[You were doing so well... what happened?]"I don't know… maybe a relapse?"[Don't let it get to you! Fight yourself!]"Not the best advice, but I get your point."
Fighting myself... yeah, that sounds about right. But I've come this far—there's no turning back now.
I promised myself: today's the day I start to change.
Still frozen at the entrance of my own apartment, locked in some dramatic mental showdown, I eventually decided to do the sensible thing—copy Mahiru and go get changed.
Naturally, being a guy, I was done in seconds.
Now dressed and seated in the living room, I waited.
"...Wasn't she supposed to take just a few minutes? This already feels like an eternity."
Before my anxiety could go full throttle, the doorbell rang.
"Saved…"
I opened the door—and there she was.
"Welcome to my humble home!"
Mahiru stepped in. She'd changed into casual clothes, and even though I'd seen her dressed like this before… every time, she somehow looked cuter.
"Excuse me."
Suck it, world! I've got a girl in my house! …Oops, that slipped out internally. Stay cool, Akira.
"Well, it might not feel that different since we live in identical apartments."
"Still, just being in someone else's place makes it feel different, Kurosawa-san."
"Yeah, I guess that makes sense."
I led her from the entryway to the living room and gestured toward the sofa. She sat down comfortably, her presence already making the apartment feel less… sterile.
"So, Shiina-san, what ingredients are you thinking?"
"What do you have?"
"A bit of everything. Should be enough for something simple. Unless you want to teach me something more advanced."
"No need. A simple dish done right is better than a complicated one done poorly."
"Wow. That's some real chef wisdom right there."
"You're giving me too much credit, Kurosawa-san."
We kept chatting as we planned the meal.
"Do you have a favorite dish?"
"Not exactly. But I like anything that gives me a sense of comfort. What about you?"
"Well, I don't have such a deep reason, but… I really love pasta. Any kind, really."
"Really? I pictured you more as a pizza or burger kind of guy."
"I like those too. But nothing beats pasta."
"Maybe you're a pasta maniac, Kurosawa-san."
"Haha, I guess you could say that."
Time slipped by so quickly, I didn't even notice.
"Look at the time! Let's get started, Kurosawa-san!"
"Yes, chef!"
"Haha, you're such a dork."
This atmosphere… I've never felt so at ease before.
"What should I start with, chef?"
"Chop the vegetables. Prep everything for your dish!"
"Yes, chef!"
"Watch that knife technique! No uneven pieces!"
"Yes, chef!"
"Stir-fry the veggies! Don't let them burn!"
"You're really strict, chef!"
"If you can talk, you can stir the meat too!"
"Of course, chef!"
With sharp focus and gentle authority, Mahiru took command of the kitchen—and I followed her every word like a loyal apprentice.
"Great job, Kurosawa-san! It looks good. Let's see if it tastes just as great."
"Thanks for the lesson, chef. It's an honor to share this dish that symbolizes our combined efforts."
"Yeah, yeah. Enough with the speeches. Let's eat your cake already."
I wanted to taste what I made—really, I did—but with that smile…
My attention was completely elsewhere.
Mahiru… what did you do to me?
I can't stop thinking about you.