Tokyo Yandere Girlfriend

Chapter 13

Shiratori Seiya had officially moved into Aunt Ando Norika's house when he was six.

After the doctors gave up on his parents following the car crash, she held him in the hospital corridor and cried—long, ragged sobs that shook them both.

Before that day he'd barely known his aunt. Once a year, maybe, at New-Year visits—polite bows and short greetings, nothing more.

Compared to her storm of grief, his own sorrow felt oddly muted.

He figured most of her tears came from losing her little brother. After all, if he'd had a younger sister who married and then died with her husband in an accident, he'd grieve for his sister, not the brother-in-law.

If the brother-in-law had survived, Seiya would probably have blamed him forever; as it was, the man had gone with his sister, sparing Seiya most of the rage.

Yes, that's how he would have felt—he was sure of it.

Only later, during a memorial visit, did Aunt Norika pull out the old photo albums: his parents in high school.

From that night on he learned that his mother had been her best friend since junior high.

Junior high to senior high, university, adulthood—he listened while Norika wept her way through every memory.

Seiya finally understood: her love for his mother ran just as deep as her love for her brother.

Maybe that was why she raised him as if he were their living echo.

Clothes, food, school trips—anything the other kids had, she bought for him before he could even ask.

Back then she had no children of her own. Uncle Ando Yosuke joked that the Ando line was safe after all; Norika chased him around the living-room with a cushion for half an hour.

They'd known each other since high school, and their marriage was an equal match—Norika's temper saw to that.

She was terrified Seiya might misread the joke, but he wasn't so fragile.

He knew exactly how much they loved him, and he'd already decided he would look after them when they grew old.

By the time Seiya entered junior high, the couple finally had a child.

Norika's hovering eased, though she still cornered him for long talks.

The new baby tightened the family budget; government subsidies helped, but not nearly enough.

Luckily Uncle Yosuke's job was steady—until it wasn't.

Disaster, as always, struck at the weakest seam: Yosuke slipped on the stairs during the recession, broke his leg, and was laid off.

Aunt Norika took part-time shifts; after the cast came off Uncle Yosuke hunted for work day after day.

The crisis didn't end until Seiya's first year of high school.

One evening Seiya handed Aunt Norika a bank card with three million yen saved on it.

"No more night shifts," he said. "We're done worrying about money."

Her first reaction was horror.

She rushed to the kitchen, grabbed the rolling pin, and demanded to know what crime he'd committed.

Tears streaming, she threatened to call the police, wailing his parents' names, blaming herself for failing them.

Seiya produced his songwriter's contract.

She didn't even look at it. "Don't wave papers at me! You were tone-deaf at karaoke—now you're telling me you're a composer?"

"If you'd said you won a kendo tournament I might've believed you. You're hopeless, Seiya. What if you can't even get into college? I can't let you ruin yourself!"

"You're still a minor. Turn the money in, confess, and you'll be out in a year. I'll wait for you."

Aunt Norika was reaching for the phone to "do the right thing" when Seiya, desperate, called Hojo Shione over.

It was Shione's first visit to the Ando house.

Seiya knew instantly that his aunt adored her—adored her with the helpless brightness that can't be hidden.

Maybe because both her own children were boys, Norika had always longed for a daughter, and Shione was heart-stoppingly beautiful.

After two sentences of explanation—before any proof—Norika believed every word.

She tucked the rolling pin into her apron pocket, her face swinging from tragedy to sunshine, and dragged Shione to the couch for tea.

At first the questions were innocent—how they'd met, when Seiya had started writing songs.

But when she learned they were dating, her eyes lit up as if she'd won the lottery.

Her delight was almost frightening.

"Really dating?"

"What on earth do you see in my Seiya?"

Once she'd confirmed that Shione was every inch the gentle Yamato Nadeshiko she'd dreamed of, she began probing family plans and wedding dates.

Seiya finally invented urgent recording-studio duties and whisked Shione away.

From then on Aunt Norika asked after their relationship every few days, hinting that if teenage hormones ever overwhelmed them, precautions existed for a reason—she even slipped condoms into his schoolbag.

Shione had teased him about it, cheeks scarlet.

Environment shapes belief.

Aunt Norika and Uncle Yosuke had met in high school and married after college.

Seiya's parents had done the same—childhood friends who stayed together through every hardship.

So Norika was convinced that the love you find in high school is the love you marry.

In her mind Shione was already her daughter-in-law.

Seiya knew it, so when he broke up with Shione he couldn't bear to tell her.

In the breakup letter he'd hinted that they should cool off for a while, for his aunt's sake.

Shione, gentle and perceptive, would understand.

But now Shione had gone to see Aunt Norika—something she'd never done before.

"Speak up! Did you break up with Shione?" Aunt Norika's voice cracked across the line.

Seiya came back to himself, opened his mouth, found nothing.

A soft drum-thud of defeat: "Yeah."

Two seconds of silence.

"Half a year ago?"

"Yeah."

"Something this big and you didn't tell me? Am I even your aunt anymore?"

Because I knew you couldn't take it.

"Answer me! Why? Did some college fox spirit trick you? I warned you—they're everywhere, pretty faces after your money!"

"Look at you: plain, boring, only good at songs, kendo, and making money. What else have you got?"

"I..."

Seiya honestly wasn't sure if he was being complimented or insulted.

"Don't 'I' me. Do you think any woman besides Shione could ever love you for real?"

"Take leave and come home—now! Explain this face to face."

"No excuses. University is a breeze; nothing's more important than this!"

Click.

She hung up before he could reply.

Seiya stared at the dead phone and rubbed his temples.

"What's wrong?"

Takahashi Mio's voice drifted over; he turned and met her brilliant eyes.

Fox spirit?

He shook his head. "Nothing. Finished eating?"

"Mm."

Takahashi Mio nodded, having covertly watched Shiratori Seiya make his phone call while she finished her breakfast.

Watching the way his brows pinched together had struck her as hilarious.

The jerk had been bullying her for days—nice to know someone could still rattle him.

Once her private laugh died away, curiosity flickered. Who on earth had called?

But she hadn't yet mapped out Seiya's temperament and had no wish to pry and provoke him.

Whatever she needed to know, she'd learn in time.

The "million-yen job" he'd mentioned did sound tempting, yet there was no rush.

Besides, the guy clearly nursed some ulterior motive toward her.

When she finally caught him red-handed, she'd make him regret everything.

With that pleasant thought, Mio put on the perfect, understanding-girlfriend smile.

"Something urgent?"

"Not really..."

"All right... then let's pick this up later. Call or text whenever you need me—I'm free all day, so I'll come running."

Seiya's mind wasn't on her right now; whatever crisis had just landed could wait another day or two. He gave a short nod.

"Right. I do have things to handle today. We'll talk next time."

"Then I'll get out of your hair. See you~"

Mio sent him one last "devoted" look, then turned and walked out.

Seiya watched her leave, smacked his tongue against his teeth, and glanced at the half-eaten rice balls. Suddenly he had no appetite.

He sighed, thumbed open his contacts, and was about to call Hojo Suzune when a new message flashed across the screen.

"Seiya?"

"Have you been eating properly?"

...