"The weather today really isn't helping much, is it?"
Akane held her umbrella high, the world beyond the fabric's edge a muted, hazy blur of relentless drizzle. The silver mist clung to the streets of The Metropolis, acting like a natural filter that rendered everything soft and ethereal. Beneath the umbrella's canopy, she and Aoyama walked side-by-side, their figures appearing light and almost translucent against the backdrop of the rain-streaked cityscape.
"I actually think it's great," Aoyama said, a wide, boyish grin plastered on his face. "It's been way too hot lately. A little bit of regional cooling is exactly what the doctor ordered."
"Woof! Woof!"
Pochita, as loyal and enthusiastic as ever, barked his agreement, his small paws splashing through the shallow puddles as he trotted beside them. It was August, the peak of summer in the Federation, where the heat was a physical weight that seemed to follow you into every corner of the city.
Of course, that was just a generalization. The Federation's territory was vast, spanning from sub-tropical coastlines to high-altitude plateaus where the mountain snow never fully melted.
"By the way, doesn't the new semester start in two weeks?" Aoyama asked, scratching the back of his head in genuine confusion. "Why are you back in The Metropolis so early? I thought you were going to stay in Kamakura until the last possible second."
"I was just... bored at home..."
It was a half-truth. At her family estate, Akane was often left to her own devices. Her father, Ichinose Hirotaka, the titan behind the Centree portal, and her mother, Sato Katsuki, were both buried under a mountain of preparations for the upcoming International Tech Summit.
Akane had long since grown accustomed to the solitary nature of her life. She was an adult, after all; she didn't need to cling to her parents like a fragile child. Whether she spent her time in Kamakura or returned to her studio apartment in The Metropolis made little objective difference.
Except...
This time, she hadn't returned early just because she was bored.
Akane hesitated for a moment, her gaze lingering on Aoyama's profile. "Actually, the real reason I came back so soon was because I wanted to ask you something..."
Aoyama blinked, his footsteps coming to an abrupt halt.
They had reached their destination. Aoyama's rental apartment.
But before they could even reach for the door, a smell, thick, heavy, and reminiscent of a piece of charcoal that had been left to smolder in a furnace, wafted through the air, penetrating the rain's cool scent.
"CRAP! My Hazelnut Mushroom Braised Chicken!"
Aoyama's face paled, his eyes widening in a state of absolute, unadulterated panic.
Instead of fumbling for his keys, he sprinted toward the narrow, street-level window of his kitchen. In a single, fluid motion, reminiscent of a circus dog jumping through a flaming hoop, he dove headfirst through the frame and vanished into the apartment.
The movement was executed with such terrifying proficiency that it was clear this wasn't the first time he'd used the window as an emergency entrance.
A second later, a howl of pure, soul-crushing agony erupted from inside.
"NOOOOOOOOOO! MY CHICKEN! MY EARTHENWARE POT! EVERYTHING IS GONE!!!!"
Pochita, hearing Aoyama's scream, barked twice in a frantic, high-pitched tone and followed suit, leaping through the window with almost identical form.
Akane stood alone on the sidewalk, frozen in a state of bewildered, wide-eyed shock.
A moment later, the front door swung open.
"Woof!"
Pochita nudged the door wider with his head, his tail wagging as he gestured for Akane to enter.
She hesitated, then stepped inside, her eyes landing on Aoyama. He was standing in the kitchen, staring at the stove with a look of profound, tearless grief. On the burner sat a blackened mass of unidentifiable carbon that bore no resemblance to anything edible. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burnt protein and expensive fungi.
The earthenware pot itself was cracked in several places, its structural integrity compromised by the intense, dry heat.
"I bought the highest-grade organic chicken for this! And the hazelnut mushrooms cost me eight hundred points!"
Aoyama stared at the ruins of his lunch, his eyes red-rimmed. He looked like a man who had just witnessed the tragic passing of his only true friend.
"I asked the world what love was, only for it to give me... burnt chicken mushroom stew! It's all gone! WHY?!"
He struck his chest with his fist in a display of dramatic, heart-wrenching sorrow, his voice rising in an exaggerated wail. It wasn't just a burnt meal to him; it was a cosmic injustice. He looked like he was mourning his own parents.
Akane watched from the doorway, her silence a mixture of pity and utter confusion. She had no idea how to console a man over a charred pot. 'Should I tell him that life goes on? That there are other chickens in the sea?'
Aoyama, evidently unable to fully accept the loss, reached down and picked up a piece of the carbonized mess. He took a tentative bite, his face twisting in a grimace of absolute defeat. It was truly, undeniably inedible.
With a heavy sigh, he finally surrendered, scraping the blackened remains into Pochita's bowl.
Pochita, however, took one sniff and immediately backed away, his expression clearly stating that he would rather starve than touch the "Gift from the Abyss."
"Fine..."
Aoyama looked genuinely hurt by the rejection. He dumped the contents of the dog bowl into the trash can. "You could have at least tried it, Pochita... Even if it's burnt, the nutritional value is still there! It's what your body needs!"
"WOOF WOOF WOOF!"
Pochita barked back, his tone sharp and visibly angry.
"Alright, alright..." Aoyama shrank back, muttering under his breath. "You don't have to eat it if you don't want to... no need to get so aggressive about it."
Akane watched the domestic squabble, a small, helpless sigh escaping her lips.
'That's Aoyama for you,' she thought. 'His mental state is... as stable as always.'
After all, if a man was consistently "unhinged," then in a strange way, he was the most predictable person in the world.
"Such a shame, Akane. The hazelnut mushroom stew was supposed to be the highlight of the day. I really wanted you to taste it," Aoyama said, his voice laced with genuine regret. "But we can still have a proper meal! I have some ginger-fried pork and a soup base in the other pot. It'll be great!"
Akane let out a soft laugh. "Alright then."
A few minutes later, they were sitting across from each other at the small dining table. The simple, homemade dishes sat between them, creating a sense of mundane, grounded peace that seemed to push back the chaos of the outside world.
Akane watched Aoyama as he began to eat with his usual, voracious appetite.
If this man really was "Kento," the golden child who had once stood at the pinnacle of the elite academic world... then the path that led him here must have been paved with an unimaginable amount of pain.
'Is he hiding from his past?' she wondered, her long eyelashes fluttering as she studied his clear, worry-free eyes. 'Or did he truly lock it all away so he could start over?'
If the truth was so traumatic that it had broken a genius, then what right did she have to force it back to the surface? Maybe this unhinged, happy life was exactly what he needed.
Why take away his current happiness just to satisfy a curiosity?
"Akane? Something wrong? Eat up!"
Aoyama's voice broke through her reverie.
"Oh... it's nothing," she said quickly, her cheeks flushing slightly.
"Here, try this."
Aoyama used his chopsticks to place a succulent piece of pork in her bowl. He'd meticulously selected a lean cut, knowing exactly what she liked and disliked.
Akane looked up at him, and he gave her a wide, knowing grin.
He remembered. He always remembered the little things.
A warm, gentle feeling spread through Akane's chest. She took a bite of the pork, the flavor rich and comforting.
"By the way, Akane... didn't you say you wanted to ask me something earlier? What was it?" Aoyama asked, his curiosity suddenly piqued.
"It was nothing."
Akane's eyes crinkled in a faint, elegant smile.
She picked up a piece of pork and placed it in his bowl in return. "You eat too, Aoyama-kun."
Unlike him, she didn't use the serving chopsticks. She watched him continue to eat, seemingly without a single care in the world.
Call it her own selfishness, but in that moment, she only wanted him to stay exactly as he was. Happy. Drawing manga. Eating well.
And being with her.
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]