(AN: Bruh, this was supposed to be a short scene again but tunred out to be a full on chapter instead! man i'm dead.)

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[Chiba, Japan.]

 

The landscape was painted with the warm glow of an orange sunset, signaling the shift from day to night. The serene transition filled the air with quiet anticipation.

 

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The crisp click of a truck’s back door locking punctuated the evening’s calm. A few solid thumps on the metal echoed slightly as a man’s voice followed, robust and clear, “ALL SET!”

 

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The driver acknowledged the signal with a nod and started the engine. The truck gradually pulled away from the loading area, its headlights cutting through the dimming light.

 

The man who had secured the truck’s load stood back, surveying his handiwork. He was a young man in his early twenties, unremarkable at first glance, yet his attire suggested a casual, rugged individuality. Clad in a white skin-tight t-shirt that emphasized his well-toned physique, he wore a black chef’s apron splattered with faint stains of his culinary adventures. His attire was completed with plain pants and sneakers, suitable for his active job. A black bandana was wrapped around his head, adding to his utilitarian look, and a toothpick dangled nonchalantly from his lips, bobbing slightly as he muttered to himself about the evening’s tasks yet to be completed.

 

As the truck rolled away, blending into the evening traffic, the young man brushed his hands together, a satisfied smile playing across his lips. The day had been long but productive.

 

“What did you say your name was again, kid?” He turned towards the mentioned individual with a grin across his face,

 

“Toru, Hoshino Toru,” the boy replied, his voice as flat and unyielding as his expression. A certain stoicism that didn’t quite match his youthful appearance.

 

“Right,” the man chuckled, stepping closer, his curiosity piqued. “Anyway, you’ve been a big help today. You sure you don’t work out? It’s a spectacular feat what you did there. No kid your age can pull it off.” His tone was both impressed and slightly skeptical as he studied Toru, trying to gauge how someone so young could display such physical prowess.

 

“No, but I have to leave. It’s getting dark.” Toru turned as he was about to leave but was stopped in his tracks with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

 

“Not so fast, kid. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” the man pressed, his voice carrying a warm, inviting tone.

 

“What—” Toru was momentarily puzzled,

 

“I can tell from your posture,” the man said with a knowing grin as if reading Toru’s reserve. “Come on, it’s on the house as thanks for your help today.” He gave Toru a friendly pat on the shoulder, steering him towards the warmly lit shop that promised a much-needed end to a long day.

 

Toru watched the man stride away casually in this quiet environment. Despite his insistence on self-sufficiency, the gnawing hunger reminded him he hadn’t eaten anything substantial since they arrived in the odd Market. Deciding to take the man up on his offer, Toru followed him towards what appeared to be a quaint two-story building functioning as a small restaurant on the first floor.

 

Settling onto a stool outside that bordered the open kitchen the was inside, he observed the simple interior beyond the counter. The man returned with a menu, sliding it across the counter with a cheeky grin. “It’s on the house today. Eat to your heart’s content, kid,” he announced, leaning in slightly on the counter as he waited.

 

Toru picked up the menu and scanned it briefly. The options were hearty, the kind of comfort food that filled the belly and soothed the soul. He hesitated for a moment, not used to accepting kindness without strings attached, but the rumble of his stomach made the decision for him. “I’ll have the—” he said,

 

 Toru’s attempt to order was abruptly interrupted by the clatter of footsteps and a stern voice cascading down from the second floor.

 

“Hiroto! Have you finished loadin’ off the truck?” The voice belonged to a middle-aged woman, her features marked by the lines of both kindness and command, suggesting she was in her late forties.

 

“All done. I got help from someone, and I’m cooking them a meal,” Hiroto responded, his voice carrying a hint of pride as he gestured towards Toru. The woman’s gaze shifted to the person mentioned, only to see that it was a child no older than 10.

 

The woman, her expression annoyant, paused at the foot of the stairs. “Do you take me as a fool, Hiroto?” she asked sharply, her voice echoing slightly in the compact space.

 

Although slightly taken aback, Hiroto responded with a confused “Hm?” not fully grasping the depth of her skepticism.

 

“Don’t ‘Hm’ me,” she shot back, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at Toru, who remained silent, menu in hand. “Can’t you see that he’s a child? And you expect me to believe that this kid carried all the heavy weight here?” Her tone was incredulous, her stare piercing.

 

Hiroto chuckled, a sound that boomed in the small kitchen. “Oh, that, but he really did. It confused me at first, too. That kid is strong, I tell ya!” His laughter did little to alleviate the tension.

 

The woman’s expression softened momentarily into a grin, though her tone remained sharp. A visible vein tick appeared on her temples. “Oh, I see. Is it because I’m old that you think I’m easy to fool?” She reached for a broom leaning against the wall, swiftly detaching the head to retrieve only a long wooden stick.

 

The atmosphere in the small restaurant shifted perceptibly as the woman’s tone sharpened. Still perched at the counter, Toru set the menu down slowly, watching the unfolding scene. He wasn’t accustomed to being at the center of such disputes, especially not over his ability to assist.

 

Hiroto, seemingly caught between trying to explain and maintain peace, raised his hands in a placating gesture. “No, no, it’s not like that,” he tried to assure her, his laughter fading into a more serious demeanor. “The kid really helped, he’s stronger than he looks.”

 

“I totally believe you, Hiroto. It’s just that your Ka-san is senile and too old to understand, is that not true?” she said mockingly, advancing toward her son with each pointed word. Hiroto’s face paled, a look of genuine fear taking over as he backed away slightly, his movements cramped by the limited space of the kitchen. His attempts to defuse the tension were desperate and somewhat clumsy.

 

“NO NO, KA‐SAN! I CAN EXPLAIN,” Hiroto pleaded, his voice rising in panic as he turned toward Toru for support. “Help a brother out, kid! Tell her that you helped me!”

 

Toru watched the escalating tension between Hiroto and his mother with an expression that managed to stay neutral, though internally, he was conflicted. He had indeed helped with the truck, but the dramatic scene unfolding before him seemed to demand more tact than simple truth.

 

Just as Toru opened his mouth to affirm Hiroto’s story, the mother interjected with a sharp “Tsk tsk, Hiroto. I said I totally believed you. Yet you want to get the kid on board and get on with your lie?” The menace in her tone belied the seriousness of her words, and the comical red flare in her eye emphasized her anger. The grin on her face slowly dissolved into a stern line, and her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “That’s...”

 

“W—wait, Ka-san,” Hiroto squeaked, the fear evident in his voice as he braced for what was coming.

 

“UNFORGIVABLE!” she shouted. In a flurry of motions she brandished the stick like a conductor’s baton, punctuating each word with a thwack that resounded across Hiroto’s back.

 

Hiroto, caught between the pain, he pleaded, “AI! KA-SAN, ITS TRUE, AIYA! I SWEAR!”

 

“TO MAKE A KID LIE IS UNFORGIVABLE! DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND!” she shouted, each word punctuated with a forceful hit, her actions underscored by a fierce belief in teaching a stern lesson.

 

Hiroto, overwhelmed by the barrage, tried to shield himself. “OKAY, OKAY, I WON’T DO IT ANYMORE, AIAIAIAI!” His voice was a mix of pain and pleading as he curled into a defensive ball on the floor, his arms trying to cover his head,

 

Amidst the chaos, Toru remained seated, his expression a mask of bewilderment mixed with a touch of concern. The intensity of the domestic scene before him was unlike anything he had witnessed back home. As Hiroto’s pleas echoed through the small space, the sounds of the strikes slowly ceased.

 

The room fell silent, save for Hiroto’s heavy breathing and the occasional sniffle as he uncurled from his defensive position. His mother, her expression softening, placed the broomstick aside with a sigh that seemed to carry a mixture of frustration and relief.

 

“Look at me, Hiroto,” she said, her voice now calm, a stark contrast to the fiery tone she had used moments ago. Hiroto hesitantly looked up, meeting her eyes. “You know I only want what’s best for you. And making up stories, especially involving children, it’s not right.”

 

Hiroto rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the lingering sting from his mother’s correction as he stood up. Got it, Ka-san. I’m sorry, really. It won’t happen again,” he assured her earnestly, hoping to smooth over the recent tumult.

 

She eyed him for a moment longer, and then her features softened into a smirk, evidently satisfied that her lesson had penetrated his usually thick skull. “Alright. Let’s put this behind us,” she declared, her tone lighter. Turning her attention to Toru, she asked, “What’s your order, kid?”

 

Toru, who had been a quiet observer to the familial fireworks, responded with measured calm. “I’ll have the ebi furai, please,” he said, his voice betraying none of the wariness that had momentarily seized him.

 

“Coming right up!” Hiroto’s mother responded with a cheerfulness that seemed to erase all traces of the stern disciplinarian from moments before. Her demeanor seamlessly transitioned back to that of the cordial hostess.

 

As Hiroto moved towards the kitchen, intent on preparing the meal, his mother’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “And where’dya think you’re goin’, Hiroto?” she asked.

 

“Hm? To cook, of course,” Hiroto replied, puzzled by her intervention.

 

“Not when you’re all bruised up. Sit at the counter. I’ll cook the meal,” she insisted, rolling up her sleeves and taking charge of the kitchen duties.

 

Hiroto opened his mouth to protest, perhaps out of habit more than disagreement but quickly reconsidered as he noticed the familiar stern glint returning to his mother’s eyes. “Hah? And who the hell sta—” he began, but the rising menace in his mother’s aura cut him off.

 

“Talking back, are we, Hiroto?” she said, her grin widening maliciously as a dangerous gleam appeared in her eyes.

 

“NO, NO, NO! I DIDN’T MEAN IT, KA-SAN! I’M DEEPLY SORRY!!” Hiroto backpedaled rapidly, his voice climbing in a mix of fear and apology as he recognized the potential for another lesson taught through less gentle means.

 

“Right, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it,” she concluded, turning away to focus on cooking, leaving Hiroto to nurse his bruised dignity at the counter.

 

As Hiroto’s mother began to cook, the clatter of pots and the sizzle of frying oil filled the air with homely sounds.

 

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+Toru POV+

 

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Hiroto slumped onto a stool beside Toru, rubbing the tender spots on his back as he watched his mother don the apron with an efficiency born of long practice. “Sorry about that, kid,” he muttered to Toru, trying to offer a sheepish grin that did little to hide his embarrassment. He reached up to adjust the black bandana that kept his hair neatly out of his face, then removed the toothpick from his mouth, flicking it into a nearby trash can with practiced ease. Delving into his pocket, he retrieved another, biting down on it thoughtfully.

 

“It’s fine. I’ve seen worse,” Toru responded, his voice calm and measured. As he waited for his meal, he pulled out the device given to him at the Market to check his progress.

 

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Xxxx

 

__Mission(s)__

 

W6:

 

• I have no enemies:

 

Objective(s):

 

Assist around the city, helping the locals with basic chores. (4/5)

 

Difficulty: ☆ | Easy.

 

Reward(s):

 

■ 250 SC

 

■ 5 (AP)

 

■ 5 (STA)

 

Xxxx

 

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‘That’s four done,’ he thought to himself. There was only one more task to complete his assignment.

 

As Toru swiped through the device’s shop application, a sense of overwhelming determination mixed with frustration began to set in. ‘How much more do I need to complete in order to bring her back?’ he wondered silently, his fingers tapping against the screen as he navigated through the various options available.

 

He scrolled through the items, each swipe bringing him face to face with the reality of his quest, not even a mere 1% completion toward the staggering cost necessary for his ultimate goal. ‘It’s expensive,’ the figures on the screen seem to mock his current efforts.

 

‘Many worlds value such an item for it to be staggering. I can see why,’ he pondered, his thoughts turning inward.

 

Toru’s eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the moral dimensions of his quest. ‘Would it even be right? Bringing her back... is it what she would want?’ The uncertainty of her wishes weighed heavily on him, adding a layer of ethical complexity to his already challenging endeavor.

 

The Market, with its boundless variety, hinted at limitless possibilities. He typed a few more words into the search bar, looking up the cost of communicating with the deceased. The price displayed was exorbitant. He sighed heavily, his heart sinking as he considered his quest’s financial and moral cost. ‘Even the ability to converse with the dead is expensive too,’ he noted, the reality setting in.

 

“Hey kid, you look fine. You’re still too young to be worrying about these things,” Hiroto said, his tone casual as he was sat at the stool beside him.

 

“Pardon?” Toru responded, his confusion evident. He wasn’t sure what Hiroto was referring to.

 

“Your appearance, you don’t have to worry about that. You know, I was pretty below average too, but then puberty hit, and I became this handsome hunk! BAHAHA!” Hiroto declared with a laugh, standing up to strike a pose that showcased his self-proclaimed good looks.

 

“What are you doing?” Toru deadpanned, his tone flat, not quite sharing Hiroto’s enthusiasm.

 

“You were checking your appearance in that mirror, weren’t you? I saw you looking a bit down, so I thought I’d cheer you up,” Hiroto explained, misunderstanding Toru’s interaction with the device. He sat back down, crossing his arms on the counter as he faced Toru, still smiling.

 

Toru raised an eyebrow, glancing from the device back to Hiroto, realizing the misunderstanding. “It’s not a mirror. It’s... more complicated than that,” he explained, trying to clarify without delving too deeply into the specifics of his task or the Market’s capabilities.

 

“Huh, didn’t know.” He crossed his arms as he was puzzled, then rubbed his chin. “You know, at first, I thought you had one of them new apple phones judging by the shape. Thought you were one of them rich kids.” then shrugged off his confusion with a carefree laugh. “Ah, well, whatever it is, just remember to keep your chin up. You’re too young to be frowning all the time!” His tone was light, trying to inject a bit of levity into the air.

 

‘Apple phone?’ Toru mulled over Hiroto’s words. The idea that technology could vary so drastically from one world to another was intriguing. ‘This world is six years ahead, technology has surely developed,’ he thought, considering the implications. (The hotd world is set in 2006, I concluded by the tech they had.)

 

“Neh, You seem confused; don’t tell me you haven’t heard about that phone?” Hiroto prodded again, his tone teasing but laced with genuine curiosity. Hiroto chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Man, with your strength, I might think you’re an actual caveman,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

 

“Yeah...” Toru muttered in response to the caveman comment, feeling slightly out of place with the casual references to modern technology he wasn’t familiar with.

 

“By the way, You run a family business too, right?” Hiroto pointed to Toru’s grocer’s outfit, noting the tag name on the left chest of his apron.

 

Toru hesitated, his mind racing on how much he should disclose. He didn’t run a family business per se; it was more complex than that. “I do work,” he responded vaguely, hoping that would suffice without revealing too much about his personal life or the peculiar circumstances he found himself in.

 

“Nice~ I’ll count on you if I wanna buy somethin’.” Hiroto leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Hook me up with a few coupons and discounts, aye?”

 

“...” Toru’s expression remained unreadable, a slight raise of his eyebrows the only sign of his reaction.

 

“Fine, fine, I’ll throw in some secret discounts too,” Hiroto conceded with a chuckle, interpreting Toru’s silence as reluctance. He backed off slightly, giving Toru some space while still keeping the mood light and friendly.

 

“I’m guessing you came abroad to run a business? My bad, I judged by your features, you strike me as a foreigner, you’re Japanese is strikingly good.” Hiroto remarked, trying to make small talk and possibly piece together more about Toru’s background.

 

“I did come from somewhere else,” Toru replied, his tone noncommittal, revealing nothing more than the fact itself.

 

As they conversed, the busy sounds from the kitchen began to subside, replaced by the approaching steps of Hiroto’s mother. The shift in the atmosphere was palpable as if the earlier tension had settled, making way for the more comforting routine of a meal being served.

 

Hiroto’s mother emerged from the kitchen carrying two plates of steaming ebi furai. With a flourish, she placed them down in front of Toru and Hiroto, her stern demeanor melting into a warm, inviting smile. “Here you go, fresh and hot! Eat up, it’ll do good for your growing body,” she declared and ruffled Toru’s curly blond hair, her voice rich with maternal pride.

 

Hiroto, however, was less than thrilled. “Ka-san, you know that ain’t my favorite,” he whined, his voice reverting to that of a petulant child.

 

“Shut up and eat! Be grateful that you have food in front of you; many don’t get the luxury that you have,” she retorted sharply, her glare silencing any further protests. “You understand?”

 

“Yes, Ka-san!” Hiroto suddenly adjusted his posture and started to eat more out of obligation than desire, not daring to provoke his mother’s ire further.

 

Meanwhile, his mother’s face softened as she turned to Toru, her eyes twinkling with a mix of curiosity and kindness. “How is it, kid? The taste of experience will send you flying to the moon, aye?” She grinned, hands on hips, exuding a jovial confidence in her culinary skills.

 

Toru stood quiet and didn’t reply, his head facing down, hiding his facial expression. “I- it tastes good.” Toru finally managed to say as he slightly lifted his head up and wiped off a tear, his voice soft and slightly shaky. The meal had unexpectedly stirred memories, evoking a sense of home that he hadn’t realized he’d missed so profoundly. ‘It tastes similar to her dishes,’ he thought, a pang of nostalgia tightening in his chest.

 

Hiroto’s mother noticed Toru’s quiet demeanor and the subtle wiping of a tear. Her expression shifted to one of gentle concern. “Glad to know you like it,” she responded warmly, sliding a napkin toward him with a tender, understanding smile. Her eyes reflected a mother’s empathy, recognizing the emotional weight behind his simple words.

 

Meanwhile, Hiroto, observing the exchange, kept to himself, his cheeks bulging with food. He chewed thoughtfully, sensing the emotional undercurrents at play but choosing to remain silent, allowing his mother’s kindness to fill the space between them.

 

Both continued to eat in silence, each absorbed in their thoughts. Hiroto finished first, but his manner of eating lacked any semblance of decorum. “That will do for now, still didn’t fill me up. What about you, kid? Up for seconds?” he asked, looking over at Toru.

 

Toru set his chopsticks down and used a napkin to wipe the grease and remnants from his lips. He glanced up at Hiroto before responding, “I have to leave. It’s getting dark.”

 

“Gotcha, your ka-san and to-san must be wonderin’ where you went,” Hiroto remarked casually, scratching his ear as he spoke. Toru twitched slightly at the mention of his parents, grateful that Hiroto hadn’t noticed his reaction.

 

“Thanks for the meal,” Toru said, standing up. He had taken only a few steps when he heard Hiroto call out from behind him.

 

“Come back again, kid.” He stood up from his seat to face Toru. “You haven’t tasted my dishes yet.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter, his casual demeanor belying the invitation’s sincerity.

 

Toru paused, giving Hiroto a nod. as he stepped out into the night. Toru’s steps slowed slightly as he heard voices drift from inside the restaurant just after he exited.

 

“Eh? He didn’t pay?” The voice of Hiroto’s mother carried through the night, tinged with confusion.

 

“Oh, I said it was on the house,” Hiroto responded casually, his tone relaxed.

 

“Oh, how nice~. I’ll deduct it from your pay then,” she retorted sharply.

 

“KA-SAN!” Hiroto’s protest was loud, but it was quickly cut off.

 

“DON’T YELL!” A sharp smack echoed, punctuating the night air.

 

A soft, gentle smile crept across Toru’s face as he continued his walk away from the restaurant. The brief interaction, a snapshot of their everyday life, left a warm impression. ‘Maybe I will,’ he thought, considering a future visit to repay their kindness and to try Hiroto’s cooking himself.

 

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