“Tregear, let’s get married,” Taro said, mouth full of meat pie.
“Cough… cough cough! What did you just say?” Tregear was in the middle of drinking his porridge when Taro’s words struck him. He nearly choked to death. If he hadn’t seen the genuine earnestness in Taro’s eyes, he would have assumed this was a calculated attempt at assassination.
“I said, let’s get married,” Taro repeated plainly, continuing his meal.
“Why?” Tregear asked once he had caught his breath.
“Tregear, you’ve eaten so many of my meals are you really telling me you don’t want to marry me? Are you planning to love me and leave me?” Taro looked up, wearing the expression of a victim facing a heartless scoundrel. “Haven’t you ever done the math? From the time we were kids until now, do you have any idea how much of my money you’ve spent? I just realized something: you spend my money, and my partner spends my money. Therefore, you are my partner!”
Taro delivered that last line with absolute, resounding conviction.
As far as reasoning went, it was technically flawless.
“What’s this? Who’s being a heartless scoundrel?” The shopkeeper, ever a fan of gossip, dragged her husband over to their table.
“Good morning, ma’am,” Taro greeted her with a bright smile.
“Taro, Tregear, morning,” she replied warmly.
“Morning,” her husband muttered lazily. It was clear he had been forcibly dragged out of bed by his wife for breakfast; otherwise, he’d still be asleep.
“Good morning,” both Taro and Tregear replied.
“Go on and finish your breakfast. My husband and I are going to go grab ours now,” the shopkeeper laughed, pulling her husband away.
“So… what was the point of her popping up just now?” Taro asked, bewildered.
“She probably just wanted to join the excitement,” said Tregear, who understood the shopkeeper’s nature all too well. He was secretly grateful for the interruption; otherwise, he wouldn’t have known how to respond to Taro.
“Tregear, you still haven’t agreed to my proposal,” Taro reminded him.
“When did this become a proposal?” Tregear was rendered speechless by Taro’s audacity.
“How is it not a proposal? Besides, if I actually showed up with flowers and a ring to ask you, would you even say yes?” Taro said, taking another sip of his porridge.
“No. I’d just assume you were ill and draw a vial of your light to test for viruses,” Tregear said, biting into a boiled egg.
“Exactly!” Taro finished his pie in two bites and took a final gulp of porridge. “Let’s go register on Monday. Take the day off. You can tell Hikari you’re taking your three-month marriage leave.”
“Chief Hikari will kill me,” Tregear remarked.
“No way, Brother Zoffy will look out for you,” Taro said, waving off the concern.
Zoffy’s internal monologue: Hikari won’t kill Tregear, that’s true. As for you, Taro, once you’re back from leave, you can expect a solid month of mandatory overtime. (Smiles)