White in a Glass

Twenty minutes later, the group had reconvened downstairs in the open-plan living space. Nataria descended the stairs with a lighter feeling in her chest,

something close to hope. A small victory in the form of a stuffed bunny on a peach bed.

The others were gathered around the kitchen island,

and the conversation had already turned to the practical logistics of living together.

"So who's cooking?"

Shou asked bluntly, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.

"Because I can burn water."

Momo giggled on cue.

"Me too! I'm hopeless in the kitchen."

"I can do basic things," Sachiko offered,

"but nothing fancy. My diet is pretty strict for training."

All eyes turned to Hibiki, the eldest, the one they expected to solve this problem.

Oh, this was going to be good. Nataria thought.

A small, unkind satisfaction flickered through her.

“I’ve seen idols cook on variety shows all the time.” Hibiki offered,

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out by day two.”

Skeptical eyes met his words.

Senri raised his hand like they were in a classroom.

"I can cook. I do it for my sisters all the time. I don't mind taking care of meals."

The silence that followed was loaded with surprise.

"Wait, really?" Momo's eyes went wide, and Nataria could practically see the online explosion. Hot, kind, AND cooks?

"You actually know how to cook?" Shou looked skeptical.

"Like, real food?"

Senri shrugged.

"Yeah. Nothing fancy, but I can make curry, stir-fry, pasta, that sort of thing. My mom worked late shifts when we were younger, so someone had to feed everyone."

There was something in the casual way he said it that made Nataria's chest tighten.

Small Senri learning to cook for his sisters was an image she didn’t know how to feel about.

"That's amazing," Sachiko said warmly.

"I mean, most of us have been eating planned meals since we were kids. I barely even choose my own food, let alone prepare it."

Hibiki nodded, and for the first time since they'd arrived,

some of the tension eased from his shoulders.

"I can help with prep work. Chopping, whatever you need."

"I'll do cleanup after meals,"

Nataria heard herself say.

The words came out more eagerly than she expected.

"I can handle dishes and wiping down surfaces."

I have no idea if I'll do a good job,

but I can watch a tutorial video.

Follow instructions. I'm good at following instructions.

"You sure?" Senri asked without judgment.

"Yes," she said firmly.

The group quickly divided up the remaining chores, bathroom cleaning, laundry, general tidying, with the awkward efficiency of people desperate not to appear spoiled or unhelpful.

Everyone was hyperaware of the cameras,

of how their choices would read to audiences.

Look, we're normal! We can do chores! We're not demanding divas!

But Nataria suspected they were all equally clueless about most of it.

°❀°❀°❀°❀

Senri made lunch with the ease of long practice,

moving through the kitchen like he actually belonged there.

Nataria found herself watching from the dining table as he chopped vegetables with quick precision, stirred pots without checking recipes, adjusted seasonings by instinct.

Momo had positioned herself on a stool at the kitchen island,

chin propped on her hands, watching him with rapt attention.

"It smells amazing," she breathed.

"What are you making?"

"Just curry,"

Senri said, grinning over his shoulder.

"Hope everyone likes it spicy."

Nataria's stomach dropped.

Oh no.

But she said nothing, watching the rich golden-brown curry bubble in the pot,

the steam rising with promises of heat.

Around her, everyone else seemed thrilled, Shou declared Senri a "lifesaver,"

Sachiko praised the smell, even Hibiki looked genuinely pleased.

When Senri finally served the plates, rice on one side,

curry ladled generously on the other,

Nataria stared at her portion with growing dread.

The first few bites were fine.

The group ate with the enthusiasm of people who'd been nervous all morning and suddenly realized they were starving.

Praise was heaped on Senri from all sides.

Then Nataria's tongue started burning.

It started as warmth,

bloomed into heat, and rapidly escalated into the kind of searing pain that made her eyes water. She grabbed her water glass and drank desperately,

but it only spread the fire around her mouth.

Just eat it. Don't make a scene. You'll look ungrateful.

She took the tiniest bite.

Across the table,

Hibiki's face had gone red, his eyes watering as he chewed determinedly.

But he was pretending, nodding along with Shou's commentary,

playing the role of someone unbothered.

Nataria felt a hysterical laugh building in her throat.

Look at us. Both suffering. Both too image-conscious to admit it.

"Hidomu-san?"

Senri's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.

She looked up to find him leaning forward across the table,

forearms braced on the wood, the kitchen towel still slung over one shoulder.

His eyes were focused entirely on her.

"Are you alright?"

The concern in his face was so genuine, so undisguised,

that she forgot to guard her expression.

Forgot about maintaining the perfect mask.

"I..."

Her voice came out hoarse.

The table had gone quiet, everyone watching.

"I can't eat spice," she finally admitted.

The words felt like defeat.

"I'm sorry. I have… my taste buds are really sensitive. This is... it's too much."

The silence stretched.

Nataria could already hear the comments forming:

Spoiled Nataria Hidomu refuses the meal Senri Amani made.

Ice queen demands special treatment. Can't even handle normal food.

"We could order something,"

Sachiko suggested gently, but Nataria barely heard her.

Senri's face had shifted to immediate apology.

"I'm so sorry. I should have asked, I can make you something else. Really, it's no problem."

"No!"

The word came out too loud.

Nataria forced herself to breathe.

"No, it's fine. You did a wonderful job. I can eat this. I will eat this."

She took a deliberately large bite.

The curry hit her tongue like napalm.

She tried to breathe through it, tried to swallow, but her throat rebelled.

She coughed, eyes streaming, reaching blindly for her water glass.

The water did nothing.

Nothing.

It just spread the burning sensation,

made it worse somehow, until she was coughing so hard she could barely breathe.

"Here."

A glass appeared in her blurred vision, not water. White.

"Milk helps with spice,"

Senri's voice said, close and worried.

"It'll stop the burning."

Nataria's hand was already reaching for it when her brain caught up with what she was seeing.

White liquid in a clear glass. Condensation running down the sides.

The faint smell of it.

Milk.

Every muscle in her body locked up.

Terror, pure and primal, shot down her spine like electricity.

The burning in her mouth disappeared, replaced by something infinitely worse,

a memory so visceral it obliterated everything else.

Milk dripping down her face.

The flash of cameras.

The young man's contorted face.

The conference room erupting.

Being unable to move.

Unable to breathe.

Yamazaki's trembling hands.

The taste of it on her lips.

All the color drained from Nataria's face.