Chapter 16: Ch. 16 Glimpses of the Future

Finally, a month after arriving, I secured the lease on a small flat fairly near to Mi’s place. A long walk, but easily doable. Kiko being my only friend here, of course I told her, mentioning how happy I was to have a kitchen again.

She replied back asking when I was moving in, I answered her, then she surprised me: “You don’t have much, right? I can help after work.”

My smile must have looked so silly as I stared at that message, feeling a warmth in my chest no one else could kindle. I hated relying on other people. I didn’t hate relying on her.

The next day, I got off work early and went grocery shopping. Not much, nothing fancy, but food for one good meal and a few days of normal lunches and dinners—and a bento box to bring lunch to work in. A cute one. Maybe my time as Mi had left more of an impact than I’d thought, feeling younger than I had in years. Some other essentials too.

I left the food in the fridge at my new place, then took a bus to my hotel room. Thankfully, I’d planned it out right, arriving not too long before Kiko did.

“Thank you again,” I said as I let her in.

She chuckled and waved me off, saying, “It’s fine.”

Like she’d said, I didn’t have much to move. Clothes and toiletries. Bringing a PC across the world had seemed like more trouble than it was worth, so I was waiting to settle in before getting a new one, work providing a laptop anyway. What else did I need?

Suitcase packed the night before, I said, “Ready to go.”

She looked at my suitcase for a moment and I had to think because she was considering pulling it for me. Really, she was too good. Not wanting to give her a chance to ask (if she even was going to), I started dragging it out.

It didn’t take long to sign out or get it in her car and the drive wasn’t long either, the new place sort of between the hotel and Mi’s house. Once there, though, she didn’t even ask, taking one side as we shuffled up the stairs to my new flat.

A small, tiny thing, but when had anyone shown me—not Mi, but me—that kind of little consideration?

Inside, there wasn’t really anything I needed to unpack right now. At least, not anything I’d brought, but there were some of the things I’d bought.

Being a good host, I had her sit down and made green tea for us both. After she was done with her empty praises of the not-praiseworthy flat, I cleared the air with a, “Well,” then went all shy as I asked, “I have a kitchen now, so can I treat you to dinner?”

Like she was my sun, I couldn’t look directly at her, only glance. Those glances showed me a hint of surprise, then a soft smile. “Sure. When?”

“Tonight,” I said, standing up. “How does karaage sound? It’s Mi-chan’s favourite, so I want to practise.”

In the kitchen area, I took out the deep wok and cutting boards to give them a wash, mind already focused on cooking. Still, I paused to listen when she replied.

“You’re very diligent.”

It was strange having heard that very same praise before, yet it never sounding as genuine as from her. I’d been praised at school, at work, and found it so empty. Simply doing what I was supposed to do. Not now, though.

“Thank you,” I said, trying to hide my shy smile, embarrassed.

Soon enough, she joined me with the preparations. I didn’t know the recipe by heart, so her main job was to read the instructions of me, which also meant I could listen to her voice as much as I wanted.

“Sorry, how much soy sauce did it say?” I asked, knowing exactly how much she’d said before.

Maybe she was in on the secret, her answer coming with a tone of humour. Well, if she didn’t say anything, I was just going to keep doing it.

While the chicken marinated, I prepared for the frying and she started on the washing up. Just that, thinking about it, we needed something to accompany the chicken and she had mentioned wanting to try some of the foods Mi’s mother had talked about.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Fried chips,” I said in English, then switched back to Japanese. “They’d be better if I could soak them, but since we’re doing karaage, we can do them both now.”

If she thought about protesting, I already had a potato peeled and was cutting it into chips. In the end, her reply was a long sigh, then she dutifully washed the peeler. I smiled to myself, wondering if she was secretly happy about it.

So we went, getting everything prepared, then the first fry, then the second, then the draining. While two deep-fried portions would usually be heavy, there was lemon juice for the karaage and malt vinegar for the chips. Not the time or equipment for a tomato relish, the Japanese mayonnaise added a sweet option to cut through the heaviness too.

Like the last time I’d cooked for just her, it was a real treat, the long period of frying putting such a lovely smell in the air, the sound—and the glances I caught of her staring hungrily at the wok.

I would happily cook every day for her.

Finally time to eat, we sat down on the floor, only a “traditional” table in the room. Awkward for me, this body really not liking the seiza. At least my time as Mi meant I knew how to do it properly so it wasn’t as uncomfortable.

“Itadakimasu,” we said, chopsticks in hand, and then her chopsticks darted for a chip, not the slightest hesitation.

I managed not to giggle, but couldn’t help but ask, “How is it?”

Although she covered her mouth, I’d caught her smiling. “It’s very nice, like from a restaurant,” she said.

“Next time, it’ll be better,” I said.

She must have smiled even broader at that, reaching her eyes.

You are reading story One Man’s Heaven, One Woman’s Hell at novel35.com

My fun finished, I started eating too, finding that Mi’s love of karaage had lingered with me, or maybe I would have always loved karaage and just never tried it. Either way, I ate up my portion quickly, almost disappointed when I had to go to the chips. At the least, they had a different and interesting taste with the Japanese mayonnaise. A bit sweet, eggy, a nice contrast to the chips-with-vinegar.

We finished at the same time, both stayed sitting there. After some thought, I said, “I know shredded cabbage is normal, but what do you think Mi-chan and Hime-chan would like with it?”

She looked back at me for a second, her expression becoming bittersweet. Before I could ask why, she looked to the side—at nothing—and said, “Ah, I thought something was missing.”

My first thought that she was talking about the side, I quickly realised why she was looking there. “Someone,” I softly said.

She turned back to me and her smile lost the bitter. “Mi-chan will really like it, but Hime-chan might get jealous if Mi-chan likes it more,” she said lightly.

“I’ll just assist her in cooking it,” I said.

Much to my delight, she laughed, a sound so pure, a sight so sweet. It brought out an intense desire to make more jokes, to make her laugh more. I held it back. Being too indulgent wasn’t good, after all.

Once she calmed down, I sobered up, coming to a complicated topic I genuinely wanted her input on. “I would like to cook for them more, but I’m not sure how practical that is. If I made them lunch and dropped it off at Sakura-chan’s house, how would that be?” I asked.

Her humour faded too, a look of deep thought touching her face. Lingered. I tried not to get distracted, but her lips were in a slight pout, maybe a bit oily from the food with how they gleamed. A comfortable place to look.

At least until they moved, suddenly snapping me out of it and I looked up at her eyes again.

“Well, not every night, but we could have dinner there a few days a week,” she said.

“Really?” I asked, perking up.

She nodded, then stilled and quickly after said, “Not because I want to eat your food, but for the children.”

“Of course,” I said, smile turning maybe a little smug.

Sighing, she turned away. “I’ll talk to Mi-chan about it.”

“Okay.”

That was what she said and that was what she did, on Sunday the four of us arranging a schedule over lunch. What days, what meals, what things everyone liked and disliked. We settled on Tuesdays and Thursdays to start with.

For the rest of Sunday and all of Monday, I was so excited I could barely focus; every time my mind had a chance to wander, it happily took it. Cooking for all three of them really was great. Cooking with Himawari. It was everything I’d never known I wanted, a little family of my own.

So Tuesday afternoon arrived. After Kiko and I finished work, she picked me up, stopping by a store on the way to Mi’s house. Fresh ingredients.

At Mi’s, I had time to greet her and Himawari and ask them all about the two days since I’d last seen them. Himawari had started to open up to me more, especially happy to talk about her friend and how she’d liked our ever-growing movie, which just melted me every time.

Then it was cooking. Himawari had soaked a couple potatoes since last night, meaning tastier chips tonight.

That reminded me of how Himawari cooked. I knew now how to make tasty karaage and, well, Himawari didn’t. So I showed her, first marinating, then frying twice at different temperatures, using more oil and being careful to not put the pieces in too quickly, otherwise the oil temperature dropped too much. We still cut the potatoes into slices instead of sticks for frying, but did the same thing, frying them twice.

As we did, I thought about why Mi loved karaage so much that even Himawari’s karaage tasted so good to her. Since her mother passed, she’d barely gone out to eat, not even with friends. Back, further back….

Oh.

Her mother would cook it for her whenever she felt sad. It wasn’t about the taste, but the love of the person cooking it. Some people actually loved their parents, felt loved, sentimental. Right.

“Millie-san?”

Himawari’s quiet voice broke me out of my trance and I quickly switched to a smile, blinking a few times to clear the unshed tears. “Sorry, I just remembered something a bit sad and a bit happy.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, glancing at me a few times before staring at the bubbling food.

Soon enough, it was ready and served, all of us at the small table, saying, “Itadakimasu,” in loose unison.

And I waited, watching them so happily eat. So lively. Even while cooking, Kiko and Mi had been around to wash and tidy and they’d chatted as they did.

It all felt so right. Especially now, sitting at this table with the four of us, sharing a meal we’d made together…. This was my dream. The thought that, one day, we could be doing this as a real family… two mums, two adopted daughters.

Again, Himawari was the one to break me from my thoughts. “Are you remembering something a bit sad and a bit happy again?” she quietly asked, putting her hand on top of mine and giving it a squeeze.

I half-laughed, settling into a broad smile as I shook my head. “No, this time it was just so happy it wanted to spill out,” I said, voice a bit rough with emotion.

“Oh,” she said and frowned for a moment. “That’s good.”

“It is.”

You can find story with these keywords: One Man’s Heaven, One Woman’s Hell, Read One Man’s Heaven, One Woman’s Hell, One Man’s Heaven, One Woman’s Hell novel, One Man’s Heaven, One Woman’s Hell book, One Man’s Heaven, One Woman’s Hell story, One Man’s Heaven, One Woman’s Hell full, One Man’s Heaven, One Woman’s Hell Latest Chapter