Morning.
Eru awoke feeling strangely at peace. Why… she could not say. She did not know, but sohow her heart felt light and clear. Still wrapped in the warm futon, she blinked up at the ceiling—only to realize it was not one she recognized. Startled, she sat up. But a heartbeat later, she rembered: this was Inari’s ho.
“Ah… I nearly forgot… Right, this is…”
Inari’s ho, Inari’s room.
She had already been surprised at how splendid the apartnt was, but even more at the fact that it had been introduced by the Awakener Association. For them to think such a place was “appropriate” was proof enough of imnse economic standing.
Indeed, even the furniture was of remarkable quality, chosen personally by the Association. Such treatnt was unheard of. Normally, one would simply be told, “Go buy whatever you like.” That they had gone so far was evidence of how carefully the Association regarded Inari. Even after Takemoto had explained so things beforehand, Eru still found herself wondering just what kind of person Inari really was.
Yet… after spending the previous day together, she had discovered Inari’s personality was nothing like the image suggested by such facts.
In truth, the Association rely wished to ensure that Inari—who had never learned the habit of spending money—could live in comfort befitting her earnings. But from Eru’s perspective, the only conclusion was that Inari was simply… a mysterious person.
“…Huh?”
Now that she thought about it, Inari was not lying beside her. Instead, what drifted through the air was… the scent of miso soup.
“Oh no! I’ve overslept—!?”
Panicking, she scrambled to her feet and hurried to the kitchen. And there, just as she imagined, was Inari, preparing miso soup. When Inari noticed her, she gave a warm, gentle smile.
“Good morning. Thou couldst have slept longer, thou knowest.”
“No, not at all! Please, let help!”
“Ho-ho-ho, is that so? Then perhaps thou couldst make the tamagoyaki. I am no good at it.”
“Leave it to .”
After quickly washing her hands, Eru cracked two eggs into a bowl, whisked them, then poured them into a lightly oiled frying pan. Ideally, one would use a square pan for tamagoyaki. But it was perfectly possible in a round pan—it only required skill and practice. And fortunately, Eru had both.
“Ohh… splendid. Is this what they call a professional’s touch?”
“I’m no professional… Just experience and technique, really.”
“Aye, aye. Most wonderful indeed. Remarkable!”
“N-no, it’s really not that…”
“Do not be modest. I am truly impressed.”
With Inari praising her so brightly, Eru felt ticklish inside—but not displeased. She could tell Inari spoke from her heart.
And then she realized sothing.
“Ah… That’s it. This person never says anything false. Every word, every kindness, is genuine. That’s why it sinks in so easily…”
Knowing that, she felt her shoulders relax. She felt she understood Inari, just a little. She was… like a mother, one buried deep within mory.
“Fufu.”
“Mm? What stirs thy laughter?”
“No reason. Just… I feel happy.”
Eru placed the beautifully cooked tamagoyaki onto the cutting board. Inari nodded with satisfaction—her gaze fixed hungrily on the golden roll. At this point, Eru felt she could even guess exactly what Inari was thinking.
“Surely, to see it cooked so perfectly… it fills the heart with joy, does it not?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“So that’s what it was,” Eru thought, smiling inwardly. She had long grown used to making tamagoyaki, no longer feeling any special delight from it. But seeing Inari so happy made her happy in turn.
“Truly, Eru, thou art impressive.”
“Ehehe… thank you.”
Still warm inside, she sliced the tamagoyaki while Inari cheerfully shaped rice balls. Her face shone with joy as she molded them, her happiness plain to see.
“She really loves rice balls…”
Strictly speaking, it was rice itself Inari loved—but rice balls were close enough. As the water finished boiling, Inari gave a small “Oh!”
“Eru, forgive , but couldst thou brew the tea?”
“Ah—yes.”
She pulled teacups from the cupboard, then looked for the teapot. Not finding it, she opened another cabinet. Still nothing. Tilting her head, she realized it was quicker to ask. Focused entirely on the teapot, she called out—
“Mother, where is the—”
She froze. Turning red as a beet, she hid her face and whispered, “I… misspoke…” before crouching down in embarrassnt.
With eyes full of gentle affection, Inari pointed to the counter.
“The teapot is there.”
Neither confirming nor denying, just simply accepting.
“Please… forget that…”
“Aye, aye. I heard naught.”
Throughout breakfast, Eru’s voice was faint as a mosquito’s. But… even so, it was a mont. One that brought her and Inari’s hearts just a little closer together.
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