The earlier antics aside, I focused wholeheartedly on making dinner.
Standing in the quiet kitchen, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board helped ground me.
I decided on something light.
A little spaghetti with a rich red sauce bubbling on the stove and garlic bread baking in the oven.
The scent of garlic, butter, and herbs slowly filled the empty house, making it feel a bit warmer than usual.
The me before transmigrating loved Western food, and the me now loved both Eastern and Western.
Harmony at its finest.
It took a little under an hour to make everything and have it perfectly ready.
Once the table was set and the steam was rising beautifully from the plates, all that was left was waking up the sleeping beauty resting in my room.
I turned toward the hallway, wondering how I should approach her without startling her.
Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
‘Or not.’ The heavy, panicked footsteps echoed from the stairs before she practically flash-stepped in front of me.
“I-I-I’m so sorry!” Miyako gasped.
Her face was completely red as she gripped the wooden doorframe, looking incredibly endearing with her light pink hair slightly messy and fluffed up from sleeping on my bed.
She was still wearing her school uniform, but her blazer was completely rumpled and open, and her ribbon was slightly skewed to the side.
Without the crisp structure of her jacket holding it back, her uniform shirt pressed tightly against her chest, accentuating the full and soft curves of her bust that she usually kept well hidden under her school layers.
Her short pleated skirt was twisted slightly high on her waist, drawing my eyes straight to the soft, smooth curve of her thighs.
It was a completely vulnerable and breathtaking look that contrasted heavily with her usual perfect appearance at school.
“Don’t apologize.
Come sit, I made dinner.” I smiled at her, forcing my gaze up to watch the way her wide eyes darted from me to the table.
She just kept getting more adorable by the second.
“Dinner?” she blinked, her voice small.
“It’s Italian, if you don’t mind.” “Huh?
N-No, that’s fine!” “That’s a relief.” I sighed, truly feeling a weight lift from my shoulders as I pulled out a chair for her.
Miyako took a seat at the table, her movements stiff and careful, while I served our plates.
I handed hers to her first, making sure she had a glass of water, and then sat down directly across from her.
“Itadakimasu!” I immediately dug into the food.
Hunger had long since built up from all that had happened today, and the savory flavor hit the spot perfectly.
Miyako picked up her fork hesitantly, swirling a small portion of noodles while keeping her eyes glued to her plate.
After taking a few bites myself, the memory of my conversation with her mother popped into my head.
“Your mom said you could stay the night.” “C-Cough!” Miyako suddenly choked, her posture snapping straight as she began to cough into her hand.
“A-Are you okay?” I rushed over to her side with another set of napkins, leaning down and gently patting her back until her breathing stabilized.
“You spoke to my mom?!
When?!” she squeezed out, looking up at me with wide, panicked eyes.
“While you were asleep.
I hope you don’t mind, I had to use the face unlock to get into your phone.
I just didn’t want your parents to worry about where you were.” “Oh…” Miyako shied away for the umpteenth time, her shoulders slumping as she stared at the napkin in her hands.
It definitely stroked my ego that I could get the famously cool Shikimori like this so easily, but I shoved down those thoughts to focus on her comfort.
“That’s only if you want to, of course.
I really don’t mind escorting you home after we finish.
It’s my duty as your boyfriend to make sure you get back safely.” “Please stop it…
anymore and I won’t be able to face you!” she cried out softly, burying her face in her hands.
“P-Pbahaha~!
Okay, okay.” I chuckled and went back to my seat, watching her slowly lower her hands.
She was seriously a treasure.
A part of me kind of missed seeing her cool, strong vibe from the anime, but this hidden, easily flustered side was incredible in its own way.
The rest of dinner passed in an amusing silence.
The only sounds were the soft clinking of forks against the dishes.
Every few bites, Miyako would try to peek up at me from under her long bangs, but the exact moment our eyes made contact, she would snap her head right back down to her plate.
When we finally finished, I pushed my chair back and reached for her dishes.
“I’ll do the dishes, you can go ahead and bathe first.” I took her plate.
Or rather, I tried to.
Her hands caught my wrist with a vice grip.
“No!
I-I can do them!
You cooked already!” she insisted, her gaze full of determination.
“You sure?” “Yes!” “Alright then.
I’ll just take a quick shower upstairs so you can have the bath to yourself.” It felt wrong to deny her.
I could obviously do them, but it was best to know when to step back.
“You don’t have to rush!
This is your house, and your p-parents might—” “You don’t have to worry about them,” I interrupted softly, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
“So just act freely.
It’s only me that lives here.” I reached out, gently patting her head to reassure her, and then walked off toward the stairs.
Oddly, as I stepped into the dark hallway, the weight in my chest intensified.
The feelings related to my lost family in this world were surprisingly harder to hide when bringing them up to someone else.
The grief and loneliness that I was usually able to easily suppress just threatened to burst out the moment the house didn’t feel completely empty.
‘Hah~, I should’ve expected that,’ I thought, taking a deep breath against the wall.
The effects of transmigration and the death of loved ones.
Two sets of memories with two sets of attachments.
It was annoying how at random emotions could strike.