"You—why are you at my house? You still haven't answered me!"
Eriri angrily bit into a cookie, as if she were venting her frustration on it instead.
"I'm just visiting," Yukima Azuma replied nonchalantly, tapping on the digital drawing tablet. "But seriously, your story is awful."
"Then why did you even come?" Eriri frowned, casting a regretful glance at the screen. "The plot doesn't matter as long as the art's good."
"Sayuri-obasan invited me. Didn't you know?"
He put the tablet down and casually pulled out a few sheets of rough sketches. Imitating Eriri's drawing style, he began arranging storyboard panels.
"I never heard anything about this!"
Eriri puffed up in anger. Clearly, Sayuri had invited him without asking her.
Still, deep down, she couldn't deny that seeing Yukima Azuma again made her kind of… happy.
As she watched him draw, she found herself leaning closer, nearly pressing her whole body against his back to peek at the sketches.
Instead of panels, Yukima Azuma had filled in speech bubbles with dialogue and descriptions.
Eriri's cheeks began to turn red. Just reading the dialogue made her heart race. Yukima Azuma's literary skill gave the text a vividness that stirred her imagination.
She instinctively covered her face with her hand.
Why did he write this kind of embarrassing stuff in a girl's bedroom?
But then again—she had just drawn that exact same "terrible" scene herself.
She had no right to judge.
Peeking between her fingers, she continued to read the script. Even without art, the story practically played out in her head. Compared to the stiff plot she had been stuck on, Yukima's words brought the scene to life.
"Alright. Let's go with this. We probably don't need much more story from here."
Yukima stacked the rough sketches and handed them over.
Eriri shyly accepted the pages, her fingers lingering on the paper a moment longer than necessary.
She felt a little embarrassed—but she also knew that without a good script, her work had been completely stalled. With this, she could move forward again.
And more importantly, this was Yukima Azuma's writing.
Just then—
Knock knock.
The door opened. Sayuri peeked in.
"You two can come down for dinner… Ah. Am I interrupting?"
Although nothing inappropriate was happening, from Sayuri's perspective, it certainly looked suspicious. Eriri had practically draped herself over Yukima to see the sketches. Her cheeks were flushed bright red, the kind of color that didn't come from embarrassment alone.
If they weren't still dressed, the scene could've been mistaken for something much more adult.
Wait a second… had they already done it?
"Mom! You didn't even wait for me to say 'come in'!"
"Azuma, get out! I need to change!"
Eriri buried her face in the sketch pages and practically shoved Yukima and Sayuri out the door.
Bang!
The door slammed shut.
"Yukima-kun, did you use protection earlier?"
"Sayuri-obasan, please don't joke like that."
"Alright, alright, don't take it so seriously. You're too mature—it's no fun teasing you. Anyway, how about sukiyaki for dinner?"
"I'm fine with that. Thank you."
They headed downstairs together to prepare the hot pot.
Sukiyaki was a traditional Japanese dish, usually made with premium beef simmered in a sweet soy-based sauce. The flavor was rich and appealing—but the traditional practice of dipping it in raw egg made it hard to accept for some.
"Yukima-kun's never been into raw food since he was little—whether it's tamagoyaki or sashimi," Sayuri noted as she watched him quietly set the egg aside.
"Yeah… I'm a bit picky."
"Typical of someone raised on Chinese food. Most of your daily meals are Chinese cuisine, right?"
"That's right."
"Could it be you actually got isekai'd from China? That would explain why you're so mature."
"Sayuri-obasan, I think you've watched too many isekai anime."
He replied with a straight face, unbothered by the theory. Sayuri, a lifelong otaku, had teased him like this for years. At one point, she even joked that he might be a robot infiltrator sent to Japan.
Click click click.
Just then, Eriri rushed down the stairs, having changed into a completely different outfit.
She had replaced her glasses with contact lenses. Her casual sportswear was gone—now she wore an orange spaghetti-strap dress over a white blouse, topped with a big red bow around her neck.
Cute with a touch of elegance—pure Eriri style.
Sayuri smiled knowingly.
For manga events, her daughter barely bothered with makeup. But the moment Yukima Azuma came over, she transformed into someone straight out of a romantic comedy.
Her thoughts were too easy to read.
Sayuri opened the box of meat.
Dry ice fog spilled out between bamboo dividers, surrounding the marbled Wagyu beef with a soft white mist. The meat was fresh, red, and richly veined.
Top-tier ingredients.
But Eriri looked completely unfazed. Clearly, this was normal for her.
Yukima Azuma glanced at her.
He had once worried that someone like Eriri, who lived surrounded by luxury, would be difficult to befriend. Her daily life was far removed from the average person's, which could easily create an unbridgeable gap.
Fortunately, he wasn't an ordinary guy.
So, he didn't feel insecure or out of place.
…
Dinner passed quickly in a cheerful mood, thanks in no small part to Yukima Azuma's calm demeanor.
As Sayuri cleared the dishes, Yukima followed her to the kitchen.
"Let me help wash. I'd feel guilty just eating and leaving."
Sayuri gave him a look.
He didn't look guilty at all—but she liked that about him.
"No need. Go watch TV with Eriri. That's more important."
She waved toward the living room, where Eriri was stealing glances their way.
Yukima nodded.
But before leaving, he looked around the Sawamura kitchen. It had top-of-the-line appliances, elegant knives, and everything a cook could want.
And yet, something felt… inefficient.
"Washing dishes every time is a real pain," Yukima muttered.
Sayuri blinked, unsure where he was going with this.
"You're right," she agreed. "It's why a lot of people hate cooking. It's not the cooking—it's the cleanup."
"Would you buy a machine that did it for you?" Yukima asked. "Just load the dishes, and they come out sparkling clean?"
"Like a washing machine?"
"Exactly. Maybe even better."
Sayuri thought for a moment.
"If it's not too expensive, absolutely."
"Really? Thanks, Sayuri-obasan."
He gave a slight bow and returned to the living room.
Sayuri glanced at the sink, then back at Yukima's figure.
That kid might be onto something…
She'd heard he went abroad for a while. Maybe this was why.
She hadn't asked. Didn't want to seem nosy.
But her curiosity was growing.
…
Eriri was curled up on the sofa, clearly trying to eavesdrop. As soon as Yukima returned, she straightened up like she hadn't been peeking.
"What are you watching?" he asked.
"Uh… just a TV show," she said vaguely.
On the screen was a program called Super Horror. Hosted by an old man and a cutesy girl, it featured cheesy ghost stories and obviously doctored photos.
Still, it was popular.
"So, you like this kind of thing, huh?" Yukima asked with a knowing smile.
Just then, the screen zoomed in on a creepy camping photo. A faint ghostly face peeked out from the gap in a tent.
"Ah!"
Eriri shrieked and curled into a ball.
Yukima silently chuckled.
She'd never been good with horror—even as a kid.
The show paused on the creepy frame. Eriri was clearly done for the night.
But despite her fear, she looked… adorable. Small, curled up, trembling a bit—like she was begging to be protected.
Before he could say anything, she said:
"A-Azuma, if you're scared… you can hug me."
Yukima didn't call her out.
He just gently pulled her into his arms.
From then on, Eriri peeked at the screen between her fingers—completely terrified but pretending otherwise.
"You're not scared?" he asked.
"Pfft! Not at all! I love this show!" she snapped, trying to act tough.
"I just wasn't paying attention earlier because you distracted me!"
Even curled in his arms, her tsundere pride refused to yield.
"Alright then. Let's keep watching," Yukima said with a smile.
Eriri pouted but nodded.
The story reached its climax—a ghost crawled out of a refrigerator—and Eriri squeezed Yukima tightly.
And then—
Click!
A photo was taken.
Eriri snapped her head around.
Sayuri stood nearby with her phone, smiling brightly.
She had captured everything.
Eriri was straddling Yukima's lap, practically in his arms. It was the classic "riding pose."
"Mom! Delete that right now!"
She leapt off Yukima and charged.
Sayuri, already experienced in teasing her daughter, dodged with ease and pressed a hand to Eriri's head.
"I got a great picture~ Thanks for the hospitality."
"Delete it!!"
The two playfully wrestled for a while.
Time passed quickly.
Yukima glanced at his watch and stood up.
"Thanks for the meal. It's getting late—I should head home."
Eriri's face fell for a moment, but Sayuri interrupted.
"Oh? Yukima-kun, didn't you notice? It's pouring outside."
He rushed to the balcony—and sure enough, the rain was coming down hard. Puddles were forming everywhere.
His phone showed the trains had stopped. Taxis were scarce.
Driving himself wasn't an option either—he was still too young for a license.
He glanced at Sayuri.
There was no mistaking it—she definitely planned this.
"With weather like this, it's dangerous to go home, Yukima-kun. Why not stay here for the night? We've got plenty of guest rooms."