As Takuma stood in Miu’s living room, an unexpected wave of nervousness washed over him. It was one thing walking home with her—sharing casual moments on neutral ground—but being in her house was different. Everything felt more personal, more real, as though he was stepping into a world that he didn’t quite belong to, yet desperately wanted to understand.
The scent of jasmine tea wafted from the kitchen, mixing with the soft, floral fragrance that seemed to linger in the air. Takuma’s gaze wandered around the room, taking in the small details: the carefully arranged family photos, the bookshelf lined with novels and trinkets, the neatly folded blanket draped over the back of the couch. It all felt very… Miu. Warm, inviting, with a hint of something deeper, more thoughtful.
“Sorry for the wait!” Miu’s voice cut through his thoughts, light and casual, but there was a faint undertone of shyness that he hadn’t noticed before. She stepped into the room holding two cups of tea, her usual confident smile in place, but there was something different about the way she moved—almost hesitant, like she was more aware of him being here than she’d let on.
“Thanks,” Takuma said, taking one of the cups from her, their fingers brushing briefly. That same jolt of electricity sparked between them, and he quickly pulled his hand away, hoping she hadn’t noticed the flush creeping up his neck.
Miu, on the other hand, seemed unfazed—or maybe she was just better at hiding it. She took a sip of her tea, her eyes flicking to him with that playful glint she often wore when teasing him. “You look nervous,” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Are you that intimidated by my house?”
Takuma chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, it’s just… different. I’ve never really been over at someone’s place like this before.”
“Well, since you’re here,” Miu said, her tone shifting slightly as she set her cup down on the table, “I could give you a tour. That is, if you’re not too scared to see my room.”
Takuma’s heart skipped a beat at the suggestion, though Miu’s smirk told him she was only half-serious. Still, the idea of seeing her room—of being in a space so intimately tied to her—made his pulse quicken. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that kind of closeness yet, but something about the way she was looking at him made it hard to say no.
“Uh, sure,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. “Why not?”
Miu grinned, her eyes lighting up with mischief as she gestured for him to follow her. “Come on, then. I promise I won’t bite.”
Takuma trailed after her as she led him through the house, pointing out different rooms with casual commentary as they passed. There was the kitchen, bright and spacious with a small dining table tucked in the corner; the bathroom, which she skimmed over with a wave of her hand; and a guest room that looked like it hadn’t been used in a while, but still felt welcoming in its simplicity.
“This is my dad’s study,” Miu said as they passed a closed door, her voice softening slightly. “He spends a lot of time in there working when he’s home. He’s pretty strict about not letting anyone in, so… I’ve never really gone in myself.”
Takuma noticed the shift in her tone, a faint sadness flickering in her eyes for just a second before she brushed it off with a smile. He wondered what it was like for her—having a father who seemed distant, too caught up in his work to be around much. He knew the feeling of isolation well, but something told him Miu’s situation was different. Lonelier, maybe.
“And this,” she continued, stopping in front of another door, “is my room.”
Takuma’s heart raced as she pushed the door open, revealing a space that felt distinctly her—neat but lived-in, with soft colors and delicate touches of personality scattered throughout. There was a large window that let in natural light, illuminating the bed with its neatly arranged pillows and a desk covered in notebooks and pens. A small bookshelf stood in the corner, filled with a mix of novels, manga, and framed photos of her with friends.
He stepped inside, careful not to intrude too much as he took in the room’s cozy atmosphere. There was something about being here, in Miu’s space, that made everything feel more real. More vulnerable. Like he was seeing a side of her she didn’t show to the rest of the world.
“It’s… nice,” Takuma said, his voice quieter than usual as he glanced around. “It suits you.”
Miu smiled, a genuine one this time, and for a moment, she seemed almost shy—something he rarely saw from her. “Thanks. I try to keep it clean, but it gets messy when exams are around the corner. You know how it is.”
Takuma nodded, though his attention was drawn to a small bulletin board above her desk. It was filled with photos, little mementos of memories she had captured over the years. Most of them were of Miu with her friends, laughing and smiling, but one photo in particular caught his eye.
It was a picture of them—him and Miu, standing outside the school gate. He didn’t remember when it had been taken, but seeing it there, pinned among the others, sent a strange warmth through his chest.
“You have a picture of us?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual, though his heart was pounding in his ears.
Miu blinked, her cheeks turning a faint shade of pink as she glanced at the photo. “Oh, that? Yeah, Aya took it one day and sent it to me. I thought it was cute, so I put it up. Is that… weird?”
Takuma shook his head quickly, his own face heating up. “No, it’s not weird. I just didn’t expect it.”
For a moment, they stood there in comfortable silence, the air between them charged with something unspoken. It was a delicate balance they’d been navigating for weeks now—this strange, growing closeness that neither of them quite knew how to define. But as Takuma stood in her room, surrounded by the little pieces of Miu’s life, he realized that he didn’t mind the uncertainty.
“So,” Miu said after a moment, breaking the silence with a teasing grin, “what do you think? Did my room live up to your expectations?”
Takuma let out a soft laugh, relieved by the return of her playful tone. “Yeah, I guess it did.”
Miu beamed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Good. I’d hate to disappoint.”
As they left her room and made their way back to the living room, Takuma couldn’t shake the feeling that something between them had shifted—something subtle but important. It wasn’t just the tour, or the casual teasing, or even the fact that he now had her number.
It was the way Miu had let him in, not just into her home, but into her life. A life that, until now, he had only glimpsed from a distance. And for the first time, he felt like he was really starting to understand her—not just the confident, popular girl everyone admired, but the real Miu. The one who hid her insecurities behind a smile, who cared deeply about the people in her life, even if she didn’t always show it.
As they sat back down on the couch, sipping their tea in comfortable silence, Takuma glanced at Miu out of the corner of his eye. She was looking out the window, a soft, thoughtful expression on her face, and for a moment, he let himself wonder what she was thinking.
Maybe—just maybe—she was feeling the same way he was.
And if she was, Takuma knew he wouldn’t mind finding out where this new, fragile connection between them might lead.
As they settled back on the couch, the comfortable silence between them seemed to stretch, thick with unspoken thoughts. Takuma took another sip of his tea, letting the warm liquid settle his nerves. His gaze flicked toward Miu, who was looking out the window, the fading afternoon light casting a soft glow on her face. For a moment, he allowed himself to just watch her, something he rarely did so openly.
What was she thinking? He wondered if her mind was as full as his—if she, too, was trying to figure out what this was. Being here in her house, getting this close to her… it all felt surreal. He hadn’t planned on any of this when their paths first crossed, but now he was pulled into her orbit, and it was harder and harder to keep his distance.
He shifted slightly, glancing at his phone. Miu’s contact was already saved there, and the thought of it made his heart race. Her number. Her home. Her space. Was he really getting closer to her, or was he reading too much into all of this?
Stop overthinking, he scolded himself. You’re just friends. That’s all it is.
But the way her eyes had softened when she showed him her room, how she looked when she pointed out that picture of the two of them… It didn’t feel like just friends. Something had changed between them, even if neither of them had the courage to name it yet.
Miu, still staring out the window, finally broke the silence. “You know,” she said, her voice soft but thoughtful, “I don’t usually invite people over.”
Takuma blinked, caught off guard by her sudden statement. “Really?”
She nodded, turning her head to look at him. There was something in her eyes—something vulnerable and raw that he hadn’t seen before. “Yeah, I guess… it just never felt right before. I like having my own space, you know? My own place where I don’t have to worry about what people think.”
He nodded, though a part of him was surprised. Miu, the girl everyone admired, who seemed so effortlessly popular and outgoing, was more private than he’d thought. It made sense, though, in a way. The pressure of being who everyone expected her to be must’ve been exhausting.
“So why now?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual. “Why invite me?”
Miu’s gaze flickered, and for a moment, she looked away, almost as if she was embarrassed. “I don’t know. You’re different, Takuma. I mean… I feel like I don’t have to pretend around you. It’s easier. Less tiring.”
Takuma’s breath hitched. The casual, almost offhand way she said it made his heart skip a beat. He didn’t know how to respond to that, didn’t know if he should read into it more, but her words lingered in the air between them, heavier than she probably realized.
She continued before he could speak, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. “It’s like… with you, I don’t have to put up this front. I don’t have to be ‘Miu, the popular girl’ or whatever everyone thinks I am. I can just be… me.”
Just me. The words echoed in Takuma’s mind, and he suddenly felt the weight of them, of everything she wasn’t saying but that hung there, right between the lines. He didn’t know why, but her confession made his chest tighten with something like longing—longing for a connection he hadn’t realized he wanted so badly.
Was this what it felt like? To be let in, even just a little?
Takuma swallowed, glancing down at the cup in his hands, his mind spinning. How was he supposed to respond to that? Could he even say what he was feeling, when his emotions were such a tangled mess? A part of him wanted to reach out, to say something reassuring, but he wasn’t good with words, especially not with emotions this close to the surface.
He risked a glance at her, noticing how she fidgeted slightly, her hand brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Was she nervous too? Did she even realize the effect she was having on him?
Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out. “I… I feel the same way.” His voice was quieter than he intended, but sincere. “With you, I don’t have to pretend either. It’s… it’s easier.”
Miu blinked, her eyes widening slightly as she met his gaze. For a brief second, the air between them shifted, heavy with something unsaid, something they both felt but didn’t dare acknowledge outright.
Takuma’s heart pounded, and in that moment, he couldn’t tell if it was relief or fear that gripped him more tightly. Fear of how much he wanted this—wanted her—and the uncertainty of where they stood.
Miu smiled then, a small, almost shy smile that softened her entire face. It wasn’t the usual confident smirk she wore around others. This smile felt more… real.
“I’m glad,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but carrying so much weight. “I’m really glad.”
The moment stretched, the quiet between them thick with an understanding they didn’t need to voice. For now, it was enough. They didn’t have to rush or define whatever this was. There was comfort in just being, in sharing a space where they could both be themselves, without the expectations of the outside world pressing in.
But even as the moment settled, Takuma couldn’t help but feel the shift. Something between them had changed, and deep down, he knew there was no going back to how things were before.
As they sat there, sipping their tea in the quiet warmth of her living room, Takuma found himself wondering—hoping, even—that maybe, just maybe, whatever was growing between them wasn’t something he had to fight against. Maybe it was something he could let happen, something that was worth exploring, no matter how terrifying that prospect might be.
And as Miu glanced at him again, her eyes soft and thoughtful, he thought that perhaps she was thinking the same thing too.
Takuma shifted slightly on the couch, his fingers drumming nervously on the armrest. The silence between him and Miu wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged, like the air right before a storm. He could feel her presence next to him, and the proximity made his thoughts scatter.
What do I say now?
He wasn’t used to moments like this—moments that felt so personal, so exposed. He’d always been careful to keep his distance, to stay in his own lane. But now, here he was, sitting in Miu’s living room, having just shared something so real it made his chest feel tight.
Miu let out a soft sigh, leaning back against the couch. Her gaze drifted toward the window again, but Takuma could tell her mind was elsewhere. It was like she was searching for something to say, but at the same time, she didn’t want to break the fragile atmosphere between them.
“So…” Miu started, her voice barely above a whisper, “do you ever think about how strange all of this is? I mean… how we went from barely talking to—” She paused, her fingers playing with the edge of a pillow, as if the words were too heavy to finish.
Takuma swallowed hard. “To this?” he asked, his voice a little shaky. “Yeah… I guess it is kind of strange.”
Miu nodded, her eyes distant for a moment, before turning back to him. There was something in her gaze—something soft and almost hesitant. “But… I like it. I like that we’re… closer now.”
Closer. The word echoed in Takuma’s mind, and he felt a warmth spread through his chest. He didn’t know how to respond without sounding awkward, so he just nodded, hoping that would be enough.
Miu shifted in her seat, pulling her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She rested her chin on her knees, looking at him sideways. “You’re not like the others, Takuma,” she said softly. “Not like the guys who just talk to me because of how I look or because they think they’re supposed to.”
Takuma blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”
Miu smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I mean, you don’t… treat me like some perfect, untouchable thing. You talk to me like a real person. You see me, not just what everyone else sees.”
Takuma felt his heart skip a beat. He hadn’t expected her to say something like that, and the raw honesty in her voice hit him harder than he thought it would. It made him realize just how much Miu had been carrying, how much of herself she had kept hidden behind that confident exterior.
“I never saw you as ‘just Miu,’” Takuma admitted, his voice quieter now. “You’re more than that. I mean… you’re strong. You’re funny. You’re real.” He paused, feeling the weight of his own words. “I don’t know. I just… I never thought about you the way everyone else does.”
Miu’s eyes softened, and for a moment, she just looked at him—really looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. There was something in her gaze that made Takuma’s stomach flip, something he couldn’t quite name but knew he felt too.
“That’s why I like being around you,” Miu said, her voice almost a whisper. “Because with you, I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to be anyone but myself.”
The room seemed to grow quieter, the air between them heavier. Takuma’s throat tightened, and he suddenly felt the urge to say something, anything, to fill the space. But the words wouldn’t come. His mind was a mess, swirling with thoughts he couldn’t quite untangle.
What does this mean?
Was this how friendships were supposed to feel? Or was there something more happening here? He didn’t know. All he knew was that when she looked at him like that, it felt like something was pulling him closer, something he couldn’t resist.
Miu shifted again, this time sitting cross-legged as she turned to face him fully. “Hey, Takuma,” she said, her voice lightening just a bit. “You never told me—what do you do when you’re not at school? Like, what’s your thing?”
Takuma blinked, surprised by the sudden change in topic. “My thing?”
“Yeah,” Miu said, smiling a little now. “Like… your hobbies. What do you do when you’re not busy saving people in alleyways?”
Takuma chuckled, grateful for the shift. “Uh, well… I don’t really have anything exciting. I train a lot. You know, martial arts and stuff. It keeps me focused.”
Miu tilted her head, genuinely interested. “Martial arts? That’s cool. I always wondered how you got so fast. I mean, you took down Daichi and his guys like it was nothing.”
Stolen story; please report.
Takuma shrugged, trying to play it off. “I’ve been doing it for a while. It helps clear my head.”
Miu leaned forward slightly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Teach me something.”
Takuma blinked. “What?”
“Teach me,” she repeated, her grin widening. “Come on, I want to learn something.”
He raised an eyebrow, unsure if she was serious. “You want to learn martial arts?”
Miu nodded enthusiastically, sitting up straighter. “Yeah! Why not? I mean, I’m not as tough as you, but I can try. Maybe next time someone tries to mess with me, I’ll surprise them.”
Takuma couldn’t help but smile at her determination. “Alright, alright. I’ll show you something simple.”
They stood up, and Takuma cleared a little space in the living room, moving the coffee table aside. Miu stood across from him, bouncing on her feet, clearly excited.
“Okay, first,” Takuma said, stepping closer, “it’s all about balance. You need to stay grounded.”
He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, positioning her feet properly. As he did, he couldn’t help but notice how close they were standing, how the warmth of her skin seeped through her shirt. His heart started pounding again, but he pushed the thought away.
Miu looked up at him, her eyes bright. “Like this?”
“Yeah,” Takuma said, his voice quieter. “Like that.”
He took a step back, showing her a few simple moves—how to block, how to throw a basic punch. Miu followed his instructions, though her movements were more playful than precise. Every now and then, she’d laugh when she messed up, and the sound made Takuma’s chest feel light.
“You’re a natural,” he teased, stepping back after a few minutes.
Miu laughed, brushing her hair back from her face. “Yeah, right. But it’s fun.”
They stood there for a moment, still catching their breath, and Takuma couldn’t help but feel the shift in the air again. The closeness, the way they moved around each other—it felt like something more. Something that neither of them could fully explain, but that was there, undeniable.
“Thanks, Takuma,” Miu said, her voice softer now. “For… everything.”
He looked at her, his heart pounding again. “You don’t have to thank me, Miu. I’m just… glad we’re friends.”
Miu smiled, but there was something in her eyes, something that made Takuma’s stomach flip again. And in that moment, he couldn’t help but wonder if friendship was enough. If maybe—just maybe—there was something more between them.
But for now, he didn’t push it. They were still figuring it out, after all.
Miu’s laugh echoed softly in the living room as she brushed her hair back and grinned at Takuma. The playful martial arts session had brought an unexpected lightness between them, a kind of warmth that was both new and familiar at the same time.
But as the air grew quieter and the moment of shared closeness lingered, Miu shifted her weight and glanced toward the kitchen. “Well,” she started, her voice breaking the comfortable silence, “I was going to make dinner… but now I’m thinking I should invite you to stay.”
Takuma blinked, caught off guard. “Dinner?”
Miu nodded, her lips curling into a teasing smile. “Yeah, dinner. You eat, don’t you?”
Takuma chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah, but I didn’t expect you to cook. I could—”
“No way,” Miu cut him off, her tone playful but insistent. “You’re my guest tonight, Takuma. Let me handle it.”
There was a glint in her eyes that Takuma couldn’t quite decipher, but he found himself nodding before he could argue further. “Alright, but don’t make anything too fancy. I don’t want to put you through too much trouble.”
Miu rolled her eyes, already heading toward the kitchen. “It’s not trouble. Besides, I’ve been craving some home-cooked Japanese food, and I’ll make enough for both of us.”
As she stepped into the kitchen, Takuma hesitated for a moment before following her, curious. The smell of spices and fresh ingredients already began to fill the air, and Takuma’s stomach rumbled in response. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until just now.
He leaned against the doorway, watching as Miu moved around the kitchen with practiced ease. She pulled out a few ingredients from the fridge—rice, miso paste, fresh vegetables, and tofu. Her movements were quick but graceful, a rhythm that felt natural.
She’s really good at this, Takuma thought, feeling slightly out of place. He’d always admired people who could cook, but seeing Miu so effortlessly in her element made him realize there was so much more to her than he had ever noticed before.
As if sensing his eyes on her, Miu turned and caught his gaze. “What?” she asked, a playful smirk on her lips. “You’ve never seen someone make miso soup before?”
Takuma blinked, suddenly flustered. “No, it’s just… you seem like you do this a lot. It’s kind of impressive.”
Miu laughed softly, turning back to the stove as she stirred the pot. “My mom taught me how to cook when I was little. It was our thing, you know? Every weekend, we’d make meals together, and she’d always tell me that knowing how to cook is one of the most important life skills.”
Her voice softened as she spoke, and Takuma could sense the fondness in her words. It was rare to hear Miu talk about her family, especially in such a personal way. He found himself leaning in, wanting to hear more.
“That’s… really nice,” Takuma said quietly. “I never really had that kind of thing with my family.”
Miu glanced at him from the corner of her eye, her expression softening. “It’s never too late to learn. I could teach you if you want,” she teased, but there was a genuine offer behind her words.
Takuma chuckled, though the thought of cooking with Miu felt strangely… intimate. He wasn’t sure he could handle that without tripping over his own awkwardness. “Maybe,” he replied, trying to keep his tone light. “But I’d probably just ruin everything.”
Miu rolled her eyes but smiled. “You won’t ruin anything. Besides, it’s not that hard once you get the hang of it. Cooking’s just like martial arts in a way—there’s a rhythm to it. You just have to follow the steps.”
Takuma watched her carefully as she moved to prepare the vegetables, chopping them with precision. The sound of the knife against the cutting board was almost hypnotic, and he found himself lost in the simplicity of the moment.
What is it about her? he wondered, feeling the strange warmth in his chest again. Why does being around her feel so… different?
He couldn’t pinpoint when it had started, but lately, every interaction with Miu felt charged, as if there was something just beneath the surface that neither of them dared to acknowledge. It wasn’t just friendship anymore—it was something more. But Takuma wasn’t sure what to do with that feeling.
“Hey, Takuma,” Miu’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Can you pass me the soy sauce? It’s right there on the counter.”
“Uh, yeah,” he mumbled, quickly grabbing the bottle and handing it to her.
Miu smiled, her fingers brushing against his as she took it from him. “Thanks.”
The brief contact sent a jolt through him, and he mentally cursed himself for overreacting. Get it together, Takuma. She’s just being nice.
But the more he watched her, the more he felt that same pull—the same connection that had been growing between them ever since that night in the alley. There was something unspoken between them, something he didn’t know how to name.
“So,” Miu said, breaking the silence as she added the soy sauce to the pan, “you’ve never had homemade Japanese food before?”
Takuma shook his head. “Not really. I usually just eat whatever’s quick and easy.”
Miu frowned playfully. “That’s a crime. You’re missing out on so much good food, Takuma. I’ll have to change that.”
Takuma couldn’t help but smile at her determination. “Well, I’m looking forward to it, then. If this turns out good, I might start asking you to make dinner every day.”
Miu laughed, tossing the vegetables in the pan. “You’re going to regret saying that. I might take you up on it.”
They fell into an easy rhythm, the sound of cooking filling the space between them. Takuma found himself relaxing more as he watched Miu work, her energy infectious. It felt like they had known each other for much longer than they actually had—like this connection had always been there, waiting for the right moment to surface.
After a while, the smell of miso soup and stir-fried vegetables filled the kitchen, and Miu turned to Takuma with a satisfied grin. “Alright, dinner’s almost ready. You’re going to love this.”
Takuma’s stomach growled in response, and Miu giggled. “I guess I made just in time.”
She set the table quickly, and as they sat down, Takuma couldn’t help but feel like he was part of something special. It wasn’t just the food or the atmosphere—it was Miu. The way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she made him feel like he belonged.
As they started eating, Takuma couldn’t help but glance at Miu, watching the way her face lit up as she took a bite of her own cooking. She caught him looking, and for a brief moment, their eyes met, the air between them heavy with unspoken words.
Miu’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she quickly looked away, focusing on her food. “So… what do you think?” she asked, her voice a little quieter now.
Takuma smiled, taking another bite before answering. “It’s amazing, Miu. Seriously. I’ve never had anything this good before.”
Miu’s face softened, and she smiled, though there was a hint of something more in her expression—something almost shy. “I’m glad you like it.”
They continued eating in comfortable silence, but the tension between them remained, lingering in every glance, every brush of hands as they passed dishes to each other. And as the night wore on, Takuma couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them—something that neither of them were ready to admit just yet.
Takuma took another bite of the miso soup, savoring the warmth of the broth as it slid down his throat. The rich, savory flavor was unlike anything he had tasted before, and he couldn’t help but glance at Miu with genuine admiration.
“This is seriously good,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of surprise. “I didn’t expect it to taste this… professional.”
Miu looked up from her bowl, her chopsticks pausing mid-air. “Professional?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You make it sound like I run a restaurant or something.”
Takuma shrugged, his tone casual but sincere. “Well, if you did, I’d probably eat there every day.”
Miu blinked at him, and for a brief moment, her expression softened, but she quickly masked it with a playful scoff. “You say that now, but I bet you’d get tired of it after a week. I know how you are with food—anything quick and convenient, right?”
He grinned sheepishly, knowing she had him pegged. “Alright, fine. Maybe I’m not the best cook. But that’s why I’m impressed. You make it look easy.”
Miu rolled her eyes, but there was a small, satisfied smile tugging at her lips. “It’s not that hard once you get the basics down. It’s all about balance—flavors, timing. You just have to pay attention to what the ingredients are telling you.”
Takuma tilted his head, curious. “What the ingredients are telling you?”
Miu placed her chopsticks down and leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah. Like… when the vegetables start to soften, when the broth’s flavor deepens. Cooking’s kind of like a conversation with the food. You have to listen to it, adjust when things don’t go exactly as planned.”
Takuma frowned slightly, trying to process her explanation. “I never thought of it like that.”
Miu gave him a sideways glance, her tone teasing. “That’s because you treat food like a pit stop, not a destination.”
Takuma chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I’ll admit, I don’t put much thought into it. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from you.”
Miu’s eyes flicked toward him, and for a brief second, he thought he saw a glimmer of amusement before she quickly covered it with another shrug. “Maybe. If you’re serious about it. But I’m warning you, I don’t have the patience for lazy students.”
He raised his hands defensively, grinning. “I’ll try not to slack off, sensei.”
Miu snorted, but the lightness in her laugh was unmistakable. “I’m not that strict. Besides, you’d probably get bored halfway through a lesson on cutting vegetables.”
“Hey, give me some credit,” Takuma shot back, taking another bite of his food. “I could be a good student if I really tried.”
“Sure, sure,” Miu replied, clearly unconvinced, but her smile remained as she went back to eating.
Takuma’s mind wandered as they continued their meal in companionable silence. There was something easy about being with Miu like this—something he hadn’t realized he missed until now. For once, the usual tension he felt around other people didn’t weigh on him. It was just… simple. They were just eating dinner, having a normal conversation. And yet, it felt oddly significant.
As Miu reached for the soy sauce, her hand brushed lightly against Takuma’s, and he instinctively pulled back. She paused for a second, her eyes flickering toward him, but neither of them said anything. She continued seasoning her food as if nothing had happened.
Takuma cleared his throat, trying to shake the odd sensation in his chest. “So… do you cook like this every night?”
Miu nodded, her focus on her plate. “Yeah, most nights. It’s just me and my mom, so I take care of dinner when she’s working late. It’s kind of my thing.”
“That’s pretty responsible of you,” Takuma said, meaning it. “I don’t know if I’d have the discipline to cook every night. Probably end up ordering takeout half the time.”
Miu shrugged, but there was a hint of pride in her expression. “I like cooking. It’s relaxing, in a way. Plus, I like knowing what’s going into my food. You can’t always trust restaurants, you know?”
“Good point,” Takuma agreed, taking another bite. The meal was almost finished, but he didn’t want the moment to end just yet. “So, what’s your specialty? Miso soup’s obviously on the list.”
Miu smiled, a little more openly this time. “I make a pretty good tonkatsu, too. And I’ve been experimenting with bento lately—trying to make them look cute, like those ones you see online.”
Takuma raised an eyebrow, imagining Miu meticulously crafting character-shaped rice balls. “Cute? That doesn’t seem like your style.”
Miu narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He chuckled. “Just… you don’t strike me as the ‘cute bento’ type. More like the ‘practical and efficient’ type.”
Miu crossed her arms, pretending to be offended. “I can be both, you know. Just because I’m efficient doesn’t mean I can’t have fun with it.”
Takuma grinned, enjoying the back-and-forth. “Alright, I stand corrected. Maybe I’ll have to try one of these cute bentos someday.”
Miu tilted her head, her expression softening for a moment. “Maybe you will.”
The room fell into a comfortable silence again, the warmth of the kitchen surrounding them as they finished their meal. Miu stood up first, gathering the empty dishes. “I’ll clean up,” she said over her shoulder. “You can relax. I’ve got this.”
Takuma started to protest, but Miu gave him a look that stopped him in his tracks. “Seriously,” she added. “I invited you, remember? Just sit.”
Takuma sighed, but he couldn’t help smiling as he leaned back in his chair. “Alright, fine. But next time, I’m helping.”
Miu glanced at him as she started washing the dishes, her tone light. “We’ll see about that.”
As the water ran and the sound of clinking dishes filled the kitchen, Takuma found his thoughts wandering again. This whole evening felt strangely domestic, like something out of a life he wasn’t used to. He hadn’t realized how much he enjoyed it—this simple, quiet time with Miu, where there was no pressure or expectation. Just… being.
He watched her move around the kitchen, her focus on cleaning, and for a brief moment, he wondered what other sides of Miu he had yet to see. There was something about her that intrigued him more and more, the deeper he got to know her.
But, shaking off the thought, Takuma leaned forward and stretched his arms over the table, thinking about how full he felt—not just from the food, but from the comfort of the evening.
“I’ve got to admit,” he called out, breaking the quiet, “this was a pretty good night.”
Miu turned slightly, her eyes catching his for a brief moment. She smiled, and though it was small, it was real. “Yeah. It was.”
As Miu finished washing the last dish, she wiped her hands on a towel and turned to face Takuma, who was now leaning back in his chair, looking surprisingly relaxed. She wasn’t used to seeing him so… comfortable. Usually, he seemed like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, always a little tense. But tonight had felt different, and she couldn’t deny the slight sense of accomplishment that bubbled up inside her. She’d done something right.
"Okay," she said, drying her hands and placing the towel on the counter. "Your turn."
Takuma blinked at her. "My turn for what?"
Miu crossed her arms, giving him a pointed look. "I cooked, so now you clean."
Takuma raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, you told me to relax, remember? You can’t just switch the rules on me now."
Miu sighed dramatically, but there was a playful glint in her eyes. "Fine, I’ll let you off the hook this time. But next time, you’re doing the dishes."
"Next time, huh?" Takuma raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "You’re already planning another dinner?"
Miu froze for a moment, her mind racing to find a response. Why had she said "next time"? It just slipped out, but now she had to play it off like it was no big deal. She cleared her throat, quickly regaining her composure.
"I mean, someone’s got to keep you from living off convenience store food, right?" she said, her tone teasing but light. "Can’t let you starve just because you can’t cook."
Takuma chuckled, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "I didn’t know you cared so much about my well-being."
Miu scoffed, turning her back to him as she pretended to organize some utensils. "Don’t flatter yourself. I just don’t want to be responsible when you pass out from eating too many instant noodles."
There was a beat of silence, and Miu wondered if she’d gone too far with the teasing. But then, she heard Takuma’s laugh, low and genuine, and the tension that had briefly crept into the room dissolved.
"Fair enough," he said, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. "I guess I owe you for saving me from a ramen overdose."
Miu glanced at him from the corner of her eye, watching him casually stroll around the kitchen. It was strange, seeing him like this in her home. There was something almost surreal about the whole situation, as if the boundary between school and home life had blurred in the most unexpected way. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it yet.
"Hey," Takuma suddenly said, snapping her out of her thoughts. He was standing near the fridge now, his eyes flicking toward her as if he’d just remembered something. "Speaking of cooking, what else do you know how to make? Like, if we were going to do this again, what’s on the menu?"
Miu turned to face him fully, hands on her hips as she pretended to consider his question seriously. "Hmm… let’s see. I could make teriyaki chicken. Or maybe okonomiyaki. Oh, and I’ve been practicing my tempura lately, so that could be an option."
Takuma’s eyes widened slightly, and he let out a low whistle. "Okay, I take back what I said earlier. You really are like a professional chef. That all sounds amazing."
Miu shrugged, trying to hide the small flicker of pride that stirred in her chest at his compliment. "It’s not that big a deal. Like I said, I just enjoy cooking."
Takuma leaned against the counter, his expression thoughtful for a moment before he spoke again. "You know, I’m starting to think I got the better end of this deal. You cook all this amazing food, and I just sit back and eat. Doesn’t seem fair."
Miu narrowed her eyes at him, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "You’re right. It’s not fair. Which is why you’re going to start helping next time."
"Helping?" Takuma repeated, looking mildly horrified. "I thought you said you didn’t have the patience for bad students."
Miu waved him off dismissively. "I’ll make an exception. You can chop the vegetables or something. Just try not to destroy the kitchen in the process."
Takuma chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "No promises, but I’ll give it a shot."
As they bantered back and forth, the ease between them felt natural, almost effortless. It was strange how comfortable things had become, even though the situation was anything but ordinary. Takuma, of all people, was standing in her kitchen, joking about cooking, and it didn’t feel awkward or forced. It felt… right, in a way.
"So," Takuma said suddenly, breaking the silence again. "What’s next on the house tour? You still haven’t shown me your secret lair."
Miu blinked, taken aback. "My secret lair?"
Takuma smirked. "You know, your room. It’s gotta be filled with all sorts of mysterious stuff, right? Anime posters? Secret journals? A shrine to some idol group?"
Miu rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. "Please, I’m not that predictable."
Takuma’s grin widened. "Then prove it."
For a moment, Miu considered telling him no—her room wasn’t exactly a place she showed people. It was her space, her sanctuary. But then, there was a challenge in his eyes, that same easygoing confidence that made it hard to say no. Besides, she had nothing to hide… mostly.
"Fine," she said, turning on her heel and heading toward the stairs. "But if you touch anything, you’re dead."
Takuma followed her up the stairs, laughing under his breath. "Noted."
They reached the top of the stairs, and Miu led him down the hallway to her room, feeling a bit more self-conscious than she expected. She opened the door slowly, stepping inside first to make sure everything was in order. It was a simple room—clean, organized, with a small desk, a bookshelf, and a bed in the corner. Her walls were mostly bare, save for a few framed pictures and one small anime poster she couldn’t bring herself to take down.
Takuma stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room with interest. "Huh," he said, crossing his arms. "This is… way neater than I thought it would be."
Miu raised an eyebrow. "Did you expect it to be a mess?"
Takuma shrugged, grinning. "I just thought there’d be more… stuff. I don’t know, something more chaotic."
Miu scoffed, leaning against the doorframe. "Sorry to disappoint. I keep things organized."
"Clearly," Takuma said, wandering over to her bookshelf and scanning the titles. "But you weren’t kidding about the anime stuff."
"Shut up," Miu muttered, crossing her arms defensively. "It’s not that much."
Takuma chuckled, but before he could say anything else, his eyes landed on something on her desk. He raised an eyebrow, reaching out to grab it. "Wait a second… is this—?"
Miu’s heart stopped. She realized what he was holding just as he turned around, a sly grin spreading across his face.
"Is this a 'How to Cook for Beginners' book?" Takuma asked, holding up the cookbook with a mischievous glint in his eye. "And here I thought you were a pro."
Miu’s face burned red as she snatched the book from his hands, glaring at him. "It’s… for reference! Sometimes you need to double-check recipes!"
Takuma laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I’m not judging. It’s cute."
Miu narrowed her eyes at him, but before she could fire back a retort, they both froze as they heard the unmistakable sound of the front door creaking open downstairs.
Her mother was home.
Miu’s eyes widened in panic, and Takuma’s expression mirrored hers.
"Uh… should I hide?" Takuma whispered urgently.
Miu blinked, her mind racing as she glanced toward her bedroom window. "Hide? Where?"
"I don’t know!" Takuma whispered, his voice rising slightly in panic. "The closet? Under the bed? What do people usually do in situations like this?"
Miu shot him a desperate look before darting toward the closet, flinging the door open. "Get in, now!"
Takuma hurriedly scrambled inside, pulling the door shut just as Miu’s mother’s voice called out from downstairs.
"Miu, is that you?"
Miu quickly grabbed the cookbook off the floor and shoved it onto her desk, trying to compose herself. "Y-yeah, Mom! I’m upstairs!"
She could hear Takuma shifting uncomfortably in the cramped space behind her closet door, and for a moment, she thought about how ridiculous the whole situation was. If her mom found out Takuma was here, hiding in her closet… well, there would be no explaining that.
But for now, all she could do was pretend everything was normal.
She took a deep breath, plastered on a calm expression, and prepared to face the impending chaos.