrates when the first blossom opens, and again when the last petal falls."
"Even when there are no blossoms, she gets nostalgic and asks for birthday cake."
'Damn. That's kinda... cool.'
Eriri bit her spoon, envious.
Could she start having multiple birthdays a year too?
Her birthday was on the International Day of Happiness—so maybe she could say every time she feels happy, it's her birthday.
Kyousuke couldn't possibly argue with that, right?
"When's Sakura getting back?" she asked, sipping warm milk and spacing out after finishing her cake.
"When you least expect her."
"Huh?" Eriri raised a brow.
"She didn't say. But you do know how unpredictable she is."
"Ugh, yeah. Totally."
She slumped over the counter again, thinking back to the first time Sakura invited her to Akihabara in second year of middle school.
Eriri had panicked, thinking her secret otaku life had been exposed.
Turns out Sakura just thought Eriri looked like a heroine from an anime and wanted to hang out.
Because she had such good taste, Eriri begrudgingly agreed to go—as her true self.
Hurry back, Sakura.
'I need backup. Together, we can fend off that seductive witch.'
"Idiot Momotarou! Dogs shouldn't eat too much cream, or they'll go bald!" she scolded, nudging the little pup who was still trying to lick the cream bowl clean.
"Whiiiiiine~" the fluffball pawed at her stool pitifully.
"I know that's your catchphrase, Eriri," Kyousuke said with a sigh, "but could you not call me 'idiot' and then turn around and call Momotarou one too?"
"Huh? I don't remember calling you an idiot this morning."
"I'm sure you did in your head."
Fair enough. After all, Kyousuke really was a massive idiot.
"Fine. I'll call you 'Ahho' and call Momotarou 'Baka.'" Eriri nodded as if that settled everything.
"Wait, wait—those both mean idiot! You just switched to Kansai dialect!"
"Baka baka baka—" Eriri sang mockingly.
As the two bantered playfully, the rest of the house began to wake up one by one.
Everyone got a mini cake and warm milk, marking the start of a brand new day.
Shouko was supposed to have a class at the training center today, but skipped it just to wait for Sakura to come home.
Eriri caught her and dragged her outside to the garden to pose as a model.
Next to each fish, Shouko—drawn in a chibi style—stood with a pointer, giving introductions about each one's name and features.
It wasn't until noon that Utaha finally woke up, lured out of her room by the smell of food.
The scene reminded Kyousuke of the legendary freeloader Imaizumi Sanshirou, who'd start frying butter just as his girlfriend woke up, letting the scent waft naturally into her nose.
There was something undeniably romantic about waking up to see the person you love cooking in the kitchen.
You could see it just by looking at Utaha-senpai.
As she emerged from her room, she leaned over the second-floor railing, staring dreamily at Kyousuke below with a face full of contentment.
Then she quietly came downstairs and gently hugged him from behind.
"Want to sleep a little longer? I could bring you and the breakfast back to bed," Kyousuke said gently, feeling the softness of the body pressed against his back.
The scent of roses overwhelmed the buttery aroma in the air, slipping into his nose with every breath.
"Mmm-hmm~" Kasumigaoka Utaha buried her face into Kyousuke's back, inhaling deeply with a satisfied smile.
She gave a small shake of her head but kept her arms tightly wrapped around his waist.
"Anything you're especially craving?"
"Mmm-hmm~"
Another shake of the head.
As long as she could hold him like this, quietly and peacefully, the world could end and she wouldn't mind.
Tilting her head, her delicate face showed a lazy expression, and her deep wine-red eyes brimmed with affection.
"KASUMIGAOKA UTAHA!!"
A furious voice rang out from the living room, followed by heavy, stomping footsteps—loud and forceful.
The kitchen door burst open, and Eriri stormed in, grabbing Utaha's arm with the familiarity of someone who'd done it a hundred times.
"Kyousuke, we need to renovate this kitchen into a closed one. I'll have my family's contractors here this afternoon."
Utaha obediently let herself be pulled back, though she spoke with deliberate lightness.
"Closed kitchen? What, this open space still isn't enough for your repressed little fantasies, Sawamura-san? You want more… more..."
Eriri's cheeks turned bright red.
A flood of explicit images filled her mind, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything.
After all, Shouko was nearby—she had to keep up appearances in front of her good friend.
"Oh my, I'm just thinking of you, Sawamura-san. You're embarrassed now, but once there's a wall up, you could reenact all those doujin scenarios you draw so lovingly…"
"Shut up! That's art! Who would be so out of touch they can't tell reality from the pages of a doujin?!"
Shouko and Naoka pretended not to hear a word, stepping past the chaos to start setting the table.
———————————————————————
By lunchtime, Eriri and Shouko had gone for a nap. Kyousuke, worried Sakura might return any moment, reluctantly gave up on his own nap and stayed in the tatami room writing with Utaha-senpai.
Well, more like giving her feedback—his current mental state couldn't produce anything decent on its own.
If he started typing on his own, the document would probably turn into a journal of longing:
'Why isn't Sakura back yet?'
'When is Sakura coming back?'
'Did Uncle Yamauchi get lost?'
'I really should've gone to Kyoto to pick her up.'
"A rich girl showing up in a dorm like this is a bit unrealistic. You'll need to add a special setup for that part, maybe something like…" he offered seriously.
'Ding—'
The intercom buzzed—someone had opened the gate.
Utaha had been deeply focused, her fingers tapping away at the keyboard while listening to Kyousuke's ideas and scribbling notes.
The sudden silence beside her made her pause, but before she could ask anything, the boy shot to his feet and bolted toward the front door.
He moved so fast she heard a literal "whoosh," with his clothes fluttering behind him like a cape.
If ancient Japanese assassins moved that fast, daimyo would've never ruled a day—the succession ceremonies alone would keep all five generations of relatives gathered just to be picked off in one go.
Utaha blinked, stunned.
Immersed in writing just moments ago, she suddenly understood what had happened: based on Kyousuke's reaction, Yamauchi Sakura must've come back.
She hadn't even seen the girl yet, but her internal sirens were already blaring, lights flashing red and blue.
A thousand ducks seemed to be screaming in terror inside her brain:
"Danger! Danger! Danger!"
So this is the power of childhood friends?
The girl who'd always rolled her eyes at such cliché tropes was now experiencing firsthand how brutally effective they could be.
Her carefully crafted romantic atmosphere had been completely shattered in an instant.
She almost wanted to invite Sayuka from the kendo club over—this was what a clean, decisive strike from the sword of destiny looked like.
But even with that bitter realization, the engine of love within Kasumigaoka Utaha didn't stall—it roared louder than ever.
Yes, this was the man she had fallen for. His devotion, his love, the way he cherished those close to him—his brilliance and strength.
It was because he was this kind of person that she wanted to hold onto him tightly, to share a lifetime filled with happiness.
———————————————————————
The moment the doorbell rang, Kyousuke knew—Sakura was back.
His heart, restless and reined in all morning, suddenly surged.
As he opened the door, it felt like every cherry blossom in March had bloomed at once.
Light poured in through the open gate, and joy spilled from the corners of his smile.
"Welcome home, Sakura."
Barefoot, he ran forward with open arms.
And there she was—standing in that radiant light, just as she always had, her mouth wide with a joyful grin, flashing pearly teeth as she raised a hand and shouted with vibrant energy:
"I'm back!"
"Welcome home, Sakura."
Without hesitation, Kyousuke pulled Yamauchi Sakura into his arms—then lifted her clear off the ground.
In that moment, only childish gestures like spinning her in circles and holding her high could express the overwhelming emotion in his heart.
"Ahahaha, you're such a kid, Kyousuke! Put me down already!" Sakura giggled, playfully patting his side.
Kyousuke gently set her down, then wrapped her in another hug and took in a deep breath.
"Hmm? Sakura, are you feeling okay?"
He pulled back slightly, looking at her closely.
That fresh, dewy scent of hers was still there, vibrant and full of life—but something about it felt like it was evaporating in the sun.
"Ah, it's just that my grandparents found out I was back in Tokyo, so they've been stuffing me with food these past few days."
"I'm totally bloated. I need to eat something light for a while. Ugh, and I was looking forward to grilling meat with Eriri and Shouko, too…"
Sakura frowned, pressing a hand to her stomach.
"We can do that once you're feeling better." Kyousuke ruffled her hair. Then he noticed something.
"Hey, since when did you start wearing a watch?"
It had been a while—every small change caught his eye. If he could, he'd want to hear about every snack she ate during her daily walks.
"Ah, I've decided I'm going to start treasuring time properly. People always say high school goes by in a flash, right?" Sakura held up her wrist proudly, showing off a white, sporty-looking watch.
It wasn't trendy—more like something a kid would wear—but she looked proud.
"I'd love to say I hope you feel the same way in class too," Kyousuke chuckled. "But if this is what you want, I'll get you a new one later. After all, it's your birthday today."
"No way! I'm making up for all the time I didn't wear one as a kid. You're still using that old wallet I made you, right? If we're changing things, we'll do it together."
Sakura suddenly pulled her arm back, shielding the watch with her hand. But then she giggled, smiling foolishly.
"Actually… let's not. Seeing you still using that wallet I made just makes me feel so happy~~"
"Idiot." Kyousuke gave her nose a gentle pinch.
That watch—he had given it to Sakura back in fourth grade.
Of course, he didn't have the money for anything fancy back then.
He just wanted her to start paying attention to the time and stop playing so much after school, leaving him waiting at the gate forever.
But little Sakura hated the feeling of something strapped to her wrist, so she flat-out refused to wear it.
Instead, she sealed away the "evil thing" that constantly reminded her time was slipping by in a box under her bed.
"Ahem—"
A cough interrupted the thought Kyousuke was about to share—that the maple tree in the yard had grown an extra centimeter.
"Oh! Yamauchi-san, Makoto-san—you're here. Welcome, welcome! Please come in."
Turns out Sakura wasn't alone in that beam of white light.
Her parents were right behind her.
Kyousuke scratched his head like he'd just woken up from a dream, embarrassed.
Next to him, Sakura had already grabbed his hand and made a silly face at her parents.
Seeing the way Kyousuke and their daughter interacted, Yamauchi Yasushi smiled and nodded approvingly—until his gaze drifted past Kyousuke to the house behind him.
His expression immediately darkened.
Standing in the doorway were four girls—one, two, three, four.
He recognized Shouko and Naoka, but it had only been a month!
Why were there more girls now?!
His feet stopped moving; he clearly had no intention of entering anymore.
This punk… still such a girl magnet, and not even trying to tone it down!
Kyousuke followed his gaze and turned to look.
There stood Eriri, bleary-eyed in an oversized coat, supported by Kasumigaoka.
Looked like she'd been forcibly woken up.
Shouko and Naoka cheerfully walked up to greet the Yamauchi couple, chatting as if they were already family.
Kyousuke quickly gave some brief introductions—just "friends," nothing more.
Makoto smiled at the girls, then came up and gently took Kyousuke's hand.
"Kyousuke-kun, please take good care of Sakura," she said gravely, her words carrying the weight of a mother's love.
"I will. With everything I've got—like my own life depends on it," he said, nodding with all sincerity.
The Yamauchis didn't stay long.
They said they had things to take care of back in Mizumoto City, then got in their car and left.
Sakura exhaled dramatically next to her suitcase, clearly relieved.
"Sakura… you've changed."
It seemed Eriri had only just now woken up enough to process what was happening.
She stared at Sakura—this girl so casually close to Kyousuke—and finally realized: she was the destined childhood friend.
That idiot Eriri felt like tearing up her carefully prepared birthday present and tossing it in the trash.
"Ah, Eriri! It's been forever!" Sakura squealed with delight, running over and wrapping her in a huge hug.
"H-Hey! At least call me senpai!" Eriri sputtered, awkwardly trapped in the embrace of someone nearly ten centimeters taller.
"But didn't you tell me not to call you that before?"
"That was then. This is now," Eriri huffed.
'That was before I even knew you were Kyousuke's childhood friend.'
'God, I really am an idiot.'
"Nice to meet you, I'm Kasumigaoka Utaha," Kasumigaoka quickly stepped in, sensing she might be the odd one out in this long-awaited reunion.
"Ahh, I know you! Kasumi Utako-sensei! I love your book Love Metronome! I even begged Kyousuke to get your autograph for me!" Sakura squealed, grabbing her hands and shaking them vigorously.
Behind them, Shouko and Naoka exchanged a knowing glance.
Everyone knew Sakura almost never read anything beyond textbooks and maybe a few magazines.
The little she knew about Love Metronome probably came from listening to them talk about it.
Before today, Kasumigaoka had imagined countless scenarios of how she might meet the girl who was—without a doubt—the top threat.
She had even pieced together a mental dossier on Yamauchi Sakura.
Sakura had known Kyousuke far longer than any of them, and yet Shouko and Naoka had still managed to become close with him.
That had to mean Sakura was unusually self-assured.
Confident that, no matter what, no one could take Kyousuke away from her.
But from everything she'd observed these past few days, neither Shouko nor Naoka seemed to view Sakura as some overwhelming force.
If anything, she came across as kind of clueless—maybe even more so than Eriri—about what love actually meant.
Even a princess in a tower knew to guard what she loved.
But Sakura? She flaunted her treasure—Kyousuke—to the world with open pride.
"Spoiled" didn't even begin to cover it.
Kasumigaoka asked herself honestly:
If it were her, she would absolutely want to show off how amazing Kyousuke was to the world, but she'd also make sure to scare off any woman who tried to get close.
So what was Sakura thinking?
She could feel the warmth in the way Sakura held her hands.
It was genuine.
She really was happy to welcome her.
But to what, exactly? To this battlefield? Was she glad another girl liked Kyousuke too?
She couldn't make sense of it.
No wonder this girl was considered the biggest threat—she wasn't like the others.
She was a mystery.
In any case, the group happily made their way into the living room.
After Sakura finished unpacking and came back downstairs, the backyard had already been transformed.
A picnic mat was laid out beneath the cherry blossom tree, with sakura cake, sakura mochi, and pastel-pink watermelon juice all beautifully arranged.
Two gift-wrapped packages sat nearby—one from Eriri, the other from Kasumigaoka.
The others simply offered their well-wishes.
Over the years, Sakura had celebrated so many birthdays—sometimes more than ten a year.
If they gave her a gift every time, they'd end up handing over math workbooks.
"Wow, actual presents! Thank you, Eriri! Thank you, Kasumigaoka-senpai!"
Eriri had given her a rare collector's doll. Kasumigaoka's gift was a book.
"I'll definitely read it. No matter how long it takes!" Sakura said solemnly.
Across from her, the raven-haired, red-eyed girl looked a little baffled, unaware of how much resolve it had taken Sakura just to say those words.
Within minutes, cherry blossom petals began drifting down onto the picnic mat.
As March drew to a close, the peak bloom was already nearing its end.
Luckily, the Kyousuke family's tree was a late-blooming variety that started flowering in late March, so this was the perfect time.
The petals floated gently onto the girls' hair and shoulders.
Pink blossoms against porcelain skin—their radiant smiles were the most beautiful part of spring.
It was as if all of March's springtime energy had been sealed within the garden's walls.
Their cheerful laughter rose with the breeze, echoing high above the courtyard.
"Oh, right! Mitsuha! We promised to pick her up once you got back," Kyousuke said, smacking his forehead.
"Oh, oh! Let me come too—I still have some of Mitsuha's stuff to return," Sakura said, immediately setting down the cake knife she was using.
"You? But my motorcycle only seats one."
"Then you walk, and Mitsuha can give me a ride back!"
Kyousuke said nothing.
He could tell Sakura wanted to talk to Mitsuha alone.
The birthday party was put on pause.
Fortunately, the Miyamizu house wasn't far—less than half an hour round trip.
"When you were still body-swapping with Mitsuha, she asked me to hold onto some of her diaries and photos for safekeeping. Said she'd get them when she came to Tokyo."
On the bike, Sakura clung tightly to Kyousuke's waist, nuzzling into his back like a puppy, inhaling his scent again and again.
Though they'd been apart for only a month, her image of him hadn't faded one bit—in fact, it had grown sharper with every passing day.
Right now, she just wanted to touch every inch of him—his brows, his nose, his ears, his lips—with her fingertips.
She wanted to hold him tight.
She wanted to kiss him deeply.
She wanted—needed—to do even more, to release the longing she'd bottled up for Kyousuke, to drive away the fear of death clawing at her heart.
Lying on the operating table, waiting for the anesthesia to take effect, her mind had never been so clear.
She thought she could face the surgery calmly, holding on to hope for the future.
But in the end, she was terrified.
The mere thought that something might go wrong had shaken her to her core.
She was scared she'd never see her parents again.
Scared she'd never see Kyousuke again.
Scared he would open that room one day… and find it empty.
Scared that he'd fall to his knees in that empty room and cry his heart out.
And in the final moment before the anesthesia pulled her under, the last thought that echoed through her mind was—
'I want to hear Kyousuke say it again.'
Ten thousand times.
A hundred million times.
Forever and ever…
"Welcome home, Sakura."
From beneath the helmet of the boy holding her tight, that voice rang out—bright, loud, and full of uncontainable joy.
And in that moment, Sakura knew—this yearning wasn't hers alone.
Kyousuke had been waiting too.
He'd stood in that courtyard every day, looking up at that maple tree, thinking of her.
She flipped up the visor and leaned forward, pressing close, shouting her reply straight into the wind.
"Yeah—I'm home."