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375 Tell Me These Sisters Are the Last Ones
🕑 Added 2025-07-12 15:00:13 +0000 UTC“You’re too close.”
Kyousuke muttered weakly, knowing full well that Haruno would completely ignore him.
And as expected, she leaned in even closer, like a tiger striding into a penguin exhibit, exuding an aura that dominated the room.
The reddish tips of her hair were now brushing right against his cheek.
Kyousuke didn’t bother backing away—because he knew that if he did, Haruno would just smirk with a gotcha grin and close the gap even more.
“You’re no fun, Hojou. I was expecting a ‘Yukinoshita?!’ or something,” she pouted playfully, her voice sweet and teasing like a lover whining for attention.
“Oh, oh! I know what comes next!”
Yamauchi Sakura jogged over to Kyousuke’s other side with her hand raised high like a student with the right answer, then turned to Aunt Mikiko with a huge grin and delivered the punchline:
“Ahem. Hojou Kyousuke, there are two Yukinoshitas here. So which one were you calling—Big Yukinoshita or Little Yukinoshita?”
“Pfft—HAHAHAHA!!”
Before anyone else could react, Utaha burst into uncontrollable laughter.
She only managed to cover her mouth with her hand and glance apologetically at Mikiko once she realized how loud she was being.
Eriri and the others still looked completely lost, unsure what was so funny that it could make the Snow Woman laugh like that.
“Oh~ hehe~ now now, Sakura-chan! That was a very inappropriate joke!”
Mikiko laughed along, quickly covering her mouth—though her cheeks were puffing and her eyes kept drifting toward Yukinoshita Yukino, who still stood stiffly by the doorway like a stone fox.
“Inappropriate?”
Both Yukinoshita and Eriri frowned.
The latter’s eyes darted between Big Yukinoshita and Little Yukinoshita, and after a beat, she suddenly let out an impish laugh.
It was a crisp, mischievous giggle—like a child gloating after snagging the only perilla leaf tempura at the dinner table.
Now the only one left furrowing her brows in deep confusion was Yukinoshita Yukino herself.
“Come on over here, Yukino-chan.”
Mikiko smiled warmly at the serious-faced girl lingering by the door.
Even though Sakura had already mentioned it a few times, she couldn’t help but smile again.
She really is a serious one, huh—Yukinoshita Yukino.
“…!”
Yukino stiffened when she heard Mikiko’s invitation.
She felt like the blood in her body had skipped a beat.
But after a quick nod, she took tiny, careful steps across the room.
Since her sister had dragged her out in a hurry, she’d only thrown on a simple blue hoodie and white sweatpants. Her long black hair hung loosely down her back.
Her white sock-covered feet tucked neatly together, she lightly tapped her knees to adjust her posture, then sat down in a perfectly upright seiza position—rigid and proper.
“Ehe~ there’s no need to be so tense,” Mikiko chuckled.
“I’m not tense, I—”
Yukino almost reflexively launched into an explanation: that this was just a common way of sitting, that there was nothing about this situation that would make her feel nervous.
But then she remembered that the person next to her was Kyousuke’s mother—her elder—and she immediately shut her mouth like a well-trained cat.
She glanced around.
Everyone else was sitting informally—cross-legged, legs to one side, totally relaxed.
She pursed her lips and began adjusting her posture to match, though she hadn’t quite found a comfortable position when—
She froze.
Her gaze slowly shifted toward her sister, then to Sakura, Yukari-sensei, and the unknown woman nearby.
Since they were all sitting in a row, her eyes naturally followed the line of curving silhouettes rising one after the other like rolling waves.
She looked down at herself—the hoodie clinging tightly to her flat chest.
Yukino’s pale aqua eyes filled instantly with rage.
She could handle her sister.
She usually could.
But now even Yamauchi Sakura had joined the equation—this was no longer just a comet-level disaster.
This had become a cosmic catastrophe.
‘Why hasn’t this stupid, pun-loving world just destroyed itself already?!’
No wonder Sakura and her sister got along—they were clearly cut from the same cursed cloth!
Yukino raised her head to glare at the two troublemakers—only to find them already staring right back at her.
The moment Haruno and Sakura caught sight of Yukino’s expression—and the spark of fury in her usually composed eyes—they both burst out laughing like a couple of villains.
Their eyes squinted into twin crescent moons, their laughter adding even more energy to the party.
The laughter quickly spread—Utaha, Eriri, and the others joined in.
Even Kyousuke, who’d been trying his best to keep a straight face, finally gave in and turned his head away to stifle a chuckle.
‘I knew I should’ve just come here alone! Why did I go soft and bring her?!’
Yukino gritted her teeth, seething.
“There, there, don’t be mad. Just look at Haruno—if anything, it proves that you’re still growing~”
Mikiko gently reached out and took Yukino’s hand, speaking with a kindness that only made her feel more like a child.
If Miyamizu Yotsuba had been here, she probably would’ve sighed at how similar Kyousuke was to his mother.
She’d heard the exact same line from him before.
But unlike those younger girls who could only sigh and accept it, Yukino frowned deeply and replied,
“No, I don’t think bust size is something worth fussing over. I’m not mad. I’m just trying to figure out why someone would find this funny—"
“Okay, okay. No need to be angry, Yukino-chan~” Mikiko cut her off with a gentle, squinting smile.
Yukino blinked.
Was it just her, or did Mikiko’s “Yukino-chan” feel completely different from the way Sakura usually said it?
Though his mother clearly already knew Yukino, Kyousuke still stood up to formally introduce the two parties.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Yukinoshita Haruno.”
Haruno bowed from her seiza position, nodding respectfully to Kyousuke’s parents on either side and greeting the rest of the group with a warm smile.
There was no doubt she was the heir to the Yukinoshita family—the face and pride of their name.
One moment she was a mischievous child; the next, she had transformed into the perfect lady of high society.
Her bow was flawless, her angle just right so her most flattering side could be seen from their perspective.
The way her brows arched, her smile curved, how her hands were placed, even the precise bend of her elbows—everything was textbook perfection.
Behind her, Yukino seemed to dim further, as if her sister had stolen all the color from her.
She was known for her composure and etiquette, and yet in that moment, she couldn’t even muster a proper smile.
She simply mimicked her sister’s bow with stiff precision.
Even strangers could sense something off about her.
And the members of the dorm—who’d seen her stand toe-to-toe with Utaha in fierce verbal sparring—noticed it right away.
This girl—Yukinoshita Yukino—looked like a pale reflection of the dazzling, commanding high school queen they knew.
A girl who could freeze a man to his core with words alone.
Who could dominate a room not just with her presence, but with the very force of her existence.
Eriri’s golden brows furrowed.
She squinted hard at Yukino.
Not because she couldn’t see—she was wearing her contacts today—but because she was facing a mystery that couldn’t be solved with sight alone.
"Hey, what's up with Yukinoshita?" Eriri leaned in close, nudging Kasumigaoka's arm with her elbow and whispering quietly.
At that moment, Utaha was also staring intently at Yukinoshita Yukino, who sat stiffly like a wooden doll.
Her wine-red eyes were full of amusement and curiosity.
Hearing the whisper beside her, Utaha took a small sip of water, then let out a quiet, knowing laugh.
"Probably just feeling awkward being at a formal event with her family. Doesn’t that sound familiar, Sawamura-san?"
At that, the first thought that popped into Eriri's head was:
‘Of course she’d come up with such a perfect comparison. Typical Kasumigaoka.’
She had to admit, whenever she went to boring parties with her mother and the rest, she’d always put on a mask—repeating all those meaningless pleasantries for the sake of appearance.
It was exhausting.
She used to think Yukinoshita was someone like Kasumigaoka—completely self-assured, uncaring of others’ opinions, doing as she pleased.
But now, was Yukinoshita actually more like herself?
‘If I didn’t have to maintain my 'young lady' image, I could totally tear into Kasumigaoka the way Yukinoshita does…’ Eriri thought, suddenly looking at Yukino with a new sense of solidarity.
However, when she looked over at Haruno—gracefully chatting with those around her, smiling effortlessly like the perfect high-society lady—something didn’t sit right.
‘If anything,’ Eriri mused, ‘Haruno’s more like me.’
‘Put on the mask, play the role, become the flawless princess.’
‘Yukino, on the other hand… she's sitting there like the whole world has abandoned her.’
Eriri’s brows furrowed again.
Her heart, too soft and brimming with empathy, overflowed with tangled thoughts.
Glancing at Kasumigaoka again, she noticed the other girl still holding that same untouched glass of water, eyes narrowed like a serpent stalking its prey—red and glinting with amusement as they remained locked on Yukino.
‘Yeah, no way I can rely on this snake-tongued liar for answers.’
Eriri pouted internally. ‘What was I even thinking, looking to her of all people?’
‘Bleh!’ She stuck out her tongue inwardly, then began subtly shifting in her seat, inching closer to the table.
Carefully, she slid her right leg out from beneath her and extended it under the table.
"Ahem..."
She faked a cough, using the excuse to lean forward and cover her mouth.
Her sharp eyes, made even more precise with her glasses, locked onto her target: a certain someone seated across from her.
Her foot, clad in white cotton tights, snuck toward the target and gave a light tap.
Despite the lower body movement, her upper body remained perfectly poised.
Her delicate face was already wearing an expression that screamed: "Come here already!"
But across the table, that idiot Kyousuke didn’t react at all.
‘What? Did I kick the wrong person?’
Panic started to rise, and she quickly glanced at the people beside him—Yukinoshita Haruno and Yamauchi Sakura.
She was already preparing a flustered "Oops, my leg fell asleep!" excuse just in case.
But they, too, didn’t react.
"Ahem..."
Another fake cough, another forward bend, another careful targeting.
She extended her foot again, this time with a bit more force.
Her blue eyes sharpened as she prepared to send their secret signal.
Come. Over. Here.
But still, no response.
It was like kicking into the void.
The three people across the table were still completely unfazed.
‘Huh?!’
"Ahem... Ahem... Ahem..."
She coughed three times in rapid succession.
Bracing herself on the table with both hands, she launched both feet into action.
Once, twice, three times...
At first, she wondered if the space beneath the table was some kind of portal to another dimension.
‘Did my foot cross into another world or something?’
But after applying a bit more pressure, she finally saw it: Kyousuke's body shifted ever so slightly.
‘Ha! Got you! Ignoring my summons? Unbelievable, you stupid assistant!’
Seeing that Kyousuke still hadn't turned her way and was still chatting with Haruno, Eriri grew even more aggressive with her kicks.
After all, back when she still lived at home, this very same guy had begged her to step on him for "massage purposes" when he needed reference for posing.
She knew exactly how much he could tolerate.
Her blue eyes lit up with wicked joy.
Clatter. Clatter.
The dishes on the table began to rattle.
Yukari Yukinoshita covered her mouth, her smile impossible to hide.
She looked around.
Everyone at the table—including Kyousuke’s mom—was quietly snickering.
No one was about to stop Eriri.
Kyousuke’s lips twisted into a wry smile.
He’d noticed Eriri’s foot from the very first tap.
He didn’t even need to look to know what she wanted.
But he wasn’t the only one who noticed—Haruno, seated to his right, had caught on as well.
"Ooh? Is this one of those 'under the table' plays like in manga?" Haruno whispered with impish glee.
She even reached down like she was trying to grab Eriri’s foot.
Kyousuke’s mind blanked.
‘Seriously?! This woman’s crazier than Sakura when it comes to chasing a good laugh!’
Panicking, he grabbed Haruno’s hand.
If she actually caught Eriri’s foot, that bashful girl would absolutely die of embarrassment.
"Why are you even here?" he asked, deflecting.
"Aww, how cold! Hojou, are you not happy to see me?" Haruno pouted, every movement effortlessly charming.
"I thought you were busy. Weren’t there a bunch of parties you had to attend?"
"What party could be more important than your celebration? If my mom had known about this, she probably would've come too! I mean, you're the pride of Japan’s youth! The new symbol of the Heisei era!"
"Spare me," Kyousuke groaned. "Just watching you and Yukinoshita makes me terrified of what your mom must be like."
Meanwhile, the foot under the table kept hammering at him.
Kyousuke did his best to stay seated, holding Haruno's hand back from mischief.
As the table began to quake with every thump, he let out another tired sigh.
‘What an idiot…’
"Ahem."
This time, the cough came from Kyousuke.
He calmly placed both hands on the table—and the shaking instantly stopped.
"This table’s too small for everyone. I’ll ask the staff to bring in another."
Unfazed, wearing the kind of expression only someone with the thickest skin could pull off, Kyousuke raised his hand and requested an extra table from a passing server.
Then, smoothly, he stood up and slid into the seat between Eriri and Utaha.
He gave Eriri a light nudge with his elbow. Just as expected, she completely ignored him.
When he glanced down, he saw that the girl’s pale cheeks were already flushed a deep red—brighter, even, than the slices of tuna sashimi on the table.
The blush had spread all the way to her ears, which had turned a brilliant pomegranate red.
Normally, her translucent earlobes were practically see-through, but now they glowed like gemstones.
“Fufufu~ Looks like Sawamura-san is too worn out after all that 'exercise' earlier. She probably doesn’t have the energy to talk to you, Kyousuke,” Utaha said with barely concealed laughter.
This silly rich girl… really was kind of adorably dumb sometimes.
‘Coughing like that... was she trying to hide her actions? Or alert everyone to her secret mission?’
At Kasumigaoka’s comment, Eriri immediately looked up and glared at her, her big blue eyes brimming with indignation.
‘Kasumigaoka Utaha! Why didn’t you warn me?!’
“Oh my, looks like Sawamura-san has recovered,” Utaha teased with a smirk before taking another small sip of water.
That pristine glass of water—which up until now had seemed more ornamental than drinkable—had finally gone down a bit, as though Eriri’s angry expression was the perfect appetizer for her.
“This is all your fault!” Eriri hissed, but after glancing at her surroundings, she held herself back.
There were too many eyes on her.
Aunt Mikiko was here, Kyousuke’s younger sister too, and Kasumigaoka was still watching with that infuriating smirk.
She couldn’t blow up now—not when she was supposed to be the perfect lady.
So instead, she turned to Kyousuke and unleashed the signature technique that only she in the entire household knew how to use: the "pinch of fury."
“Yes, yes, it’s all my fault,” Kyousuke replied with a chuckle. “So? What did you call me over for?”
He played along smoothly.
Her version of a “pinch” was more like a poorly executed massage.
Instead of grabbing a tiny bit of skin and twisting, she always ended up grabbing a whole chunk of muscle.
It never actually hurt.
If anything, it felt like a weirdly affectionate squeeze.
‘Just hold it in, Eriri. Hold it in! I will endure this!!’
She clenched her teeth internally.
‘Mikiko-auntie is here, and so is Kyousuke’s sister. And Kasumigaoka, that witch. I have to maintain my image as the perfect young lady!’
Still, she couldn’t help grumbling in her head.
‘Seriously, what kind of garbage table shakes that much from just a light tap?’
‘If someone tried dancing on it, they’d probably fall flat on their butt.’
‘Tch. I’m definitely filing a complaint about this later.’
‘Actually, Yukinoshita would be perfect for that. She’s great at that kind of thing.’
Just as she thought that, Eriri finally remembered why she had caused such a scene in the first place—why she’d gone through all that trouble to summon Kyousuke.
She glanced around carefully. Once she was sure no one was watching her, she slowly retracted her leg and adjusted her posture.
“You stupid assistant! Why didn’t you come earlier?!” she scolded in a whisper.
But being Eriri, who never held a grudge for long, she quickly moved on to her next question.
She stole a glance at Yukinoshita Yukino.
The girl who had just moments ago sat motionless like one of those stone foxes at a shrine gate now looked completely flustered, desperately trying to eat whatever food Aunt Mikiko kept placing in front of her.
‘Ugh! I wanna sit next to Aunt Mikiko too!’
Though experience had taught her that skewered food wasn’t exactly “elegant,” especially for a refined girl, seeing Yukinoshita being doted on like that still sparked a twinge of envy.
“Try this one—it’s grilled fish marinated in white miso, a specialty from the Kansai region,” Kyousuke said as he placed a few small plates of grilled fish onto the table in front of Eriri and Kasumigaoka.
He could read Eriri like a book.
Sure, she often said all sorts of tsundere nonsense, but even without a decoder ring, her expressions alone gave her away.
Those blue eyes practically sparkled with longing, and the way her lips glistened ever so slightly made it obvious: I want that. I want to eat it!
“White miso? What’s different about it?” she asked quickly, pulling her gaze away while trying not to drool.
She didn’t even care if Kasumigaoka overheard the sound of her swallowing.
“Well…” Kyousuke paused thoughtfully. “Compared to the red miso used here in Kanto, white miso has more rice koji and less salt, so it tastes sweeter.”
Because Sakura was from Kyoto, Kyousuke had always paid more attention to Kansai cuisine, and naturally, the simple but delicious Saikyo-zuke was a staple in their household.
“Take a plump cut of sablefish in spring,” he continued. “Marinate it in Kyoto-style white miso, then wipe off the excess to prevent burning.
Line a grill with foil, cook it low and slow—listen to the sizzle as the fat in the skin melts and the miso sweetness soaks into the fish.
Once the flesh turns a golden brown, you’ve got Gindara Saikyo-zuke—a dish once reserved for nobles and monks during the Heian era.”
His voice was smooth and lyrical, painting vivid images of ancient times.
It was as though his words could transport you back to an inland Kyoto where people once dreamed of tasting sea fish—and went to great lengths to make it happen.
Eriri and Kasumigaoka, both accustomed to high-end restaurants and a household chef of world-class caliber, weren’t fazed by this kind of culinary storytelling.
As Sakura often said: “The wait for a dish is the most enjoyable time of all.”
By the time Kyousuke finished speaking, Eriri had already completely forgotten the earlier embarrassment.
Her eyes were fixed on the steaming golden-brown fish, and she could almost taste its delicious aroma in her mouth.
“Oho~ That’s our Hojou! You really know your stuff.”
Yukinoshita Haruno clapped her hands in admiration, her purple-tinted eyes sparkling with awe.
Kyousuke smiled politely.
Anyone would be flattered hearing praise like that.
Anyone… except him.
After all, he’d already seen through Haruno the very first time they met.
She was the complete opposite of her little sister, Yukino.
Yukino was the snow beneath your feet—pure, cold, breathtaking.
Her world was all white, all clean, untouched by filth.
Haruno was the sun in the sky—brilliant, dazzling, always shining.
She could light up everything, see through everything, including the darkest corners of people’s hearts.
That’s why she was always so well-liked—because even after glimpsing the ugliness of the world, she still smiled and played along in her own way.
But it was all fake.
The admiration in her voice, the sparkle in her eyes—it was all a performance.
Even back when she’d first asked if he was dating Miki, Kyousuke hadn’t figured out if she was just curious… or simply messing with him for fun.
Not that it mattered much.
Because Haruno was someone who never got drunk.
Whether speaking truth or nonsense, everything that came out of her mouth was calculated.
Always in control.
Every word, polished to perfection.
“Well, it can be taken a step further~”
Okudera Miki joined the conversation, picking through the condiment tray on the table.
She selected a small bottle and sprinkled some onto her own serving of Saikyo-zuke, then passed it over to Haruno.
“Waaah! The aroma really does stand out more!” Haruno took a deep breath, then let out a surprised gasp.
“Haha, right? Hojou taught me this trick,” Miki said with a proud smile, her voice brimming with quiet satisfaction.
Kyousuke looked across the table at the two older women, both elegant and composed.
A faint smile played on his lips, and he was just about to say something—when a sudden jab to his side made him wince.
He turned his head. No surprise—it was Eriri again, attacking with her elbow.
The blonde heiress tilted her chin haughtily and pointed with a subtle nod at the grilled fish in front of Haruno.
Kyousuke got the message.
He picked up one of the seasoning bottles and gave Eriri’s fish the same magical treatment as before.
Only then did Her Royal Highness lower her head in satisfaction.
She scrunched her little nose and took a deep, dramatic sniff.
‘Ahh… just as fragrant as I hoped.’
‘If only that idiot hadn’t added seasoning to Kasumigaoka Utaha’s plate too…’
“There’s actually an even better way,” Kyousuke added. “If you harvest fresh young sansho leaves—called kinome—and finely chop them over the grilled fish, you get this clean, herbal fragrance.
It’s not as numbing as the seeds, but it adds a light, spring-like freshness.”
After a pause, he added, “I’ll make it at home sometime. I still have some kinome Miki brought back from her family home.”
The princess nodded graciously, then took two enthusiastic bites of her grilled fish.
‘Hmm… still not as good as the ones Hojou makes. But of course—what else would I expect?’
“Hey, hey, look—Yukinoshita,” Eriri finally whispered after wiping her mouth.
Once again, she remembered the original reason she’d called Kyousuke over. For real this time.
“Yukinoshita?”
Kyousuke looked up and followed her gaze, only to see Yukino sitting beside his mother, looking surprisingly at ease.
The two of them were chatting warmly—smiles, laughter, everything completely natural.
