That tender and sweet tamagoyaki was like the final perfect puzzle piece, completely filling the void in Uta's stomach and heart.
She let out a long sigh, her entire body relaxing. The fatigue and immense sense of emptiness following the concert were swept away by the happiness brought by this pure food.
She looked at the red-haired young man behind the counter, who was bowing his head to clean the workstation, and her thoughts began to stir.
A fellow being whose culinary skills were so exquisite they bordered on "magic," a player from the neutral faction.
Why was he here? Which World did he come from? He—
Just as Uta was about to speak, to break through this tacit layer of paper, her phone in her pocket suddenly started vibrating like crazy.
On the screen, the name "Sophia" was flickering persistently, carrying a sense of determination that it would not give up until answered.
Uta's good mood was instantly interrupted. A trace of displeasure flashed between her brows, but she finally swiped to answer.
"My diva! My baby! Where did you run off to?! I knocked on the door for ages and no one answered. I was almost ready to have the bodyguards break the door down!"
The iconic, piercing voice of her manager, Sophia, exploded from the receiver. Even without the speakerphone on, Shirou and Yuna, who were close by, could faintly hear the anxiety.
"I came out for some air." Uta's voice was very low, carrying obvious impatience.
"Air? Do you know what time it is? Have you forgotten how dangerous New York is at night? Those perverts running around naked, have you forgotten?! Tell me where you are right now, and I'll send a car to pick you up immediately!"
"No need, I'll go back on my own."
Uta didn't want to waste any more words with her, so she hung up the phone decisively and shoved it back into her pocket. She knew Sophia's relentless calls would start up again soon. There would be no chance for a proper chat tonight.
She stood up, pulled a black card from her wallet, and placed it on the counter.
"Check, please."
Shirou looked up at her and calmly stated a number. Uta didn't even blink, signaling him to swipe the card directly.
After signing, she put her mask and sunglasses back on, wrapping herself up once again.
When she reached the door, she stopped and turned back. Through the dark lenses, her gaze landed precisely on Shirou.
"I will come again tomorrow." Her tone was unquestionable, as if she were issuing a notice.
"I hope I can still eat your cooking tomorrow."
After saying this, she opened the door, and her figure quickly disappeared into the New York night.
The atmosphere in the shop stagnated for a moment following her departure.
Yuna watched that disappearing figure, then looked at Shirou, who was back to his usual expression behind the counter. Her heart felt blocked by something, heavy and stifled.
She walked up and, while clearing the stack of empty plates in front of where Uta had been, spoke as if casually.
"Brother Shirou, don't you really think that woman just now was suspicious? Wrapping herself up so tightly, acting all sneaky."
She specifically emphasized the word "sneaky," hoping to alert him.
"I don't know her." Shirou's answer was crisp and clean. He was wiping the yanagiba knife he had just used with a clean cloth, not even looking up.
"It's the first time I've seen her today."
His hand movement didn't pause in the slightest, as if he were talking about the most ordinary thing.
Yuna was choked up by his reaction, but unwilling to give up, she pressed on: "But the way she looked at you just now—and she even said she'd come back tomorrow. It's obvious she's here for you, right?"
Shirou finally stopped what he was doing. He looked up, gazing at Yuna with those amber eyes, his expression filled with a pure, unadulterated confusion.
"She was dressed like that; who knows who she is."
He spoke the truth, then asked a question in return, his tone so frank that Yuna almost suffered internal injuries. "Why do you care so much about one female customer? Don't we have plenty of female customers coming to the shop every day?"
In his view, customers liking his cooking and becoming repeat customers was an affirmation of his work; it was a good thing. As for whether the other person was male or female, or what they looked like, why care so much?
Yuna was completely speechless.
She looked at Shirou's face, which was written all over with "it's only natural" and "what's the problem with that," and a nameless anger suddenly flared up.
The emotion clogging her chest instantly turned into grievance and annoyance.
How could she have expected this man, whose emotional intelligence outside the kitchen was effectively zero, to understand what she meant!
Yes, there are many female customers, but none of them were like her—when she locked eyes with you, the air itself seemed to change!
And none of them could make you show that look—that look I can't even describe!
These words rolled around in Yuna's throat several times, but in the end, she couldn't say them out loud.
She stacked the empty plates in her hands heavily, making a "bang" sound.
"Brother Shirou is an idiot!"
Pouting, she threw that line at him, then hugged the plates and rushed into the kitchen without looking back, leaving Shirou with an angry silhouette.
"—?" Shirou Emiya stood where he was, looking in the direction she had vanished, his face displaying capitalized confusion.
He looked down at his gleaming knife, then recalled the conversation just now.
Did I say something wrong? The cooking was delicious, the customer was satisfied, and she'll come back tomorrow. Isn't this a thing worth being happy about? He was completely baffled.
Uta's arrival was just a small interlude, and the late-night sushi shop soon returned to its original rhythm. When the hour hand pointed to 1:00 AM, the last few customers left in twos and threes, carrying the satisfied tipsiness of alcohol.
"We're closed! We're closed!" Jusaburo Sekiya wiped his hands with a towel and shouted with plenty of energy. Yuna poked her head out from the kitchen, her anger not yet completely dissipated, but she resignedly started tidying up the tables and chairs.
Shirou silently cleaned the cooking counter until it was spotless, wiped all the knives clean, returned them to their proper places one by one, and then began washing the dishes piled up in the sink. His movements were efficient and orderly, like a precision machine.
Half an hour later, the shop was brand new.
"Shirou, I'll leave the rest to you. I'm taking Yuna home first." Boss Guan Gu patted Shirou on the shoulder, then glanced at his daughter, who was still sulking, and shook his head helplessly.
"Alright, Uncle, be careful on the road." Shirou nodded.
Before leaving, Yuna couldn't help but glare at Shirou one last time, before being dragged away by her father, who was holding her arm.
Finally, only Shirou was left in the shop.
The shop door closed, and the World went completely quiet.
Shirou methodically carried out the final closing tasks. He wiped every table clean, returned the chairs to their places, checked the gas valves in the kitchen, and finally packed up the leftover scraps and rice from the day, sorting them accordingly.
After finishing all this, he turned off the lights in the shop, pulled down the rolling shutter, and locked it from the inside.
Because he was an undocumented resident, he couldn't rent any formal housing in New York. Boss Guan Gu had kindly cleaned up the idle attic on the second floor of the sushi shop to serve as his temporary living quarters.
The place wasn't big, with only a bed, a desk, and a small wardrobe, but for Shirou, it was enough.
He walked lightly up the creaking wooden stairs and returned to his small room.
A bit too much had happened tonight.
First, he met that player named Uta, who was also from the neutral faction. Her gaze, that sense of scrutiny and inquiry, as well as the unquestionable declaration she made when she left, all made Shirou realize that this girl was not simple. Her coming to him was definitely not a coincidence.
Then there was Yuna's inexplicable anger. Even now, he couldn't figure out which sentence he had said wrong.
Shirou sighed. Sure enough, dealing with girls was even more complicated than analyzing the structure of Noble Phantasms.
He took off his jacket and lay on the bed. The New York night seeped in through the small attic window, outlining the contours of the room.
Fatigue washed over him, and he quickly entered a light sleep.
He didn't know how long it had been, but a faint, rustling sound startled him from his sleep.
The sound came from downstairs. It was very light, like fabric rubbing together, mixed with some kind of chewing noise.
Shirou's eyes snapped open in the darkness.