I’ll Protect You

The estates that treated incoming guests like social service workers… Those earned my deepest hatred.

I cleared the lobby’s biometric security, of course, and the door at the end of the private elevator wing popped open as I approached.

She knew my timing like a stage cue.

Fujishiro Kotone.

As you might know, Kotone-san and I had quite a growing history over the past year.

She had the giving of an idol. Even today, her appearance always stunned me. She was in an oversized shirt, bare feet on wooden tile, hair tied in a messy knot with a pencil stabbed through it. Little makeup, no performance, and innocent neutrality despite her being the cheekiest person I knew.

Her natural beauty wasn’t what stunned me the most. No, really, I swear. It was her strength of character. I could tell she was hurting inside.

Her big, puffy from tears, eyes looked me over. “You’re late.”

“I’m on time,” I replied evenly. “Down to the minute.”

“For normal people time, maybe.” She leapt aside to let me in. “My stomach runs at two-x speed!”

“I had another client. The house staff there was thorough.”

“Let me guess. They apologized with expensive ingredients?”

“They tried.”

“Mm.” She pirouetted on her heel at the kitchen threshold, catching me mid-glance. “Didn’t bring them?”

“I didn’t.”

“Good. Mama’s out, by the way. Off somewhere yelling at someone richer than us for not kissing her ring.”

The Fujishiro kitchen was grandiose and theatrically impressive. Marble countertops, glossy wooden cabinets, expensive appliances. It was treated as a showroom of equal superficial importance to the rest of the estate.

The fridge was full of what was ordered ahead of schedule, but haphazardly.

I set down my case with a soft click on the island and started to move without thinking, removing sleeves, unrolling knives, peeling back the false quiet like a bandage. This was my zone. My domain. Everything connected into place with a calming precision.

That was, until I noticed the plates, a couple of hairline-cracked ones, in the bin. If there had been faint specks of wine, I would have done irrecoverable things to reach the solution, even if Kotone was not ready.

“Hey. Broken glass is dangerous. You didn’t cancel. Even after your message.”

Kotone shrugged, climbing onto one of the high stools. “I still have to eat. But… With you here, I don’t want dinner anymore. Aww. C’mon, Senpai. Don’t get shy. You have to expect comments like that, cooking with all that big dom energy.”

“Too bad I can’t spread you on a plate, huh?”

I lined up ginger, garlic, turmeric, lemons, onions, leafy greens, and chicken, among other ingredients. Anti-inflammatory whole foods. As close to “I care about your body’s health” as I could get without a full medical license.

Kotone studied my cooking like I was the one under observation.

“When can I dig in?”

“I swear. You sound like my comment section.”

The garlic hit the pan with a soft hiss. Ginger followed. The smell started to push back the stale air. Golden Turmeric-Ginger Sweet Potato Pure was the dish.

Kotone was uncharacteristically still. I felt hurt. It was one of those rare neutral pauses where no one was actively breaking or pretending to be unbroken.

After a while, she spoke her thoughts calmly, “She went too far this time.”

I didn’t ask who. There was only one “she” in this mausoleum of wealth.

“She broke her own rules,” she said quietly. “Wrapped one around my ribs.”

My knuckles whitened around the pan handle. “You told me last week was the last one.”

“She’s leaving for Europe. With him. For a ‘lengthy business excursion that will require my full attention.’ By the time she comes back, I’ll be out of this house and old enough to live at the Academy’s dorms. The distance will make it manageable.”

“Distance doesn’t necessarily erase bruises.”

She shifted on the stool. Before I could stop her, her hands slipped under the hem of her shirt.

“You don’t have to–”

All along her stomach and lower ribs, shadows bloom. Yellow fading to green, green to purple, purple to angry red.

“What the hell–” The words died in my throat as I stared at the damage.

“Is it bad?”

“No. Not how you look. Sorry. You look fine. I’ve gotten worse when falling off my scooter. But this– I can’t stand this. We should report.”

“This was the last one.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“I don’t. But, like, I need to believe it.”

I stirred the pan hard enough that the sauce nearly sloshed over.

“Kotone-san,” I held tightly. “Nothing justifies this.”

“Oh, Senpai,” she sang, false sweetness rising again. “You’re late to that conclusion. I figured that out at twelve.”

I added turmeric and lemon, steam rising in gold-tinted curls. I tasted, adjusted, added a bit more salt, and completed the rest of the full course. As I assembled her meals into containers, a small glint of silver caught the light near my tie.

“That’s…!”

I glanced down. I’d forgotten the Saionji Family crest stickpin. Aki had offered it as a simple token, but in wealthy circles, this was nothing simple. Kotone grabbed my tie and yanked me forward like a leash. “It’s Saionji’s emblem?”

“Oh. I forgot to take it off.”

“That’s why you’re late. It’s not because of Yui-chii’s return!” She released me. “You were off cheating. That’s why you’ve been so silent!!”

“Never on you, Kotone-san.” I slid the plate toward her with a decisive click. “Nonetheless, it was a scary coincidence. I would’ve hesitated to accept service for a fellow classmate, let alone charge them.”

“Then don’t charge me. And it’s not that much of a coincidence, right, Senpai?” She pointed out.

“Still, Saionji Wakami of all people.”

“You know, I admire her. Our vice-pres’s greatest luck in life wasn’t being born with a high IQ or wealth. Probably, it was being born into a household with fewer faults.”

“Sounds like you know her more than I do.”

“Well…” She motioned her bruised side. “Toward the end of last school year, Senpai discovered me.”

I stopped mid-reach for the lids. “Discovered?”

“I revealed myself to her,” Kotone-san corrected. “Don’t give Wakami-chii too much mystical credit! Our vice president isn’t a mind reader. All she does is talk and listen well enough that people are open to confessing. She noticed something was off, and I let her know.”

“So now she knows about this house. About your mother. What did Wakami-san propose?”

Kotone’s mouth tilted up. “Oh? You’re interested? I thought you were being so composed,” she whispered.

“I was trained to be,” I said. “But you’re difficult to serve without feeling. I want to know how deep this disaster goes.”

“She told me she would’ve done things differently in my past. You say we should report. She claimed I should’ve opened up more to my mother.”

“‘Opened up more,’ as in, what, emotional confrontation? Heart-to-heart over tea?”

“Instead of an attacking front, to be more vulnerable. Wakami-chii thinks there’s a version where talking things out could’ve brought better changes in the present.”

“That doesn’t make much sense to me.”

“It didn’t either to me, at first. But I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Abusers don’t stop because you explain how you feel,” I supposed. “That’s not how it works.”

She gave a sheepish shrug. “How would you know, Senpai? You weren’t exactly a saint back in the day.”

I glared.

“Ah!” she gasped dramatically. “God, you’re dramatic. Don’t remind me. …But actually,” she added, “I do wonder sometimes. If someone back then had gotten through to her, not with lectures or punishment, but… talked. And listened. Really listened.”

“Did my meal talk to you? How was it?”

“Great. I could taste how hard you were trying to behave.”

“That obvious?”

“It’s okay, y’know. Wakami-chii’s elegant. She’s smart. She’s the kind of girl people write love letters to with calligraphy pens and press flowers between the pages. Yui-chii too.”

“Why do you think I am here and not there?”

“But me? I’m the warm one. I’m the one who lets you in. What does she do, huh? Don’t feel guilty. I don’t care if you think about her when you can’t sleep. Just remember who you actually came for. I don’t need to be your first thought, just your last.”

“And how are you?”

“Tch. Late,” she scolded, wagging a finger at me like I was a naughty schoolboy. “You can’t throw that out after dessert. You gotta ask that before you stuff me. Lately, it’s so-so. The bad things have lessened.” She looked at me, eyes clearer than when I arrived. “The closeness of others has also made it manageable.”

I hefted my case over my shoulder.

“I see.”

Kotone walked me to the door. The apartment felt marginally less oppressive, with satisfied stomachs and happy faces.

“I get that you have other clients, but keep working for me, Senpai.”

“Of course. Did you think I’d ever say no?”

She shone a full smile. Those were rare these nights.

“Promise? Not just for your precious Wakami-saaan?”

“I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

I stalwartly stopped before the hallway. “Hey,” I said, turning halfway back. “Do remember, you’ve never needed to pull yourself together for me. There’s no shame in crying.”

“Says the guy I’ve never seen cry. Ever.”

“I don’t. Still, there’s no shame in crying.”

“You really like saving people, don’t you?”

“I’m no hero. I’ve even forgotten how to talk.”

“You don’t really look at yourself too much, do you? Try spending less time ogling me and more time seeing who you are.”

“Should I?” I scoffed. “I’m just a guy on a scooter, with a chef’s case and too many thoughts to say out loud. But one thing, Kotone-san. My tears are rare. It’s less about toughness and more about being… sealed tighter than you are. I still feel. Especially when it comes to you. That’s why this house guts me. Why your bruises make my fists curl. Why hearing you say ‘so-so’ feels like a slap, like your pain exceeds my capacity. So, please take care of yourself,” I went on. “Purely for your own sake.”

“Whaaat? Where’s my cool, stoic Senpai? You’re gonna make me cry and I just did my makeup…”

“And… Thank you.”

“For what?” She barely whispered the question, her bravado finally failing her. “Ugh, you’re so annoying. Who the hell says stuff like that?!”

“For being strong for me. Because you choose to be. You make me want to be better, without turning me into some pathetic, lovesick lapdog. So, you’re right, I do owe you. I can’t fix everything. But I can ensure you’re not alone in it. If you text me, I’ll come. Even if it’s stupid late. One word is enough. I’ll understand the rest.”

“Senpai, stop.” She covered her face, though I could see the crimson flush spreading to her ears. “You’re gonna make me fall so in love it’s gross.”

“I thought I already did.”

“Get out!” She pushed me toward the door, her laughter a bright, wet melody. “Before another cool line leaves your mouth and I’m forced to keep you here all night.”

“I’ll see you Wednesday. At the Academy.”

“Yeah… Ah– wait! Your necklace!”

“What, that? You’ve helped enough tonight. I’ll come to you if we need to worry about it. Have a good night.”

“You too, Senpai.”