Chapter 187: The Pineapple Bun Is the True Essence
The moonlight was cold, spilling like silver dust over the quiet streets.
The night breeze was lonely, whispering between buildings as if sighing at the end of a long day.
Kouya walked alone along the road, his eyes calm and analytical, like a scholar observing the human condition. Every small gesture, every expression, every laugh or blush caught his attention. There was something oddly peaceful about watching others live their ordinary lives.
A pair of high schoolers in uniform walked shoulder to shoulder. The boy's hand hovered near the girl's, trembling slightly, as if daring to bridge that tiny distance but retreating at the last second. Their faces were flushed, their smiles awkward, their shyness palpable. It was innocence distilled into a moment.
A young woman in a tidy blazer wrapped herself around her boyfriend's arm, pressing close for warmth. Her perfume lingered in the air. Her long hair shimmered under a passing streetlight, fluttering softly as they talked about tomorrow's plans.
An elderly couple ambled along slowly, their silver hair glowing faintly under the moon. The man carried a shopping bag while the woman leaned on him, their fingers entwined. They didn't speak, but their silence said more than words ever could.
And then… two elementary schoolers in matching uniforms, sharing a single skewer of grilled meat, taking alternating bites with delightfully serious faces.
Okay, maybe that last one didn't count.
Kouya had seen scenes like this countless times before. Yet tonight, something subtle stirred inside him. Perhaps it was the chill of the night, or the hush of the wind—but as he watched, he found himself thinking,
"So this is what they call… beautiful feelings."
He wandered without aim, his footsteps carrying him to the front of a brightly lit supermarket. The automatic doors slid open and closed, releasing waves of warmth and the faint aroma of baked goods.
He rubbed his chin, considering dinner—and maybe who to invite out first—when a flicker of red caught his eye.
"Hmm? Satania?"
He froze, then immediately shook his head. No, absolutely not.
Going anywhere with that idiot was a guaranteed disaster. Her 'intelligence-draining aura' could make even Einstein trip over his own shoelaces.
But fate, cruel as always, had other plans.
Before he could slip away, Satania spotted him. Her eyes widened, and with a cry loud enough to turn heads, she sprinted toward him. "Servant officer! Wait for me! Don't go!"
Kouya's face twitched. "What do you want now?"
Satania skidded to a stop beside him, panting dramatically before straightening up and puffing her chest. "I heard this supermarket is selling discounted pineapple buns! I came to buy a bunch to store for later!"
You're not a squirrel hoarding acorns for winter!
And besides, pineapple buns are everywhere—you don't need to build an emergency stockpile!
"No way," she said seriously, clenching her fist like a hero making an oath. "Imagine waking up tomorrow, opening the fridge, and realizing… there are no pineapple buns inside. Horrifying!"
Kouya sighed internally. "So the pineapple bun really is your true essence."
One day without them, she's restless. Two days, she twitches. Three days, and she'll probably keel over on the spot.
"If you want to buy them, go buy them. Why involve me?" he muttered.
"Because the limited-edition rainbow pineapple buns have a two-per-customer limit! If we buy together, we can get an extra one!" she announced proudly, her sharp little fang glinting under the fluorescent lights.
Her expression screamed, "See? I'm a genius! Praise me!"
Ah, there it was again—her ultimate weapon.
The stupidity strike.
"I have things to do," Kouya said flatly, already turning to leave.
But Satania clung to his arm, eyes brimming with tears. "Don't leave me alone!"
The sound of collective gasps filled the air.
Passersby stopped and stared.
"What's going on?"
"Looks like they're fighting?"
"He's dumping her? How could anyone abandon such a cute girl? Damn normies, explode already!"
Satania looked up, voice trembling, "Please come with me… or I'll die…"
Shut up, you moron!
Keep this up and I'll never clear my name—not even with a lifetime supply of soap and the entire Yellow River!
His face dark with embarrassment, Kouya yanked her toward the entrance. "Fine, fine, just stop talking."
The doors slid open.
"Welcome!" chirped the cashier, bowing politely.
Satania waved imperiously. "No need for formalities!"
The cashier froze, a bead of sweat rolling down her temple.
Kouya covered his face with one hand. "Just… come on."
As they walked, Satania suddenly frowned. "That cashier's name tag said 'Abiko'… weird name."
Kouya groaned. "'Abiko' isn't a first name—it's a surname! Totally normal here!"
He mentally listed a few examples. "Like pole vaulter Tomomi Abiko, or the novelist—Abiko Takemaru; not 'Yakumaru'—'Takemaru'!"
Stop bullying people over their names!
Satania blinked, unimpressed. "Still sounds funny."
Kouya exhaled sharply. "You're here for buns, right? Move it."
"Oh right!" She perked up, sniffing theatrically. "I can smell them already…"
You're not a truffle dog!
They're literally right there by the oven!
The warm air was filled with sweetness. Rows of freshly baked buns gleamed golden under the display lights, the sugary crust cracking like delicate porcelain.
It's worth noting, Kouya mused, that despite the name, pineapple buns contain no pineapple whatsoever. The name came from their appearance—crisscrossed crust resembling a pineapple's skin. Much like how "Chongqing Chicken Pot" wasn't from Chongqing at all, but a brand created by a Shanghai chef named Zhang Chongqing.
He found himself watching as Satania's eyes widened with wonder, her nose twitching at the scent.
"I want this one! And this one too! And—oh! That one's rainbow-colored!"
She gleefully loaded her tray, practically vibrating with excitement. "Phew~ I'm so happy!" she sighed, hugging the bag of buns like a treasure chest. "For your great service, I'll reward you with one pineapple bun later."
Kouya stared at her, deadpan.
A discounted bun as a reward. Truly, she was magnanimous.
"Don't tell me you want the limited rainbow one?" she said suddenly, eyes narrowing, clutching it protectively. "That one's off-limits!"
Kouya inhaled slowly. "Stay calm. Breathe. She's your responsibility. Don't lose it…"
A pause.
Then—"Nope. Can't do it!" (╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻!
Smack!
He brought his hand down in a swift, light chop.
"Ow! What was that for?!" she yelped, rubbing her head.
Kouya ignored her.
A few minutes later, they stood at the checkout counter.
"That'll be 2,960 yen," the cashier said politely.
Satania rummaged through her frog-shaped Guata wallet, producing a small mountain of coins. "Let's see… one hundred, two hundred…" She frowned. "Uh oh."
Kouya pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just give her a 500-yen coin and let her give you change."
"Eh? Really?" She blinked and began counting on her fingers. "If I give her 500 more, then she should give me back… um…"
He sighed, took the coins from her hand, pocketed them, and handed his card to the cashier. "Just swipe it."
"Y-yes, of course." The relieved cashier quickly completed the transaction and bowed. "Thank you very much!"
Outside, the night air hit them again—cool, crisp, and quiet. Kouya took a deep breath, ready to finally part ways.
But before he could, a cheerful voice rang beside him.
"Thanks for earlier~"
He turned, and there she was—Satania, standing under the glow of the streetlamp, hugging her bag of buns, the light tracing the outline of her face. The usual goofiness was gone, replaced by something simple and bright—a genuine smile.
For a moment, Kouya was caught off guard.
This was the same girl who tripped over her own thoughts and declared herself a future queen of Hell.
Yet somehow, seeing her like this… felt different.
"…You're welcome," he muttered without thinking.
Her grin widened, soft and radiant.
And for the first time that night, as the moonlight brushed over them, Kouya found himself thinking an unfamiliar thought—one that surprised even him.
Maybe… he didn't mind being dragged along after all.