Kagashi was awakened by the aroma of food.
He opened his eyes and turned his head toward the train window.
The fog had dispersed.
Or rather, the train had already left that misty area.
The wheels were still clattering “clack-clack,” and the scenery outside was now sparse grassland.
Kagashi sat up and sniffed the air.
Someone was cooking.
After a quick wash, he stepped out of the Train Conductor’s room.
The rear carriages were quiet, but the lights in the dining and meeting area were on.
He saw Roxy standing at the stove.
Her hair was loosely held back with a wooden hairpin, with a few stray strands hanging by her ears.
With a wooden spoon in one hand, she gently stirred the food in the pot, her movements soft and meticulous.
“Good morning, Mr.
Kagashi.” Roxy turned her head as she heard the footsteps, her lips curving into a gentle smile.
“Morning.” Kagashi walked over and glanced at the pot.
“Are you making breakfast?”
“Yes.” Roxy scooped up a bit of soup with the wooden spoon, blew on it, and held it out to Kagashi.
“Give it a taste.”
Kagashi leaned down and took a sip.
It was porridge.
Porridge made from crushed compressed biscuits, with diced carrots from canned vegetables and a bit of broth from canned meat for flavor.
“It’s good,” Kagashi said.
Roxy smiled, her eyes crinkling.
He noticed that five wooden bowls were already laid out on the counter next to the stove, each with a pair of chopsticks.
“What time did you get up?” Kagashi asked.
“Around six.” Roxy turned down the heat to let the porridge simmer.
“I’m used to it.
I naturally wake up at this time every morning.”
“Six?” Kagashi was stunned for a moment.
Roxy said gently, “A mage’s sleep quality is higher than an ordinary person’s; five or six hours is enough, let alone six or seven.”
Roxy sat by the window, her staff resting across her knees, and closed her eyes.
A silvery-white light glowed from the gem at the tip of the staff—not dazzling, but soft, like a halo condensed from moonlight.
She began to meditate.
Kagashi didn’t disturb her and turned to walk back to the rear carriages.
The corridor was very quiet.
The door to the fourth room was closed; it was Roxy’s room, and the bed was neatly made.
The door to the third room was also closed.
Yoshino was still sleeping.
Kagashi knocked gently on the door.
“Yoshino.”
There was no response from inside.
He knocked twice more.
“Yoshino, time to get up.”
“Mmm…” A muffled nasal sound came from behind the door, soft and sweet, as if squeezed from the depths of the blankets.
Kagashi pushed the door open.
Wrapped up tightly, she looked like a small hibernating animal.
“Brother Kagashi,” Yoshino peeked half her face out from the blankets, her eyes half-open, with red sleep marks on her face.
“Morning.”
“Morning.
Get up and eat breakfast.”
“Okay,” she murmured, but didn’t move.
Yoshinon’s paw patted her head: “Yoshino, it’s time to get up.”
“One more minute.” Yoshino buried her face in Yoshinon’s fur, her voice muffled.
Kagashi didn’t rush her; he turned and walked to the second door, knocking on it.
“Mikoto, time to get up.”
“Mmm…” Misaka Mikoto’s voice was heavy with sleepiness.
“What time is it?”
“A little past seven.”
“A little longer…”
Kagashi leaned against the doorframe and waited for a while, but there was no sound from inside.
Misaka Mikoto didn’t particularly like oversleeping, but she was definitely not an early bird either; she was the type who would linger for as many extra minutes as possible.
Kagashi knocked again.
“Mikoto, the porridge is going to get cold.”
“I know.”
After a few more minutes, the door finally opened.
Her hair was tied in a ponytail, but a few rebellious strands had escaped and were stuck to her cheeks, her face still carrying the laziness of someone who had just woken up.
“Morning,” she said, her voice still a bit raspy.
“Morning.
Roxy made breakfast.”
Misaka Mikoto paused, poked her head out to look toward the front carriage, and saw the figure by the stove and the steam rising from the pot.
“What time did she get up?”
“Five-thirty.”
“Impressive,” Misaka Mikoto muttered.
As she walked toward the front carriage, she peeked into Yoshino’s room while passing by.
“Little lazybones, not up yet?”
“I…
I’m not lazy,” Yoshino poked her head out of the blankets and protested in a small voice.
“I’m just…
contemplating life.”
Misaka Mikoto couldn’t help but laugh; she reached out to pat her head and then left.
Kagashi walked to the first door.
This was the hardest one.
He knocked on the door.
“Furina, time to get up.”
There was no response from inside.
He knocked twice more.
“Furina?”
“Mmm~” A muffled nasal sound came from behind the door, seemingly from within the blankets, carrying heavy sleepiness and a hint of annoyance at being disturbed.
“No~”
Kagashi sighed. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
“Furina, Roxy made breakfast.”
“Tell her to save me a portion…” The voice came out muffled from under the blankets.
“I’m going to sleep a bit longer.”
Kagashi pushed the door; it wasn’t locked.
The door opened a crack.
Furina was curled up on the bed, wrapped into a cocoon with the newly made bark-and-hay blanket, with only a few strands of light blue hair showing.
“Furina.”
“Mmm~”
“Get up.”
The blanket squirmed slightly, but there was no sign of it opening.
Kagashi walked to the bedside and crouched down.
“Everyone is waiting for you.”
A muffled, self-righteous voice came from under the blanket: “The protagonist needs sufficient sleep to maintain her elegance!
What do you know!”
Kagashi suppressed a laugh.
“Your elegance is already good enough; no need to maintain it further.”
“Not enough!” The person inside the blanket argued logically.
“A protagonist’s elegance needs to be nourished with sleep!”
“Don’t push me~” The voice carried the coquettish annoyance of someone just waking up.
“If you push me again, I really won’t get up~”
Kagashi withdrew his hand and crouched by the bed, watching the bundle of blankets.
After a while, a hand reached out from the blanket, groped around in the air twice, and grabbed the hem of Kagashi’s clothes.
“Ten more minutes~” Furina’s voice softened, carrying a hint of wheedling.
“Just ten minutes, please~”
Ten minutes passed.
“Furina, ten minutes are up.”
“Mmm~”
There was finally movement inside the blanket.
“Pull me up.”
Kagashi reached out; she grabbed his hand and slowly sat up.
The blanket slipped from her shoulders.
“Morning,” she mumbled, then leaned against Kagashi’s shoulder and closed her eyes again.
Kagashi didn’t move.
After a few seconds, Furina opened her eyes, bounced away from his shoulder, her face slightly flushed.
“What are you looking at!” She glared at Kagashi.
“Yes, yes, yes.” Kagashi stood up.
“Hurry up and wash up; Roxy made porridge.”
“Porridge?” Furina was taken aback.
“She made it?”
“Yes.”
Furina blinked and muttered, “How does she wake up so early?”
Her tone carried a mix of complex emotions: admiration, shame, and a slight sense of crisis, as if thinking, “Oh no, I’ve been outdone.”
Kagashi walked out of the room to let Furina wash up.
When he returned to the front carriage, Roxy was no longer by the stove.
It might not seem tempting right nobut who knows what the future holds?
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”