The scent of dinner filled the room—warm, familiar… yet it didn't feel safe.
Mitsuko sat silently at the edge of the couch, beside the man who was supposed to be her father—
or rather, Yakuya's father.
Inside her, a quiet voice rose like an echo:
"What's with this man? Does he really expect a girl to sit next to him so easily? How disgusting…"
But her lips didn't move.
She forced a faint, polite smile and sat down, keeping as much distance as possible between them.
The father raised an eyebrow.
Father: "Why are you sitting like that? Relax a little—we're just talking."
Lumiya chuckled softly from the other end of the table, her laughter breaking the icy air.
Lumiya: "Brother, you look like you're in a business meeting!"
Inside, Mitsuko's thoughts sharpened.
"A business meeting? No… a trial. Every glance feels like a question. Every move could expose me."
The father began talking about his long day at work, while Lumiya tapped her fingers on the table, cheerful and restless.
The atmosphere seemed perfectly normal—
too normal.
Father: "Had a long meeting today, but it's fine. Tonight, we relax together."
Lumiya: "Finally! A real family evening!"
A family.
The word echoed in Mitsuko's head like a faint bell, sharp and lingering.
"A family? I don't belong here…"
Lumiya: "Brother, did you buy the apple juice?"
Mitsuko froze, her heart skipping a beat.
Mitsuko: "Ah… I forgot."
Lumiya sighed, disappointed.
Lumiya: "Really? I wanted to drink it tonight…"
The father laughed softly.
Father: "It's fine. We can buy it tomorrow. What matters is that we're together, son."
That last word—son—
stuck in her ears, heavy and strange.
Each time he said it, something in her chest twisted.
It wasn't her name. It wasn't her life.
Between short laughs and light chatter, she noticed the father's eyes watching her—
quietly, curiously.
Not suspicious, but searching.
Father: "You seem… different tonight. Everything okay?"
Mitsuko smiled
the kind of smile that hides fear under the skin.
Mitsuko: "Yes, I'm fine. Just a little tired."
Lumiya: "Then you should sleep early! Don't overdo it tomorrow."
Everyone laughed.
A short, gentle laugh that never reached her heart.
When the lights dimmed and silence filled the house,
Lumiya said "Good night,"
and her father followed her down the hall.
Mitsuko closed the door behind her and leaned against it,
listening to her own breath for the first time all evening.
She sat on the bed, her hands trembling slightly, her eyes fixed on the dark mirror across the room.
"That was the hardest day of my life… How does he live like this?"
Then—something in the mirror made her freeze.
Yakuya's reflection was smiling.
But she wasn't.
The light flickered once.
Twice.
The room seemed to breathe with her.
"This… isn't normal.
The sound of rain whispered against the windows, soft and distant — like an old melody from another time.
The faint glow of the heater lit the faces of the three gathered in the living room, their laughter melting into the warmth of the night.
Yakuya smiled with quiet confidence, as though something deep within him had just awakened.
Yakuya (smiling confidently): "We've cooked together twice already. I think I'm starting to get the hang of this."
Noriko clapped her hands, excitement sparkling in her eyes, while Grandma chuckled softly from her chair.
Noriko: "Grandma, since it's cold and raining, why don't we make a warm winter dish together? It'll be fun!"
Yakuya's smile deepened. A small spark of determination flickered in his gaze.
"Cooking, huh? That's one thing I'm actually good at. I'll surprise them this time."
Grandma laughed lightly, her eyes filled with affectionate disbelief.
Grandma: "That's a nice idea, but Mitsuko, remember how things usually end up in the kitchen. Don't try anything too complicated."
Yakuya's reply carried quiet pride.
Yakuya: "Don't worry. I'll make something you'll never forget."
In the kitchen
Yakuya stepped into the kitchen with purpose, as if entering a battlefield he already knew by heart.
The place was a mess — scattered utensils, unwashed vegetables, the faint smell of leftover soup.
But to him, it wasn't chaos. It was a challenge.
"Alright… let's show them what I can do."
He rolled up his sleeves, diced the vegetables with precision, measured the spices perfectly, and stirred the pot like a seasoned chef.
Soon, a rich, warm aroma began to drift through the house, wrapping everything in the scent of comfort and memory.
Noriko (from the living room): "What's that smell?! There's no way Mitsuko made that!"
Grandma (laughing): "Maybe she's trying again… Let's see how it ends this time."
Half an hour later
The rain had softened outside, and the house was filled with a peaceful stillness.
Yakuya emerged from the kitchen, holding a steaming pot in both hands.
The dish was simple — a winter stew — but it looked like something crafted with care, like a memory turned into flavor.
Noriko (in awe): "What?! This looks like it's from a five-star restaurant!"
Grandma (cautiously): "Looks can be deceiving. Let's taste it first."
Grandma took the first spoonful.
Silence.
Then her eyes widened, reflecting both surprise and disbelief.
Grandma (softly): "This… this is actually delicious."
Noriko laughed with joy, clapping her hands.
Yakuya just sat there quietly, watching them with a small, bittersweet smile — a warmth in his chest he hadn't felt in a long time.
"Maybe… this feeling. Maybe this is what I've been missing."
Outside, the rain began to fall again, gentle and rhythmic — as if the sky itself was smiling on that small, fragile moment of peace.
The sound of rain slid softly down the window glass, as if watching the strange scene unfold inside the house.
The warm aroma of soup filled the room, and for a brief moment, silence reigned—before disbelief broke it apart.
Grandmother placed her spoon down slowly, her eyes wide as she stared at Mitsuko (Yakuya in her body).
Grandmother: "This… this can't be! Mitsuko, did you really make this yourself?"
Noriko took another taste, her expression one of stunned amazement.
Noriko: "This soup is perfect! Even professional chefs couldn't reach this flavor!"
Yakuya, with a confident smile, lifted his chin slightly.
Yakuya: "Didn't I tell you? I can serve the very best."
The grandmother chuckled softly, still in disbelief.
Grandmother: "If you can cook like this, why didn't you ever do it before?"
Noriko, still eating with enthusiasm, added:
Noriko: "From now on, you're in charge of the kitchen! This dish made me completely rethink your abilities, Mitsuko!"
Inside his mind, Yakuya sighed with relief and dread all at once.
"Well… I've proven myself now. But I need to be careful. If they find out who I really am—or worse, make me cook every day…"
While the two women continued their praise, Yakuya realized that his little act was backfiring.
Noriko: "You know, it's obvious now—you've been pretending to be bad at cooking all this time! Hiding such a talent…"
Yakuya (forcing a laugh): "Hah… yeah, I just wanted to surprise you."
Grandmother: "Well, you certainly did. But there's no need to hide it anymore. From now on, you're our official chef."
Yakuya, mentally screaming:
"Great. Just great. I wanted to make a good impression, and now I've been promoted to family cook!"
Noriko (teasingly): "Wonderful! Tomorrow, we expect both lunch and dinner!"
Yakuya (nervously laughing): "Heh… I'll think about it."
Later that night, Yakuya sat alone in Mitsuko's room, staring blankly at the dim ceiling light.
Yakuya (to himself): "If this keeps up, I'll be stuck in this kitchen forever… I need to find a way to clear up this mess."
Little did he know that in the next room, the grandmother and Noriko were already planning the week's menu—
and every dish depended on Mitsuko's newfound culinary "talent."
Elsewhere – Mitsuko in Yakuya's Body
Meanwhile, rain kept tapping against another window.
Lumia entered the room, her steps quick and light.
Lumia: "Brother, isn't the gathering over yet?"
Mitsuko (weary): "Yeah… what's wrong?"
Lumia (smiling softly): "Father and I are hungry. Could you cook something for us?"
Mitsuko froze, panic spreading across her face.
Mitsuko: "What? Me? Cook?"
Lumia: "Yes! There's nothing left in the kitchen, and Father's starving. Just something quick!"
Inside, Mitsuko's thoughts raced wildly.
"Oh no… I can't cook at all! If I mess this up, they'll start suspecting something's off!"
She forced a shaky smile.
Mitsuko: "Alright… I'll try."
She stepped into the kitchen, her hands trembling, eyes darting between random ingredients.
"Okay… something simple. Eggs? Rice? Maybe soup? Ugh, why is this so hard?"
After a clumsy struggle, she finally placed a dish on the table—its color an alarming shade of purple.
Lumia (confused): "Brother… why is it purple?"
Mitsuko (awkwardly): "I… I have no idea."
Father (reassuringly): "Don't worry, Lumia. Your brother's a skilled cook. He won't mess up anything."
Mitsuko, sweating inwardly:
"A skilled cook? Since when?! I thought all boys were terrible at this!"
The father took the first bite, paused, and his expression darkened.
Father: "What is this…? Why does it taste like that? This is… awful!"
Mitsuko froze, her heart sinking.
"Oh no… I've completely failed. This is worse than anything I imagine