Kindly taken in for the night.
Having tidied the guest room set aside for him, Ryōgi Minato meant to head back downstairs and thank the lady of the house once more.
His room sat at the far end of the east wing’s corridor—right next door to Aoko’s, as it happened.
He’d also already gotten in touch with the Ryōgi family, setting at ease the worried Suzurigi Akitaka on the other end.
Leaving the Yamato on the bed for the moment, Ryōgi Minato left the room, crossed the corridor, and made his way back to the living room downstairs.
Only, the room now held just the doll-like, impassive girl; Aoko was nowhere in sight.
Ryōgi Minato walked to the sofa and offered his thanks.
“Kuonji-san, thank you for letting me stay the night.
May I ask—where did Aoko go?”
At this, Alice finally understood the strangeness Aoko must have felt at being addressed as “Aozaki-san.”
Truthfully, being spoken to in such polite tones and phrasing by a child so much younger gave one the odd impression of not knowing which of them was the more grown-up.
But the young witch paid it little mind.
After a moment’s adjustment, she replied simply.
“The kitchen.”
Just then, as if to confirm her words, Aoko’s voice carried in from the kitchen one wall away.
“Alice, there’s still a fair bit left in the fridge—anything in particular you feel like eating?”
As she spoke, Aoko leaned half her body out of the kitchen, and noticed the boy had returned.
“Oh, right—Minato, anything you can’t eat?”
“No.” Ryōgi Minato shook his head, then asked, “Are you making dinner?”
“Yep.
In weather like this, even the delivery folks won’t come all the way up here, so it’s down to us.”
“In that case, please let me help.
I’ve done some training in cooking at home—and I can’t keep troubling you to wait on me.”
Ryōgi Minato looked at Aoko, earnestness on his small face.
Ignore his appearance and the faint, soft note still threading his voice, and he was, beyond question, a guest of impeccable manners.
What a thoughtful child…
The thought rose unbidden in Aoko’s mind—yet she had no intention of agreeing to his request.
Common sense made it hard to believe, and besides, having a child cook for her felt like putting the cart before the horse.
“It’s fine.
You and Alice just relax in the living room—leave dinner to me.”
Aoko smiled, waving off his concern.
The truth was, the kitchen also held quite a few of Alice’s beloved tea sets, and if the boy were to break something by accident, it would all be over.
Hearing this, Ryōgi Minato didn’t press.
He nodded and sat obediently on the sofa, keeping in mind the kindness of this night’s lodging and meal.
Seeing this, Aoko let out a breath of relief.
She glanced at the downpour outside, thought for a moment, then offered a suggestion.
“For tonight, let’s do sukiyaki.
How does that sound to you two?”
“Fine.”
Alice’s reply was cool, but Aoko was long used to her housemate’s way of speaking—and honestly, listen closely and you could tell Alice was quite pleased with the choice.
As for Ryōgi Minato, a guest to begin with, he had no objections at all, and answered softly.
“That sounds good.”
“Then it’s settled.
You two just look forward to it.”
An inexplicable confidence in her tone, Aoko returned smiling to the kitchen.
Had Alice not known there was a bottle of store-bought sukiyaki sauce in the house, she likely wouldn’t have let Aoko—whose cooking still left much to be desired—anywhere near the kitchen tonight.
Where on earth her housemate had dredged up such confidence, she couldn’t say; the girl was practically brimming with enthusiasm.
Returning her gaze to the old book in her hands, Alice read on in silence.
As for Ryōgi Minato across from her, he treated this stretch of waiting as a kind of mental discipline, stilling his thoughts, only blinking now and then.
…
There wasn’t much to say about dinner—just the taste of ordinary, home-style sukiyaki.
And being a grade-schooler, after the meal Ryōgi Minato lingered a while in the living room to let his food settle, then meant to head upstairs and turn in on schedule.
Only, owing to her magecraft coursework, Aoko bolted back to her room the moment the sukiyaki was dealt with.
So, before going up, Ryōgi Minato paused and turned to the girl who was mistress of the mansion.
“Kuonji-san, might I borrow the kitchen’s utensils and ingredients tomorrow morning?”
Alice’s page-turning finger paused.
Only after a few dozen seconds did she press the page down and continue, that naturally cool voice following.
“You may.
But remember—don’t touch the tea sets, and don’t break anything.”
Such persistence made Alice, in turn, a little curious about just what this “cooking training” of his actually amounted to.
Having grasped that he was someone with a fine sense of measure, who wouldn’t indulge in reckless childish energy, she considered a moment, then agreed.
“Please don’t worry.
I’ll handle everything with care.
May I also ask—which do you and Aoko prefer for breakfast?
Japanese, or Western?”
“Either’s fine.”
Figuring she’d just let him make whatever he was best at, the young witch answered offhandedly.
But to the somewhat literal-minded boy, the answer plunged him straight into confusion.
What does “either” mean?
Japanese, or Western?
Or… both?
Though he was nowhere near the age where such a reply ought to trouble anyone, Ryōgi Minato frowned in puzzlement and went upstairs to his room to ponder the answer.
And in the living room, only the occasional rustle of a turning page remained.
…
Brrring—
The alarm clock went off right on time, dragging Aoko out of her dreams.
She reached out with practiced ease to silence the noisy thing, and was about to get up when it registered that today was still the weekend—no need to make the trek to school.
But before she could flop back down, Aoko remembered the mansion had a small guest now, and that she’d have to get breakfast ready earlier than on a usual day off.
With a soft sigh she wriggled out from under the covers, changed into casual clothes, tidied herself up, and headed for the living room downstairs.
Only, she’d barely reached the second-floor landing when an appetite-stirring aroma drifted through the air, and her face filled with confusion.
Could it be Alice?
By the usual rotation, after all, today was her turn to make breakfast.
Smiling at the thought that Alice has a considerate side too, apparently, Aoko came down to the first-floor living room—only to find her housemate seated on the sofa, reading in silence, as if she’d never once moved.
“Alice, if you’re here, then the one in the kitchen is…”
Alice didn’t answer, only gave a small nod—and Aoko’s expression promptly turned to bafflement.
Never mind that her housemate had actually agreed to let a houseguest into the kitchen; her curiosity surged up first.
Aoko strode briskly into the kitchen, and at the sight before her, blinked in puzzlement.
In the exquisitely fitted space, the slightly-too-short boy stood atop a little stool, apron tied on, prepping the ingredients with a kitchen knife in hand, now and then flipping the bacon sizzling in the pan—a scene with an almost surreal, otherworldly air to it.
Hearing the movement behind him, the boy turned and greeted her with a smile.
“Good morning, Aoko.
Breakfast will be ready soon—please wait a little longer in the living room.”
“Oh—oh, sure.”
Nodding back in a daze, Aoko wandered glassy-eyed to the living room and sat down across from Alice, a single thought flashing through her mind.
Where’d this housewife come from?
His domestic skills are way too strong!
And at that very moment, another world stirred to life over the same scene.
[LET’S GO, housewife shota, I’m dead 💀]
[So nice.
I want to wake up every morning to an apron-wearing shota making me breakfast too.]
[Not me — I’d rather it be a loli.]
[FBI!
Open the door!]
[Pretty sure Shiki-nee’s cooking skill is leveled way up too, but she’s still a work in progress — probably can’t out-cook Minato yet?]
[Wait, he’s a future Sword Saint — so why’s he this good at cooking??]
[Maybe ’cause it involves a kitchen knife, so the skill transfers over?
(scratches head)]
On this point, the danmaku had actually guessed right.
Owing to his extraordinary gift for swordsmanship, the boy’s knifework in cooking was especially fine; everything else was no more than ordinarily accomplished, and he’d never become a master of the culinary path.
But even so, Ryōgi Minato’s cooking was already quite excellent—rate it on a scale, and he’d just barely brushed the threshold of the upper tier.
Perhaps he would make no great strides along this path from here on—but it had never been the road the boy pursued.
Cooking, for him, was only a way to calm the mind, the better to hone his sword.
About ten minutes later, breakfast was finally done.
On the kitchen table sat three identical breakfasts.
Rice, miso soup, grilled fish, tamagoyaki, pickles, and toast layered with bacon and ham, dipped in egg and pan-fried before being cut into three small pieces… very plainly a blend of Japanese and Western.
This was the conclusion the boy had arrived at, after an entire night agonizing over “either’s fine.”
Aoko looked at the breakfast before her—one whose appearance and aroma alike utterly crushed her own cooking—and found it hard to believe a child had made it.
Without thinking, she began to quietly pity the boy back in the Ryōgi household, certain he must have suffered plenty to reach this level.
But all those scattered thoughts flew off to parts unknown the instant her tongue met the food.
After a single bite, Aoko silently set down her chopsticks, left with mixed feelings.
Put side by side like this, my cooking starts to look like weeds…
“Is it not to your taste, Aoko?”
Still in his apron, the boy set a fresh serving of rice in front of Alice.
Seeing Aoko suddenly go still, he assumed there must be some flaw in what he’d made.
“No, it’s nothing.
Breakfast is delicious—thank you, Minato.”
The girl smiled, then sighed faintly.
“I just realized that talent really does exist in this world after all…”
Faced with Aoko’s almost resigned words, the young witch kept to her elegant pace, savoring her breakfast unhurriedly, and slid a cool glance at her housemate.
As if to say you’re only realizing this now?—which left Aoko feeling rather deflated.
Still, so what if she couldn’t out-cook a grade-schooler?
Alice’s level wasn’t all that high either; they were all about the same…
Casting off that pointless competitiveness, Aoko went on enjoying her breakfast.
And seeing she had no complaints about the meal, Ryōgi Minato let out a relieved breath and set to his own portion.
Perhaps because of the extra guest, breakfast at the Kuonji house that morning was a touch quieter than usual.
When it was over, Ryōgi Minato took it upon himself to wash the dishes and the utensils he’d used.
Apart from the depleted ingredients in the fridge, everything was returned to its place, as if nothing had been touched at all.
“Well then, I’ll be taking my leave.
Thank you again, Kuonji-san, for taking me in last night.
I’ll bring over the cost of the ingredients I used this afternoon.”
After thanking Alice, Ryōgi Minato stood at the entryway, shifted the wrapped sword to one arm to free a hand, drew a slip of paper from his pocket, and handed it to Aoko.
“This has the contact details for the hotel where I’m staying now.
If Aozaki Touko-san comes back early, I’d be grateful if you’d reach out to me.”
Aoko took the slip and nodded reflexively.
The almost excessively thoughtful boy before her was still something she couldn’t quite get used to.
Watching him walk out the entryway, cross the courtyard, his figure gradually vanishing down that slope, Aoko couldn’t shake the sense that the past two days had been far too dreamlike.
After a silent moment, as if struck by a thought, she turned to the witch beside her.
“Alice, I just had an idea…”
“It’s not happening, Aoko.”
Cutting her off before she could finish, Alice could more or less picture what she was about to say.
Nothing other than: that kid’s an amazing cook, and he seems rich too—why not take him on as a lodger while we wait for Touko to come back?
A notion driven purely by appetite and money.
So she refused outright, and wouldn’t entertain it.
True, they’d spent a bit much on magecraft materials lately—but for Alice, tolerating the boy for a single night was already the limit.
However fine his cooking might be, Alice wasn’t about to change her decision so easily.
Watching her housemate return to the living room with a slight frown, Aoko let out a regretful little sigh.
“What’s that supposed to mean—I hadn’t even said anything yet.
Besides, didn’t you go back for a second bowl of rice this morning…”