Reborn in Type-Moon: Starting by Adopting Sakura - Chapter 3

Mrs. Tohsaka was a skilled cook. She set her apron aside, revealing a light green silk dress. From the side, her figure had the kind of curves that made dresses like that look expensive.

The two Tohsaka sisters had clearly inherited the best of her features—pale skin with a healthy pink flush. Even at their age, it was easy to imagine how beautiful they’d grow up to be.

But Yuu wasn’t thinking about that. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was about to become someone’s guardian. A kid’s, no less. He’d never even taken care of a pet. And what would the cute bookstore assistant say when she found out? She'd probably blow a gasket.

“Sakura, from today on, Yuu-kun will be your guardian. Do you understand?”

Tokiomi’s voice was as calm as ever. Even while handing off his own daughter, he spoke like it was a casual matter of household management.

Sakura didn’t look surprised. She leaned into Rin for a moment, almost by instinct, before quietly stepping forward. Her head stayed down, long bangs falling over her eyes, hiding whatever expression was on her face. She fiddled with her fingers, tracing little circles just above the hem of her skirt.

“…Y-yes, Father.”

“Don’t call me that,” Tokiomi corrected, without a flicker of hesitation. “From now on, Yuu-kun is your guardian.”

“…Y-yes.”

She didn’t argue. Maybe she didn’t know how. Sakura had always been quiet, well-mannered, the kind of girl who obeyed without questioning. Even now, she just accepted it.

Rin opened her mouth, but whatever she was about to say disappeared the moment her father glanced at her. She shrank back.

They were both too young for this kind of pressure.

“Hey, don’t scare her like that,” Yuu said, crouching beside Sakura. His voice was gentle, easy, the kind of tone that made you feel like things might be okay. “Don’t worry, Sakura-chan. We’ll come back and visit your mom every year, alright?”

Sakura peeked up at him, not sure what to expect. But his smile wasn’t scary, or forced—it was the kind people had in storybooks. Something in her chest gave a little sigh.

“…Mm.”

She nodded, barely, but it was something.

"Let’s eat," Mrs. Tohsaka said softly. She had cooked all of Sakura’s favorite dishes.

The two girls sat side by side at the table, eating quietly. Neither of them spoke.

By afternoon, Yuu was getting ready to head back to Tokyo. Sakura’s bags had already been packed, and he loaded two large suitcases into the car without a word.

The sky was clear, a deep shade of blue. On the sunlit lawn, Sakura stood facing her sister. Rin had brought her a red ribbon and was now helping tie it into place, gently brushing her sister’s bangs out of the way.

“There. Looks good on you,” Rin said, placing her hands on her hips like she always did when trying to act grown-up.

“…Neesan,” Sakura whispered, her small hands clutched to her chest as she looked up at her.

“Chin up, Sakura,” Rin said, trying to sound firm. “You’re a Tohsaka. We don’t cry over things like this.”

Sakura didn’t answer.

Rin’s expression wavered. She stepped forward and took Sakura’s hand, squeezing it tight. “Write to me when you get there, okay? If that guy gives you trouble—I swear, I’ll make him regret it.”

Yuu walked over with a relaxed smile. “Hey now, I’m not some villain. I wouldn’t hurt Sakura-chan.”

Rin snorted and turned her head, twin black pigtails bouncing with the motion. She refused to acknowledge the man taking her little sister away.

“Time to go, Sakura-chan.” Yuu held out his hand.

Sakura hesitated. Her eyes lingered on Rin, then drifted to her mother, who smiled gently. And finally—to her father.

She bowed with perfect form. “Father. Mother. Sister. I’m leaving now.”

Then she turned and took Yuu’s hand. Without another word, she began walking away from the house, never once looking back.

“Wait!” Rin’s voice rang out.

They stopped.

She ran up to them, her red blouse flaring behind her. Her face was flushed, serious in a way that looked almost comical on someone so small. She glared up at Yuu.

Then—thunk—she kicked him hard in the shin.

Without waiting for a reaction, she spun on her heel and bolted back inside.

It wasn’t much. But it was all she could do.

Father always said a Tohsaka must never lose their dignity.

But this time, Rin let herself break the rule.

Just once.

“Rin!” Tokiomi’s voice cracked like a whip. His expression was anything but pleasant.

“It’s fine,” Yuu said before the scolding could go any further. “She’s got spirit. Don’t be too hard on her, Tokiomi.”

Then, casually, as if talking business and family in the same breath was perfectly normal:

“About that other matter—convert your Fuyuki assets to cash and send it to my Swiss account. I’ll take care of the purchase.”

He gave a small wave. “Take care.”

From Fuyuki to Tokyo was roughly 529 kilometers. By shinkansen, it would’ve taken about three hours. But Yuu was driving his white Santana—brand new, fresh off the lot—and sticking to the highway meant it’d take closer to ten.

Sakura sat in the passenger seat, seatbelt snug across her little shoulders. She didn’t say a word. Just stared out the window, watching the scenery roll past like a film she wasn’t really watching.

Yuu didn’t push. Instead, he started chatting—books, stories, weird trivia about places they passed. Stuff kids might find interesting. Somewhere along the way, the silence eased, and the ache of leaving started to dull.

By the time night settled in, they stopped at a roadside diner. Nothing fancy—grilled fish, rice, miso soup. Afterward, Sakura nodded off in the passenger seat, lulled by the engine’s hum and the blur of headlights.

It was past midnight when they finally pulled up to the bookstore in Akihabara. The neon signs across the street had already gone dark, shutters pulled down.

The little three-story building still had its lights on. Yuu figured she’d still be up.

He stepped out of the car, carefully lifted the sleeping girl from the seat, and nudged the wooden door open with his shoulder. Wind chimes jingled softly above him.

“Master, welcome ba—”

A warm voice greeted him, bright and cheerful, but it cut off mid-sentence.

A girl in green—fresh and graceful like new spring leaves—dashed toward him, then froze. Her eyes landed on the small child resting against his shoulder.

“…Master, who is that?”

“She’s Sakura.”

Manaka didn’t move. Her emerald eyes locked on the little girl like a fairy studying a trespasser in her forest. Her tone dropped an octave. “And… what exactly is she to you?”

“Guardian and ward?”

That was close enough.

Manaka stared. Then she took a half-step back like she’d just been hit with a plot twist straight out of a soap opera. “Wait, Master—is this some kind of hidden-daughter scenario?! Are we doing that now?!”

Yuu didn’t flinch. “Go get the luggage from the car.”

“…Oh.” She froze for a moment longer, clearly on the verge of launching another question. But when Yuu gave her that look—the no-fun-allowed, conversation-over look—she let out a small, sulky sigh and trudged off toward the car.

She kept glancing back like she was walking away from a murder scene.