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616 – Old Man, I’m Taking Your Daughter
🕑 Added 2025-10-26 17:43:13 +0000 UTCThese past few days hadn’t been kind to Miyamizu Toshiki.
No—“unkind” didn’t even begin to describe it.
“Utterly miserable” was closer to the mark.
Maybe not quite as bad as when he broke off his engagement, severed ties with his mentor, and left home behind… but close enough.
Sure, he still had two adorable daughters with him now, and that was something—but even so, it felt awful.
At least back then, he’d still had Mitsuha waiting for him.
Now?
Every time he came home, the TV was playing that brat’s show.
And if he so much as tried to change the channel, his youngest daughter would protest with the force of divine judgment.
He thought about walking away, but this was one of those rare moments when they were all together after school and work.
He couldn’t bring himself to spoil it—so, he just held his breath and sat there, watching that idiot swing his sword around on TV like some deranged action hero.
Seriously, what kind of fool acts so violently on national television? Wasn’t that kid supposed to be the pretty-boy type?
Didn’t he care about his image at all? And what were the network’s censors doing—on vacation?
This kind of reckless behavior was definitely not suitable for young viewers!
Watching Hojou Kyousuke slice a solid oak table clean in half with one casual swing, Toshiki couldn’t help but recall the months he’d spent avoiding Mitsuha after their first terrifying encounter with the boy.
That memory alone was enough to ruin his mood all over again.
He briefly entertained the thought of dragging that punk into the department and seeing who’d win in a fight—Kyousuke or a riot shield and a couple of tear gas canisters.
The idea cheered him up… slightly.
Still, he forced himself to smile at his daughter Yotsuba’s excited gasps, nodding along and echoing her cheerful “That’s amazing!”s like a dutiful dad.
He’d spent years trying to make up for the time he’d missed during their childhoods, so even something as small as watching a TV show together (no matter how painful it is) was precious.
If Yotsuba wanted to cheer for Hojou Kyousuke, then fine.
He’d cheer too. That was a father’s resolve.
But just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, Yotsuba had turned to him earlier, face glowing, and asked the question that nearly gave him a stroke:
“Dad, do you think we could ask Hojou-nii to come to my next parent meeting?”
Apparently, she and her three fellow trainee shrine maidens had been bragging at school about how close they were to the Hojou Kyousuke.
“If Hojou-nii came to the meeting, everyone at school would totally admire me!” she said, eyes sparkling.
The smile on Toshiki’s face froze in place.
W–wait a second.
Did Yotsuba just imply… that having him, her own father, attend would be embarrassing?
Excuse me?
Not to brag, but back in his youth, Miyamizu Toshiki had been something of a prodigy.
His mentor had personally scouted him!
After moving to Itomori, he became a respected local leader—handsome, influential, and admired across the region.
And even now, in Tokyo—the heart of political power—he was considered a rising star.
His future was bright, his current rank already nearing the level of a senior official.
So why on earth did his daughter think she needed that punk Hojou Kyousuke to make her look good!?
He cursed the boy in his head with every creative insult he knew… but when he looked into Yotsuba’s eager, hopeful eyes, he swallowed it all down and forced a smile.
“Sure,” he said finally. “I suppose Hojou’s basically family, anyway.”
“Yay!” Yotsuba cheered, immediately calling her friends to share the good news.
Seeing her so happy, Toshiki’s heart softened.
Maybe she didn’t completely look down on him.
That tender thought lasted about five seconds—just long enough for him to mentally slap himself.
When did I become this pathetic?
Still, he smiled as he hit “replay” on the recording so Yotsuba could watch that brat’s sword-swinging antics for the third time that evening.
Then he glanced toward the stairs.
His eldest, Mitsuha, wasn’t watching TV with them—but that wasn’t necessarily good news.
Judging from the constant laughter drifting down from upstairs, she was clearly on the phone with that little bastard Kyousuke.
Again.
Damn it! Back in Nara, even during her busiest year of high school, Mitsuha still spent her evenings watching TV with the family. But now?
Jealousy and fatherly frustration boiled up inside him. Slapping his knee, he stood up with sudden determination.
“I’ll go cut some apples,” he declared.
Startled, Yotsuba turned toward him.
“I’ll do it, Dad! I always cut the fruit!”
Before he could argue, she gently pushed him back onto the sofa and hurried off barefoot toward the kitchen.
Watching her small figure disappear, Toshiki’s stern expression melted into a warm, peaceful smile.
‘Futaba… can you see this? Look at me now, spending time with our daughter…’
“Dad, don’t get distracted! Keep watching!”
Her voice floated from the kitchen, snapping him back to reality.
With a blank expression, he turned to the TV—just in time to see Hojou Kyousuke chop a chandelier into glittering dust.
‘What an idiot. We could’ve handled that with one flashbang.’
Even while grumbling, he paid close attention—Yotsuba would quiz him later.
They’d made a deal: he’d help build her a prop table for her next “miracle” performance as Shrine Maiden Miyamizu Yotsuba.
True to her word, Yotsuba soon returned with two plates of neatly sliced fruit.
She handed him one with a toothpick already stuck in the apple and said politely,
“Here you go, Dad.”
Then she picked up the other plate, ready to bring it upstairs.
“Ahem, I’ll take it,” Toshiki said, rising to his feet with sudden resolve. “I need to have a word with Mitsuha. She’s been home for days and still spends all her time chatting on the phone instead of helping her sister with homework. Unacceptable!”
He took the plate and marched toward the stairs, looking every bit the stern father.
Yotsuba, meanwhile, curled up on the sofa, watching him go with a mischievous grin.
“Not spending time with family,” huh? You mean not spending time with you, Dad.
She and Mitsuha had long since grown used to their father’s sentimental streak.
At the top of the stairs, Toshiki knocked lightly, then smiled.
“Mitsuha,” he said sweetly, “maybe cut down on the phone calls, huh? Too much radiation—it’s bad for your health.”
“Ah—hi, Dad.”
She reached for the fruit plate and said into the phone, “Kaori, I’ll talk later. See you at school tomorrow.”
‘Oh—so it wasn’t that brat Kyousuke on the line after all,’ Toshiki breathed inwardly.
The girl named Kaori was one of Mitsuha’s college friends who’d visited their house before.
Mitsuha continued on the call:
“Okay, okay. Once Kyousuke gets through this busy period, we’ll invite you all over.”
‘No—no—no—!’
Toshiki’s face went half-dark with anger and then the other half paled when he heard the next line.
“Yeah, the apartment you visited last time—yeah, that one. He’ll definitely say yes. Bye~”
Mitsuha hung up and exhaled.
These last few days, Hojou and his new book had been too much.
After the last time they’d invited some classmates back to Sento-gi’s apartment for dinner and brought pastries to share, everyone who knew Mitsuha was close to Hojou had gone wild.
Classmates and club seniors were pestering her for details; Kaori and the flower-arranging club seniors were demanding that the promised get-together actually happen.
They all wanted to meet Hojou Kyousuke and see for themselves how charming the so-called “Heisei Casanova” really was.
In just the past hour she’d already turned down five semi-awkward invitations from older students and alumni who wanted Mitsuha to bring Kyousuke along.
She’d agreed to Kaori’s dinner, but then a professor who’d always been kind to her asked if Hojou could give a talk at the university.
Now Mitsuha wasn’t sure whether to refuse outright or check with Hojou first.
Taking advantage of Dad’s arrival, Mitsuha had tried to silence her phone, but when she looked up she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of Toshiki’s half-shadowed, half-ashen face.
“Dad—are you okay?” she asked, worried.
“N—no, I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong,” he replied in a voice that sounded drained and fragile.
Of course.
He should have known this day would come.
Daughters move out when they go to university—of course they do.
Other families’ kids all did. He should have been ready.
“…invite you over with him…”
“…that apartment you visited last time…”
Those two lines kept echoing in Toshiki’s head like a sinister whisper.
No matter how hard he’d tried to prevent it, the thing he feared most was happening.
He’d tried to be the perfect father: always home on time, never waste his daughters’ effort making dinner; skip unnecessary parties, and if he must drink, never get drunk in front of them.
If he did drink too much, he’d sleep it off in a hotel so he wouldn’t embarrass them.
He’d tiptoe around his daughters’ social lives, weighing every caring word for at least five minutes before speaking; when their classmates came over.
He’d act like a man in his twenties, not a stern, old, embarrassing father—anything to avoid pushing Mitsuha out of the house.
All of it—every single precaution—meant to stop the day she’d want to move out.
And now…
Mitsuha and that damned punk had already prepared an apartment of their own, and they were planning a housewarming party and inviting classmates and friends.
Worst of all—Toshiki, her father, was the last to find out.
If he hadn’t overheard the call by chance, would he have had to learn the day Kyousuke showed up at the Miyamizu front door to take Mitsuha away?
A vivid image flooded his mind:
At his doorstep, Hojou Kyousuke—wearing Hawaiian board shorts and an open shirt—straddles a motorcycle, sweeps his daughter into his arms.
Sets her in front of him, then tilts his head and, from above his sunglasses, sneers: “Old man, I’m taking your daughter. I’ll let you know when she has our baby.”
Then he’d roar off down the road, daughter in his embrace.
You idiot—riding pillion like that is illegal!!
No—wait—
It wasn’t just a picture.
Like the advice of a certain corporate sage who said successful people visualize success until it becomes a vivid color image, Toshiki’s vision wasn’t merely colorful—it had sound and motion, a full-color movie playing in his head. It felt terrifyingly real.
That image mentally killed him on the spot.
Mitsuha blinked, completely baffled.
The last time Dad had looked like that was when Kyousuke had scared him in Itomori.
What was wrong now? He seemed fine just a moment ago.
“When are you moving in, Mitsuha?” Toshiki asked chokingly.
Their few years of family happiness—only three, barely—was about to end, wasn’t it?
“Move in? Move where?” she answered, genuinely puzzled.
“To your place with Hojou Kyousuke,” he said, half-laughing, half-desperate.
“Dad—what are you talking about? Hojou and I aren’t married yet~~” Mitsuha blushed instantly.
Toshiki felt himself sink further into the abyss: oh right, they weren’t married only living together.
“Didn’t you tell your classmate about the apartment just now?” he pressed.
“Oh—that,” Mitsuha paused, then looked at his complicated expression and, with a click of understanding, smiled and explained:
“That apartment is the one Kyousuke rented when he was in middle school—the place I told you about. He thought it held memories for both of us, so he bought it.
We only go there sometimes to rest. We’re not moving in. And besides, there are so many people at Ruyi Dorm, he could never leave them.”
Her words were like a heavenly ladder pulling Toshiki out of the brink.
There were things in her explanation he wanted to shout about, but for the moment he was absolutely, utterly relieved.
Not long ago he’d beared the thought of dragging that philanderer Hojou Kyousuke off to face a firing squad.
Now… inexplicably, his heart felt a little lighter.
