Chapter Twenty-Four: Regret

In the still dim room, Sora muted the sound of anime from her computer and listened carefully for any noise outside the door. All she could discern was the faint sound of a television coming from downstairs. Cautiously, she slid open the door and found, right on the floor, a tray of unfamiliar and intriguing dishes.

“Mapo tofu…” Sora’s gaze landed on the vibrant red cubes of tofu, and she instinctively salivated. After swallowing, she glanced furtively into the hallway like a thief, making sure no one was there before she quickly snatched the tray into her room and shut the door behind her.

This is mapo tofu… But what about this one? Sora eyed the other dish, also red in appearance, but the sweet and sour aroma that wafted to her nose was entirely different.

Shredded pork in a red sauce… She wracked her brain, trying to recall the name, but nothing came to mind.

With a hint of hesitation, she picked up a strand of the pork with her chopsticks, pursed her thin lips, and took a bite.

“…Delicious!” The tangy sweetness startled her, making her wide eyes round with surprise, her small fair hand trembling from the unfamiliar sensation.

Gathering her silvery hair and tucking it behind her head, she sampled the mapo tofu next.

“Mmm…” The fiery, numbing heat was almost unbearable, and she let out a muffled whimper. Her pale legs pressed tightly together, twisting like two white snakes.

“It’s so spicy… but…” Sora chased away the heat with a mouthful of rice, but suddenly found the numbing spiciness strangely addictive.

It was a rare occasion—her appetite awakened, Sora began to truly savor the meal.

When she came back to herself, she was astonished to find she had finished every last bite—an amount nearly double her usual portion—and even the egg soup was gone, the bowl spotless.

“Hic…” Covering her mouth reflexively, Sora’s cheeks flushed. She lay back into the embrace of her big teddy bear, clutching her now round little belly, glancing around her messy bedroom and biting her lower lip softly. “So full…”

Knock, knock, knock… The sound of someone rapping at the door came again.

Sora instinctively shut her mouth and curled up deeper into the teddy bear’s arms.

“Sora, if you’re done eating, please bring out the dishes so I can wash them.”

Her mind raced with possible responses, but before she could decide, several seconds had already passed, and she heard footsteps heading back downstairs. She closed her mouth, giving up on replying.

So difficult…

Lowering her head, Sora stared at her pale little feet, pressing them together.

If I keep ignoring him, will he still make delicious food for me? For some reason, this thought surfaced in Sora’s mind.

Maybe not… People in the past were just the same—kind to her at first, then soon drifting far away.

Her head drooped in disappointment, silver hair falling past her ears. With a sigh, she murmured, “Aoki Tsukasa…”

Downstairs, Tsukasa Aoki waited ten minutes, and when he finally went up, he couldn’t help but smile at the spotlessly clean bowls and plates. Humming contentedly, he carried them down to wash, only then remembering the Japanese tradition of daily bathing.

He had never really gotten used to sharing bathwater with others. Every time Masao Haruhino called him to bathe, he simply showered and never actually soaked in the tub.

But…

Today, it might be nice—after all, it was just him and Sora.

With that thought, Tsukasa filled the tub with hot water, then went to knock on Sora’s door.

“Sora, I’ve drawn a bath. Do you want to have a soak?”

Silence.

He raised an eyebrow, knocked again. “I can go back to my room and wait. Just call me when you’re done.”

“…No need…” The voice from inside was muffled. Tsukasa frowned a bit. “Huh?”

“I’ll go in a bit.” After a pause, Sora added, her tone still subdued.

Tsukasa pondered for a moment, then his frown melted into a smile. “Alright. Oh, by the way, I bought some snacks and drinks—they’re in the fridge.”

“…Okay.” Came Sora’s soft reply.

Yes! Tsukasa clenched his fist in triumph, his spirits high. That “no need” just now—did it mean she didn’t mind him being around? Was she willing to see him now?

As expected, not even Sora can resist the power of good food! If she’s willing to see me, I can gradually win her trust with sincerity… Wait!

Just as he was considering how to appear more gentle and approachable, a sudden realization struck him—he didn’t look the part of a “nice guy” at all. He quickly checked his reflection on his phone, only to see a brutally scarred, swollen, and menacing bald head.

With cuts at the corner of his mouth and brow, he couldn’t even manage a friendly smile; any attempt twisted his features into a vicious grimace. Maybe his damned “charm” stat had gone up again—at this rate, if he acted in a film, he could win an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor as a psychopathic killer or gang boss, as long as he kept his mouth shut. Lead roles were out of the question—this face was strictly for villains.

If he found himself scary, what must Sora think…?

Better keep away…

“I’ll just head back to my room,” Tsukasa muttered, despair clouding his face.

No reply came from within.

Hiding in his room, Tsukasa soon heard the light footsteps from the room across the hall—Sora’s. The steps quickly descended the stairs and went into the bathroom.

Inside, Tsukasa felt utterly desolate.

Meanwhile, Sora entered the bathroom, glancing at her freshly styled twin tails in the mirror and her neat new white dress. The delicate girl in the reflection wore a faint frown and a hint of sorrow, sighing almost inaudibly. “Idiot…”

It was unclear whether she was talking about herself or Tsukasa.

She shrugged off her spotless white dress, tossing it into an empty basin by the tub, and gave herself a quick rinse under the shower before slipping carefully into the bath.

With her mouth and nose just beneath the water, Sora blew a stream of bubbles, her half-closed eyes above the surface reflecting a tangle of emotions—calm, tinged with sadness.

She longed for someone to care for her, yet the fear of loss kept her from reaching out, from investing her feelings, even from hoping. She wrapped herself in a thick, cold shell, but beneath it was nothing more than a shivering, pitiful little creature.

Sora herself didn’t know how deeply she yearned for a warm embrace. Underneath those layers of protection, all the emotions she forced herself to suppress burned like a fire, compressed and sealed within that frozen shell.

Who could say, when that icy armor finally melted, just how fiercely and wildly that flame would blaze?