Chapter Twenty-Three: The Bittersweet Troubles of Happiness

A Long and Matsuyama Iwa looked fierce and intimidating, but in reality, their character was unexpectedly decent. Matsuyama not only treated Aoki Shi’s wounds, applied ointment, and covered the small cuts with bandages, but he also generously handed Aoki Shi ten thousand yen, declaring it today’s wage and the surplus as compensation for his injuries.

Though A Long was grinding his teeth in frustration, he stated that Aoki Shi’s shorts, the bandages wrapped around his fists, and the gloves were all his own new spares, never used, and he gifted them to Aoki Shi as well.

Aoki Shi glanced at A Long’s brash dreadlocks and found him more agreeable. Even though he’d been beaten black and blue, he wasn’t particularly angry—he simply resolved to return the favor someday.

After agreeing with Matsuyama Iwa to come back to the club tomorrow, Aoki Shi, face battered and bruised, staggered home, his pocket still warm with ten thousand yen.

"Dammit… my leg really hurts," Aoki Shi muttered as he walked, marveling at himself. Who else would step into the octagon without any fighting experience and go toe-to-toe for a full minute?

Though he’d lucked out and passed the test, Aoki Shi realized that if he didn’t improve, every visit would leave him worse off, beaten even more severely.

All because of that wretched system!

Instinctively, he called out in his mind, “System, come out and take your beating!”

[Task: Extraordinary Part-Time Job (Completed)]

[Task Reward: Agility +1, Stamina +1, Charisma +1. Completion: Perfect. Extra reward item: Daruma Sticker.]

[Daruma Sticker: At first glance, it’s just a sticker like those little girls put on stationery, but when you stick it on yourself, you become the unyielding Daruma—impossible to be knocked down. Effect: Triples damage resistance; cannot be knocked down; all injuries sustained during use will heal within twelve hours after the effect ends. Note: If you’re killed, you die—surely you understand? Duration: Three minutes.]

Watching the mixed martial arts experience bar surge by more than half, Aoki Shi sighed. “I definitely need to grind skills, and I should brush up on kendo so it’s at least useful. If I don’t train in MMA, I won’t be able to earn money. I also need to learn some medical skills to treat Sora’s illness…”

“How did I end up busier than in my previous life, when I just wanted to be a slacker?” Aoki Shi eyed the ever-growing list of tasks. The leisurely three years of high school he once hoped for now seemed increasingly out of reach, filling him with worry.

Fortunately, Japanese high schools start at eight in the morning and finish at three forty in the afternoon.

So even though Aoki Shi fought at the club before heading home, it was only six o’clock—about the same as after his usual kendo practice, and it didn’t interfere with making dinner for Sora.

“Right… I still need to buy groceries.” Aoki Shi slapped his forehead, wincing in pain that nearly made him jump. Gritting his teeth, he entered a supermarket, thought for a while, then pulled out his phone and dialed the number saved as “Little Sister Sora.”

After quite a while, the call was answered.

“….” Only faint static from a computer could be heard on the other end.

Aoki Shi paused. “It’s me, Aoki Shi.”

“…..” The call wasn’t disconnected, but there was no response.

“Can Sora handle spicy food? I can make authentic Chinese Mapo Tofu for you. If not, I can also make—”

“Whatever.” The reply came, cold as a mountain spring, and the call ended, leaving only the beeping of the line.

Aoki Shi pursed his lips but didn’t dwell on it. In his eyes, Sora was just a pitiful child suffering from severe psychological illness.

Thinking back, his younger brother in his past life was the same—talkative when in a good mood, silent when upset, and explosive if spoken to harshly…

Could Sora have the same manic-depressive disorder as his brother?

Yet Auntie said it was only panic disorder and depression…

Aoki Shi felt his already aching head throb even more.

Dragging his bags home, Aoki Shi called out, “I’m back!” to the empty house, but as expected, there was no response. He took off his shoes at the entrance, carefully stored the groceries in the fridge, and seeing the traces of breakfast with only Sora’s portion eaten, the rest untouched, he sighed and began cleaning up.

After washing the dishes, reheating the egg soup, and steaming some rice, Aoki Shi rolled up his sleeves and encouraged himself, “If you want to win over a child with autism, you start with her stomach!”

Aoki Shi, a foodie in his past life, had developed decent culinary skills out of financial necessity. Though limited to Chinese cuisine, he could confidently say that the only thing he lacked compared to restaurant chefs was a powerful stove.

He took out the Chinese seasonings he'd painstakingly sourced and awkwardly chopped the ingredients with the slender Western knife—since the house lacked a proper Chinese cleaver, he had to make do.

After an hour of hard work, Aoki Shi finally finished cooking, just past seven o’clock.

Looking at the table with its vibrant, spicy Mapo Tofu and sweet, fragrant Shredded Pork with Garlic Sauce, his mouth watered. If it weren’t for Sora’s tastes, he’d rather make Twice-Cooked Pork or stir-fried beef and indulge in some meat. Having eaten Kasugano An’s home cooking lately, Aoki Shi found the flavor underwhelming—novel at first, but increasingly hard to stomach with repetition.

“Sora!” Aoki Shi climbed to the second floor and knocked on her door.

As expected, there was no answer, just the cheerful voices of anime characters from the computer.

He knocked again. “Sora, dinner’s ready. Do you want to come down and eat?”

“…No.” The reply was quiet, but clear enough for Aoki Shi to hear.

He took a deep breath and rubbed his temples.

Returning downstairs, he took out new plates, divided the cooked dishes in half, found a tray likely meant for Sora, prepared rice and egg soup, placed chopsticks, and carried it all to her door. “I’ve left dinner at your door—can you take it inside to eat?”

“…..” No sound from the room, but Aoki Shi knew Sora had heard.

Shaking his head, he said nothing more, went back downstairs, and sat at the empty dining table. He opened his phone and boldly purchased a monthly unlimited data plan—expensive, but within his means.

Wasn’t the money he earned getting punched meant to let him live a little?

Having spent his previous life penny-pinching, Aoki Shi finally savored the thrill of spending freely on himself.

He casually opened a video site, happily watched a highly recommended movie program, and ate heartily, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Wow, so many good movies—how long will it take to watch them all?

Immersed in blissful dilemmas, Aoki Shi forgot all about the pain in his face.