Nodoka hugged Etopen to her stomach as she lay in bed, the soft weight of the plush toy pressing comfortingly against her chest. The light from her phone illuminated her face, casting long shadows on the ceiling of the quiet room. Phone pressed to her ear. Saki had just finished praising and congratulating her for the win.
"Really, you should have called, Miyanaga-san," she said, her tone gentle but laced with a hint of teasing. A small smile tugged at her lips, and even through the distance, she could almost feel the warmth of Saki's presence on the other end. It's strange, Nodoka thought, I haven't known her for very long, yet...
Saki's voice came through the speaker, just as soft but tinged with uncertainty. "But I didn't want to disturb you and your teammates, Haramura-san."
Nodoka's heart fluttered at the familiar way Saki addressed her, formal as always, yet somehow so intimate. She shifted in bed, her fingers absentmindedly stroking the worn fabric of Etopen, pondering her response.
"You wouldn't be disturbing me," Nodoka said quietly, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. There was a pause, as if she were carefully choosing her next words. "If anything... I think it would have made me happy."
There was a moment of silence on the line, the kind that wasn't uncomfortable but rather filled with unspoken thoughts. Nodoka closed her eyes, letting her mind wander. She had wanted to hear Saki's voice earlier, had longed for the familiar calm it brought her. I kept thinking of her during the match. Despite the noise and chaos of her team's victory, there was always something grounding about Saki's presence—even if it was just over the phone.
Saki's response was hesitant, as if she were weighing her words before speaking. "I just thought... you should celebrate with your team. You worked so hard for this win, Haramura-san."
Nodoka bit her lip. "I wouldn't have won the match without you." Her voice was softer, laden with emotion. It's true, she thought. If it weren't for her support... She clutched Etopen tighter, drawing comfort from the familiar plush, though her thoughts were far from the toy in her arms.
Why is it so hard to say what I'm really feeling? Her grip tightened slightly on Etopen. Every time they spoke, there was a quiet undercurrent, a shared understanding that remained unspoken. Yet here they were, skirting around the edges, never quite touching the truth.
"Maybe next time," Saki said after a long pause, her voice softer now, more vulnerable. "I'll call you... if you really want me to."
Nodoka smiled, her heart-warming at the thought. "I'd like that."
Another silence fell between them, but this time it was different—less about hesitation and more about comfort. Nodoka shifted again, curling up in bed, feeling the weight of the day settle in her limbs. She didn't need to say anything more, and neither did Saki. Sometimes, words weren't necessary between them.
But still, there was a part of her that longed to say more, but Nodoka have no idea what but she felt like it would cross an invisible line they always seemed to dance around. Nodoka sighed softly, her fingers brushing over Etopen, thinking of all the things left unsaid.
"I was thinking of what you said during the game, Miyanaga-san," Nodoka finally whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with sincerity. "Did you know that? I was behind and I felt myself spiralling down, but because of you... so Miyanaga-san, don't hesitate to call me. Ever."
There was a soft intake of breath on the other end of the line, and for a moment, Nodoka wondered if she had said too much. She waited, heart beating a little faster as she listened to the faint rustling sound of Saki shifting on the other end. The silence stretched on just long enough to make Nodoka feel the weight of her words.
Then, Saki's voice came, quiet but steady. "I was only saying the truth... but I'm glad my words meant that much to you, Haramura-san."
Nodoka closed her eyes, the vulnerability in Saki's tone making her chest tighten. She doesn't realize... Of course, Saki would be so unaware of the impact she had to her; we haven't known each other for too long what do I expect? She downplayed her importance, even though, to Nodoka, she was the one who made everything feel... right.
"They did," Nodoka replied softly, her hand still clutching Etopen, fingers brushing over its well-worn arms. "I don't know how to explain it, but...I hope you won't think I'm weird but I..." Nodoka paused hesitating on her words.
"I would never think of you as weird, Haramura-san." Saki tried to reassure Nodoka.
Nodoka's heart skipped a beat at Saki's reassuring words. She took a deep breath, finding the courage to continue.
"It's just during the game... whenever I think about you, I feel this sense of… calm and clarity. It's like you have this way of grounding me and I'm not really sure how to describe it, but I hope you understand what I mean." Nodoka said softly, cheeks turning crimson.
There was a moment of silence from Saki, and Nodoka could almost picture her on the other end, processing the confession.
"I think I understand," Saki finally said, her voice gentle and sincere. "After all, …I found myself…thinking of you…Haramura-san," Saki said shyly.
Then suddenly before Nodoka can interject, Saki continued speaking seemingly trying to muster some courage. "Haramura-san! When you come here for the tournament…"
"Yes?" Nodoka urged the brunette to continue.
"…If you are open to it, can I meet with you? Outside the tournament, I mean.?" Saki said, flustered.
Nodoka blinked, surprised by Saki's sudden request. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt a warmth spread through her chest. She sat up slightly, holding Etopen closer, as if it could help ground her in the moment.
"Of course," Nodoka replied, her voice soft but filled with sincerity. "I'd like that very much."
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, as if Saki was gathering her thoughts again. Nodoka could almost picture her blushing, the same way she did when she got flustered when the cherry blossoms were blooming.
"I-I was thinking..." Saki stammered, her voice hesitant but determined. "Since we'll both be in Tokyo, maybe we could... explore the city together? I know we'll be busy with the tournament, but… I'd love to spend some time with you, outside of all that."
Nodoka's heart raced at the thought. It wasn't just the idea of spending time together, but the fact that Saki had mustered the courage to ask. It felt significant, like they were both stepping into something more meaningful, something neither of them had fully acknowledged yet.
"That sounds perfect," Nodoka said, a soft smile forming on her lips. "I was actually hoping we could do something like that. Maybe visit a café or walk around a bit… It'll be nice to relax together."
There was a gentle laugh from Saki on the other end, one that made Nodoka's heart flutter. "I'm looking forward to it. And… thank you, Haramura-san. For everything."
Nodoka's smile widened. "You don't have to thank me, Miyanaga-san. I feel the same way." She hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of her next words. "And… I'm really happy you asked."
"We'll have fun, I promise," Nodoka added softly, feeling the excitement and warmth of Saki's request lingering in the air between them.
Saki's voice was softer now, more relaxed. "I believe you."
Nodoka felt her heart swell at the sincerity in Saki's tone. There was something undeniably special in the simplicity of their connection—unspoken yet profound.
Nodoka settled back against her pillows, feeling the warmth of their conversation wash over her. There was something so easy and yet so thrilling about talking with Saki like this, as if the words just flowed naturally between them.
"This time," Nodoka began, her voice soft but filled with playful determination, "I'll be the one to watch your match. I can't wait to cheer you on."
Saki's voice came through with a gentle laugh, a sound that sent a flutter through Nodoka's chest. "Thank you, Haramura-san. I'll do my best."
A teasing smile tugged at Nodoka's lips as she thought of something else. "That is, if you even get to play. Your sister seems to be ending the match pretty quickly at the vanguard position."
There was a soft, shy laugh from Saki on the other end of the line, and Nodoka could almost picture the blush spreading across her face. "She does tend to make things… easy for the rest of us," Saki admitted with a nervous chuckle. "But don't worry, I'll be sure to play tomorrow."
Nodoka grinned, feeling the affection in Saki's words. The idea of seeing her play sent a thrill of anticipation through her. "I'm holding you to that, Miyanaga-san," she said, her tone teasing but sincere.
"I promise," Saki replied, her voice soft but filled with warmth.
Nodoka's chest tightened at the sincerity in Saki's words. She felt a wave of warmth and affection wash over her, a feeling that seemed to grow with every passing moment. I have to catch myself; I know Saki said she won't think I'm weird but… Nodoka stopped herself from finishing the thought, afraid on what she'll find out.
"Goodnight, Miyanaga-san," Nodoka whispered, her voice tender.
"Goodnight, Haramura-san," Saki replied, her voice soft but filled with warmth.
As the call ended, Nodoka lay back down, clutching Etopen to her chest. The gentle glow of her phone dimmed, but the warmth from their conversation lingered, filling her with a quiet sense of anticipation. There was something about the way Saki had spoken, the vulnerability in her voice, that made Nodoka's heart race with a mixture of excitement and curiosity.
Teru knocked softly on the door to Saki's room, the sound barely audible in the quiet hallway. She waited a moment, hearing the faint rustle of movement inside, before the door opened to reveal her younger sister, Saki. The light from inside the room bathed Saki's face in a warm glow, her eyes still soft from the conversation she had just ended.
"Onee-chan?" Saki blinked in surprise, stepping aside to let her in.
Teru entered, her expression calm but with a hint of something Saki couldn't quite place. She glanced briefly at the small table by the bed where Saki's phone still lay, its screen dark, before turning her attention fully to her sister.
"I need to talk to you about tomorrow," Teru said, her voice low but serious.
Saki's brows furrowed in confusion, her earlier conversation with Nodoka still lingering in her thoughts. "About the finals?"
Teru nodded, stepping closer. "Coach Kaise's plan... if you don't like it… Saki if you don't want to do it then, you don't have to. I can make sure the match doesn't reach you."
Saki's eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and concern crossing her face. "Onee-chan?"
Teru's gaze softened as she looked at her sister. There was something uncharacteristically gentle about the way she spoke now, as if she were trying to protect Saki from something. "I mean, if you're not comfortable, I'll finish things early. Just say the word and I will take care of everything."
Saki's heart clenched at her sister's words. She could feel the weight of Teru's concern, but it also reminded her of something else—her own responsibilities.
"I... I appreciate that, Onee-chan," Saki began, her voice soft but firm. "But I can't let you do that. Afterall, I am Shiraitodai's captain."
Teru's eyes flickered, a brief flash of emotion crossing her face before she quickly masked it. She crossed her arms, her tone still measured but tinged with worry. "I know you are. But if this strategy doesn't feel right to you—"
Saki met her sister's gaze, her voice steady but filled with a quiet resignation. "It's my role, Onee-chan. I have to do it, even if I don't really want to." She felt the weight of the words as she said them, a heaviness settling in her chest. There was no room for hesitation in her position—not as Shiraitodai's captain. "It's for the team."
Teru studied her, eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing the sincerity behind Saki's resolve. The room filled with a quiet tension; the air thick with unspoken emotions. After what felt like an eternity, Teru sighed, her posture relaxing just a bit, though the worry in her eyes remained.
"If you're sure," Teru said softly, her tone resigned but supportive. "Then I'll respect your decision. But make sure you're okay. That's the most important thing."
Saki smiled faintly, feeling both grateful for her sister's understanding and burdened by the responsibility she couldn't avoid. "Thank you, Onee-chan... for being there for me."
Teru hesitated for a moment, as if there was more she wanted to say but couldn't quite bring herself to voice. Finally, she reached out, resting a hand on Saki's shoulder, her touch gentle but firm. In that simple gesture, Saki could feel everything Teru couldn't say aloud—the concern, the unspoken love, the silent promise of protection. Saki's heart swelled, understanding just how much Teru cared for her.
As Teru turned to leave, Saki watched her sister's back, her throat tightening with a wave of emotion. Just before Teru reached the door, Saki found her voice again, soft but filled with meaning. "Onee-chan... thank you. For looking out for me."
Teru paused with her hand on the door handle, her back still turned. For a moment, she didn't move, and Saki wondered if her words had truly reached her. Then, after a beat, Teru nodded, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke. "Always."
With that, Teru left, the door clicking softly behind her. The room felt quieter now, more still, but the warmth of their conversation lingered, filling the space with a sense of comfort Saki hadn't expected.
She glanced at her phone again, her thoughts briefly returning to her earlier conversation with Nodoka. Saki felt that so much had been left unsaid between them. But unlike her sister, with Nodoka, the unspoken words carried a different weight. They weren't just about support or worry; they were about something deeper, something Saki didn't fully understand yet.
Saki's fingers brushed over the phone's screen, her heart tightening with an inexplicable fear. What if Nodoka came to see her differently after tomorrow's match? What if the pressure of the finals—or the choices she'd make as captain—changed the way Nodoka treat her?
"I hope you won't come to hate me," Saki thought, a quiet, almost desperate plea she couldn't bring herself to voice aloud. She sighed, her mind swirling with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty.
Tomorrow would be a new day—a new challenge. And despite the unspoken fears that lingered in her heart, Saki knew she couldn't shy away from what lay ahead.
The next day, after the classes, the Kiyosumi High School Mahjong Club gathered in their club room as usual. The room was filled with the familiar sounds of shuffling tiles and animated chatter.
Hisa was initially planning to take everyone for a pool trip but she opted to move their outing. I don't think Nodoka will be going anywhere far from the television today, Hisa thought to herself.
Hisa pushed Kyoutaro to bring in a television from the student council office. The bulky set now stood in the corner of the room. Kyoutaro can be seen lying down on the floor, exhausted from lifting the old television.
The West Tokyo's Shiraitodai Prefectural Final actually already started. They had missed the match from Vanguard to Vice- Captain given that they had classes. Well you don't care about that do you, Nodoka? Hisa looked at the pink-haired girl with a slight smirk on her lips.
The said girl was perched on one of the chairs with a clear view of the TV, she looked both excited and nervous. Amazingly, she even put Etopen out and is clutching on the said toy. She must have been worried that she missed the match.
Mako, Yuuki, and Maho and took that moment to open the door, making it in time. Yuuki excitedly sat on a mahjong chair and spun it,
Maho while the youngest is much more mature than Yuuki and greeted everyone before saying, "Mako-senpai brought us food from the Rooftop Café."
Yuuki chimed in, "She didn't make any tacos, djey!"
Mako replied flatly, "We don't make tacos," then turned to Hisa. "I brought some katsu sandwiches."
Hisa's eyes lit up at the mention of food. "You're the best, Mako." Her attention shifted entirely to the prospect of enjoying the delicious sandwiches.
"It's starting soon, djey!" Yuuki announced, already grabbing some of the sandwiches Mako had laid out.
Mako shook her head to Yuuki's antics. She poured a cup of tea, wondering who made it. Probably Nodoka, no way Buchou would do something when she could 'delegate' it. Mako smiled wryly at the thought.
The program had shifted to live coverage of the West Tokyo Prefectural Finals, showing the Shiraitodai team's captain taking her place at the table. The camera zoomed in on Miyanaga Saki as she sat at the table. She seemed timid—her shoulders slightly hunched, her expression soft, and her steps measured. In fact, she looked like she'd rather be anywhere than play at the moment. It was the same meek presence she always projected before a match.
But once the game began, that fragile image shattered. The first few tiles laid down told a different story. To say it was a slaughter was putting it mildly—it was a methodical, cold, and relentless dismantling of her opponents. It's ruthless, Hisa thought. Saki didn't just play to win; she played to dominate with no room for retaliation. Each discarded tile by her opponents felt like an offering to the inevitable storm Saki was about to unleash.
She could have ended the match much sooner—there were plenty of chances, Hisa thought. Her first hands alone were enough to secure a comfortable lead, but instead of finishing it quickly, she kept her foot on the pedal and kept going for dealer repeats. Saki continued her assault with calculated intent, almost as if she was testing her limits or perhaps sending a message to anyone watching.
Hisa, sitting in the Kiyosumi High School Mahjong Club room, couldn't believe her eyes. She had known Miyanaga Saki was talented—her reputation preceded her—but seeing this level of dominance firsthand was something else entirely. Hisa's hand subconsciously tightened around the sandwich she was holding, completely forgotten as her eyes stayed glued to the screen. It is cruel.
The final blow came in the form of a Kazoe Yakuman and all three of Saki's opponents—were dropped into the negatives, their points wiped away in one fell swoop. The sheer magnitude of Saki's play left the other teams in complete disarray. The match was over, and it wasn't even close.
The commentators, who had been trying to keep up with the rapid pace of Saki's onslaught, were now practically tripping over their words in awe. "Incredible!" one of them exclaimed. "Miyanaga Saki—unbelievable, she gave us a show! This might be the most brutal display we've seen!" Another chimed in, "And to think, she's still only a first-year. With her older sister, Miyanaga Teru, already dominating at Shiraitodai, it seems like the Miyanaga name is synonymous with destruction on the mahjong table."
The commentators continued to heap praise upon Saki, one even going as far as to suggest that she was perhaps the scariest of the national-class monsters, second only to her sister. "It's no wonder she and Teru are considered two of the greatest players of their generation. With this kind of performance, it's hard to see anyone stopping her."
In the Kiyosumi club room, Hisa stole a glance at Nodoka, who was clutching Etopen tightly, her expression was unreadable. Nodoka seemed to be shaken by the sheer magnitude of it. This is Miyanaga Saki—the one who had won two consecutive inter-middle titles.
The club was silent as the match ended, the sound of the commentators fading as the camera panned back to Saki. She stood up from the table, her head was down, as if she hadn't just obliterated three teams in the most brutal way possible. In fact, she looks like the one who lost.
Hisa was disturbed from her reverie when she heard someone abruptly stand up.
"Excuse me, I'm going home," Nodoka announced to the room and exited the room.
"Eh? Nodoka's angry djey?" Yuuki yelped, surprised at her friend.
In the Shiraitodai viewing room, the air was still from the recent match. Saki sat in the corner, her eyes downcast, she clenched her fist tightly, the memory of her latest victory replaying in her mind like a bad dream.
It wasn't her. It wasn't who she wanted to be.
The image of her opponents flashed before her eyes—their expressions when they realized they stood no chance. The fear, the frustration, the helplessness. The whispers about monsters, about her, echoed in her ears, cold and cutting. It weighed heavy on her chest. She didn't want this reputation, this ruthless label that seemed to follow her. She didn't want to become what they saw her as.
But she had chosen this path. No one forced her hand. The coach's words had been clear before: "We need to make a statement. Show them that the new rules won't hold us back. That we are still Shiraitodai. That we are the strongest." The shortened matches, the limitations on double yakuman, and rinshan Kaihou with the player whom discarded the tile pays for the entire hand as if it were a ron instead of a tsumo—it was all meant to level the playing field.
And that's why Saki played the way she did. The pressure wasn't just from the coach's words—but as a champion. They had to show that no rule change could topple them. That the new rules, designed to create upsets, wouldn't be their downfall. That just because of this rule changes, doesn't mean they can underestimate Shiraitodai.
But…was that really all?
She clenched her fists tighter, her nails pressing into her palms. She could have chosen differently. She didn't have to play like that. She could have won with mercy. She had seen the moments where she could have let her opponents walk away with their dignity. But she hadn't.
She'd kept her foot on the pedal. Pushed harder. Kept going for dealer repeats, piling on the points. Maybe because a part of me—no matter how much I claim to hate it—had wanted to see if I could do it? Maybe, I am…a monster.
Monster. The word echoed again, sinking into her bones.
Saki stared at her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen. She had known, deep down, that Nodoka would watch the game. They had spoken the night before, as they often did, and even then, Saki could sense the anticipation in Nodoka's voice.
But now…
An hour had passed since the match ended. No message. No call. No congratulations. Nothing.
Saki's heart tightened in her chest. She had hoped—hoped beyond reason—that Nodoka wouldn't hate her for what she had done, for the brutal display she had shown on the table. She kept telling herself it was all part of the plan, part of the role she had to play for Shiraitodai, for the team. But still, that nagging doubt clung to her like a shadow.
She watched it, she said she would, the thought crawled through her mind. What if she saw the match and thought…?
She swallowed hard, staring at the phone as if willing it to light up with a message, a missed call, anything that would tell her Nodoka hadn't changed her mind about their friendship, about her. But the screen stayed dark. Silent.
The minutes dragged on, each one heavier than the last. She could feel the sting of regret creeping in. She didn't want to admit it, but a part of her feared that Nodoka had seen her as the others did—a monster in human skin.
Saki closed her eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but the silence from Nodoka's end only made it worse. Her fingers curled around the phone tightly, her chest tightening with each passing second.
Maybe she had pushed too far. Maybe Nodoka was thinking twice about being friends with someone like her.
Saki couldn't stop the sinking feeling that was building inside her, a gnawing fear that maybe this victory wasn't worth it—not if it meant losing someone important to her.
She bit her lip, the silence of the room pressing down on her. The words from last night's conversation replayed in her mind—Nodoka's warm voice.
But now, that voice was nowhere to be found.
Teru watched from across the room, her usual calm demeanour masking the concern that had settled deep within her. Saki's hunched posture, the way her fingers trembled slightly as they gripped her phone—it wasn't hard for Teru to see that her sister was struggling.
She knew Saki well enough to recognize the signs. The clenched fists, the distant gaze, the way her breath caught in her throat when no one was looking. Teru could sense the weight her sister was carrying, but for once, she didn't know what to do.
Her instinct had always been to protect Saki, to shield her from whatever burden she was shouldering but…
Teru's gaze lingered on her sister's face. She knew why Saki was feeling this way—their coach's orders had been clear. It wasn't just about winning; it was about proving that Shiraitodai couldn't be shaken, even with new rules designed to hinder them. And Saki had followed through with that ruthlessness.
But now, as Teru looked at her, she could see the toll it had taken.
Saki wasn't like her. Teru had long accepted the reputation she had gained, the whispers about her being untouchable, almost inhuman on the mahjong table. She didn't let it bother her. But Saki—Saki is different.
It hurt Teru to see her sister struggling like this.
She let out a soft breath, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. What could she say? What could she do? Teru had never been good with words.
Teru's chest tightened with frustration. Watching Saki like this made her feel powerless, something she hadn't felt in a long time.
With a quiet resolve, Teru stepped forward, hesitating for just a moment before sitting down beside her sister. She didn't say anything—words felt unnecessary, too fragile for this moment. Instead, she simply placed her hand lightly on Saki's shoulder, a silent offer of support.
Saki flinched at the touch, her head lifting slightly as she glanced at Teru. The two sisters exchanged a look—one filled with understanding, and perhaps a little regret. Teru could see the turmoil in Saki's eyes, and she wished, more than anything, that she could take it away.
Teru's eyes drifted to Saki's phone, the device sitting in her sister's trembling hands. The screen remained dark—no notifications, no calls. The longer she stared, the clearer it became. Nodoka hadn't called. Teru's brows furrowed, a simmering heat rising in her chest as she put the pieces together.
How could she do this? After everything Saki had done for her… all the support and encouragement Saki had given without asking for anything in return. And now, when Saki needed her, Nodoka was nowhere to be found.
A sharp surge of anger flared inside Teru. She didn't show it—she never did—but the storm roiled beneath her composed surface. It wasn't just disappointment or frustration. It was fury.
How could Nodoka not realize what her silence was doing to Saki? How could she not realise how cruel she is on her sister? After all the support Saki had given, after Saki showed concern, Nodoka should've known better. She should've been the first to call. But there was nothing.
Teru's hand remained on Saki's shoulder, her grip tightening just slightly as her anger simmered. She wanted to say something, to ask her sister why she bothered with someone who couldn't even send a simple message of support. But she bit her tongue. Now wasn't the time. Saki didn't need Teru's anger piling onto her own struggles. What she needed was someone to be there for her, even if Teru felt like storming out to Nagano and giving Nodoka a piece of her mind.
The rest of Shiraitodai team, knew how Saki would take today's game. There is a sombre atmosphere in the room, all of them offering quiet support. The usual festivity in the viewing room can hardly be felt despite the win.
Awai, who is usually boisterous, is more quiet than normal even if she can't fully understand what Saki was concerned about. For a brief moment, she considered saying something. A joke, maybe. Something to lighten the mood, to remind them that they had just secured a major win. But looking at Teru and Saki, that idea quickly vanished. The way Teru placed a hand on her sister's shoulder—gentle, but firm—made Awai hesitate. There was something going on here that she didn't understand.
The night settled over the Miyanaga home in West Tokyo, a quiet calm following the flurry of activity from the day's tournament. The victory was supposed to be a cause for celebration, but the atmosphere in the house was anything but festive.
Saki had retreated to her room after dinner, clearly affected by her earlier performance. The door had clicked shut with a resolute finality, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Teru, still feeling furious, wandered into the lounge area. It was then that she noticed Saki's phone resting on the table.
The sight of the phone only fuelled Teru's simmering anger. Saki had always been diligent about keeping her phone close recently, because of her exchanges with that girl from Nagano. But tonight, it was left unattended—a sign of the turmoil that had taken over her sister.
Teru's eyes narrowed as she picked up the phone, her fingers hovering over it with hesitation. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but the weight of her sister's distress, combined with her own anger towards that that girl, compelled her to act. She knew she shouldn't but the sense of injustice was overwhelming.
Taking a deep breath, Teru unlocked the phone. She navigated to Saki's contact list and found Haramura Nodoka's number. The screen glowed softly in the dim light, casting a faint shadow over Teru's face.
With a swift motion, Teru retrieved her own phone and dialled Nodoka's number using it. The ring echoed in the quiet room, a stark contrast to the heavy silence that had enveloped her.
The phone rang on the other end, each tone stretching out longer than the last. Teru's grip tightened around her phone as she waited. She could almost feel the tension in the air, her mind racing with thoughts of what she might say—or what she wanted to say.
Finally, the line picked up. "Hello?" Nodoka's voice came through, tinged with curiosity from being called by an unknown number.
Teru's voice was steady but held an edge. "Haramura Nodoka, it's Miyanaga Teru."
There was a brief pause on the other end.
"Yes?" Haramura Nodoka's voice came through, though Teru could sense a hint of unease beneath the calm exterior. The edge in Teru's voice was unmistakable, even over the phone.
Teru took a deep breath, her frustration and anger barely contained.
Nodoka's silence on the other end was almost palpable, and Teru could imagine her frowning in confusion. "What is this about?"
Teru's grip tightened on her phone, her knuckles white. What is this about? She could feel the heat rising in her chest, her anger now directed towards the person who, in her eyes, had failed her sister. "I don't know if you realize what you've done, but I'll make it clear. If you don't value Saki's friendship, then you should just stay away from her." Her voice, though steady, carried an unmistakable edge of fury. She wasn't shouting, but each word was sharp and deliberate.
Nodoka's voice came through, hesitating and cautious. "I—"
"No," Teru cut her off, her voice firm. "I don't want to hear excuses. Saki has been there for you, she supported you. I honestly don't understand what she saw to you but if you can't appreciate that, then you have no right to be in her life."
There was a moment of silence on the other end.
"I—I'm sorry," Nodoka finally said, her voice strained. "I didn't mean to—"
"No, you didn't mean to," Teru interrupted, still furious. "Think about whether you're ready to be a friend to someone like Saki. If not, then it's better if you stay away, and honestly...I prefer it that way."
The call ended with a click, and Teru exhaled slowly, her heart pounding. She looked down at the phone, her anger slowly ebbing away, replaced by a sense of weary resolve. She had done what she felt was necessary, but it did little to ease the heaviness she felt in her chest.
Saki is still in her room.
Teru went to their kitchen, opened their freezer and took out some ice cream. She knocked on her sister's door. Inwardly, she wished that their mother isn't as absent as she is right now.
Teru stood outside Saki's door, clutching the tub of ice cream in her hand. She could feel the weight of her sister's distress pressing down on her, and it felt like she was out of her depth. Despite having read countless books, she is so unprepared for this, words of comfort don't seem to come to her. She was supposed to be the older sister, the one who knew how to handle these moments, but right now, she felt completely lost. This is one of the few moments where I wished Okaa-san is here, Teru thought thinking about their workaholic mother, and she felt the weight of that absence more than ever.
Taking a deep breath, Teru knocked softly on the door. "Saki, it's me. Can I come in?"
There was a brief pause before Saki's voice came through, muffled but clear. "Yes, Onee-chan."
Teru pushed open the door and stepped inside, her eyes taking in the dimly lit room. Saki was sitting on her bed, her posture hunched, and her expression distant. It was clear that the day's events had taken a heavy toll on her.
Teru approached quietly, holding out the tub of ice cream. "I brought this. Since it's got to be eaten."
Saki looked up, surprised, and took the tub from Teru's hands with a weak smile, completely understanding her sister's intention. "Thank you Onee-chan," she said softly.
Teru sat down beside her on the bed, feeling the need to offer some sort of comfort but unsure of the right words.
Teru sat down beside her on the bed, with her ice cream, trying to offer a reassuring presence. She wasn't sure what to say, so she simply stayed silent.
Saki opened the tub and took a small spoonful of the ice cream. The coolness seemed to offer a brief respite from her emotional turmoil. As Teru watched her, a faint, weary smile appeared on Saki's face. It wasn't much, but it was enough to show that the simple act of shared companionship was making a difference.
They ate the ice cream in silence, the quiet companionship between them speaking volumes. Teru, though still feeling the weight of her frustration, found solace in this moment of connection. The storm inside her had calmed, if only slightly, replaced by a sense of being there for her sister in the way that mattered most.
Nodoka sat in her room, the weight of Teru's words heavy on her mind. The phone call had left her unsettled, and the sting of Teru's reprimand lingered. She gazed at the dark screen of her phone, feeling as if she were staring into a void that mirrored her own confusion and discomfort.
The stars outside twinkled in the night sky, their distant light offering a stark contrast to the turmoil inside her. Nodoka's thoughts wandered back to her early days with mahjong. It had been her constant companion during the years of moving from town to town. Her love for the game had always been deep, and she made friends, and irreplaceable memories because of it.
Without it, she wouldn't have met her friends, she wouldn't have met…Saki.
But now, the game that had once brought her solace and joy was tangled up in her feelings towards Saki.
The way Saki played felt like a violation. She felt like Saki trampled the game. She seen Saki's records before, and while Saki doesn't play logically what with the high number of rinshan kaiho percentage, she always plays efficiently to ensure that she wins unlike the display that she showed today.
It was painful for her.
Nodoka's grip on her phone tightened as the memory of Saki's match replayed in her mind. The image of Saki's sheer domination she'd displayed at the table—it left Nodoka with a bitter taste. It was as though the Saki she had known, the one who was kind, soft-spoken, and seemingly indifferent to winning, had been replaced by someone unrecognizable.
It didn't feel like the mahjong she had come to love.
And that thought disturbed Nodoka the most. Could it be that Saki, despite all the moments they had shared, didn't respect the game in the same way? Was it possible that Saki saw mahjong only as a means to an end—just another tool to achieve victory, without caring for the game itself?
Teru's words echoed again in her mind: "If you don't value Saki's friendship, then you should just stay away from her."
But it wasn't that Nodoka didn't value Saki's friendship. She cared about her deeply, perhaps more than she wanted to admit. That was why this conflict within her was so painful. It wasn't just about the game—it was about Saki.
In preparation as the Kiyosumi's captain, Nodoka has seen a lot of play records and videos. Most particularly was Amae Koromo's last year inter high video. Amae Koromo dominated her opponents in her two matches at Inter-high but while Nodoka did not like what Amae Koromo did, she wasn't as affected as now that Saki did something similar.
Maybe it was because Saki wasn't just a competitor. Saki was…different. Saki is special.
Nodoka's gaze shifted back to her phone, the last call from Teru still fresh on the screen. Teru's anger had been fierce, but it wasn't just anger—it was protectiveness.
"Saki has been there for you. She supported you."
Suddenly, Nodoka felt a pang of guilt.
Saki reassured in me. Saki supported me.
Saki believed in me.
And yet.
Nodoka's chest tightened as the guilt settled deeper. Saki had always been there for her, even when Nodoka didn't fully understand it. She had supported her through the highs and lows, her quiet presence unwavering. Saki had believed in her when she doubted herself, and yet, here Nodoka was, questioning Saki's intentions and the way she played.
Suddenly, Nodoka remembered how Saki was when they first met at the Inter-middle finals. The sad smile on Saki's face after winning when Saki was supposed to be the happiest person in the room.
"I didn't even give her a chance," Nodoka realized. She had been so consumed with her own feelings about the match, about how Saki's earlier playstyle clashed with her own love for mahjong, that she hadn't stopped to think about what Saki might have been going through.
"I've been unfair to her…" Nodoka's thoughts trailed off as her gaze shifted once more to her phone.
With a deep breath, she reached for her phone, her fingers hesitating over the screen. The tension in her chest grew as she considered what to say.
Biting the bullet and before she hesitated even more. Nodoka dialled Saki's number.
It rang
And it rang
But Saki didn't answer.
Nodoka frowned, bit her lips anxiously. I'll try again.
They were eating ice cream in companionable, familiar silence when it was broken by the sound of a phone ringing. The distant chime echoed through the quiet of the house, immediately disrupting the fragile calm they had built between them.
Saki's brow furrowed. "That's my phone," she mumbled, standing up slowly. She hesitated for a moment before heading toward the door. Teru watched her sister's back, feeling a sudden tightening in her chest. What does she want now? Teru thought, already knowing who it would be. Saki's footsteps grew faint as she walked to the lounge room.
At the other room, Saki picked up her phone. She just missed Nodoka's phone call, and a part of her is relieved.
And then it rang again.
Saki bit her lip, debating whether to answer. After today, she wasn't sure if she had the energy to face whatever Nodoka wanted to say.
But something inside her nudged her forward. With a sigh, Saki pressed the green button and brought the phone to her ear, bracing herself.
"Hello?" Saki's voice was soft, uncertain.
There was a pause on the other end before Nodoka's voice, hesitant but clear, spoke. "Miyanaga-san… I'm sorry."
Saki blinked, surprised by the apology. She hadn't expected that to be the first thing out of Nodoka's mouth. Her heart clenched, emotions swirling in ways she wasn't prepared for. "Haramura-san… I—"
Nodoka didn't wait for Saki to finish. Her words began to spill out, a mix of guilt and remorse, her voice trembling slightly. "Miyanaga-san. I've been thinking about everything tonight—about how you've always been there for me, supporting me, encouraging me… but I didn't do the same for you."
Saki's breath caught in her throat. She wasn't expecting this. Nodoka's apology struck a chord, one that reverberated deep inside her. "Haramura-san, you don't have to—"
"Yes, I do." Nodoka's voice was more insistent now, picking up speed as she continued. "You were there, rooting for me, when I needed you. I was so focused on myself—I was selfish."
Saki could hear the rawness in Nodoka's voice, and it hurt. "I didn't expect you to—"
"But you should have," Nodoka interrupted again, her voice shaky but determined. "You should've expected me to be better, and I wasn't. I've been selfish. When I saw you play today, I—I didn't recognize the Saki I knew, and I was hurt. But instead of talking to you, I just… pulled away. And that wasn't fair."
Saki's grip on the phone tightened as Nodoka's words echoed in her mind. Her chest felt heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts and the tension that had built between them. She hesitated for a moment, then asked softly, "Hurt? I hurt you, Haramura-san?"
There was a pause on the other end, and Saki could almost hear Nodoka taking a breath. "It was painful for me," Nodoka admitted, her voice filled with emotion. "I love mahjong, Miyanaga-san. It's not just a game to me—it's what brought me friendships, memories… and when I saw you playing like that today, it felt like you trampled over the game I care about so much."
"Mahjong… it brought me to you," Nodoka continued emotionally.
Saki's heart sank at Nodoka's words. She never intended to hurt her friend, let alone attack something so important to her. But a lot weighed heavily on her shoulders. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you," Saki whispered, her voice barely audible. "I had to play that way"
"I don't understand," Nodoka stated over the phone.
"I am Shiraitodai's captain." Saki replied, somehow this time with weight. "As the captain, I have to make sure we win the most efficient way, whether I like it or not."
"But what you did isn't—"
"It is, in the long run." Saki interrupted, "I won't go into details but Shiraitodai is the reigning champion, and as the captain I have to ensure that Shiraitodai won't lose."
Nodoka was silent for a moment, processing Saki's words. The tension between them was palpable, even over the phone. Saki could almost feel Nodoka's confusion and frustration, and it made her heart ache.
"At what cost? I understand that you're their captain, Miyanaga-san," Nodoka began, her voice trembling slightly. "But I still don't think it's right." Saki didn't say it, but a part of her agrees with Nodoka.
"I… I didn't realize it would hurt you so much, Haramura-san," Saki whispered, her voice strained. "I'm really sorry."
The silence stretched between them again, but this time Saki felt compelled to continue. She thought about what she had overheard, the whispers of her opponents calling her a monster, and how that word had stuck in her mind like a thorn, "I thought I'd never hear from you again"
Nodoka was silent for a moment, trying to understand what Saki had just said. "… what do you mean you thought you wouldn't hear from me again?"
Saki hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment pressing on her. "I just… after today, I wasn't sure. I thought I'd crossed a line." Her voice wavered, betraying the vulnerability she had been holding back.
Nodoka frowned, still confused. "Crossed a line? I… I don't understand."
"So... you don't think I'm a monster?" Saki's voice trembled as she spoke, her question hanging in the air between them. There was a fragile hope in her tone, a desperation that Nodoka had never heard before.
"Eh?" Nodoka's surprise was evident in her voice. "A monster? What do you mean?"
Saki swallowed; her throat dry. She didn't want to explain, but she knew she had to. "They often call me that—a-a m-monster. Because of how I played especially today. I thought... maybe you felt the same."
Nodoka's breath caught, a wave of disbelief washing over her. "No, Miyanaga-san!" she exclaimed, her voice urgent, almost panicked. "I never thought of you as a monster, and I never will. Don't listen to them, you're not a monster, Saki-san!"
Hearing Nodoka say her name like that made Saki's chest tighten. The tension she had been holding onto for so long began to unravel, though the ache in her heart remained. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling both relieved and vulnerable.
"I'm sorry," Saki whispered. "I thought... with how things went today..."
"Miyanaga-san," Nodoka interrupted gently, "I want you to understand, I will never think of you like that, I was hurt, maybe angry." Nodoka's voice became firmer, "but I will never think of you like that, it's impossible."
Saki exhaled, feeling a sense of relief, "Thank you, "she paused. "I'm glad…"
"I'm glad mahjong brought me to you too, Nodoka-chan."