Kasumigaoka Utaha hadn't slept a wink.
Despite going to bed late the night before, her eyes snapped open at dawn—and stubbornly refused to close again.
She wanted coffee.
Real coffee.
But the canned stuff from the vending machine outside tasted like tallic regret.
So, on a whim, she tried brewing it herself.
The result?
Disastrous.
Burnt grounds. Spilled water.
A manual grinder she now had to scrub clean.
Sighing, she pulled a Fukuzawa Yukichi bill from her wallet and slid it under the untouched bag of beans in silent apology.
She gave up.
Slumping into a chair, she aimlessly scrolled her phone, only half-conscious of the ti slipping past.
By noon, the kitchen held a quiet surprise—
A al prepped by Yukima Azuma and neatly stored in the fridge, waiting to be microwaved.
She only reheated it in the late afternoon.
And as she took the first bite, she paused.
It was delicious.
Balanced. Perfectly portioned. The seasoning tailored just to her liking.
It caught her off guard.
The Yukima Azuma she rembered—
The one from three years ago—
Wasn't exactly the type to notice these kinds of details.
Back then, she'd thrown a few small tantrums over it.
Not because she needed pampering, but because it hurt when he didn't seem to try.
But Yukima Azuma... he'd always been fast to learn.
Not stubborn, not proud.
When she pointed sothing out, he'd listen—quietly, seriously—and adapt.
By the end of their relationship, she'd co to realize just how rare that was.
And now, it seed he'd only gotten better at it.
Around 1 p.m., shogi-related headlines began flooding her newsfeed.
She skimd past them at first.
But one na caught her eye—Yukima Azuma.
Her thumb hesitated. Then tapped.
Utaha didn't know much about shogi.
Most of what she did know ca from him, during quiet conversations over tea or on rainy evenings at her apartnt.
But she understood wins and losses.
Promotions and demotions.
And right there—
Yukima Azuma's na appeared under the latest promotion list.
She exhaled a quiet breath of relief.
"Good... Success is good."
But her chest felt... tight.
It wasn't just happiness.
When they'd broken up three years ago, he'd vanished from the shogi world too.
At the ti, she'd convinced herself the two events were unrelated.
But now, watching him rise again, it was hard not to wonder—
What if they were?
What if things had ended differently?
She shook the thought off and stretched, preparing to head upstairs for a nap.
But just as she was about to close the tab, a headline stopped her cold.
"A Genius Reborn After Three Years! The Shogi Queen's Passionate Confession!"
The word "Confession" blazed in bold, flaming red.
Her thumb hovered for a beat. Then tapped.
The article loaded with two images at the top.
The first showed Yukima on stage, microphone in hand, wearing his usual cool, unreadable smile.
The second—
A girl bursting through the hall doors, golden eyes sparkling, mouth open in mid-shout.
Even through the screen, the atmosphere scread drama.
The dynamic was obvious:
The aloof, intellectual genius and the fiery, devoted girl who broke past his walls.
Kasumigaoka's brow twitched.
She recognized the girl imdiately—Sainokami Ika, the current Queen of Shogi.
Blonde hair, fang-toothed grin, brimming with energy.
If it had been a romantic manga, this mont would've been the climax of a volu.
The article practically drooled over the "chemistry."
And then ca the quote.
"Hey, date ! As long as I have Azuma, nothing else matters!"
Kasumigaoka Utaha's fingers curled around her phone with an audible creak.
The rest of the article read like a schoolgirl's fever dream.
It lavished praise on Ika's passion and described her entrance as if she'd stord a battlefield for love.
Yukima Azuma's achievents barely got a few paragraphs.
And then—
Right at the very end, in the tiniest font, it noted:
"Unfortunately, Yukima 5-dan has temporarily declined."
That was it.
No elaboration. No emphasis.
And judging by the flood of "dog food" comnts below, no one had noticed—or cared.
Utaha turned off her screen and set the phone down.
Her breathing had grown heavier.
It took her three deep, asured breaths to calm down.
And when she finally stilled, she felt a dull ache—not in her chest, but sowhere lower.
A quiet, gnawing pain in her stomach.
Not physical.
Just realization.
She had no right to be upset.
If this had happened three years ago, she might've confronted him right away.
Mocked him, scolded him, accused him of having terrible taste.
Maybe even pulled him by the collar and asked who that little blonde harpy thought she was.
But now...
She had no claim.
No leverage.
No title.
Just a distant connection with no strings attached.
The bitter truth settled in like dust.
"Maybe... what hurts more than jealousy," she whispered,
"is not having the right to be jealous at all."
Just then—
Click.
The sound of a key turning in the lock.
"Tadaima."
Yukima's voice floated in from the entryway.
Kasumigaoka stood, walked toward the hall, and saw him slipping on his house slippers.
She watched for a mont. Then said softly:
"Welco ho (Okairi)."
Yukima blinked, surprised.
"I thought Senpai would be ignoring today."
She raised a brow.
"Why? Because of that little tease before you left?"
"Sothing like that."
Kasumigaoka Utaha crossed her arms, her smile cool and composed.
"As a senpai, I possess the grace to forgive my juniors' mischief."
Yukima Azuma gave her a small, amused smile.
But behind hers, a storm was still quietly brewing.
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