"Everyone gathers around the sun, soaking up its warmth without pause. Isn't it only natural to give something back in return?"
Faced with Kyousuke's puzzled look, Sakura spoke with utter seriousness.
"When we eat, we should give thanks with sincerity. Why should heartfelt prayers only appear outside the doors of an operating room?"
"But…"
Kyousuke was left speechless.
The older he got, the more he regretted it—regretted that, as a child, he'd used his more mature mind and wider knowledge to fool a curious little Sakura with all sorts of ridiculous, roundabout nonsense.
And now? That little girl who used to be a walking "One Hundred Thousand Whys" had somehow grown into a goddess even more formidable than Mitsuha's mother.
The latter might be known among townsfolk as "the shrine maiden who holds the book containing the answer to everything," but Sakura had reached that level through sheer human wit alone.
Seeing Kyousuke's stunned expression, Sakura giggled.
Her bright, sunny smile seemed to make the air itself more lively. She hugged his arm and said cheerfully,
"I'm hungry~~ Kyousuke."
'Then why don't you eat me?'
The words were already on the tip of Kyousuke's tongue, but he swallowed them back down.
He lifted his gaze toward the moon, already past its zenith, and in that moment he roughly calculated the time—three o'clock.
Sure, he knew how to tell the time from the movement of celestial bodies (a handy skill from his all-purpose science knowledge), but really, it was just a habit.
Most people lose track of time when focused on something; Kyousuke never did.
The world simply didn't look the same to him as it did to others.
It wasn't exactly a great time for a meal, but he didn't want to disappoint the eager Sakura.
Their shared motto was simple: When you're happy, do things that make you happy.
"So, what do you want to eat? But nothing fried, okay?"
As soon as her brows started to droop, he quickly added, "Eating that kind of thing at this hour will just make the fat stick to you and you'll be chubbier before you know it!"
"Ugh—"
Sakura let out a dejected sound, then said regretfully,
"I could still taste the sake from your mouth earlier… I was hoping for some delicious tempura to go with it."
'Huh??'
Kyousuke raised a brow.
Was this supposed to be some kind of "mouth-fermented" sake?
Clearly, she'd been listening to too many tall tales from Mitsuha.
"Nonsense. I brushed my teeth before coming back."
That was the truth.
He always said he came home exhausted, but he didn't like showing his family that slightly disheveled side.
If he could help it, he'd always freshen up before stepping inside.
And no—this was not some sneaky habit picked up from eating out in secret!
After all, even if he sprayed deodorizer, Sakura's dog-like nose would still sniff it out.
"I'm telling you, I tasted it~"
Sakura muttered softly, but didn't press the point. Instead, she obediently named her request:
"Papaya with fresh milk."
Kyousuke's lips curved into a faint smile.
Sitting in his lap, Sakura grinned wide, showing a neat row of eight pearly teeth.
"That's fine, right?"
"Of course."
Their eyes met, and they shared a knowing smile.
The mood naturally shifted from playful to warm.
Then, like a sleepy child being pulled out of bed by her mother for school, Sakura squinted her eyes and lazily lifted her arms, letting Kyousuke dress her.
"A warm drink will be perfect right now," he murmured as he buttoned her white pajamas.
"Mhm~~"
Sakura had no complaints, even though she'd been hugging her "little sun" and wasn't cold at all.
"Hehe~~"
Feeling the faint sting on her backside, Sakura let out a quiet, girlish laugh—full of pride and that uniquely feminine, youthful charm.
Kyousuke didn't bother turning on the living room lights, heading straight to the kitchen instead.
Even after all their horsing around, the house—despite having so many residents—remained completely silent.
Kyousuke couldn't help but be grateful he'd prioritized soundproofing when the house was renovated.
Still, his sharp ears caught the occasional scratching sound from the garage door.
Momotarou… he really was a dog with dog-level hearing.
The kitchen light clicked on.
Sakura, however, didn't get up to fix her clothes or head to the bathroom to freshen up.
She stayed right where she was, perfectly still.
She didn't want to think. Didn't want to speak.
Didn't want to move.
She didn't want to forget Kyousuke's hands… or the way his lips felt against her skin.
Her pale face flushed pink again as the memory of his gentle touch and kisses resurfaced.
'I don't want to forget this feeling. I want to stay in that bliss a little longer.'
The corners of her lips curled up, as if trying to carve that perfect first kiss deep into her heart.
'Ahh… Why couldn't I have been born with a talent for music? If I could, I'd write a song to capture this feeling forever.'
Her thoughts spun wildly, and there was no way she could truly focus on holding onto the memory.
Instead, she found herself blaming Kyousuke.
'It's all his fault. Because he's never been able to sing since we were kids, he dragged me into being tone-deaf too!'
This was the same girl who, at karaoke, sang louder than anyone and with more confidence than anyone… and yet, put zero attention into technique.
'Yep! Definitely Kyousuke's fault!'
Ah—wait! She'd already forgotten whether he kissed the left side or the right side first!
Sakura frowned and lowered her gaze to her chest.
'Ugh, useless boobs! Why couldn't you remember which side he kissed first?'
'Don't you have any sense of competition?'
'Sure, you both look nice, but one of you is bound to be more favored—then what am I supposed to do?'
With a sigh, she poked at the offending peaks as if scolding them—only to flinch.
Her poor treasures, still tender from earlier, were clearly sensitive.
'Well~~ if it feels this good, I guess it's only natural to get lost in it.'
'Fine, I'll forgive you this time. But next time, remember it properly!'
Blushing furiously, Sakura forgave them.
After all, even she had been too dazed to think straight—how could she be strict with her own body?
That wouldn't be fair.
Sure, "strict with others, lenient with oneself" might be the source of happiness… but when the "other" was your own body, it was just awkward.
'Forget it. I'll just ask Kyousuke~~'
Having decided happily, she planted her hands on the sofa to push herself up—only for her big, expressive eyes to go wide the instant she stood.
Her gaze darted, then she looked down in disbelief.
'Shameless… my body is hopeless.'
Her face still red, she scolded herself inwardly, then tiptoed toward the kitchen with small, awkward steps.
The kitchen light was warm and white, soft yet bright enough to chase shadows from every corner.
Even the counter had its own built-in light, ensuring that not even the cook's shadow would block the cutting board.
Kyousuke could hear the faint, stealthy footsteps behind him. In his mind, he could already picture Sakura tiptoeing into the kitchen like a sneaky little thief.
The corners of his mouth curled into a smile, though he didn't bother turning around.
Ever since they were kids, whenever he cooked, Sakura—or even his mom—would come into the kitchen to steal a taste.
Technically speaking, Sakura was supposed to be his "apprentice." At first, she actually followed the rules and waited until the food was ready before eating.
But it only took two days before his mother's bad influence rubbed off on her.
Soon enough, Sakura was happily sneaking in to grab ingredients straight from the counter—already chopped, unwashed, and meant for cooking.
And whenever she did, Kyousuke would always set aside a little appetizer just for her before the real meal began, making her even happier.
It might not have been "ladylike," but so what?
A little starter only sharpened the appetite, making the meal even more enjoyable.
That was exactly how he'd explained it to Aunt Makoto on Sakura's behalf.
The woman could only sigh and smile helplessly while her daughter, peeking out from behind Kyousuke, wore a triumphant grin.
Just like now—while he was scooping papaya into neat little spheres, there was already a white porcelain dish beside the cutting board holding carrot scraps carved into little Tyrannosaurus monsters.
They were made especially for "the thief." The leftover trimmings? He'd eaten them himself without a second thought.
With his swordsmanship skills and natural cooking talent, this kind of precise knife work was child's play.
If someone filmed it, it could pass for a "Master Artisan" documentary.
As much as fiber was good at night, too much wasn't ideal.
While waiting for the papaya milk pudding to steam, he'd set out two tomatoes, planning to share them with Sakura raw.
Eating tomatoes at night had its own benefits—firstly—
'—Huh?!'
Kyousuke's body tensed suddenly.
If his control wasn't top-notch, he would've sliced his hand.
He turned stiffly to look, only to see the carrot monster still sitting perfectly on the plate.
Meanwhile, Sakura stood right behind him with an oddly serious expression.
"…What are you doing?" he asked, voice tight.
"I'm looking for the answer to a question," she said solemnly.
"And what kind of question requires you to put your hand down my pants?"
Kyousuke glanced down.
A pale, delicate wrist peeked out above his waistband, while her slender, nimble fingers were buried inside, having moved so fast he hadn't even reacted in time.
And the moment she slipped in, she'd grabbed him firmly—explaining why he'd jolted earlier.
Sakura's face shifted from serious to suddenly enlightened.
"What the hell are you 'enlightened' about?!" Kyousuke barked.
"Hehe~~" She gave a sheepish little laugh, slowly withdrawing her hand with a lingering touch.
Then, without letting him see, she slipped her arms around his waist from behind.
She quietly raised the same hand to her face, wrinkled her nose, and gave it a careful sniff.
No smell. Just like mine.
"So Kyousuke's wet too~ Hehe~~" she murmured in a dreamy, almost idiotic tone.
Kyousuke felt a headache coming on.
His first instinct was to curse out her school's health education teacher.
Even if it was an all-girls' school, how could they fail to teach something so basic?
What a man produced and what a woman produced in moments like this were completely different—different organs, different fluids, everything!
But then, her voice from behind softened his mood again.
"Thank goodness… so I'm not the only embarrassing one~~"
This fool… not just her tone, but her words were utterly hopeless.
Kyousuke didn't even realize the kind of smile he was wearing now—the kind of blissful expression that would drive every single guy in Goro's crew insane with envy.
"Idiot. This isn't embarrassing at all. I'm so happy I could die," he murmured.
If he wasn't holding a knife, he would've turned around and hugged her right then and there to prove it.
"Hehe~~"
Her voice was soft and syrupy, like she'd melted into happiness itself.
She tightened her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his solid back, feeling him through the thin dress shirt.
"I feel the same~" she said, her smile carrying every hallmark of a hopelessly smitten girl.
For a while, she just basked there.
Then, quietly, she slid the same hand that had been in his pants earlier into her own pajama bottoms.
Kyousuke's smile froze.
How was he supposed to concentrate on cooking like this?!
Of course, Sakura knew he could feel her movements. But she didn't care.
She grinned mischievously, running a fingertip lightly over the white cotton of her panties.
"All done~~"
With that, she stepped around him, her attention immediately caught by the red Tyrannosaurus carrot on the dish.
Kyousuke exhaled in relief—he'd nearly lost control of himself.
"Wow, it's so cute~~"
Her delighted voice rang out.
In truth, the carving was so detailed and realistic it wasn't really "cute" at all—but since Kyousuke had made it, anyone who dared say otherwise would have to face an angry Sakura.
"Wash your hands first, you dummy!" he quickly called out as she reached for it.
"Don't treat me like an idiot!" she pouted—and then bent down, catching the carrot monster in her mouth with a flick of her tongue.
Her white teeth bit into the dinosaur's head, and she arched an eyebrow at him in triumph.
Kyousuke couldn't help but smile again—that same dangerously sweet, indulgent smile.
He knew what would happen next: Sakura would tilt her head back like a seal and toss the rest of the carrot up into the air, catching it perfectly in her mouth.
She was that nimble—something he'd just experienced firsthand not long ago.
"Ah~ mmm~~"
She made a strange, muffled sound.
Kyousuke turned just in time to see her pupils drawn together, pointing toward the carrot between her lips. Her dainty feet stretched on tiptoe, her arches taut.
Smiling softly, Kyousuke bent down, meeting her halfway to bite the other end of the carrot.
Their lips brushed naturally.
"Mmm~ so good~" Sakura beamed, utterly pleased with herself.