Chapter Four

As the last stroke of warm sunlight blurred the edge of the drawing paper, Yuzuru let out a long sigh of relief, looking at the thick stack of drawings on the table. His third children's picture book, *The Story of the Pancake*, was finally complete. The delicate touch of colored pencils lingered on his fingertips, and warm images still replayed in his mind—under a lush green tree, elderly people mending clothes in the sunlight, chatting about pancakes, from the golden wheat on the field ridges to the sizzling aroma from the pan, to the children's joyful sharing of food with their dog, bird, and squirrel, and finally, the pancake that eventually reached a family in need—like a warm seed, it sprouted hope within the story.

After carefully packing and mailing the final draft, the sky outside the window was already quietly setting in the west. Yuzuru brushed the scraps of paper off his hands, only then realizing that the start of school was just around the corner, and it was time to put the shopping trip he had already arranged with Miyamoto Mina on the agenda.

After packing his small bag, Yuzuru looked at the focused Yukimura: "I'm going shopping in Tokyo and Mina to prepare things for the start of school. I might be back late." Yukimura, who was reading, looked up, a gentle smile in his eyes: "Be careful on the road."

Tokyo's shopping streets were bustling with activity, the neon lights illuminating the shops on both sides of the street as dusk settled. Yuzuru Hanyu and Mina Miyamoto strolled hand in hand through the crowd, the cheerful laughter of the girls echoing through the throng.

"Look at this butterfly amethyst hair clip, it makes your skin look so fair!" Miyamoto Mina picked up a hair clip and put it in Yuzuru's hair, her eyes full of amazement.

Yuzuru shook his head in front of the mirror, then was drawn to the cherry blossom phone charm on the shelf next to him: "This pink crystal one is so special, the cherry blossoms on it look like they're really about to fall."

The two strolled around, picking out items ranging from soft felt hats perfect for the early autumn temperature to practical notebooks, and then to couple keychains that Miyamoto Mina jokingly stuffed into their shopping basket. Before they knew it, their basket was overflowing.

As they passed a tennis equipment store, Yuzuru paused. Thinking of Yukimura, she pulled Miyamoto Mina inside, carefully selecting a soft white wristband and matching antiperspirant. Her fingertips traced the fine texture of the fabric, and a smile unconsciously curved her lips.

As night fell completely, the two headed straight to a Cantonese restaurant in Chinatown, laden with their spoils. Steaming hot shrimp dumplings, tender chicken feet, and fragrant roasted meats filled the table, washing away the day's fatigue.

After a satisfying meal, Yuzuru checked the time and realized she had already missed the last train back to Kanagawa, so she stayed overnight at Mina Miyamoto's house. After washing up, exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep instantly, forgetting even to check her phone.

Meanwhile, on the tennis courts in Kanagawa, Yukimura watched his teammates train, his fingertips repeatedly swiping across his phone screen. From sunset to the depths of night, the phone remained silent, without any new messages.

His smile grew even gentler and brighter, his fingertips lightly tapping the railing as he spoke in a voice as soft as a sigh: "Completely forgotten, it really wasn't profound enough."

Yanagi Renji quickly jotted down a line in his notebook: "90% chance of Yukimura being in a bad mood, 93% chance of the whole team having extra training." As soon as he finished speaking, Yukimura turned to Sanada Genichiro beside him, his tone inscrutable: "Everyone's training level is still not quite enough."

Genichiro Sanada frowned and said in a deep voice, "Too lax! Double the training today!"

Upon hearing this, the tennis players instantly wore bitter expressions.

On a cool night, with a gentle breeze, Yuzuru, fast asleep, felt a sudden chill and pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

The first rays of dawn had just begun to pierce through the gap in the curtains when the phone on the bedside table rang urgently, breaking the silence of the room. A slender, pale hand emerged from the soft blankets, fingertips still languid from sleep, pressed the vibrating phone on the pillow, swiped to answer, and the voice, still slightly hoarse from waking up, said: "Hello, this is Momozawa."

"Still not awake?" A gentle voice came from the other end of the phone, yet it carried a subtle but undeniable sense of pressure. "What time are you coming back? I'll come pick you up."

Yuzuru's heart jolted, and she abruptly sat up in bed, her messy hair plastered to her cheeks. Her mind raced—oh no, she had completely forgotten to text Yukimura. "Ten...ten o'clock tickets, no need to bother, I can go back by myself." She tried to sound calm, but her voice trembled.

"Hehe, no way." The man's gentle laughter carried an undeniable firmness. "Remember to call me when you check your ticket."

"Oh..." Yuzuru replied listlessly, his face falling as soon as he hung up the phone.

"You're such a henpecked husband, Yuzuru!" A teasing chuckle came from the side. Miyamoto Mina rested her chin on her hand, her eyes full of amusement. Yuzuru turned his head and met his friend's mischievous gaze. He could only smile wryly and shrug his shoulders: "I have no choice but to pack my things and go back now."

The train slowly pulled into the station, carrying the cool air of autumn. Yuzuru, carrying two large shopping bags, had just stepped out of the carriage when he caught sight of a familiar figure standing not far away. A tall, straight back, a neatly pressed long black wool coat, sunlight falling on the tips of his iris-purple hair, gilding them with a soft golden edge. "Yukimura?" she tentatively asked.

The man slowly turned around, a gentle smile playing on his lips, but a subtle, unreadable emotion lurking in his eyes. He took the shopping bag from Yuzuru's hand and asked slowly, "Did you have fun, Momozawa?"

"It's...it's alright." Yuzuru's eyes flickered, and she scratched her head awkwardly. A wave of guilt surged up in her heart, almost overwhelming her.

Yukimura didn't ask any more questions, but simply took her hand naturally. His palm was large and warm, with calluses from years of holding a tennis racket; the touch was rough but exceptionally reassuring. Yuzuru was led by him out of the platform, and they walked home in silence.

As soon as I stepped into the house, the entryway door clicked shut, cutting off all outside noise.

The next second, Yuzuru was slammed against the door by a sudden force, his back hitting the cold wood and sending a shiver through him.

Her hands were forcefully lifted and pressed above her head, and her lips were instantly enveloped by a burning breath as a possessive kiss landed on her.

A sweet peach scent wafted towards her, exactly like the scent of her usual shower gel, but at this moment it became exceptionally strong, with a fierce and aggressive quality that left her nowhere to hide.

Unlike his usual tenderness, this kiss was urgent and punitive, lingering and lingering, almost stealing her breath away.

Yuzuru was forced to look up, enduring this sudden surge of love, his mind blank.

"Yukimura... um... Yukimura..." she struggled indistinctly, her voice drowned out between her intertwined lips.

Their lips were briefly separated, their faces almost touching, noses brushing together, their warm breaths mingling.

A deep, intense desire churned in Yukimura's eyes, mixed with a hint of hurt at being ignored. He stared into her wet eyes, his voice hoarse: "You don't remember me at all, Momozawa. You're still not familiar enough with me, Momozawa."

Yuzuru opened her mouth, about to explain, when her lips were sealed again. This kiss was even more intense, like a flood bursting its banks, swallowing up all her words.

Yukimura carried her, and the two stumbled from the entrance hall to the living room, where they both fell onto the soft carpet and then onto the sofa.

Yuzuru's lips were sucked until they turned an alluring crimson, and his usually clear and lively doe eyes were now covered with a layer of mist, carrying a hint of confusion and helplessness.

Yukimura's kisses slowly moved down, from his lips to his cheeks, then to the tip of his small nose, and down his neck, leaving a series of burning marks.

His large, burning hands slowly slipped inside her clothes, gently yet firmly enveloping her softness through the thin fabric.

Yuzuru shuddered, a fine shiver spreading from her spine to every part of her body. She bit her lip, her voice trembling as if she were about to cry: "Yukimura... I was wrong..."

Yukimura's movements suddenly stopped, and he slightly raised his head from her neck, his disordered breathing gradually becoming steady.

He didn't continue, but instead placed soft, desireless kisses on the side of her neck, as if soothing a frightened little animal.

Then, he tightened his arms and held her tightly in his embrace, with such force that it seemed he wanted to meld her into his very bones.

Only the sound of their intertwined breathing filled the living room. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting dappled shadows on the carpet, creating a quiet and tender atmosphere.

Morning light streamed through the French windows of the new house, flowing across the floor like a gentle golden river. Yuzuru, sleeves rolled up, stood on tiptoe wiping dust from the top shelf of the bookshelf, his hair swaying gently with the movement, a tiny speck of dust clinging to the tip of his nose.

Yukimura squatted in the corner of the living room, carefully tidying up the scattered clutter, his fingertips tracing faint marks on the wooden floor.

"Once the flowerbeds in the yard are tidied up, new buds will sprout in the spring." Yukimura straightened up, dusted off his hands, and looked at the barren flowerbeds outside the window, his eyes filled with anticipation.

Yuzuru nodded and put down the rag: "Okay, this is a good opportunity to prune the dead branches and loosen the soil."

The two walked into the courtyard side by side, the spring breeze carrying a faint scent of grass and trees.

Yuzuru held gardening shears, carefully trimming the withered branches, while Yukimura squatted beside him, turning over the soil. Sunlight fell on his gentle profile, even his eyelashes seemed to be tinged with warmth. After some time, Yuzuru straightened up, noticed a clod of dirt on Yukimura's nose, and couldn't help but chuckle, "You've got dirt on your face."

She took a tissue, tiptoed, and gently leaned closer. Her fingertips, slightly cool to the touch, softly wiped his cheek, her movements as gentle as if she were touching a fragile treasure.

Yukimura lowered his eyes slightly, his gaze falling on her serious expression, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

“You too.” He grasped her wrist, his voice low and gentle. Yuzuru blinked, then raised his hand to touch his face in confusion: “No way?”

Yukimura didn't speak, but simply raised his hand and gently rubbed her cheek with his fingertips, the tips still damp from the freshly turned soil. "Now we have it."

He chuckled softly, a sly glint in his eyes. Yuzuru paused, then reacted, glaring at him angrily: "Ah, Yukimura!"

She reached out to tickle him, and Yukimura dodged easily. The two chased each other playfully in the yard, their laughter carried away by the wind. When they had had enough, they looked at each other and smiled, their faces covered in dirt, looking a little disheveled, yet incredibly heartwarming.

Back inside, the two went into the bathroom to wash up. The warm water washed away their fatigue and dust, and the person in the mirror smiled, unable to hide their joy.

Two days before the start of the school term, the weather was exceptionally sunny. Yuzuru and Yukimura, carrying carefully prepared gifts, went to the Momozawa residence first. As soon as they entered, they were warmly welcomed by the elders, and the table was already filled with Yuzuru's favorite snacks.

"Ayu, how have you been these past few days?" Her mother held her hand, looking her over carefully, her eyes full of affection. Yukimura sat chatting with his father, his words gentle and his manners proper, earning him the affection of the elders.

The next day, the two went to the Yukimura residence again. Yukimura's grandmother held Yuzuru's hand, giving her a long, detailed reminder about things to do after school started, and also handed her a large bag of handmade wagashi (Japanese sweets). "Oichi, take good care of Yuzuru," the grandmother said, patting Yukimura's shoulder earnestly. Yukimura smiled and replied, "Don't worry, Grandmother, I will."

The warm hospitality of both families, like the gentle spring sun, dispelled all their fatigue. As they left, the setting sun cast long shadows. Yuzuru held Yukimura's hand, feeling the warmth of his touch on his fingertips, and felt a deep sense of peace.

The holiday quietly came to an end, and the two walked side by side on their way home. The evening breeze blew gently, and the second semester of their first year of high school was about to begin.