Tokyo Yandere Girlfriend

Chapter 30

If you're not sure, don't make promises you can't keep.

Shiratori Seiya had meant to give Hojo Suzune no false hopes; the future was a fog no forecast could clear. Yet when he saw the bright, expectant shimmer in her eyes—and remembered today was her birthday—he couldn't bring himself to dampen it.

He opened his mouth, but the memory of Hojo Shione's tear-blurred face slammed into him.

"You think I actually love music? That I enjoy singing from dawn to dusk...?"

"Seiya?"

The boy in front of her had fallen silent too long; Suzune tilted her head and called his name.

"Ah—"

Seiya snapped back. Looking at her flushed little face, he asked, "Suzune, do you like playing the piano?"

"Eh?"

Suzune blinked, heart skipping. She caught the weight behind the question and answered at once, "Of course I do! I've played since I was tiny. You know that. My Older Sister can sing, but she never practices—I used to drill five or six hours a day..."

Five or six hours...

Seiya did the math. When he'd first learned she played, she'd already been a first-year; she must have started in junior high. So young... If she didn't love it, she'd never have lasted.

He exhaled, moved, and reached out to ruffle her hair. "Then maybe you've worked a little too hard."

The unexpected head-pat froze Suzune's petite frame. A warm current ran straight through her; she rose on tiptoe, nuzzling his palm, eyes half-mooning in a silly grin.

"So—will you? Will you write songs for me someday?"

"I doubt it. I'll probably never reach that level. Piano pieces are still way over my head."

Suzune tuned out the rest of his disclaimer, bright face lifted, eyes sparkling. "So there's a chance, right?"

"Mm..."

"Yay!"

As if he'd sworn a solemn vow, Suzune bounced on the spot.

"Careful," Seiya called, worried she'd topple off the narrow trail.

"Hee-hee~"

She spun once, her smile brighter than the waterfall in sunlight.

The Biwa Waterfall trail up Mount Takao wasn't steep, but it was hardly wide—and had no guardrails. Afraid she might slip, Seiya caught her slim wrist.

"Let's go."

"Okay."

The moment his fingers closed around her wrist, Suzune flipped to quiet mode. She murmured assent, cheeks red, eyes lowered, and followed behind him.

A few steps on, she couldn't help staring at the broad line of his back. Her vision blurred; everything beyond Seiya glowed soft and dreamlike. She'd seen this only in dreams—those rare days when Older Sister deigned to bring her along. Her sister guarded her share like a wolf; going out alone with Seiya had always been impossible.

The more forbidden, the more she yearned... to walk the narrow path hand in hand, to breathe his scent in the sun, to keep walking, forever...

They crossed Waterfall Bridge. Tears slipped free, yet her heart had never felt lighter.

Seiya, I love you more than anything.

---

They reached the summit in one push, stopping only once at a rest hut. Seiya checked his phone: 13:14. They'd started around ten-thirty; two hours of ambling, pausing, snapping photos.

Suzune had come prepared. Inside her tote were make-up, sunscreen, band-aids—even a camera. No photos at the shrine, so Seiya shot her by the waterfall and on the bridge. At the top, a sign proclaimed "Kanto's 100 Best Fuji Views." Clouds veiled Mount Fuji—bad luck. Still, he took more shots of her against the distant ridges.

The Hojo sisters photographed beautifully, though in different styles. Shione glowed with gentle grace; every accidental softness looked like perfect devotion. Suzune, petite and bright, carried a playful allure that sharpened under sunlight.

Seiya dared a single glance, pressed the shutter, and handed her the camera. Suzune's eyes lit; she pursed her lips in teasing delight. "Not bad, Seiya. Knew you'd deliver."

He ignored the jab, turned to the ramen stand. "Hungry? After lunch we'll take the cable car down."

Suzune scrunched her face. "Cable car? Already?"

Seiya glanced at the sweat on her forehead, at her slender legs, and said nothing. Suzune read the doubt, tapped his shoulder with a tiny fist. "Meanie. Always doubting me..." She couldn't bring herself to hit hard; it came out a girlfriend's playful shove.

Muttering, she led him into the ramen shop. "My treat for my birthday."

Seiya scanned the sign: Chashu-men ¥950, extra toppings ¥100. Peak prices—daylight robbery. "Expensive noodles. You win the lottery, Suzune? And shouldn't I be treating you on your birthday?"

She didn't answer, ordering at the counter: "One tonkotsu-clear, one chashu with chicken thigh—no scallions on the chashu, thanks."

After paying, she pulled him to a corner table. "I'm not rich, but spending on you makes me happy. Making me happy is your job today, right?" She blinked dewy eyes—Try refusing that.

She flushed, voice dropping. "And yeah, I'm a little sneaky. I want you to remember my good side, so you'll never forget my birthday..." A pout. "You only ever remember Older Sister's. Not fair."

Seiya's throat dried. He swallowed and nodded. "After that speech, I won't forget."

"Perfect!"

---

They lingered over lunch. Suzune took one bite, spoke three lines—stories of his college life, snippets of hers. No order, no goal; she just needed to speak, to pour the empty days between them full of words, as if that would stitch the gap and they'd never been apart.

The wind tugged at the hem of my kendo jacket as I stepped onto the roof. Suzune was already there, leaning against the railing with her phone in one hand and a carton of milk in the other.

"Sis, you're late again," she said, eyes twinkling. "Missed the sunset by thirty-seven seconds."

I closed the door behind me. "Traffic jam at the lockers."

She hummed, tilting her head. "Funny. I thought you were watching Takahashi Mio again."

Heat flashed up my neck. "I was not."

"Your ears are red." She took a slow sip of milk. "Don't worry, I won't tell Mom you're skipping practice to stalk a second-year."

I leaned the shinai against the wall. "I'm not stalking. I'm... checking the competition."

"For the kendo tournament?" Suzune raised an eyebrow. "Or for the 'who gets to call Takahashi Mio girlfriend' tournament?"

I shot her a look sharp enough to cut paper. She only grinned wider.

"Relax." She tossed the empty carton into the recycling bin in one smooth arc. "I've got a plan. And a spare ticket to the drama club's next showcase."

Before I could protest, she looped an arm through mine. "Come on, Sis. Let's win you a girlfriend."