As she poured the fragrant miso soup into a small ceramic cup, Asato Hitomi offered a quiet explanation. "Since you mentioned you don't like seafood, Kuroha-kun, I didn't use kombu or bonito for the dashi. I made it with dried shiitake mushrooms instead. I've tasted it myself… the umami might be a bit milder. I hope it's to your liking."
Kuroha Akira took a careful sip. His eyes widened in genuine surprise, then softened with pleasure. Given the stereotype of delicate Japanese palates, he'd expected something subtle, perhaps even bland. This, however, was rich, deeply savory, and perfectly balanced.
This is incredible! His inner food critic, a legacy from some distant ancestral memory, chimed in with approval: This soup is beautiful!
"It's delicious!" he announced, the praise heartfelt and immediate.
"I'm glad you think so…" A faint, satisfied smile touched Hitomi's lips. Watching him devour the meal with such unfeigned relish made the pre-dawn wake-up call at 4:30 AM feel utterly worthwhile.
Yet, a shadow of guilt lingered behind her practiced composure. She couldn't maintain the lighthearted facade. "I'm sorry, Kuroha-kun…"
"Mmph?"
Akira mumbled around a mouthful of perfectly seasoned rice, his raised eyebrow conveying the rest of the question: 'What for, Class Monitor?'
"I knew bringing you the bento in class would cause misunderstandings, and I did it anyway. But I wasn't trying to scheme against you or use you as a pawn. I truly didn't expect it to escalate into a direct confrontation between you and Sumitomo-kun…"
Akira swallowed, deliberately slowing his pace. He set his chopsticks down for a moment. "When I saw you stand up and speak for me, Class Monitor, I already knew you weren't just using me as a shield. I think… you were trying to use that moment to create some distance from Sumitomo Ryota's 'popular crowd,' weren't you?"
It made sense.
Until now, Hitomi had often been visually 'trapped' in the vibrant epicenter of the classroom, surrounded by the laughter and chatter of the socially dominant group. But someone as perceptive as her must have grown weary of those shallow, performative interactions. In short, the Class Monitor didn't truly fit with them.
By publicly stating his membership in the Literary Club, she was sending a clear signal to the class: her social priority had shifted. Unlike the archetypal 'Dango' who tried to please everyone, Hitomi was choosing her sanctuary. She'd called the Literary Club her only breathing space, and she was willing to defend it—and by extension, those within it.
Asato Hitomi gave a silent, confirming nod. A subtle tension eased from her shoulders. Being understood so accurately, especially by someone she'd known for barely two days, was both a relief and a validation. It reinforced her instinct that Kuroha Akira operated on a similar, uncommon wavelength.
"You're right. It's just… Sumitomo-kun's reaction was more extreme than I anticipated…"
"You didn't expect him to care that much?"
"…Mm."
With her social acuity, Hitomi had always been aware of Sumitomo's feelings. What she hadn't foreseen was the sheer, public recklessness of his jealousy—confronting Akira directly in front of everyone, throwing social caution to the wind.
Her calculated scenario had involved private pestering, which she could easily deflect by her presence. The reality—forcing Akira to handle the volatile situation alone—filled her with genuine remorse.
"By the way," Akira continued, picking up a piece of karaage, "if you didn't want to interact with him, a clear, direct rejection would have sufficed. With his personality, I doubt he'd pester you after that… So why choose the slow, cold-shoulder method?"
He's never actually confessed, Hitomi thought, so I never had the formal chance to reject him thoroughly. I was too concerned with preserving his dignity… though I did tell him, 'You're a really good person.'
"Ha…" Akira let out a short, understanding breath. So, the 'good person card' had already been dealt. The classic, gentle let-down. Had Sumitomo failed to grasp its meaning, or had he clung to a sliver of misguided hope? Either way, reality had certainly delivered its verdict today.
"Well, not having romantic feelings is understandable. That stuff's complicated. But…" Akira's tone grew more curious. "I heard him say you were childhood friends. Yet you intentionally pulled away? Are you really not even friends anymore?"
"He… told you that much?" A flicker of something sad and weary passed behind Hitomi's eyes, twisting her usual smile into something bittersweet.
"Actually," she began, her voice softening, "it's because Mother asked me not to get too close to them."
"Oh ho…" So obedient to your mother? A bit of a mama's girl, Class Monitor? Or is Mrs. Asato a formidable tigress? Akira's mind raced with questions. Why would a mother meddle in her daughter's childhood friendships? Was the control that absolute?
Sensing his unspoken queries, Asato Hitomi drew a slow breath, as if steeling herself to revisit a memory she'd carefully boxed away. She began to recount the conversation from her younger years.
…
"Hitomi, you shouldn't get too close to Sumitomo-kun and the others from now on."
"Huh? Why? Mother, Ryota-kun and Mirai-chan are all such nice kids…"
"I know they are good children. And I know you are very close friends. A part of me would love to see that friendship last… but their parents may not be like me. They might not wish for your relationship to remain… pure."
"What does… that mean? Are Ryota-kun's parents bad people?"
"You can't put it that simply. The adult world isn't divided into 'good' and 'bad.' From a career standpoint, they are all remarkably successful, admirable people. It's just that their principles aren't as firm as one might hope. Their status fuels certain ambitions, and they will use every resource at their disposal—including their own children."
"I… I don't understand…"
"Hitomi, you've read the books I gave you, haven't you? The unpleasant stories about arranged marriages, about marrying someone you don't love to fulfill a duty?"
"…Yes."
"Those things happen in real life."
A young Hitomi fell silent, a cold dread seeping into her heart.
"Don't look so frightened. I did consider arranging a marriage for you once. That's why I had you undergo bride training. But your father… he reprimanded me quite sternly for it. He was right. I shouldn't project my own past onto you."
"…Mother, do you… regret marrying Father?" The words slipped out before she could stop them. "Ah! I'm sorry! I didn't mean—"
A soft, rueful laugh. "Your father and I had a political marriage, it's true. But we were among the lucky ones. I grew to love him deeply. He is a man true to his name—so upright he's almost unsuited for politics. Yet, precisely because of that, he can charge forward without looking back… He told me he refuses to treat his children as bargaining chips. The Asato family doesn't need to expand its influence through such means. So, I will grant you your freedom, Hitomi."
"…Thank you, Mother."
"Don't thank me. I know you don't fully mean it. You've always been your father's child. I know you don't particularly like me. But even if I don't arrange a partner for you, I will still intervene to prevent you from marrying 'the wrong person.' I won't stand by and watch your future happiness be compromised. Because you might not be as fortunate as I was."
Hitomi said nothing, the weight of the words settling heavily.
"Of course, if you insist on remaining friends with Ryota-kun and the others, I won't stop you. The choice is yours. But I must warn you: your friends are very likely to become weaknesses others will use against you."
"Weaknesses?"
"Yes. Take Sumitomo Ryota, for instance. His parents will likely do everything in their power to make him your husband, to forge a deeper bond between the Sumitomo and Asato families. That would fundamentally change the nature of your friendship."
A heavy, understanding silence filled the room.
"Do you have the confidence to protect your friends from such machinations? More importantly… Hitomi, could you make your friends stand by you, even if it meant opposing their own parents?"
She had no answer.
"You probably could. You are, after all, my daughter. It would require you to master their hearts, to make them follow you completely, without question, without betrayal."
"But if I did that…" Hitomi's voice was barely a whisper. "…then they wouldn't really be friends anymore, would they? Friends should be equals…"
"Exactly. Even if they still saw you as their most important friend, you would no longer be able to treat them with sincerity. Because you would be manipulating them."
The cruel, elegant trap of her position was laid bare.
"Because you are 'Asato Hitomi.' This is the reality you must face. You are a clever child. I believe you already know what to do."
…
To force a child on the cusp of adolescence to make such a brutally pragmatic choice. To willingly shed her own carefree innocence during what should have been her most unburdened years.
In the quiet Home Economics room, the adult Asato Hitomi finished her recollection, her gaze distant. She repeated the words she'd spoken that day, the words that had closed a chapter of her life.
"Yes… I understood completely, Mother."