16-20

Chapter 16: No Way! 

"Is Tetsu-kun really that eager to hear someone call you 'Dad'?" 

What kind of question is that? 

It’s kinda tempting. 

Tetsu Fuyukawa froze for a second, his mouth opening to say something, but just then, Sayoko Kawai smirked slyly. "Tetsu-kun, you’re such a big pervert, aren’t you? I can see the words 'super eager' written all over your eyes. But, nope, that’s absolutely not happening." 

No way, no way! 

Sayoko crossed her arms in front of her chest, a triumphant teasing grin on her face, like a little fox who’d just snatched a chick. 

"You little—" 

Tetsu never expected to be played like this by a woman who’s usually all shy and blushing. He couldn’t hold it together, but honestly, seeing her loosen up made their banter way more fun. 

Scratching his head, Tetsu chuckled. "You’re the type who shines the moment you get a bit of sunlight, huh? I still remember how you were so scared by one look from me that you practically bowed to the floor. Looks like I need to be a bit stricter with you from now on." 

"Hmph, as if you would," Sayoko said with a playful smirk, hands behind her back as she skipped forward with light steps. "You’re not the type to be harsh with people. If you were, you wouldn’t have taken me to the manager’s office today or said all those encouraging things." 

"I just think you’re a pretty efficient subordinate, that’s all." 

"So efficient I was almost let go by the company?" 

"…Alright, enough chatter. Lead the way already—I’m starving." 

"Hehe, you’re totally dodging! We’re almost there. I’ll treat you to some tempura soon!" 

Sayoko’s mood visibly brightened, her steps growing even lighter. 

This girl… 

Watching her silhouette weave through the bustling crowd under the neon lights, Tetsu shook his head with a smile and quickened his pace to catch up. 

Sayoko’s part-time job wasn’t in Kabukicho. 

After passing through the lively streets, Tetsu followed her to a small izakaya tucked away in a back alley. The place had some age to it—the sign was practically weathered to a shine. A menu board by the entrance listed the day’s specials, but through the half-open noren curtain, it was clear there weren’t many customers inside. 

"Yoko-chan, you’re here!"  

As they pushed through the curtain, a kind elderly woman in an apron, her face full of wrinkles, greeted them warmly from behind the counter. 

"Sorry, I’m a bit late," Sayoko said. 

In true Japanese fashion, she bowed deeply, even though the old lady hadn’t scolded her at all. 

"No worries, it’s still quiet right now, so I can manage on my own. Oh, and who’s this handsome young man?" The old lady’s squinted eyes widened as she spotted Tetsu. Sayoko’s cheeks flushed, but before she could respond— 

"Is he Yoko-chan’s son? Oh, come here and let Granny take a look!" 

"Granny!" Sayoko squeaked. 

"Haha, just kidding! But you know, those little business cards they hand out nowadays often mention cosplay, don’t they?" 

"Granny, stop it! He’s my boss, Tetsu Fuyukawa. You know, Fuyukawa as in winter river, Tetsu as in clear and pure." 

Sayoko’s face was beet red as she fumbled through the introduction. 

What kind of introduction was that? Tetsu stepped forward. "Hello, ma’am. I’m Tetsu Fuyukawa. Nice to meet you." 

"Haha, sorry about that, young man. Forgive a seventy-year-old granny for teasing a bit." 

"No worries. Thanks for looking after Yoko-chan all this time." 

"Tetsu-kun!" Sayoko’s face turned even redder as Tetsu spoke like a concerned parent. But then Granny landed another blow. "Yoko-chan? You’re probably younger than her, aren’t you? Wait, don’t tell me I was right—are you two doing one of those trendy cosplay things? Judging by the way you talk, you’re the ‘parent,’ huh?" 

"Granny, you’ve got a sharp eye," Tetsu teased back. 

"That’s it, I’m done with you both! I’m going to change!" Caught in the crossfire, Sayoko was both embarrassed and annoyed. She puffed out her cheeks and stomped off to the back. 

"That girl, she’s so easy to tease," Granny said with a chuckle. 

The izakaya had only two middle-aged men drinking and smoking. Granny pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. "Smoke, young man?" 

"Thanks." Tetsu, who’d never met such a spirited old lady, took a cigarette and leaned in as she lit it. 

They sat in silence for a moment. Granny took a drag, then hopped onto a high stool with surprising vigor. "Bet you think my personality’s a bit odd, huh?" 

Tetsu leaned against the counter. "It’s not bad, just… different from most grandmas." 

"When a woman’s been alone for too long, she gets a bit quirky. Who knows, maybe Yoko-chan will end up like this someday." 

"Ahem!" Tetsu nearly choked on his smoke as the conversation swung back to Sayoko. "Granny, you’re overthinking it. With Yoko’s qualities, finding a boyfriend would be a piece of cake." 

"Her qualities?" Granny’s eyes glinted with a strange look. She flicked her cigarette ash and changed tack. "You’re right, with her qualities, finding a guy should be easy. But… she’s too stubborn." 

"Stubborn? I haven’t noticed that yet." 

"You’ll see—cough—wow, Yoko-chan, you changed fast!" 

Granny was about to say more but froze, sensing a murderous aura. Sayoko, now in a white T-shirt, jeans, and an apron, emerged from the back. Her apron was stretched tight over her full figure. 

"Granny, what were you about to say?" Sayoko asked suspiciously. 

"Nothing! Oh, wait, I forgot—the dish I was cooking is almost ready. You take care of the customers!" Granny slipped away. 

"Really…" Sayoko muttered, pouting. She turned to Tetsu, tying her apron. "You must be starving, right? What do you want to eat?" 

Her vibe was completely different from earlier in the day—livelier, bolder even. Tetsu found it amusing. He spun around on the stool to check the menu board on the wall. 

Izakayas are a bit like hole-in-the-wall diners back home, but unlike those, their menus often change daily based on whatever ingredients the owner picked up. That said, staples like yakitori and tuna sets are usually always available. 

"I’ll take a yakitori set and some ramen." 

The set is just a combo meal, and yakitori is basically grilled meat skewers, mostly chicken, sometimes mixed with beef, pork, or veggies. 

"Got it, give me a sec," Sayoko said, starting to prep ingredients at the counter. Tetsu watched her with interest. For work, she’d tied her hair into a low ponytail, with her bangs pinned up by a butterfly hair clip, giving her a youthful vibe. 

Sayoko had a sort of "mature wife" charm, but she didn’t wear heavy makeup, and her face was relatively small. The playful butterfly clip added a touch of innocence that, combined with her natural allure, hit Tetsu with a mix of pure and provocative. 

She looked good. He lingered a bit too long, and soon enough, the tips of her ears turned red. 

Even in a comfortable, safe environment where she could be more outgoing, she was still quick to blush. But the way she cooked was far more confident than her work demeanor—no wonder she had such high-level culinary skills. 

Tetsu looked away, waiting quietly at the counter. Just then, a few middle-aged salarymen pushed through the noren curtain. 

"Boss, one yakitori, one fried chicken, one tuna belly, and a bottle of shochu, please." 

"Same for me, but make my yakitori spicy. Oh, and add a plate of edamame." 

"Can you start me off with some tamagoyaki?" 

Chapter 17: Friction 

A few middle-aged salarymen, dressed in cheap suits, couldn’t hide the exhaustion etched on their faces. It was nearly 9 p.m., and who knows what kind of day they’d endured to be clocking out this late. 

Kawachi Sayoko, unfazed by the sight, responded with her usual crisp cheer and got to work. The salarymen, after tossing out playful comments like, “Sayoko-chan’s looking extra cute tonight!” and “What a shame this is the last time we’ll taste Sayoko-chan’s cooking,” lit their cigarettes and started venting to each other about life. 

In Japan, salaries are high, but so is the pressure—especially for married middle-aged men. It’s not just the high cost of living. Many Japanese women stop working after marriage and kids, with less than 50% of them staying in the workforce post-marriage. For a family of three, the financial burden falls squarely on the man. At the next table, the salarymen downed shochu, griping about their companies, then society, before one slammed his glass down with a loud “Haa!” and declared, “When I get home, I’m making that wife of mine call me Otosan!” 

The outburst set the table ablaze with laughter and applause. Behind the counter, Sayoko glanced shyly at Fuyukawa Tetsu, who was munching on yakitori. She couldn’t fathom why men these days were getting so weird. 

Fuyukawa, oblivious to her thoughts, was just savoring her delicious yakitori. 

As the night deepened, the izakaya filled with more customers. The old lady who ran the place was nowhere to be seen, leaving Sayoko to handle the counter alone. She darted between grilling skewers, simmering soup, and tossing salads, but the orders piled up, and some customers started grumbling. 

“Um, Tetsu-kun, can the ramen wait a bit? I’ll make it once Grandma’s back,” Sayoko said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear with her elbow while flipping yakitori skewers. Ramen was a hassle—kneading dough and pulling noodles was more than she could manage right now. 

Fuyukawa shrugged, glancing at the rice cooker behind the counter. “I’ll just make it myself. My stomach’s about to cave in waiting.” 

“Eh? Tetsu-kun, you can cook?” Sayoko’s big eyes sparkled with surprise as Fuyukawa shed his suit jacket and stepped behind the counter. He grabbed the old lady’s apron and grinned. “Don’t underestimate me. My Chinese cooking’s pretty damn good.” 

“Chinese cooking? The legendary kind? Don’t blow up the stove, Tetsu-kun!” Sayoko teased. 

“...Mrs. Kawachi, you’re getting too bold,” Fuyukawa shot back. 

“Hehe, just kidding—ah! Tetsu-kun!” 

After all her teasing, Fuyukawa’s patience wore thin. With a playful smirk, he gave her a light smack on the behind, right over her tight skirt. 

Smack! 

A ripple. 

Sayoko froze, shocked, her body tensing. Then, a shiver ran through her, her toes curling as she gripped the counter, her eyes practically glistening with nervous energy. 

There were still so many customers out there. 

And his hand hadn’t moved! 

“Still teasing?” Fuyukawa grabbed a tomato from the counter with one hand while the other lingered, rubbing gently. 

“Ah!” Sayoko gasped, overwhelmed by the electric sensation. 

Biting her lip, her face flushed red, she couldn’t muster a single word. Her thighs rubbed together, but just as the sensation started to slide lower, it vanished. 

+2000! 

Relief washed over her—too many customers for this. As Fuyukawa’s mischievous hand retreated, she felt a wave of relaxation, followed by an even stronger pang of disappointment. Then—smack!—another hit. 

+5000! 

“Tetsu-kun…” Sayoko’s voice trembled. 

Her long, pale legs pressed together, knees forming an X as her eyes widened in shock. 

The customers were still there! 

“Keep teasing, and you’re asking for punishment,” Fuyukawa said, voice low. 

“…I was wrong. Sayoko knows she was wrong,” she mumbled. 

“That’s more like it.” He gave a light pinch before pulling his hand away, grabbing the tomato to rinse it in the sink. 

Phew. 

Sayoko’s gaze lingered on Fuyukawa’s handsome profile, the flush in her eyes deepening before slowly fading. A stronger craving flickered in her expression as she smoothed her wrinkled skirt and returned to grilling yakitori. But soon, a sizzling sound and a rich aroma filled the air from the stove behind her. 

“That smells amazing!” she exclaimed. 

Turning, she saw Fuyukawa expertly tossing a wok, red tomatoes and soft scrambled eggs dancing in the pan over a roaring flame. 

“No way, Tetsu-kun’s that good at cooking?” Sayoko’s eyes widened in disbelief. 

In her mind, Fuyukawa was already a stellar professional—capable, considerate, the perfect corporate elite. That alone was impressive. But to top it off, he could cook like this? 

It wasn’t her fault for being shocked. In Japan, housewives are common, partly due to the failure of past feminist movements and partly because many Japanese men lean into traditional masculinity. Even today, some households expect the wife to greet her husband at the door in nothing but an apron, kneeling in respect. 

A man like Fuyukawa—handsome, professionally accomplished, empathetic, and a skilled cook? He was a rare breed, practically a mythical creature. 

Major bonus points! 

Green numbers practically floated above Sayoko’s head as her admiration grew. And she wasn’t the only one. 

“Is that Chinese food?” 

“Looks legit! Whoa!” 

“Did Grandma hire a Chinese chef? I hear those guys are pricey. His salary’s gotta be huge, right?” 

“No clue. Wait—his black shirt! I saw it at the mall. Zegna, over 90,000 yen!” 

“Ninety grand?! You’re kidding. Why would someone who can afford luxury like that work in an izakaya?” 

“He’s a rich Tokyo hunk!” 

Fuyukawa’s wok-tossing and high flames drew attention, with customers craning their necks and murmuring in awe. 

Japan, an island nation, has long been influenced by Chinese culture, from ancient systems to cuisine. While stir-fry exists here, it’s rarely done with the dramatic, high-heat wok skills Fuyukawa was showing off. Unless you’re in a Chinese restaurant, this kind of clanging, sizzling spectacle is rare. 

At first, it was mostly male customers curious about the Chinese-style stir-fry. But when a few delinquent girls from Kabukicho, who’d struck out on finding “clients” and came to eat early, recognized the brand of Fuyukawa’s shirt, the atmosphere shifted. 

Chapter 18: Grandma’s Wisdom 

Honestly, Fuyukawa Tetsu’s appeal to women was undeniable. 

With his handsome looks and fitness routine, he cut a tall, striking figure with an air of confidence. But the real clincher? His career success. In Japanese culture, where status and presentation matter, a man who carries himself well and thrives professionally stands out. 

As the saying goes, even a Buddha needs gold to shine, and a person relies on their attire. A dress shirt worth half a month’s salary for the average worker wasn’t something just anyone could afford. 

A few flashy delinquent girls plopped down at the counter nearby, giggling as they tried to strike up a conversation with him. 

One maid-costumed girl, eyeing Fuyukawa’s chiseled, V-shaped torso and dashing silhouette, offered, “Just 10,000 yen, and I’ll make you feel like you’re in heaven!” But that was just the appetizer. When Fuyukawa ignored them, a yellow-haired girl upped the ante, boasting, “Since you’re so handsome, big brother, all three of us for just 20,000 yen!” 

The vibe was pure Shibuya sleaze. 

But Fuyukawa wasn’t interested. 

Sure, the idea of a three-on-one “party” was tempting, especially with cute girls, but… 

Glancing at the trio, he couldn’t even tell if they were high schoolers or middle schoolers based on their figures. Nah, not his thing. 

He preferred curvy, mature women. 

His eyes flicked to Kawauchi Sayoko, who was grilling meat nearby, her hips swaying slightly. 

Ever since the three delinquents sat down, Sayoko had inched closer to him. Every now and then, as she reached for ingredients, their bodies brushed, delivering a soft “peach-like collision.” 

A subtle reminder. A teasing temptation. 

Sexy, beautiful, gentle, and just a touch playful—Mrs. Kawauchi versus the scrawny delinquent trio? 

No contest. Fuyukawa flashed a polite smile and declined their offer. 

Sayoko, clearly pleased with his response, “accidentally” brushed her hand across his abs while grabbing an egg, her touch lingering just a bit. The three girls, failing to score a customer, looked a little miffed. 

Amusingly, perhaps because their price was low, two drunk older men at the next table tried chatting them up. After some back-and-forth, the delinquents scoffed. 

“Salarymen making 200,000 yen a month should stay out of it!” 

“Trashy uncles from Hokkaido, go back to work!” 

“Old man, with your looks, you’d need to pay extra!” 

Ouch, straight for the jugular. The “uncles” were so hurt they practically cried. One wailed, “You’re too harsh! I’m only 23! I’m just a coder!” before covering his face and running off. 

“What a circus,” Fuyukawa muttered, watching the “uncle’s” dejected retreat, his lips twitching. He kept stirring the pan. 

Soon, the fragrant aroma of tomato and egg stir-fry filled the air. 

It looked and smelled amazing, drawing curious glances from other customers, including the delinquent trio. But Chinese restaurants are a dime a dozen in Japan. Much like anime and gaming culture, Japan has been heavily influenced by Chinese cuisine. Chains like Haidilao, Lanzhou noodles, and even Zhou Hei Ya’s braised dishes have branches in Tokyo. Smaller, hole-in-the-wall spots serving Chinese food are everywhere too. 

That said, most of these places adapt their dishes to Japanese tastes—think non-spicy mapo tofu or dumplings fried into a crispy lump. Compared to Fuyukawa’s authentic tomato and egg stir-fry, they were worlds apart. Still, it was just a plate of stir-fry, so it didn’t draw too much attention. 

After a few curious looks, the other customers went back to their own business. 

Fine by him. 

Fuyukawa wasn’t keen on chatting with strangers. He spooned the stir-fry over a bowl of white rice, grabbed chopsticks, and dug in at the counter. But after a few bites— 

Gurgle. 

A loud rumble came from Sayoko’s stomach as she bent over grilling yakitori. 

The sound was unmistakable. Her face flushed—she hadn’t eaten dinner either. 

“There’s some tomato and egg stir-fry left. Eat up,” Fuyukawa said, polishing off his rice bowl and stepping aside. 

Sayoko wiped sweat from her forehead with her elbow. “No, no, I’m fine. Just one more hour until—ah!” 

She tried to decline, but mid-sentence, Fuyukawa wrapped an arm around her soft, slightly plump waist, gently moving her aside like a doll. 

“I don’t want you missing our first day of work tomorrow because of a stomachache,” he said. 

“But—” 

“No buts.” 

“…Such a bossy man.” 

Watching Fuyukawa skillfully flip the skewers in his apron, Sayoko put her hands on her hips and pouted playfully, but her eyes softened with growing affection. 

After a moment, she scooped some stir-fry onto a bowl of rice, mimicking Fuyukawa, and began eating in small, delicate bites. 

The izakaya, located near Kabukicho, had waves of customers. Peak hours were usually 7 to 10 p.m., when office workers and hostesses or hosts who hadn’t yet found clients flocked in. From 10 p.m. to 2 a.m., business slowed until karaoke bars closed, and tipsy hostesses who hadn’t secured “full-service” clients stumbled in for a meal. 

As an office worker, Sayoko couldn’t stay that late. 

Around midnight, the grandma who owned the place emerged from the back to take over. 

“Thank you so much for your help,” Sayoko said, removing her apron and bowing gratefully—a common show of respect in Japan. 

Grandma handed her a stack of bills with a warm smile. “No, thank you. Your charm brought in plenty of male customers.” 

“Grandma!” Sayoko blushed. 

“Haha, just telling it like it is!” Grandma chuckled mischievously, then glanced at Fuyukawa, who had just put on his suit jacket and was heading for the door. “That man’s a catch, you know. Handsome, capable, and thoughtful. But his face… he’s got that peach-blossom luck. You’d better hold on tight.” 

Sayoko’s cheeks reddened at the first part, but she fidgeted at the last bit. “Grandma, we’re not—” 

“Oh, please. I saw all those little moves you two were making at the counter,” Grandma teased. “What, you just want to sleep with him?” 

“…” 

“You’d better act fast. Men his age are hungry. If you don’t satisfy him, he’ll find someone else.” 

Shinjuku, dubbed the “sleepless city,” was still ablaze with lights at midnight. Okubo Park, in particular, was lined with women on their phones. 

“Okubo Park lives up to its reputation,” Fuyukawa remarked, hands on the steering wheel, curiously eyeing the long legs outside his window. 

Many know Kabukicho, but Shinjuku’s real “paradise” is Okubo Park. 

Under Japan’s Anti-Prostitution Law, only those who solicit, advertise, or organize sex work face penalties. The participants themselves? At most, they give a statement—no legal consequences. As a result, most organized groups shut down, but “freelancers” thrived. 

Okubo Park was their hub. From schoolgirls in JK uniforms to office ladies and struggling housewives, the street had it all. 

Fuyukawa, visiting for the first time, was intrigued. His curiosity made Sayoko’s face flush. 

Tetsu-kun’s such a perv! 

“Men his age are very hungry, you know.” 

She mentally grumbled, embarrassed, but Grandma’s words echoed in her mind. Her eyes unwittingly darted to below the steering wheel. 

A red apple. 

Her face turned scarlet. After a moment’s hesitation, she made a bold move. 

“Hm?” 

Fuyukawa felt something cool and soft against his right hand. 

Still gripping the wheel with his left, he glanced over. Somehow, Sayoko had guided his right hand to her thigh. 

A tight skirt, no stockings, her pale legs impossibly soft. 

What was happening? 

The car fell silent. Meeting Sayoko’s glistening, almost dripping eyes, Fuyukawa froze. Then, shyly, she said, “I’m right here, and you’re still looking at other girls, Tetsu-kun. Isn’t that a bit rude?” 

Chapter 19: Himawari Izumi 

The black Volkswagen cruised past the park intersection in Okubo, winding through narrow streets until it pulled into a slightly run-down alley. 

“Screech—” 

Fuyukawa Tetsu hit the brakes, and the car came to a stop in front of an old six-story apartment building. 

“This the place?” 

“Yup~” 

Tetsu’s right hand was kneading a soft, plump thigh, his eyes glinting with excitement. 

Feeling a slight pinch, Sayoko blushed, a mix of shyness and fluster in her voice. “So, I’ll just—” 

Before she could finish, Tetsu gently pulled her head closer. 

“Eek—” 

Their breaths mingled, and Sayoko’s eyes widened as she realized what was happening, meeting his sharp, eager gaze. 

Instinctively, she tried to resist, but a firm squeeze on her thigh melted her defenses. 

What a bold guy… 

“Tetsu-kun…” 

Sayoko’s eyes grew hazy, her breathing quickening. But before things could escalate further, she was pulled even closer. 

Her office lady uniform, fragrant and perfectly fitted to her curves, sent Tetsu’s pulse racing. 

It wasn’t just him—Sayoko’s breaths came out soft and warm, and she grew bolder, her hands cupping his cheeks, her eyes shimmering with emotion. But just then— 

“Knock, knock—” 

A tap on the window startled Sayoko, making her jump and burrow into Tetsu’s chest. Tetsu froze, turning to look outside. Standing there, seemingly out of nowhere, was a girl. 

She wore a black-and-white JK uniform, the badge reading “Tokiwadai High School.” 

The uniform was standard, but a large red bow adorned the collar. Her long, straight black hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a delicate, palm-sized face with refined features. A single black earphone hung from her left ear. 

Long black hair, JK uniform, and little black boots. 

The quintessential anime senpai look, except… 

Flat as a board. 

Glancing at the red bow and the lack of curves beneath it, Tetsu, mildly irritated at the interruption, rolled down the window. “And you are?” 

His tone was sharp, but the high school girl ignored him, her gaze fixed on Sayoko in his arms. “I mean, Oka-san, is it really okay to be doing this in a car with some random guy?” 

Oka-san?! 

Tetsu’s eyes widened as he looked at the girl. 

Sayoko was only thirty. If this girl was, say, sixteen and a first-year in high school, that would mean… 

She had a kid at fourteen? 

That was a bit shocking. Tetsu’s jaw dropped, but in the next moment, Sayoko, still nestled against his chest, lifted her head at the sound of the voice. “Himawari-chan? What are you doing here?” 

“That’s my line,” the JK girl, Himawari, replied in a calm, almost monotone voice, her expression barely shifting. “This isn’t exactly how an Oka-san should act. I get it, you’re at that age, still single, and it’s tough. This guy’s pretty hot, sure, but doing that in a car? Total no-go.” 

“…” 

The moment turned awkward. Tetsu quickly let go, but Sayoko, reaching out from the car, grabbed Himawari’s soft, mochi-like cheeks with a rare flash of irritation. “Himawari! Don’t just say stuff like that!” 

To pinch Himawari’s cheeks, Sayoko leaned out, but her knee, still pressed against Tetsu, delivered an accidental blow. 

“Ow! That hurts!” 

“Eek! Tetsu-kun, are you okay?!” 

“Oka-san, you’re crushing his little brothers,” Himawari deadpanned. 

“…” 

Ten minutes later, inside a cramped but spotless rental apartment. 

The sound of a lively late-night variety show blared from the living room. In the kitchen, Sayoko was making fried rice. 

She was focused on the pan, but her demeanor screamed anxiety—she didn’t dare look up. 

“So, you’re supporting her?” 

Tetsu exhaled a puff of smoke into the range hood, flicking ash into the trash. 

“Y-yeah.” 

Sayoko’s body trembled, her eyes fixed on the fried rice, filled with fear, attachment, reluctance, and a painful sense of this is as far as it goes. 

The kitchen fell silent. The quieter it got, the more her fear grew, her body visibly shaking. Then, a pair of strong hands rested on her shoulders. “Don’t overthink it. This doesn’t change anything between us.” 

Her trembling stopped. 

Under Tetsu’s sympathetic gaze, Sayoko turned her head, her slightly damp cheek brushing against his hand. She sniffled, picked up the fried rice, and quietly walked out. 

“The Shinjuku 704 traffic accident from ten years ago, huh?” 

“No wonder she works at NTsoft, takes side gigs, and still struggles financially despite not wearing designer brands.” 

Watching Sayoko’s retreating figure, Tetsu sighed. Himawari Izumi wasn’t her daughter—there wasn’t even a drop of blood tying them together. 

Their connection stemmed from a car accident a decade ago. 

According to Sayoko, she was just twenty at the time. Her father had racked up debts, forcing her into an engagement with the dim-witted son of a company president. But on the day of the wedding pickup, the president, drunk at the wheel, caused a horrific accident. 

The president, his son, and Himawari’s parents all died in the crash. 

Normally, Himawari would’ve been taken in by relatives, but the accident left the seven-year-old with severe hearing damage. 

It was treatable, but each surgery cost a fortune. 

Himawari was passed around among relatives until Sayoko, learning of her situation, vowed to cover all her medical expenses. 

“Guilt, huh? What a foolish woman.” 

Tetsu took another drag, but suddenly, a delicate face appeared right in front of him. 

“Hey, mister, you thinking of some excuse to bail? Or maybe you’re planning to act all sympathetic to worm your way into Sayoko’s heart, use her, and then ditch her? Let me be clear—if you’re that kind of guy, I’ll make sure your ‘tool’ gets snipped. There was this one guy who didn’t believe me and tried something. If the cops hadn’t shown up, his little buddy would’ve been flushed down the drain.” 

“…” 

Himawari, still in her JK uniform, stood with her hands behind her back, her face and voice expressionless. Her big, doe-like eyes stared at Tetsu, but her words were outrageously bold. 

Tetsu nearly choked on his smoke, coughing as he stubbed out the cigarette. “What do you know, kid? Go eat your dinner.” 

Stare— 

Himawari didn’t respond, just fixed him with those big, blank eyes as he walked toward the living room. 

This girl’s got a dark streak. 

Shaking his head, Tetsu stepped into the living room and nearly bumped into Sayoko, who’d just changed into casual clothes from the bathroom. A white T-shirt and black shorts hugged her curves, making her look like a ripe pear. 

Pretty tempting. 

Feeling Himawari’s gaze from behind and noticing Sayoko’s nervous expression, Tetsu reached out, pinching her cute cheek. “Stop worrying. I’m heading out. Don’t forget, 9 AM at the office tomorrow.” 

“Got it! I’ll be there on time!” 

His affectionate gesture lit up Sayoko’s eyes. Despite being a thirty-year-old woman, she playfully stood at attention and saluted, her movement causing a little bounce. 

“Alright, I’m off.” 

“Drive safe, Tetsu-kun~” 

Chapter 20: The Tagalong 

The morning breeze in Akihabara is nice and cool. 

At 7 a.m., Fuyukawa Tetsu stepped out of his apartment in a grey-white tracksuit. It’s the weekend, so no work today, but he still got up early for his morning run. 

Morning runs aren’t just about staying in shape. Sure, that’s part of it, but the real perk is how much sharper your mind feels after consistent exercise. It’s like your brain wakes up clearer. 

Ignoring the neighbor’s barking dog, Tetsu popped in his earphones and jogged east along Kanda Bridge. 

Akihabara sits in Chiyoda Ward, often called the “aristocrat district” in anime and manga. For one, the real estate here is insanely expensive, among Tokyo’s priciest. For another, the Emperor of Japan lives in Chiyoda. Not that Tetsu cares much about the Emperor—jokingly, he’d say the real emperor lives on the Pacific’s east coast. But it’s not just the Emperor; Japan’s Supreme Court and National Diet are also in Chiyoda. 

A district full of big shots like that naturally has top-notch security and cleanliness. You won’t spot a single piece of trash on the streets. 

Earphones in, Tetsu jogged eastward, passing over Eitai Bridge, which connects Chuo Ward to Koto Ward. 

By the time he reached the bridge, he’d already run over two kilometers. Even for someone who exercises regularly, Tetsu was starting to sweat, but this was his favorite part of the run. Eitai Bridge spans Tokyo Bay, and when you’re dripping with sweat, the cool, slightly salty sea breeze feels amazing. 

What’s more amusing is that the bridge was, as usual, stuck in traffic. Office workers on the bus, probably heading to overtime, shot him envious looks as he jogged freely. A few young girls even whispered, “Whoa, that onii-san is so hot!” 

Tetsu didn’t care much about the stares. He kept his pace, music in his ears, running down Eitai Bridge until he reached Koto Ward’s Seaside Park. Only then did he stop. 

He grabbed a bottle of water from a nearby convenience store, rehydrated, rested briefly, and headed back the same way. 

The whole run was over eight kilometers. He left just after 7 a.m., and by the time he got close to home, it was nearly 8:30. 

“Phew, that felt good.” 

“We’re meeting at nine, so I’ve got time for a shower and breakfast.” 

“After eating, I’ll go over the storyline, make a work plan, and then…” 

“Hi, Tetsu-kun!” 

You’re not supposed to sit right after a long run. As Tetsu walked the last corner to his place, still sweaty and mulling over his day, a familiar voice called out. 

Looking up, he saw Sayoko Kawai standing at his doorstep, waving cheerfully. Since it was the weekend, she wasn’t in her usual office-lady uniform. Instead, she wore a mature-looking floral sundress. The dress itself was simple, without flashy patterns, but on Sayoko’s 160cm-plus frame with her 91-63-92 figure, it looked striking. The soft fabric was stretched dramatically over her “snowy mountains,” creating bold curves. But what really caught Tetsu’s eye—and sparked a flicker of heat—was the slight, soft curve of her tummy under the dress. Sure, he’d seen curvier figures, like Minister Miyano at the office, but Sayoko’s subtle, natural allure hit differently. 

But then. 

His gaze shifted to the person next to her, and Tetsu’s expression froze. 

Why’s she here? 

It wasn’t just Sayoko. Sunflower Izumi, the sly, dark-haired high school girl with her deadpan vibe, had tagged along. She wasn’t wearing her JK uniform from yesterday. Instead, she had on a loose white T-shirt, black hot pants that barely showed a white hem, and white sneakers. Her long, slender, pale legs stood out, and she had a guitar slung over her back. 

A gorgeous, cool rocker chick? 

Their eyes met. Sunflower, hands in her pockets, raised an eyebrow slightly, her large, lifeless eyes staring at him like a dead fish. 

Noticing the exasperation in Tetsu’s look, Sayoko gave an awkward smile. “Sorry, Tetsu-kun. This kid insisted on coming along, and I couldn’t say no. But don’t worry, she said she’ll only stay for a bit and then leave.” 

“I see,” Tetsu said, glancing at Sunflower. “It’s fine if she’s here, but we’ll need to keep her out of the game production stuff.” 

Sure, for a text-heavy galge like Fate, leaking a bit of the plot isn’t a huge deal. The story unfolds layer by layer, so knowing a single plot point or character detail doesn’t ruin much. Plus, the same story can feel totally different depending on the writer’s style. Still, better safe than sorry. 

Tetsu trusted Sayoko, but this Sunflower girl, whom he’d only met yesterday, was another story. 

“No worries, Tetsu-kun. Little Sunflower won’t spill a thing. Right, Sunflower?” Sayoko said. 

“Yes, don’t worry, Uncle,” Sunflower replied, bowing obediently under Sayoko’s stare, though her tone and that “Uncle” jab made it clear she wasn’t thrilled. 

Tetsu didn’t care about her attitude. He pulled out his keys and led them inside. 

“Surprisingly clean. Yo, Uncle, don’t tell me you scrubbed the place just for today—ow! Sayoko, what gives?” Sunflower said, kicking off her shoes and slipping into slippers, her long legs bare without stockings. Her deadpan expression stayed unchanged, but before she could finish, Sayoko pinched her soft, mochi-like cheeks. 

“Sorry, Tetsu-kun, this kid’s too cheeky,” Sayoko said with an apologetic smile, then held up a bag of ingredients. “By the way, have you eaten breakfast yet?” 

“Was just about to. You guys got here earlier than I expected.” 

“Perfect, then I’ll handle breakfast!” 

Having a lovely “housewife” make breakfast? Tetsu nodded. “Thanks, I’ll leave it to you. I’m gonna take a quick shower. Feel free to move around the first floor, but don’t go upstairs.” 

“No problem!” Sayoko chirped. 

As she set the ingredients on the kitchen counter, she glanced over and saw Tetsu tossing his clothes into the washing machine at the bathroom door. His toned muscles made her cheeks flush and her heart race. 

“Tch, tch, tch. That look in your eyes? You’re done for,” Sunflower teased darkly from the side. “A few months from now, you’ll probably be that drunk lady at the Tokyo Bay docks, yelling, ‘Men are all trash!’ And you’ll drag me along to—ow, stop pulling my cheeks!” 

Her expression barely changed even as Sayoko stretched her cheeks, only rubbing them after a loud Duang! when Sayoko let go. 

Sayoko put her hands on her hips, adopting a rare “big sister” stance. “Kids shouldn’t meddle in grown-up stuff. Alright, you’ve seen the place now. No creepy basement dungeons, no ‘computer parts.’ You can go now.” 

“No rush. My band doesn’t meet up for a while. I’ll just chill and—huh, Uncle plays guitar too?” Sunflower flopped onto the couch, sprawling out, but something hard poked her stomach. Wincing, she flipped over and found an orange guitar tucked under a pillow.