Just as Kana Ikeda was congratulating herself, Kuro Amae called another tile with ease, putting the tiles back in their original order.
"Pon." Kuro's voice rang out softly, like a snowflake landing on a scorching iron plate.
As the call was completed, the tiles in the wall visibly returned to their original arrangement. The crucial tile Kana had shifted now lay quietly at the very end, as though it had never been moved.
That familiar feeling of suffocation struck again, more fiercely than it had the year before.
Kana clutched her chest. A ragged wheeze escaped her throat as the table began to spin before her eyes. Kuro's smiling face blurred, turning into a dark sea with no bottom in sight.
She felt as though she'd returned to last year's final. No matter how hard she struggled, she couldn't escape her opponent's control. All her efforts were like stones thrown into the ocean, unable to stir even the slightest ripple.
Cold despair crept up her spine, turning her fingertips purple. All she could do was watch Kuro's rabbit-ear braids sway before her eyes like the scythe of the grim reaper.
At that moment, Tsuruga Academy's captain—also a rather intelligent player—realized what was happening.
She chose to discard a tile that would deal in to either Saki Miyanaga or Kana, hoping to stop Kuro's last-tile draw in the final round, just as she had once stopped Saki's rinshan kaihou.
But the moment the tile landed, no one called a win.
Kuro drew the final tile—
"Tsumo. Haitei raoyue."
And that wasn't all.
Kana's gaze was fixed on Kuro's hand. Her pupils shrank with terror, as though a bolt of lightning had exploded inside her skull.
A terrible thought suddenly flashed through her mind: if she hadn't made that clever-looking kan, the tiles would never have been reordered, and Kuro would never have been able to complete her haitei raoyue hand.
In other words, she had handed the key to victory to her opponent with her own hands. Every move she made had pushed Kuro precisely toward the winning tile.
Refusing to believe it, Kana turned over the tiles—and discovered that if she had called pon instead of kan, Kuro wouldn't have won with haitei raoyue.
Deep regret welled up inside her. She realized how badly she had answered the choice before her, allowing Kuro to win with haitei raoyue once again.
That realization seared into Kana's heart like a red-hot iron, leaving her instantly cold all over.
She jerked her head up and looked at Kuro's innocent smile. The rabbit-ear ornaments in her hair swayed gently, but to Kana they no longer looked cute. They seemed like a noose woven from despair.
Deep regret swept over Kana like a tide, engulfing her in an instant.
Kō Kageyama had naturally taken in every detail of Kana's anguished expression.
His long fingers tapped absently against his knee, a trace of understanding flashing in his dark eyes.
As someone who knew Kuro well, he understood better than anyone the truth behind what seemed like a coincidence. This wasn't a matter of making the wrong choice. It was a trap Kuro had laid long ago, the clearest display of her chilling ability to control the game.
She was always like this, deliberately leaving subtle openings in the game to lure her opponents, step by step, into the trap she had carefully woven.
She made them suffer not only the loss, but also the endless pain of knowing they had misjudged the situation, sinking deeper and deeper into a mire of self-blame.
Kō watched Kuro sneak a wink toward the camera. The brief glint of mischief in her eyes made him sigh helplessly.
His cousin had never been satisfied with a simple victory. What she wanted was to shatter her opponents' will completely.
Extra—A Day with Kuro Amae
(A little interlude with some sweet moments to help the story along.)
Morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting dappled shadows across the tatami.
Kuro was curled up in Kō's arms, her long yellow hair strewn messily across the pillow like a bundle of unraveled golden threads.
Her eyelashes were long, and now they fluttered faintly. Her breathing, still lazy from sleep, fell evenly against the hollow of Kō's neck.
"Cousin..." she mumbled, rolling over. Her little hand unconsciously caught the collar of his pajamas, like a kitten reluctant to leave a warm spot.
Kō looked down at her, his dark eyes full of helpless, indulgent amusement.
He gently brushed the loose hair from her forehead. When his fingertips touched her warm skin, she suddenly opened her eyes.
Her blue eyes were as clear as gems submerged in water in the morning light. After blinking for a few seconds, she suddenly smiled, looped her arms around Kō's neck, and buried her face against his chest, nuzzling him.
"Good morning, Cousin." Her voice was hoarse with sleep, but sweet enough to make one's teeth ache.
Kō patted her back helplessly. "If you don't get up soon, Tōka will come knocking."
"No way." Kuro tightened her arms around him in a shameless display of stubbornness. "Cousin promised to watch manga with me last night, but then..."
She deliberately let her voice trail off, a sly glint in her eyes.
The tips of Kō's ears turned faintly red.
Fragments of the previous night came back to him. She had been wearing cute rabbit pajamas, sitting on his lap as she read manga. Now and then her fingers brushed the back of his hand, and her hair carried the sweet scent of shampoo.
Somehow, the manga had ended up on the floor. When she tilted her face up to kiss him, her eyelashes had brushed his cheek like a butterfly's wings.
"Let's get up and have breakfast." He cleared his throat, trying to change the subject, but Kuro pressed a hand to his shoulder.
She propped herself up, her hair falling over half her face, but her eyes shone brightly.
"Cousin's blushing." She leaned closer, her nose almost touching his, delight in her voice at having caught him out.
Kō took hold of her restless hand, his fingertips brushing the red mark on her wrist—the trace of how he had held her too tightly the night before.
Kuro noticed his gaze, lowered her head, and hid her face behind her hair. "It hurts..." she whispered.
His heart softened at once. He took her wrist and blew gently on it. "I'm sorry."
"I was kidding." Kuro suddenly burst out laughing, pulled her hand back, and pinched his cheek. "Cousin's so easy to fool."
By the time they finally dragged themselves out of bed, it was nearly noon.
In the dining room, Tōka was every inch the young lady. She immediately noticed the unusually close atmosphere between the two of them. "You two could at least try to be a little more discreet..."
Tōka felt helpless about the way Kō and Kuro made no effort to hide how close they were, despite never defining their relationship. Since she and Kō weren't exactly innocent either, all she could do was feel exasperated and let them be.
Kuro stuck out her tongue, pulled Kō down into a seat beside her, and picked up a piece of cake to pop into his mouth.
"Cousin, will you go shopping with me this afternoon?" She tugged on his arm, eyes shining. Kō saw how eager she was and nodded.
The afternoon sun was lovely. Kuro held Kō's hand as they walked down the street, her long golden hair floating in the breeze.
When she spotted a cotton-candy stall, her eyes immediately lit up, and she pulled him over.
"Strawberry, please!" she told the vendor, her profile looking especially soft in the sunlight.
Watching her lick the cotton candy, Kō suddenly felt that moments like this were wonderful.
There was no sharp intensity from the mahjong table, no suffocating pressure. She was simply a sixteen-year-old girl who could be happy about cotton candy, sleep in, and act spoiled.
After spending the day wandering without buying anything practical, they were on their way home when Kuro suddenly stopped and looked up at Kō.
"Cousin..." she said softly. "One last question for today. When you play mahjong with me, do you really not think I'm scary?"
Kō paused, then tightened his grip on her hand. "Why do you ask?"
"Everyone says I'm like a monster at the mahjong table." She lowered her head, her voice muffled. "Even Kana and the others are afraid of me."
Kō crouched down so he could look her in the eye. "To me, you're just Kuro."
Kuro stared at him for a moment, then threw herself into his arms without saying a word, burying her face against his chest.
She said nothing, yet her silence spoke volumes.
The setting sun stretched their shadows long across the ground. The wind rustled through the leaves.
Kō held her close and gently patted her back.
He knew how lonely she felt inside, and how she used her sharp-edged exterior to protect herself.
All he could do was stay by her side and let her know that whether she was the demon king of the mahjong table or a girl who liked to act spoiled, he would be there for her.
This was why Kō later mistakenly thought his words had changed Kuro in some way. When he saw her during the prefectural final, her behavior shocked him.
By the time they got home that day, Kuro had perked up again.
The two of them decided to keep watching the movie.
Kuro happened to taste a particularly delicious strawberry and wanted to share it with Kō.
But Kō accidentally brushed his tongue against her fingertip, and they both froze.
The air in the room suddenly seemed to grow thick.
Kō looked at her face, so close to his, and remembered their kiss that morning. His throat bobbed.
Kuro looked back at him, her breathing gradually quickening.
The sweet scent of strawberries still lingered in the air. Kuro's fingertip remained frozen between them. The place he had touched seemed to spark, a little warmth spreading over her skin.
She reflexively tried to pull her hand back, but Kō gently caught her wrist.
His fingertips were slightly calloused. He brushed them over the finger that had been stained with strawberry juice, his dark eyes shining in the dim light.
The movie flickered on the television, its shifting light falling across the bridge of his nose and leaving a faint, intimate shadow.
"There's still a little strawberry juice," he murmured, his voice low and slightly hoarse. His warm breath brushed her fingertip.
Kuro's heartbeat suddenly stumbled, like a strawberry candy tumbling in a washing machine. Even her breathing seemed to turn sweet and cloying.
She watched as Kō leaned down and gently licked her fingertip—not with the accidental touch from before, but slowly and deliberately.
The sweetness of the strawberry mingled with the warmth of his lips, and a faint ticklish sensation spread through her.
Kuro trembled and let out a tiny sound, like a kitten whose tail had been stepped on.
She tried to pull her hand away, but he held her wrist more firmly, then slipped his other arm around her waist and drew her into his embrace.
"Cousin..." Her voice trembled. Her fingers curled, accidentally brushing the corner of his mouth.
Kō followed the movement and gently kissed her finger. The warm sensation made Kuro's back stiffen. Her yellow hair fell forward, hiding her flushed cheeks, though it couldn't conceal the redness at her ears.
Extra—A Day with Kuro Amae (Part Two)
Kō followed the movement and gently kissed her finger. The warm sensation made Kuro's back stiffen. Her yellow hair fell forward, hiding her flushed cheeks, though it couldn't conceal the redness at her ears.
The movie continued playing on the television. Its dialogue drifted over in fragments, but neither of them could focus on it.
When Kō let go of her hand, her fingers were damp and glistening.
He watched her flustered expression, a trace of amusement flashing through his dark eyes. Leaning close to her ear, he murmured, "Sweet."
His warm breath brushed her ear. Kuro suddenly looked up and bumped into his chest.
Her nose grazed his collarbone, carrying the clean scent of body wash mingled with the sweetness of strawberries. The combination made her head spin.
She could clearly hear his heartbeat, steady and strong, like a drum beating against her heart.
"I want some too," she suddenly said, her voice a little nasal. She looped her arms around his neck, tilted her head up, and kissed him.
Kō's hand moved to her waist, then paused. Kuro trembled slightly at his closeness but didn't pull away.
Her kiss tasted of strawberries and carried a clumsy urgency, like a hungry little animal eager to share his breath.
The television suddenly flashed white, illuminating Kuro's shoulder strap where it had slipped slightly.
Kō lifted her onto the carpet. Their hair mingled as he leaned close and kissed her forehead and cheek.
Kuro slid her fingers into his dark hair, unconsciously tightening them until faint red marks appeared on the back of his neck.
"Cousin..." she murmured sleepily, her skirt falling around her knees and revealing her pale legs.
Kō kissed her hair and, hearing her soft breath, chuckled. "Are you scared now?"
Kuro bit his shoulder in protest, but not hard enough to hurt him.
"I'm not scared." As she said it, she reached to straighten his shirt, her fingers trembling so much that she fumbled with the buttons.
Kō gently covered her hand and helped her straighten them one by one, the lines of his collarbones clear in the light.
Then Kō pressed a gentle kiss to Kuro's forehead.
Her skin was warm, and the faint bluish veins beneath it showed through as her breathing quickened.
He brushed a kiss against her cheek, leaving a faint flush, as though marking the moment with a quiet promise.
Kuro's fingers clutched the back of his shirt, wrinkling the cotton fabric.
She leaned back against the carpet, her golden hair spread out like spilled sunlight. Its ends brushed Kō's hand, bringing a faint tickle.
"Cousin..." Her voice sounded close to tears, though she wasn't really crying. The final syllable stretched out like a kitten begging for attention.
Kō lifted his head, his dark eyes full of tenderness.
He brushed the damp strands of hair from her forehead, his fingers passing over the corners of her eyes, faintly reddened with emotion.
Kuro's eyelashes glistened, dotted with tiny beads of moisture like butterfly wings covered in morning dew.
Before you continue