Chapter 93: A Foodie's First Date
The moment Akira pushed open the door, Mitsuri came trotting over to meet him, her expression a mix of relief and apology.
"Brother Kanzaki, you're back! I'm so sorry, I completely forgot to tell you where the restroom was..."
Having regained her composure, Mitsuri had realized her mistake. She hadn't given Akira directions, so when he took a little longer than expected, she naturally assumed he had gotten lost searching for it.
Looking at this incredibly innocent girl, Akira felt a strange sense of dissonance. After all, Kochou Shinobu, who was the same age, was already capable of managing the entire Butterfly Mansion with cold efficiency.
But then he reconsidered. They were only in their teens. Perhaps someone like Mitsuri, earnest and guileless, was actually the norm.
Pushing the thought aside, Akira offered a reassuring smile. "It's fine. I ran into your mother and father outside, and they pointed me in the right direction."
"Eh? Mama and Papa are back?" Mitsuri looked a bit confused. Her gaze drifted to the wall clock, and her eyes widened as she realized how much time had slipped away. It was already noon. "Oh! It's already that late. Brother Kanzaki, would you please stay for lunch?"
"Of course," he replied warmly. "This isn't the first time we've met, Mitsuri. There's no need to be so formal with me."
"It's different. For Brother Kanzaki... it's different..." Mitsuri shook her head, her two thick braids swinging with the motion. Before she could finish her sentence, a faint pink blush crept onto her cheeks again. She trailed off and hurried away. "I'm going to help in the kitchen! Please wait here for a moment, Brother Kanzaki."
'So, what on earth was she thinking about when she was alone just now?' Akira watched her slender back disappear, feeling thoroughly puzzled.
In the short half-day since meeting Mitsuri, he had been left bewildered by her words and actions more than once. Was his own thinking too advanced, or was it hopelessly outdated? He could usually get a read on the girls around him, or at least he thought he could.
Recalling the little moments he'd shared with Makomo and the others, Akira suddenly felt a flicker of uncertainty.
Probably... right?
...
Lunch unfolded in a peculiar atmosphere.
Mitsuri remained shy throughout the entire meal. Her eyes seemed to be fixed on the food in her bowl, but her peripheral vision kept darting toward Akira.
Her four younger siblings were a whirlwind of activity, entirely focused on eating. They only cast curious glances at Akira in the brief moments between swallowing one mouthful and snatching up the next, their attention quickly recaptured by the delicacies on the table.
Meanwhile, Hina and Kaito, Mitsuri's parents, spent most of the time looking from their daughter to Akira, then back again. They began communicating in a silent, encrypted language of raised eyebrows and subtle nods that no outsider could decipher, only occasionally remembering to take a few bites of food themselves.
As for Akira, he found himself in a good-natured competition with the children for the last of the side dishes. He wasn't particularly affected by the scrutiny. Compared to the gaze of Shinobu's father, which had often felt like it wanted to dissect him, the Kanrojis' slightly surprised and appraising looks carried no pressure at all. Having handled the complex dynamics of his growing family, Akira's composure was practically unshakeable.
In fact, it was Mitsuri's stolen glances that unsettled him more than her parents' stares. This girl, though innocent, had a rather novel way of thinking. Sometimes she was an open book, and at other times, she was completely beyond understanding.
In his past life, Akira had heard the saying, 'A girl's blush is better than any sweet words.' He used to think so, too. When spending time with Makomo and the others, their occasional blushes and shy glances never failed to strike a chord deep in his heart.
But Mitsuri was on another level entirely.
If a single blush was a sweet nothing, then over the course of this one meal, Mitsuri had recited an entire epic poem to him. It wasn't that she blushed many times; it was that the blush simply never faded. In fact, whenever his gaze happened to meet hers as she was peeking at him, her pink face would flush a deep, vibrant red, like a perfectly ripe apple.
Seeing that the girl might just start steaming like a kettle if he looked at her a few more times, Akira could only focus on his food.
Because of Mitsuri's legendary appetite, a veritable feast had been prepared. But with the addition of Akira, who was also a big eater, the sumptuous lunch only left the two of them about half-full.
After the last plate on the table was cleared, Mitsuri's gaze turned toward Akira again. This time, it wasn't a stolen glance; she was looking at him openly, her eyes wide and pleading.
For once, Akira understood the message in that gaze perfectly: I'm not full. I want to go out and eat some more.
He, who was also far from satisfied, decisively returned a look of his own: Let's go together.
Upon receiving the signal, Mitsuri's eyes immediately lit up. She shot to her feet, offered a quick farewell to her family, and pulled Akira, who had also stood up, toward the door.
"Thank you for the meal! I'm going out for a walk to digest!" Akira called over his shoulder.
"Papa, Mama, I'll accompany Brother Kanzaki for a stroll around town!" Mitsuri added, her voice bright with excitement.
Hina and Kaito watched the two departing figures and couldn't help but chuckle as they looked at each other. However, as they saw their daughter's small hand, which had originally been pulling Akira's forearm, gradually slide down toward his palm as they jogged away, they both shook their heads with fond helplessness.
As parents, they knew exactly how much of an attraction a boy like him would hold for their daughter—someone who didn't mind her unique hair color or her massive appetite, and had even helped her find a way to control her monstrous strength. This was especially true given that Akira's own appearance and temperament were outstanding.
Because they understood this, Hina and Kaito had no intention of standing in their way. At least, not until Akira did something to betray Mitsuri's trust. They would not forcibly interfere with their daughter's feelings.
...
Mitsuri's small hand, in the end, did not move into Akira's palm.
At the last moment, whether out of shyness, modesty, or something else entirely, she stopped its slow descent and settled for pulling him out the door by the wrist.
During this, Mitsuri turned her head to look at Akira, her heart pounding with anxiety. He simply returned a gentle smile. It was this smile—neither distant nor overly eager, but perfectly calm—that soothed her racing heart. The bashfulness on her face lessened, replaced by a more natural, radiant grin.
What happens when two foodies who aren't full go shopping together is obvious.
Starting from Mitsuri's house, they swept through the snack stalls on the two nearby streets like a delicious whirlwind. Even after that, before heading back, they stopped at their favorite dessert shop. They each bought a sakuramochi, eating as they walked.
The old pastry chef at the shop couldn't resist teasing Mitsuri a few times, causing her finally-normalized complexion to flush a brilliant red once more.
The sakuramochi, with its pink rice cake and green leaf wrapping, coincidentally resembled the hair color of the girl beside him. Akira took a bite. The fine, soft red bean paste, sweet but not cloying, melted in his mouth along with the soft, chewy outer skin.
The taste and texture were the same as the last time he'd eaten it, but today, there seemed to be a little something extra.
Perhaps it was the warm spring sun, which felt just right on his skin. Perhaps it was the blushing face and watery, happy eyes of the girl beside him.
Or perhaps it was because of the soft, warm little hand that, at some unknown moment, had finally found its way into his.
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