"The lovers entangled in bed at night, a pear tree crushes the begonia."
Kato gumi quietly repeated the poetic line in her heart.
Tonight, she had made her choice.
She was never a girl prone to dramatic declarations, nor did she wear her heart on her sleeve. But once her feelings crystallized—once she had clarity—she acted without hesitation.
Yukima Azuma's attitude earlier today had been all the answer she needed.
If being apart from him only brought her heartache, then it was ti to claim him, with courage and certainty.
Was she shy? Of course.
Was she hesitant? Only slightly.
But that shyness—that slight girlish embarrassnt—ant nothing in the face of a love that had seeped into her marrow.
And so, by the ti the dusk began to fade from the sky, she had reluctantly pushed Azuma out of her house with a warm flush in her cheeks.
She wanted to stay wrapped in his warmth, cocooned in the comfort of his presence. But she also needed space—to breathe, to co down from the high of her emotions.
The mont the door closed behind him, gumi leaned against it, exhaling slowly.
Her steps back to the living room were soft, almost dreamlike.
Traces of tears still lingered on her face, catching the dim light, while a soft pink hue refused to leave her cheeks. She was a tapestry of emotion—bashfulness blooming into joy, joy settling into contentnt, and behind it all, a quiet reluctance.
Love had co for her—and she had answered it.
As she passed the kitchen, sothing strange caught her attention.
Her brows furrowed.
"Why are two Pocky sticks missing...?"
She stepped inside, counted carefully, and confird it.
"Thirty made. Ten given to Azuma. We ate one together. That should leave nineteen..."
But there were only seventeen.
Her eyes narrowed. She turned toward her sister's room.
In that mont, her entire face lit up scarlet.
That girl...! she thought, half-exasperated, half-flustered.
With an indignant huff, she set the box of sweets down and bolted upstairs to erase any... compromising evidence.
Evening descended like a velvet curtain.
When Kato Hiromi returned ho, she was greeted by the eerie stillness of the living room—and her younger sister sitting on the sofa with an expression that could only be described as... ominously calm.
Too calm.
"Sis, were you ho this morning?" gumi asked casually.
Too casually.
Her voice was light, airy—but behind it lood a terrifying pressure, like a silent storm on the horizon.
Hiromi's survival instincts kicked in imdiately.
"Nope! Went to a class reunion super early this morning!" she blurted, waving her hands like a traffic cop.
gumi gave a vague "oh" and vanished into the kitchen.
Monts later, she returned with two plates of dinner.
"Co eat."
Hiromi hesitated.
For a brief mont, she wondered—
If she'd hesitated during that question earlier...
Would there still be dinner on the table?
Days passed.
Since the body swap between Miyamizu Mitsuha and Yukima Azuma, everything had moved along surprisingly smoothly.
Thanks to Kato gumi's unwavering support and careful coordination, there were no more unexpected incidents.
Azuma, on his part, had stayed focused. His plan—the real reason he had entered this bizarre fate-bound entanglent—was unfolding exactly as he had envisioned.
Most of his identity swap days were now spent at Suou Yuki's house.
He cooked, told stories, typed drafts, read aloud by the window while she curled up nearby.
Ti didn't race ahead.
It drifted—soft and warm, like a sunbeam stretched across a quiet afternoon.
And in that drifting ti...
The first volu of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone had been released.
Suou Yuki had published it under her na, and though there had been no explosive dia campaign or flashy advertising—
The magic of the story spoke for itself.
Readers whispered. Word spread. The fire caught.
Japan slowly caught Potter fever.
Azuma, of course, wasn't worried about instant fa. He wasn't trying to make history. He had a deadline.
He had three years.
That was enough.
Behind the scenes, the translation rights were sold, exports negotiated, and foreign publishers engaged.
But as the seventh and final week of the identity exchange began—
The na "Harry Potter" was already beginning to echo beyond Japan.
And Yukima Azuma had, quietly and without fanfare, completed the entire series.
At Suou Yuki's ho, a small stack of pages fluttered gently on the desk.
Azuma capped his pen and drew a neat circle on the final page.
"That's it," he said. "For now, the story ends here."
Yuki, no longer confined to her bed, sat beside him, leaning her head on the edge of the table.
She tilted her face toward him, her eyes soft with unspoken emotion.
It had been over a month since he arrived in her life.
And in that month—
Her chronic asthma had almost entirely healed.
She could now laugh and dance, run and twirl, without the fear of breathlessness.
But that wasn't the only change.
She had filled out.
Her once-fragile fra now had softness and strength. Her hair was shinier, her skin healthier.
Azuma's eyes—just for a second—drifted downward.
He blinked.
...Is it even possible to grow that much in just one month?
Before he could say anything, Yuki caught his gaze and grinned smugly, puffing her chest out with pride.
Azuma rolled his eyes, chuckled, and gently flicked her forehead.
"Ow! Nyan~!" she whimpered, rubbing her head dramatically.
"Stop pretending," he replied, laughing. "I barely touched you."
"Still! As my beloved onii-chan-sama, you're supposed to protect from all forms of violence!"
In retaliation, he pinched her cheek. It was soft. Warm. Resilient.
You're really healthy now, he thought, quietly relieved.
But beneath that relief...
A heavy truth lingered.
Only one week remained.
Sensing the change in his energy, Suou Yuki grew quiet.
Then, she did what she always did—changed the subject, pretending not to notice.
"Onii-chan-sama, what are you going to do with the royalties? They've really piled up, you know."
She handed him a report from the drawer.
He glanced over it. The numbers were promising—more than enough.
He set it down.
"Is the Gifu Prefecture map ready?"
She nodded and brought it out.
Azuma unfolded the map, tracing his finger carefully across the prefecture until he found it—
Itomori Town.
And beside it...
Lake Itomori.
A stunning, shimring lake carved by catastrophe—a cot fragnt from 1,200 years ago.
He circled the land surrounding it with a pen.
Then, he pushed the map toward her.
"Yuki. I need you to buy this land."
Her eyes widened slightly—but she didn't question it.
"We'll use the royalties," Azuma continued. "You have three years. If you run short, sell part of the movie rights. The rest... keep. Think of it as a gift. From your onii-chan-sama."
"Tell people it's for a resort. No construction needed. Just make sure—no one lives there."
Suou Yuki listened in complete silence.
She noted every word, every instruction.
She didn't ask why.
She didn't argue.
She simply nodded.
"Okay."
That one word carried everything—trust, duty, and farewell.
She knew this wasn't just a casual favor.
She knew Azuma wasn't just here to babysit her.
There was a reason. A mission. And now, it was almost over.
The room fell quiet.
Azuma watched her—this brave, brilliant, beautiful girl who had never questioned him even once.
She had given him her trust.
So when she finally asked...
"Onii-chan... how many days are left?"
He answered without flinching.
"Seven. No... six and a half."
Yuki nodded slowly.
Her bangs fell like a curtain, shielding her eyes. Her lips trembled just slightly.
But when she looked up again—she smiled.
A small, fragile, yet dazzling smile.
"Then... for the next six and a half days, you have to stay by my side. Take care of . That's the rule."
Azuma reached out and gently patted her head.
"My na is Yukima Azuma," he said softly. "I live in Shibuya, Tokyo."
Yuki's eyes widened.
"But I don't know a girl nad Yuki. Not yet."
He looked at her with a bittersweet smile.
"You'll have to wait. Three years. And when the ti cos—I'll recognize you again."
"Until then, don't look for ."
"But if you can wait..."
He held out his pinky.
"Three years later—let's et again."
Suou Yuki looked at him—
And without hesitation, she nodded.
"UMU~."
Her little pinky linked with his.
And in that mont, under the fading golden light of their final week together—
A promise was made.
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