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Chapter 75: The Fragrance of the Past and the Ripple of Change
Because of the system privilege upgrade last night, Renji Miyauchi had already contacted Mashiro to have her send over the latest information from the chat group. However, there were still nuances he needed to understand from her in person. Thus, he had told Mayuzumi the previous night that he would drop by this morning to discuss manga with the blonde artist.
Mayuzumi, ever the hospitable one, had insisted he come early so they could all share breakfast.
As Renji arrived at the apartment, the door swung open to reveal Mayuzumi's gentle smile, accompanied by a sudden, nostalgic fragrance wafting from the kitchen.
Is that… century egg and lean meat porridge?
Renji blinked, his mind immediately drifting. Did Kazuho—his eldest sister back in Asahigaoka—actually send a batch of her homemade century eggs all the way to Tokyo? Had she gone as far as teaching Mayuzumi the recipe?
Inhaling the familiar scent, Renji couldn't help but shake his head slightly. His decade-plus of living in this world had left him with a few "flaws" or, more accurately, lingering habits from his previous life. Century eggs were a prime example. While they existed in Japan, most locals viewed them as "dark cuisine"—a culinary dare rather than a delicacy—due to the pungent aroma and the jelly-like texture.
Only Renji, living in the quiet countryside of Asahigaoka and yearning for the flavors of his past, had the time, duck eggs, and sheer stubbornness to perfect them. After several experimental batches and a few mild bouts of digestive "trial and error," he had mastered the craft.
While the rest of the Miyauchi family merely tolerated his creations, his second sister, Hikage, had taken a massive liking to them. It wasn't just the eggs; Hikage possessed a legendary stomach, showing an uncanny affinity for stinky tofu and spicy snail noodles. Renji had even considered making her a food vlogger solely because of her iron-clad digestion.
And now, it seemed Hikage had smuggled some of those "biological weapons" into Tokyo, completely ignoring her own disastrous cooking skills.
Renji knew that if there was a girl out there with a Diary sharp enough to notice his specific preference for these traditional dishes, they might trace his origins. To counter this, he had strategically "leaked" a trend. Before leaving the countryside, he had arranged for a "World's Strangest Foods" video series for Takeru Koshigaya. By featuring herring cans, maggot cheese, and blue cheese alongside century eggs, he had turned his personal taste into a mere internet challenge.
"Renji-kun, you noticed, didn't you?" Mayuzumi's voice broke his reverie. She wore a faint, proud smile. "Hika-chan taught me the basics yesterday. She mentioned you loved this porridge at home. I even looked up some tutorials online to make sure I got it right for you."
Because their circle had grown closer, they had transitioned to using first names to avoid confusion between the sisters.
"You really went to a lot of trouble, Mayuzumi," Renji said, offering a wry smile. "Hikage just likes to use my name as an excuse to satisfy her own cravings."
He glanced toward the bubbling pot. "I just hope the eggs she brought haven't turned into actual poison. If they're bad, we're looking at a week of misery. Let me be the test subject first."
Mayuzumi's expression turned anxious. She truly didn't understand the "rotten egg" delicacy and had relied entirely on Hikage's chaotic instructions and the internet. "Is it really that risky?"
"Don't worry," Renji reassured her, sensing her nerves. "Bad ones have a very distinct, sharp smell. You can tell instantly. Besides, I've developed a bit of an immunity over the years. But honestly? It smells amazing. Succeeding on your first try is a feat in itself."
The compliment brought a soft flush to Mayuzumi's cheeks. "I just... I practice a lot. It makes me happy when people enjoy what I make." She then cleared her throat, redirecting him. "Ah, Mashiro should be awake. I told her to get dressed. Renji, could you go wake Hikage first?"
Mayuzumi gave him a meaningful look. Mashiro, despite owning a Diary, remained blissfully oblivious to most social norms. While she had learned the basics of "putting on clothes" thanks to Mayuzumi's constant reminders, she was still prone to wandering around in her underwear if left to her own devices.
Renji, however, was unfazed. He had spent years helping his sisters get dressed. His youngest sister, Renge, who was only six, was already more self-sufficient than the teenage Mashiro.
He walked to Hikage's door, knocked twice, and—receiving only a muffled groan in response—used his key to enter. The room was a mess of blankets. Renji didn't hesitate; he threw back the curtains, flooding the room with morning light, and cranked the alarm clock to its maximum volume.
Hikage let out a dramatic wail, burying her face in her pillow. "Ugh... why so early? Just twenty more minutes..."
"You're the one who tricked Mayuzumi into waking up at five to cook," Renji countered, crossing his arms. "And yet here you are, sleeping like a sloth. If you're tired, go to bed earlier. Or better yet, practice the breathing techniques I showed you. Mashiro mastered the flow in days. Mayuzumi is getting the hang of it too. You're the only one lagging behind, Hika-nee."
Hikage peeked out from under the covers, looking guilty. It wasn't that she didn't want to learn the Ripple—it was that she felt she had zero talent for it. They were siblings, yet she couldn't feel the "rhythm" Renji talked about.
"I'm trying!" she pouted, looking at him with puppy-dog eyes.
Renji sighed. She was his sister; he couldn't stay annoyed for long. "Fine. During Golden Week, when we go back to Asahigaoka, I'll give you some one-on-one training to help you find the rhythm. Now, get up. And make sure to thank Mayuzumi."
Satisfied, he headed back to Mayuzumi's side of the apartment.
By then, Mayuzumi had efficiently managed to get Mashiro into a proper outfit. The blonde girl was currently staring blankly at a hairbrush. When she saw Renji, her eyes shimmered with a spark of recognition. She walked straight to him, holding out the comb.
"Renji... my hair is being stubborn today."
Renji looked at her golden locks, which were indeed a chaotic nest. This was actually a side effect of her progress. Practicing the Ripple enhanced one's life energy, promoting growth and vitality. Mashiro was a natural prodigy; a month of her training was equivalent to years for a normal practitioner.
He noticed her figure seemed a bit more defined as well—the Ripple energy was clearly accelerating her development. He briefly wondered if someone like Yukino Yukinoshita could use the Ripple to achieve a similar "fate-defying" physical change.
"Turn around," Renji said softly, taking the comb.
He began to brush her hair with a practiced, gentle hand—a skill honed by years of grooming his three sisters. He even infused a tiny amount of Ripple into the brush to smooth out the static and tangles.
"Mashiro," he asked quietly as he worked. "Did the Diary give you any new commissions today?"
He felt a slight tension in his chest. Yesterday, Mashiro had received a disturbing prompt: Reveal your true identity to the other Diary owners. The reward was massive—thousands of points and dozens of lottery spins.
It was a trap. The entity behind the Diaries was clearly trying to mess with Renji's head, creating a situation where Mashiro would have to sacrifice her loyalty for power.
But Mashiro had refused without a second thought.
Mashiro pulled her Diary from her bag. Renji couldn't see other girls' entries, but he had studied Mashiro's extensively. Beyond the shared group logs, her Diary was filled with manga. Since reaching Level 2 authority, she could draw using her mind, completing volumes in a fraction of the time.
Before coming to Japan, her work had been technically perfect but soul-less. It was only after meeting Renji and collaborating on the story of How to Raise a Boring Girlfriend that her art began to breathe. Under Renji's "direction," she had finally captured the subtle, flickering emotions of characters like Megumi Kato. Even the fiery Eriri had been left speechless by the emotional depth of Mashiro's recent sketches.
Renji finished the last braid and looked over her shoulder at the new sketches. "The emotional pacing here is much better, Mashiro. You're starting to see it, aren't you? The way a gaze can say more than a dialogue box."
As the first holder, Renji knew he had to stay one step ahead of the system. He wasn't just a participant in this "game"—he was the one who would ensure these girls didn't become pawns in whatever twisted experiment the Diaries were conducting.