Chapter 6:

Satō Yui Calls Me -kun Like It Means Nothing, While Snapping Pictures at What She Adores

Midnight Chef

Shinohara Chocolat’s lights were softened and the street outside was rolling with that late-evening commotion.

I wiped the tables. Behind the counter, my big brother Hataru counted inventory with the exactitude of a man who didn’t need stochastic process to respect number’s effects on our family.

The bell stayed still. No customers came this late. So when those knocks came, playful in a nostalgic way, Hataru didn’t even look up. “Did someone forget a wallet again?”

“I didn’t recover any,” I responded automatically. “No,” I trailed off. “That knock…” My brush stopped mid-wipe and I stared at our door, over the ‘closed’ signage that obstructed my view.

Hataru set the magnetized touchpen down and moved.

I hadn’t heard that distinctive knock since early middle school, since I closed off my heart, since I stopped waiting for Satō Yui. I told myself she’d never come back, that I could carry the shape of her absence like a scar and not feel it anymore. Heartbreaks could mess up a person for the rest of their life. That’s why it’s called a heartbreak. It’s a scar. I didn’t want to feel. I set a rule in the restaurant known as my heart. I didn’t want to get close. Anything other than superficiality, as much as I despised it, was out of the question. And so I waited for a client who could bring me to break my own rule. I always wondered if Yui would ever be back at this restaurant.

Hataru unlocked the inner latch.

Hood down, eyes bright, her smile was already growing like she’d been waiting her whole flight to use it.

“Surprise,” Yui announced softly.

“What a lass… Rintarō, do you know–”

The feeling of a heart plummeting to abyssal depths and Cupid’s arrow piercing it carried the same hit to the center chest. Part of me wanted to stay in the past.

“NO WAY– SATŌ-CHAN?!” Hataru exploded like all the stars aligned in her presence, breaking me out of the trance. This took more than a miracle.

Yui flinched, then laughed in confirmation. The door opened wider, and she slipped inside as if she’d never left.

Up close, she looked more mature. Dramatically, in a good way. Her eyes reflected that she was studying me in a similar fashion.

“Rintarō…-kun” she breathed. She stepped forward, and before I could brace, Yui wrapped her arms around me.

It lasted a couple seconds. Maybe less. Still, it was long enough for my entire body to forget how to be normal. I stood there, stiff, hands hovering like I didn’t know where to place them without hurting her or myself.

She pulled back fast, cheeks flushing. “Sorry! Sorry–!” she blurted. “I, um, picked up the culture in America, I didn’t think–”

“It’s more than fine,” I kept my expression carefully neutral as I took her hand. “Yui-san.”

Yui looked incredulous, as if I’d flicked her forehead. “You’re calling me Yui-san now? That’s so cold.”

Hataru cleared his throat loudly. “Ahem. Okay. I’m leaving.”

“Big bro–”

Hataru pointed dramatically toward the back. “Urgent inventory. Extremely urgent inventory!” He gave Yui a quick wave before disappearing into the kitchen as if he’d been chased out by romance. “Welcome back, Satō-chan.”

The moment he was gone, our chocolaterie was empty and intimate.

Yui admired the improvements compared to the old location. “It smells exactly the same.”

“It would. You could offer Mom a Michelin star and she’d still not cut corners.”

“Fantastic,” Yui murmured, then snapped back into her usual brightness. “You know, I didn’t come just to ambush you. I got in.”

My brain stalled. “In…?”

“The Academy, Tokyo’s Strategic Leadership Academy. Third year.”

My mouth tried to form words. None came out right away.

“You’re serious?” I finally managed.

Yui nodded hard. “Digital entrepreneur clause. Apparently being an ‘Affordability Influencer’ counts as a business now.”

Something in my face cracked, the pride, the warmth I couldn’t afford to show too often. “That’s… That’s tremendous.”

Yui relaxed, like she’d been holding her breath for that exact reaction. Then she brightened again, instantly full of plans. “And I was thinking, maybe I can shoot affordability videos for your shop!”

“Please don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Our margins are slim. Mass-market chocolate wins on price and shelf-life. We can’t compete with preservatives.”

“Come now, it’s a taste test. And your prices are justified. I’d like to believe your pastries have matured just as much as this space has.”

I moved smoothly to the display case, as it was the most natural thing. “Choose anything you like,” I gestured toward the glass, taking charge of the space. “You didn’t come all this way just to stand. Sit. Taste.”

Yui looked surprised by the command, pleased by it too. Dessert was language in this shop.

“So many new varieties. Would you choose one for me?”

“I will.” As I turned, I caught her reaching for her wallet.

“No,” I intervened, already opening the case. “It’s in the house. To celebrate.”

“You’ve been working hard, haven’t you? Feeding others, serving dutifully… Let me return the favor. I have money now.”

“So you’re that big?”

“I’m stable.” She anchored it like it mattered more than fame. “I started with small stuff,” she admitted. “Convenience store meals. Budget hauls. ‘How to eat for a week under this budget,’ you know. It was embarrassing.”

“It doesn’t sound shameful.”

“It was. I was coping. But times really have changed us.” Yui looked away from the desserts and toward the kitchen. “Hataru-san is taller too.”

“He’s louder after graduation,” I corrected.

“I CAN STILL HEAR YOU BOTH. KEEP THE TALK CLEAN!” Hataru shouted back.

Yui covered her mouth.

I, despite myself, smiled. “Please, your table.” I offered as I set down the plates: two petite slices of cacao cake. A little dish of candied orange peel napped on the side, because they were Yui’s favorite when she was younger.

“You still make it like this. Thank you. You remember.”

I looked down at the plates between us. “You are always unforgettable.”

“What’s all the uproar?” The back door swung open and my mom appeared, already suspicious at the hour. “Satō-chan?!”

Yui stood up and bowed, pure Japanese reflex snapping into place. “Shinohara-san! Forgive my silence!”

Mrs. Shinohara was already closing the distance, like she wanted to touch Yui’s cheeks and confirm she wasn’t dreaming. “You really kept us in the dark!” She exclaimed in a scolding, delighted manner. “Zero messages, absolute secrecy. What a massive surprise…”

Yui smiled, a little sheepish now. “I came back with my family. The yen’s weak, Japan-content rules the internet. And I missed this place dearly.”

“Even so, this is really unexpected. I saw your latest video. How excited are you for the Academy?”

Yui’s eyes gleamed. “Extremely. They can’t ignore me now. Especially since my page collects more attention than half the alumni.”

“I see, I see.”

Yui pulled out her new phone like a peace offering. “I have a new number. If it’s okay, can I have yours too? I mean, I want everyone’s.”

“Of course. We have a lot of catching up to do. But you’re here for your fellow classmate, right? Hataru, let’s give them space. I’ll send you off with cute desserts in a cute furoshiki, for later.”

Left in privacy, Yui and I sat together at the table, not quite meeting each other’s eyes.

“So,” she said, cocking her head. “When exactly did you get so muscular?”

“Excuse me?”

Yui smiled as we met gazes again. “Have you been training in secret? Or perhaps brooding in the backroom? Your arms are criminal now.”

“I work,” I answered. “I must be prepared for any demand, no matter how intense.”

“You lift chocolate?”

“Among other things. Remember how I used to cook for you? That never stopped. These days, I freelance as a private chef for certain clients. It’s very selective work.”

“Oh, is that what this is? You always took such good care of me. You’ve always holding other people together. You look all serious and apron-wrapped, but now that I’ve seen you flushed and bossy,”

“Stop.”

“I can’t unsee it. I’m glad I came back.”

“I can tell.” I kept my tone dry, though my heart was doing anything but idling.

That was right, there was no reason to be shy.

You came back glowing, I wanted to say. You came back wanting to be seen. You wanted attention? I couldn’t bring myself to declare it. Um, your contact info…

She took another bite of the cake, almost celebratory, and stretched languidly. “Mm… You’ve refined your craft. This is wonderful. I’m going to immortalize it.”

I watched her lift her phone, angle it with care, then tap.

The shutter clicked. She checked the photo. “Still decadent. No filter needed.”

Of course not. She had the eye for this. Her father was a videographer, and she’d grown up with borrowed cameras. She never needed instructions, she framed instinctively. If she’d had internet access at home back then, instead of those half-working library computers, she would’ve struck success way earlier.

Yui lost a requesting expression on me, taking her lens off her pastry and to her knees.

“A photo?” I asked.

“Ah, um… ah. Yes. For my contact image of you.”

I tried to remember what had happened, and for the life of me, I couldn’t.

My thoughts were running wild, twisting and turning and stopping all completely.

Right now, for the first time since middle school, my insides were as messed up as my outside non responses.

Yui was the reason for my being today, just as much as Kotone.

“Anything else feels impersonal.” Her phone was already held out, thumb hovering over the camera icon like this was routine. “Unless you’re shy now?” she added. “Would you rather take a selfie and send it later like we’re strangers?”

I straightened a little, shoulders back, suddenly hyperaware of myself, my sleeves rolled up, the apron still on, hair a little messy. “…Just one,” I muttered.

The corner of her mouth lifted, a quiet, pleased kind of smile. She raised the phone. Click.

“Don’t make us public yet.”

“Rintarō-kun, I’m not that cruel.” She returned to her plate again. “Wednesday, we’re in the same class.”

“Seriously??”

“The Academy placed us together. You didn’t know?”

“I hadn’t looked.”

“You should.”

After sharing, Yui stood, sliding her chair back with a practiced ease, smoothing her skirt. Her fingers brushed the wrapped furoshiki mom packed for her.

“Thank you,” she appreciated. “For remembering how I like it.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

“See you Wednesday, Rintarō-kun.”

The bell above the door chimed as she left.

I stood still for a long time. My mom returned from the back, gaze sharp. “Did you tell her?” she inquired.

“I will later.”

She sighed. “Later’s what people say when they’re afraid.”

“She’s doing well. That’s enough.”

My mom studied me like she could recite all the words I hadn’t said. “You can still catch up outside. You’ll regret it later.”

“I’ll take that regret. It’s tough to tell anyone right now.”

“Distances take a toll on the heart. When Hataru left for college too–”

“It didn’t!” Big bro called out.