A Taste of Home

That was it.

Satoru needed to stop being so pathetic.

So what if Silke had male friends who were way more attractive than he was? He could bet they didn’t know how to build the strongest team in Rainbow Sun! Besides, he was smarter than them—he was almost sure of it. Or at least he assumed so, given that their bodies looked like they were more accustomed to the gym than to libraries.

Gosh. He had felt so pathetic thinking like that...

But he had to pull himself together.

Seeing Silke’s worried face filled his gut with immeasurable guilt. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

That’s why the next day, he acted toward her just as he always would—and it definitely worked. The German girl’s face lit up immediately upon seeing him lively and excited about discovering brand-new experiences.

To keep his mind occupied, Satoru decided to be the one to cook dinner for everyone today. Not just any dinner, though—a full-on traditional Japanese meal set. Maybe he was the one in another country, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t bring out his culture and share it with Silke.

At this point, though, it was Miho who looked much more excited about this turn of events. One thing she missed the most about home was food, and although Satoru was far from being a master chef, when he put his mind to it, he was pretty good. He had Makino-sensei from home ed class to thank for that.

For once, Satoru was all alone in the apartment, so there was no one to disturb him. Both girls had gone out shopping, giving him the perfect opportunity to welcome them back with a nice meal.

He would make such a good househusband.

Not wasting any more time, Satoru started preparing all the ingredients. The only things that had been prepped a few days earlier were the marinated eggs and cucumbers—they needed time to soak in the sauce, after all. Other than that, he still had to cook the rice, prepare the fish, and make miso soup.

Easy peasy.

At least, it was now that he had most of the ingredients. Despite globalization progressing rather dynamically in recent years, he still couldn’t find some of the necessary spices. Worst of all, he had to give up on buying Japanese rice—he almost fainted when he saw the price tag.

He finally understood how Silke felt when he told her about fruit prices in Japan.

Making miso wasn’t that hard. The broth was almost ready, so he focused on cutting the tofu and seaweed to add in. The next step was seasoning the fish and putting it in the oven. Another simple task.

The worst part was the rice.

Not because it was difficult to cook, but because he had issues with the way Europeans treated it. Who in their right mind thought putting those poor grains into some disgusting plastic bag was a good idea?

The first time he saw it, he almost tore the packaging open to wash the rice and boil it the way he would back home—but Miho abruptly stopped him.

“Dumbass, you boil it in the bag!”

He had looked at her as if she had escaped from a mental hospital. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one of her silly pranks. The worst part was that the texture of those white grains wasn’t anywhere close to Japanese rice, throwing off his otherwise perfectly planned dinner.

He had to let it go. He didn’t have the extra funds to buy a tiny bag of rice that would actually meet his standards.

There was no time to dwell on that. He had to swallow his pride and continue with the preparations, as the clock was approaching the hour when the girls had promised to return.

Never had Satoru thought that setting the table could be so satisfying—though he wasn’t sure if it was the aesthetics of the display or his own anticipation that made him so excited. It was quite possible that the dizziness he felt came from the sheer impatience to see Silke’s reaction and hear her compliment his cooking.

“We’re back!” Miho’s loud voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Welcome back—perfect timing for dinner!”

“Aaah, I can’t wait! It already smells like home!”

Silke followed right behind Miho, heading straight to the bathroom to wash their hands. But Satoru was convinced he had caught her sneaking a curious glance at the dishes on the table.

For a moment, Satoru debated whether or not to wait for them. He definitely didn’t want to start eating without them, but there was no harm in taking his seat. After all these weeks, he had claimed his spot at the table.

When the girls returned, Miho sat to his right, perpendicular to his side of the table, while Silke plopped down on his left. It might seem stupid to overthink seating arrangements, but when they had first started living together, Silke had always sat far away from him. Just a week or two ago, she had changed her spot to the one closest to his, making his chest tighten every time they shared a meal.

“Itadakimasu!” Miho clasped her hands together cheerfully.

Silke looked a bit confused but followed suit, repeating the phrase—just a bit quieter and with a slight German accent.

“Itadakimasu,” Satoru responded calmly as he began to eat with them.

It was good.

He had really outdone himself this time.

“Toru, when the hell did you learn to cook so well? This might be even better than Mom’s cooking!”

No, it wasn’t—but Miho was probably biased because she just missed traditional Japanese meals. Restaurant food was good, but it wasn’t the same.

“It’s not really, but thanks. I had to ace my home ed classes like anyone else, so I picked up some skills.”

He didn’t want to brag—he just wanted to see Silke’s reaction. But much to his dismay, she didn’t say anything.

Still, she was eating so fast, as if it were her last meal.

Disappointed, he turned back to his food.

It didn’t taste as good as it had at first anymore.

“Gochisou-sama deshita!” Miho announced, satisfied as she finished her meal. Silke seemed to be done as well, though the phrase was too difficult for her, so she just mumbled something that vaguely resembled it.

But still—no compliment for his cooking.

“Man, I’m beat. I gotta take a nap before the party,” Satoru’s sister said, stretching as she got up from her seat and walked toward her room.

“Hey! Clean up the dishes, you lazy ass!”

“Ah, Toru,” Silke finally spoke directly to him for the first time since they’d returned, “Ich kann mich um den Abwasch kümmern.”

From the context, he could guess she was offering to do the dishes.

“See? Silke will do it,” Miho chimed in, but her cheerful tone quickly turned teasing. “Look at you two, acting like a married couple. Aah, maybe I’ll find myself some hot guy tonight… Looking at you makes me feel lonely~”

“We’re not a married couple!” he shouted, but Miho’s door had already closed behind her, leaving him flustered and Silke looking confused.

Were they really acting like a married couple?

Satoru shook his head.

No point in overthinking it. If he did, he’d start getting ideas. And ideas led to disappointment.

…But still, he wouldn’t mind if people did call them that.