Woman, your name is deceit.

A cramped, enclosed space.

The gentle ministrations of his mother.

Steaming mist hung in the air, carrying a faint fragrance that drifted past his nose...

Even someone as composed as Kiyomizu Matsudaira, whose calm surpassed that of his peers, felt a little dazed at this moment.

"Just now, Yuki told me you finally joined a school club today?"

"Yes, the Literature and Arts Club."

"Are there many girls in that club?"

"Three. One of them is Nanami."

"I see. You went because you saw Meigetsu was there, didn't you?" Maki Matsudaira smiled, softly scrubbing his back. "Having a childhood friend nearby helps ease the discomfort of entering a new environment. You really do make me worry..."

What are you talking about?

Are you going to tease your son again?

Kiyomizu turned to look at her.

He saw his mother gazing at him with genuine concern. He couldn't help but wonder: did he really need her to worry so seriously?

"Did you make any new friends at school?" Maki asked as she scrubbed.

"If we're talking about my definition of friends, not yet," Kiyomizu replied honestly.

"No friends, that's fine. But tell me, excluding teachers and your two best friends from middle school, how many people did you talk to today?" Maki asked, amused.

Kiyomizu considered carefully.

Senpai Tsukimi from the club, the class president and Suzune Sakura in home economics.

"Three!" Kiyomizu answered firmly.

"Three people?"

Maki's eyes widened in astonishment, staring at him in disbelief. After a moment, her expression softened with understanding. "It's not unforgivable to have no friends. But for you to lie to your mother about something like this, my heart aches..."

"...I didn't lie!"

"And to think it's me who forced you to lie, that makes me even sadder..." Maki sniffled, her eyes shimmering with tears. "I wonder if I'll ever live to see you start a family. Oh, Meigetsu is such a lovely girl—why don't you reconcile with her? I want her as my daughter-in-law..."

Kiyomizu looked at her expressionlessly.

Acting, keep acting—see if your son will fall for it!

Seeing his unmoved face, Maki couldn't help but reach out and rub his cheek as she used to when he was a child. "Alright, it's fine not to socialize. We don't have much money, but even if you never work, your mother can support you. If you never socialize, never work, never fall in love, just stay at home and grow old with me..."

His mother was usually strong-willed, sometimes whimsical.

But now, her voice was gentle and soft, making Kiyomizu feel his bones melt, his heart filled with love for her.

But he had a question.

Grow old together? Mother, you've used that phrase in the wrong context!

His expression—half wanting to protest, but unsure where to start—made Maki laugh. She pressed his head down, her voice cheerful: "Time to wash your hair."

Kiyomizu was forced to lower his head and close his eyes.

Maki's carefully manicured nails swept over his scalp with just the right amount of pressure.

----

After a few minutes, she freed a hand to pick up the showerhead.

"Aki, time to rinse."

"Okay."

The hot water gushed forth.

Her slender, pale fingers carefully wiped the foam from his hair.

Then came rinsing off the soap from his entire body—this comfortable yet somewhat torturous bath was finally over.

Kiyomizu put on his pajamas, his face rosy, legs trembling as he walked out.

Behind him, Maki spread out a towel, ready to soak in the leftover bathwater.

"By the way, I forgot to tell you earlier," Kiyomizu remembered something and turned back, "your son isn't completely unsociable. He's planning to go on a date with a classmate this weekend!"

Before his mother could respond, he darted away.

Inside the bathroom, Maki was stunned.

She sat in the tub, motionless, bubbles glimmering on the water's surface as if continuously bumping into each other.

After a long while, she finally reacted.

Her expression crumbled.

I was only joking, and you actually went and found someone...

"You brat, believe it or not, I'll lock you in so you can't go out..." she growled, her face dark, teeth clenched.

※

"You told me to find someone."

"I actually did, and now you're unhappy."

"Ah, woman—thy name is contradiction..."

Kiyomizu walked lightly up the stairs to his room on the second floor.

He opened the door and turned on the light.

His room was quite large, tidy and clean, with no unpleasant odors.

The floor was carpeted, the curtains pristine white, every fold straight and regular.

The bookshelf by the window was stacked neatly with books; beside it, a small round table held an Atlas globe. The few pieces of furniture highlighted a neat, refined modern woodcut aesthetic.

A keen observer might glimpse the owner's clean, orderly image and rational, calm temperament.

His desk was also by the window.

Kiyomizu sat down, focusing on his homework.

His gaze occasionally drifted outside; about ten meters away stood a typical single-family house.

That was Nanami's home.

Nanami's window faced his, separated by the yard.

Between the two houses stood a sturdy zelkova tree, which Kiyomizu often climbed to reach her room.

----

From seven to nine in the evening, he finished his homework.

Kiyomizu set down his pen, flexed his wrist; his right middle finger still faintly numb from the prolonged pressure of the pen.

He looked toward the opposite window.

Through the lush zelkova branches, the silhouette of a girl bent over her homework was projected onto the pale yellow curtain.

A tranquil night, the warm glow of a lamp, childhood friends gazing at each other across windows... No matter how you looked at it, the scene was heartwarming.

Perhaps their hearts were attuned—Nanami on the other side pulled aside her curtain and looked over.

Their eyes met across the distance.

The girl tilted her head and smiled.

Her hair, tied up, fell over her left shoulder; her fair, gentle face glowed in the light, the contours both bright and soft.

She truly had the air of a young wife.

Not that Kiyomizu had a thing for married women, but those gentle, easily-bullied wives—he didn't mind getting to know them.

Given his lack of social skills, maybe he should just marry Nanami...

Wait, no!

She hasn't agreed, so what are you thinking, you idiot!

Kiyomizu laughed at himself, waved to Nanami, then turned back, picking up "Afternoon Boat" which he was a third of the way through.

The plot was quintessential Mishima.

Noboru, orphaned young, lived alone with his mother.

He idolized Ryuji, the sailor, for his strong physique and adventurous spirit, but upon witnessing his mother’s intimacy with Ryuji, he felt shocked and humiliated... Later, Ryuji considered marrying his mother and giving up his life as a sailor.

Ryuji’s abandonment of adventure turned Noboru’s ardent admiration into disillusionment, and ultimately, he killed him with his own hands...

After his first read, Kiyomizu’s initial impression was: “A story where a man who abandons romanticism is ultimately destroyed by it.”

Some parts left him wanting more.

He was about to start reading again.

Suddenly, a pale hand pressed down on the pages, and a petite, soft body slipped in, settling lightly on Kiyomizu’s lap.

“Brother, Mishima’s aesthetics may be the pinnacle of Japanese literature, but you shouldn’t read too much of these risqué stories—they’ll hurt your eyes. Especially ones with mother complexes, those are even worse for you. Why not relax with some anime with Yuki instead…”

With that, Yukiyuki Matsudaira pulled out her tablet, opening up an anime she had prepared.

Kiyomizu glanced at the screen.

A white-haired, twin-tailed girl appeared.

It’s you, Sora Kasugano!

To think she’d show her brother this kind of anime—truly, only Yuki could pull that off!