Hozuki Nozomi sat with perfect posture in the chair across from Kirisu Mafuyu's desk, his expression one of earnest, almost theatrical attentiveness.
"Mafuyu-sensei, besides educating me, was there something else you needed?"
Kirisu Mafuyu raised one elegant eyebrow, her violet eyes narrowing slightly. The sleeves of her cream cardigan were pushed up past her wrists, and a faint trace of chalk dust clung to her collarbone where her blouse parted.
"What, you have somewhere else to be?"
"Yes. Busy meeting my girlfriend."
Kirisu Mafuyu's lips pressed together. "..."
Why does that annoy me?
The thought flickered through her mind before she could stop it. She cleared her throat, rubbing her palms together in a way that felt distinctly un-teacher-like.
"Cough cough—um, I wanted to ask you,Nozomi. Do you have time tonight?"
Her cheeks warmed. She had just rejected him earlier, and now here she was, crawling back to ask for help. The irony wasn't lost on her.
"Time? I have some." Nozomi tilted his head, curiosity softening the angles of his handsome face. "What's wrong—does Mafuyu-sensei need my help with something?"
She nodded, sighing. The motion caused her long, pink hair to slip over one shoulder, pooling against her chest like ink on cream.
"It's my little sister Miharu again. She came over today and said she wants to eat my cooking."
A pause. Her fingers drummed the desk.
"You know my cooking skills…"
"And she even brought her change of clothes. Seems like she wants to stay with me for a while."
"So… um… tonight…"
Her voice trailed off. Those eyes, usually so composed and authoritative in front of students, now held something softer. Expectant. Almost pleading.
Nozomi's expression shifted, a crease forming between his brows.
"I can't keep coming over to cook for you every night, Sensei. My girlfriend would have opinions about that."
Kirisu Mafuyu's shoulders slumped. The fabric of her cardigan pulled taut across her back, emphasizing the defeated curve of her spine. She knew she was being unreasonable. But takeout had grown intolerable—plastic containers and lukewarm rice couldn't compare to his cooking. The memory of flavors he'd created still lingered on her tongue, and some shameful, greedy part of her wanted more.
More of his food. Just his food. That's all.
Seeing her dejection, Nozomi leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees.
"How about this, Mafuyu-sensei? If you don't want Miharu to discover you're hopeless at housework, push the chores and cooking onto her instead."
"Make it a condition for letting her stay. I think she'll definitely agree."
After all, Kirisu Miharu was essentially Mafuyu-sensei's biggest fan—her devoted little sister who practically worshipped the ground she walked on.
Mafuyu's eyes widened. The light caught them, turning violet into something closer to amethyst.
"That's right!"
"I can just let Miharu handle the housework! I won't have to deal with garbage myself anymore!"
She clasped her hands together, genuine delight breaking across her features like dawn.
"Why didn't I think of that before?"
Nozomi gave her a look. Flat. Resentful. Utterly unimpressed.
The implication was clear: Because you only thought of using me.
Kirisu Mafuyu's face flushed crimson. She looked away, heat crawling up her neck and settling beneath her ears.
"Tonight," Nozomi said suddenly, his voice shifting to something gentler, "I want to come to Mafuyu-sensei's house."
Her head snapped back toward him. "Don't you need to be with your girlfriend?"
"Just dinner and then home—it's not a big deal." He smiled, but there was something final in the curve of his lips. "Let me cook one last meal for Mafuyu-sensei. After this, if you want to taste my cooking again… well, opportunities will be hard to come by."
One last meal.
The words landed strangely in her chest. Heavy. Wrong.
This kid.
Is he trying to have some kind of farewell dinner with me?
After this, he won't look at me with those heated eyes anymore?
Won't tease me, or flirt, or make those ridiculous comments that make my heart—
She caught herself. Forced the thought away.
"What, no?" Nozomi tilted his head when she stayed silent. "Mafuyu-sensei doesn't welcome me?"
"Of course not—I mean, of course I welcome you!" She waved her hands frantically, the motion making her cardigan slide off one shoulder. "You can visit anytime!"
The words left her mouth before she could filter them. Serious. Earnest. Far too honest.
Only then did Nozomi's smile return—warmer now, reaching his eyes.
"That's good. I'll remember those words, Sensei. If I show up in the future and you don't let me in, I'll cry. You know that, right?"
"Pfft—" A laugh escaped her before she could stop it. She fixed him with a playful glare, eyes glinting. "How old are you? I can't imagine you crying."
"Even if I cried, I wouldn't let you see it." He stood, stretching his arms above his head. The motion pulled his uniform shirt taut across his chest. "I'm a man, after all."
A man.
Her gaze flickered down his frame involuntarily—the breadth of his shoulders, the lean lines of his torso—before she caught herself and looked away.
"Go on then, brat. After class, meet me so we can buy groceries together. I'm looking forward to tonight's meal."
"Don't worry." He grinned, already backing toward the door. "I guarantee it'll be so delicious it'll make you pregnant."
"Bah!" She grabbed a wadded-up paper from her desk and threw it at him. "What nonsense are you spouting?!"
"Haha—don't mind it. See you later. I'm off to find my girlfriend."
He slipped out the door, leaving nothing but the faint trace of his cologne—sandalwood and something sharper, like cedar—hanging in the air.
Kirisu Mafuyu stared at the empty doorway.
Her heart beat strangely in her chest.
He gave up on me because of what I said. I should be happy, right?
So why…
Why do I feel sad?
Will he really just focus on his girlfriend now and stop coming to see me?
She pressed a hand against her chest, feeling the warmth there. The confusion.
Something she refused to name.
…
The final bell rang.
With a conflicted heart she couldn't untangle, Kirisu Mafuyu stood at the school gates, evening light turning her hair to liquid shadow. She waved when she spotted Nozomi approaching, and they drove together to the wet market in her modest sedan—windows cracked to let in the smell of approaching autumn.
"Hmm, what ingredients should I choose?"
She stood amid the stalls, surrounded by the chaos of vendors shouting prices and the thick, mineral scent of fresh fish laid out on ice. Bundles of green onion, towers of daikon, slabs of pork belly glistening under fluorescent lights—every option felt overwhelming to someone who could barely boil water without incident.
"Mafuyu-sensei, just pick whatever you want to eat." Nozomi moved beside her, close enough that she caught his scent again—warmer now, mixed with the faint salt of exertion. "I'll make whatever you choose. Or pick something Miharu would like."
"You'll really make whatever I pick?"
"Of course."
Kirisu Mafuyu turned to look at him. Really looked.
The low market lights caught the angles of his jaw, the dark sweep of his lashes, the easy confidence in his posture. She found herself murmuring before she could stop:
"I really envy your girlfriend."
What she didn't know was that Nozomi barely cooked anymore. With Mahiru and the others around, breakfast, dinner, even his bento—the girls handled everything. He only stepped into the kitchen for special occasions now.
This meal, for her, was one of those occasions.
…
Bags in hand, they walked down the evening street together.
The sky had deepened to bruised violet, and storefront signs flickered to life around them—neon kanji reflecting off wet pavement from an earlier drizzle. Their footsteps fell into an easy rhythm, plastic bags rustling with each step.
Due to their appearances—her elegant beauty, his striking handsomeness—passersby couldn't help but stare. An elderly woman shuffled past, glancing between them with a knowing smile.
"What a lovely couple," she murmured to her husband. "Young love is so sweet."
Nozomi didn't seem to notice.
Kirisu Mafuyu's face ignited.
What?!
I'm his teacher!
We are NOT a couple!
What kind of eyesight do these people have?!
She stole a glance at Nozomi's profile—the relaxed set of his shoulders, the easy way he carried the heavier bags without complaint.
…Do we really look like a couple?
Her heart performed an uncomfortable flip. She quickened her pace, praying the evening shadows hid her burning cheeks.
They reached the parking lot beside a convenience store, loaded the ingredients into her trunk, and drove the rest of the way in companionable silence.
…
Her apartment complex smelled faintly of jasmine from the potted plants lining the corridor. She fished her keys from her pocket, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
"I'm home."
"Welcome home, Onee-chan!"
Kirisu Miharu bounded toward them immediately—her hair pulled into a perky ponytail, her youthful energy practically radiating off her in waves. She wore an apron over a casual sundress, clearly having been preparing for her sister's return.
"Yo. Good evening, Miharu-chan." Nozomi raised a hand in greeting, smile easy and warm. "I'm eating here tonight too."
Miharu's cheeks puffed out instantly, her amber eyes narrowing.
"What do you mean, 'eating here too'? What kind of student constantly freeloads at their teacher's house?"
These two are definitely dating!
Hmph—I have to stay here and observe carefully!
And protect Onee-chan from this smooth-talking pretty boy!
She's MINE. How could I give her to some high schooler younger than me?!
Despite her internal protests, Miharu forced a bright smile onto her face.
"Welcome! Give me the ingredients—I'll handle everything from here."