The next Sunday, I went to visit them again—with a little present. After getting in Riku’s car, I said, “I bought them some ice-cream. You can give it to them.”

“Why?” she asked.

Her question ambiguous, I said, “They do something special on Sunday, right? I thought they would like a treat to go with it.”

“No,” she said and let out a sigh. “Why can’t you give it to them?”

“Oh, well, I don’t want you thinking I’m buying their affection?” I said, my wording a bit awkward in Japanese. I sort of inherited what Mi knew and teenagers didn’t necessarily know these kinds of delicate topics—or, as I’d found at work, technical jargon.

She didn’t respond for a while, I thought because she was focused on driving. Eventually, she said, “It’s fine, just give it to them yourself.”

“Okay,” I said, softly smiling to myself.

The rest of the drive passed in mostly silence; I asked a couple pleasantries whenever we were stuck at a red light. Arriving at Mi’s house, I felt my heart pound, and it was in a different way to how it had throbbed when Riku had picked me up.

Here, I felt both calm and alive.

Greeting Mi and Himawari, I passed Mi the bag and said, “Don’t eat it all at once and remember to brush your teeth. Science is amazing, but it can’t regrow rotten teeth yet.”

She glanced inside and laughed. Himawari too short, Mi noticed a second later, lowering the bag for her to see. Oh did her eyes light up, very much a little princess with a sweet tooth.

It hurt to think how little sweet she had tasted.

Inside, we settled into the same start as last time, Mi working, me fluttering between helping her and watching Himawari do her homework.

The melancholy lingered. I wondered if Himawari had learned to be so diligent in the hope her mother would praise her, or if it was to avoid her mother’s “scolding”. I could just imagine her, sitting silently in her room, hunched over her desk with unshed tears as she didn’t know how to answer a question and had no one to ask. Maybe that was why she liked to do her homework in the kitchen instead of her bedroom.

Really, the kitchen was where their happiness was. Eating together, cooking together, doing homework together—where Mi and Himawari were a family. Where I thought I’d need to be to become part of their family.

Once Himawari finished up, I said to her, “Is it okay if I cook lunch for everyone? I asked Mi-chan and she said it’s up to you.”

Although she’d thawed, she hadn’t exactly warmed up to me. Still, she fidgeted for a moment before nodding.

Smiling, I asked, “Do you like macaroni gratin?”

Her nod this time was a little bigger.

“Do you want to help me make it?” I asked, bending down to look at her shy face better.

Our eyes met, so I smiled all the brighter for her. And she smiled back, just a little, enough to completely melt my heart. “Okay,” she softly said.

“Wonderful,” I said, clapping my hands together—

She flinched.

I felt so awful, the warmth I’d gathered suddenly washed away with numbing cold. But there was nothing I could do. Not yet. No miracle cure, only a lifelong treatment.

Slowly and surely, we worked on making the gratin, which was pretty much macaroni and cheese to me, just with chopped chicken and onion… which really did make it different.

Anyway, I did my best with my parts and with guiding Himawari through the parts I thought were best for her. The recipe was definitely something she could even do by herself, but first times were tricky, easy to mess up when you didn’t have some practice. Roux sauce was particularly easy to burn, which I’d learned the hard way before.

Not a complicated dish to make, it was soon in the oven to bake and Himawari and I got started on cleaning up, silently working together to wash and dry. It was the sort of thing I thought only happened on TV (or manga, since I knew about that now), but here we were.

It was nice. A small and comfortable happiness.

By the time we finished, the food was nearly ready, so we called Mi through to join us. It was early for lunch, but it also meant Riku and I would be gone in time for Sakura and Natalie to come over.

So we served up and all sat down together, the table pretty cramped, Himawari and I waiting to see what Mi and Riku thought of it.

Of course, Mi had a bite and her face immediately brightened up. “Mm, it’s really good!” she said, covering her mouth.

Himawari and I both turned to Riku next with the biggest grins. She looked awkward from the attention, but dutifully tried some. Although not quite as expressive as Mi, she smiled and, covering her mouth, said, “It’s tasty.”

So Himawari and I looked at each other, sharing a smile… then she remembered to be shy, ducking her head and turning to her food.

My smile didn’t fade, though. I had my foot in the door.

Despite thinking earlier that we’d made too much, Mi was a teen with a bottomless stomach and had three portions. I wondered if that was partly from relieving her stress. You know, hard to eat when you’re a nervous wreck.

Whatever the reason, we had no leftovers. “We can make it again next Sunday—if that’s okay with everyone?” I said, looking at Himawari.

Mi quickly said, “Yes!” while Riku gave a more measured, “Sure,” in reply.

Himawari took a moment to find her voice, then softly said, “Yes.”

My poor heart could barely take it, but there was no way I could die happy when they still needed me.

Almost time for me and Riku to go, Mi had one last thing for us. Phone out, she tapped through and showed us a video, or rather she’d taken a bunch of photos and the magic of modern technology turned it into an animation. As for the subject of the animation, it was the pair of snails I’d made last weekend and the cute thing Himawari had made. I wasn’t entirely sure what her thing was, looked like a mascot character for something I didn’t know, maybe a dog… or a cat.

Anyway, the animation wasn’t perfect or fancy or complicated. Her thing shuffled over to the snails, the snails tried to run away, her thing moved in front, the snails turned around. She’d managed to get it to loop well, a never-ending “chase”.

“Wow, this is really cool,” I said to Himawari. “Did you have fun doing it?”

She looked shy at first, but then my question seemed to shock her out of it and she switched to confused. Like no one had asked her if she enjoyed something before. Well, someone other than Mi.

Eventually, she sort of nodded, then shuffled around to hide behind Mi. Oh I wanted to pat her head.

All in good time.

Since she already seemed a bit overwhelmed, I didn’t push any more, let Mi lead us out. A goodbye, a promise to come back.

In the car, I wasn’t sure what to expect from Riku. She’d surprised me the last time, but nothing too unusual had happened this visit, so I wondered if it would just been a silent journey.

That was the case until halfway back. The traffic light taking particularly long to change, she said, “So, you can cook?”

“Yes. To be honest, I started practising a few months ago, but I’ve tried a lot of things and been to some classes,” I said, the words falling out now we had the chance to talk.

“I see… so when you started talking to Mi-chan?” she asked.

Astute as always. “Mm, I think it’s especially important for children to eat healthily,” I said.

Silence fell again, lasting until the light changed to green. I thought that was it, a minute passing, but then she said, “You’re taking this very seriously.”

“I am,” I said.

Again, silence, one second, two, three—

“What else can you cook?” she asked.

I smiled to myself, her tone softer, almost casual. Almost. “Do you want to come over for a meal?” I asked jokingly.

“Okay.”

My bluff called, the house of cards collapsed, mind painfully empty of anything to say. I kept moving my lips in the hopes words came out, thankful she wasn’t looking at me imitate a fish.

Eventually, I managed to think of something and said, “Can we stop by a convenience store? I’ll just need a couple things.”

“Sure,” she said.

“Thanks.”

I had no clue what I needed to buy, but hopefully I’d know once I saw it.

But, well, my heart was racing, giddiness smothered by nerves. My flat was tidy, right? I didn’t leave anything embarrassing out? It couldn’t be that dirty after only a week.

Wait.

“Um, I just remembered I’m still in a hotel? But I can cook at your place if that’s okay,” I said, desperately clinging to our dinner date.

Afraid to look directly at her, I only glanced. That was enough to see her face scrunch up a little. Cute.

“I, that is, I’m not sure I have what you need to cook,” she said, perhaps a hint of panic to her voice?

Now she was the one embarrassed, I had no shortage of words. “Well, you have a wok? We can do a stir-fry. Do you have any frozen vegetables?”

Like that, I bullied her—just a little—on the way to her place. A detour to the convenience store, we picked up ingredients.

I didn’t know a grocery shop could be so fun.

“Are you okay with spicy food?” I asked.

She hummed, then said, “I’m okay with it.”

“Well, do you like it spicy?” I asked, pointing at the chilli peppers.

Oh she couldn’t even look at them! “A little is fine,” she said.

Just to tease her, I reached towards them, enjoying how her mouth thinned, then took back my hand and enjoyed the little sigh she let out. “What about garlic and ginger?”

“Sure,” she said. I wondered if she’d agree to anything for sparing her from the chillies.

A little more wandering to see if something caught my eye, I asked, “Should we have miso soup too?”

“If you’d like,” she said.

“Rice?” I asked, glancing over.

She didn’t look as interested. “If you’d like,” she said, the words the same, her tone more polite.

“I think not—we had a heavy lunch,” I said.

Nodding, she said, “I agree.”

So our little trip went, then we were back in the car for a few blocks. Her place wasn’t anywhere fancy, just a flat, but the area looked nice enough. Up the stairs, to her door, a moment for her to juggle the bag she insisted on carrying while getting the key in.

“Sorry, it’s a bit messy.”

She said that, but it looked tidy enough, a sort of one-room flat with the bed (futon) folded up in the corner, a table with her laptop and some loose papers. Apparently, guests weren’t common, the other chair for the table buried in folders. She quickly moved the pile, fretting for a moment as she realised she had no where to put it before giving up and just putting it on the floor in the corner.

I tried not to laugh, but she caught my very amused smile and pouted, which only made me think she was even more cute.

“It’s nice,” I said.

She raised an eyebrow, then shook her head and gestured at the cleared chair. “Make yourself at home.”

Oh I wanted to.