Accidentally become a father

~~~ • ~~~

We arrived at a convenience store.

The glass doors opened automatically as we approached.

Ding.

A blast of cold air immediately greeted us from inside.

A stark contrast to the heat outside.

We stepped in.

Bright white lights.

Neatly arranged shelves.

Soft music played from the speakers.

A few other customers walked around leisurely, picking up items without a word.

She grabbed a shopping cart.

Then handed it to me.

I took it.

And pushed it.

_

We walked through the aisles.

She was in front.

I was behind.

When she stopped—

I stopped.

When she walked—

I followed.

...Like an assistant.

_

She stopped in the produce section.

Picked up two cabbages.

One in her left hand.

One in her right hand.

She held them up slightly, inspecting them both with a serious expression.

"Which one do you think?"

I stared at her for a moment.

Here we go again.

I let out a quiet sigh.

"Wouldn’t you know better?"

"I want to hear your opinion."

"Just answer."

I looked at the two cabbages.

There was no difference.

Or maybe there was, but I didn’t care.

"The right one."

She raised her right hand slightly.

"This one?"

"Yeah."

She brought it closer to her face.

Inspecting it more closely.

For a few seconds.

Then—

she put it back on the shelf.

"Your choice wasn’t very good."

"This one is better."

She placed the other cabbage into the cart.

I stared at her flatly.

If she already knew the answer—

why ask me?

"Haa..."

I let out a soft sigh.

We continued walking.

The cart began to fill up.

Vegetables.

Some seasonings.

And things I didn’t even know the names of.

We stopped again.

In front of the carrots.

She stood in silence longer this time.

Observing.

As if it were a crucial decision.

I stepped closer.

Took a quick look.

Carrots.

Straight.

Plump.

I grabbed a few.

Without saying a word.

And tossed them straight into the cart.

She glanced over.

"Good choice."

I gave a small nod.

"Thanks."

Not long after that—

we were finished.

The cart was fairly full.

We headed to the checkout.

A female cashier was standing there.

She glanced at the two of us.

Looking a bit curious.

"You two usually come in separately..." she said as she started scanning the items.

"Why are you suddenly shopping together?"

I turned my head to the side.

Mika’s sister turned her head as well.

We looked at each other.

For a brief moment.

"!?"

I was a little surprised.

I didn’t remember ever seeing her here before.

"You usually shop here too?"

The cashier smiled faintly.

Watching the two of us.

"Yes. But only once a week."

"Oh..."

The items continued to be scanned.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

The cashier glanced at the contents of the cart again.

"That’s quite a lot of groceries."

"Is there a special occasion?"

"Not really."

Her answer was brief.

The total appeared on the screen.

I immediately took out my wallet.

And paid.

The transaction was complete.

The groceries were packed into large plastic bags.

Several bags.

I took all of them.

Heavy.

"Thank you," the cashier said.

Ding.

The doors slid open.

The hot air welcomed us back.

I adjusted my grip.

Plastic bags in both of my hands.

And she walked beside me.

Without carrying a single thing.

...

I glanced at her.

She pretended not to notice.

We started walking home.

__

We arrived at the house.

She took the lead.

Opened the gate.

Then the door.

"I’m home."

We stepped inside.

The moment we passed through the door—

a familiar sound immediately greeted us.

The sound of the television.

An anime broadcast.

Magic sound effects.

And—

three girls’ voices calling out to each other.

We walked past the living room.

There—

the large flat-screen TV glowed brightly.

In front of it, three little kids were sitting.

Yuna.

And two of her friends.

Yuna turned her head first.

Spotting us.

"Welcome back, Papa... Miss..."

"I’m back, Yuna—" she answered casually, before her eyes widened a fraction.

"Oh... Hana is here too."

One of the girls beside Yuna immediately turned around.

She sat up straight, then gave a polite little bow.

"Hello, Miss..."

Her voice was well-mannered.

A little stiff.

On the screen—

an anime character was preparing to attack.

"Hey, Yuna! Look at this!"

Mika’s voice.

Yuna immediately snapped her attention back to the TV.

"Fireball!!"

Mika shouted in unison with the character on screen unleashing their magic.

"Star Slash!!"

The other girl chimed in enthusiastically.

The three of them immediately burst into cheers.

Their voices filled the living room.

I stopped for a moment.

Watching the scene.

...

Lively.

Much livelier than I had imagined.

Then I started walking again.

Following her to the kitchen.

The sounds of the anime slowly faded behind us.

"Does Mika visit your home often?" she asked as we walked.

"Yeah."

I placed the grocery bags on the counter.

"I apologize if she is causing any trouble."

"It’s no problem."

"It’s actually a good thing."

She walked over to the sink.

"Yuna gets to have friends at home."

"That is true... if they weren’t around..."

She glanced slightly toward the living room.

"...this house would definitely be too quiet."

I opened the grocery bags.

Taking out the contents one by one.

She washed her hands.

I followed suit right after.

The water ran.

Cold.

We finished at almost the same time.

She grabbed an apron.

Putting it on just like before.

Then—

"Here."

She held something out to me.

An apron.

I looked at it.

It was pink.

With a picture of a cat on it.

...

I took it.

And put it on.

The fit was fine.

But—

when I tried to tie it in the back—

I couldn’t quite reach.

"...Hm."

My hands paused in midair.

"Turn around."

I complied.

Turning my back to her.

Her footsteps approached.

I could feel the distance between us.

Close.

Her hands grabbed the strings of the apron.

Tying them.

Slowly.

Her movements were light.

Practiced.

"...Done."

I turned back around.

She stared at me.

Then—

her mouth twitched.

Trying to hold something in.

"Pfft—"

She covered her mouth.

But it was no use.

"...it doesn’t suit you at all."

I gave her a deadpan look.

"Function over aesthetics."

She nodded quickly.

"Yes, true..."

Then she looked at me again.

"...but it still really doesn’t suit you."

I tugged at the apron slightly.

"I’ll just take it off, then."

"No need."

She answered quickly.

Firmly.

She finally stopped laughing.

Catching her breath.

"By the way..."

She straightened her posture slightly.

"I am Misaki. Suzuki Misaki."

She held out her hand.

I looked at it for a moment.

Then shook it.

Her hand.

It was a little rough.

Not as soft as it looked.

But still—

softer than mine.

"Nishida Itsuki."

I let go of her hand.

"Just call me Itsuki."

She gave a small shake of her head.

"I cannot do that."

"You are older than I am."

I raised an eyebrow.

"I don’t think there’s much of a difference."

I leaned my waist against the counter.

"Besides, I’m not a fan of being overly formal."

She thought for a moment.

Then let out a small sigh.

"Alright..."

"In that case... Itsuki-san."

She gave a faint smile.

"Just call me Misaki."

I nodded.

"Misaki."

I glanced toward the counter.

Toward the meat waiting to be prepped.

"I look forward to working with you."

She followed my gaze.

Then looked back at me.

"Likewise..."

Her tone was much lighter now.

"...Itsuki-san."

"I look forward to working with you."

She was no longer speaking formally to me.

Things were much more relaxed.

__

We got to work.

The once-quiet kitchen—

came to life.

The vegetables were brought out.

A pot was placed on the stove.

The frying pan was adjusted slightly, ensuring it sat just right.

Water filled the pot.

Oil was poured into the pan.

The burners were turned on.

Click.

Click.

Small flames flickered to life.

Growing steadily.

A faint warmth began to fill the air.

"Itsuki-san."

I turned my head slightly.

"Please wash the vegetables."

"Got it."

I got straight to it.

Grabbing a handful of vegetables from the counter.

And heading to the sink.

I turned on the tap.

The sound of running water filled the corner of the kitchen.

My hands began washing them, one by one.

Not long after—

Misaki walked over.

Carrying a strainer.

She stood beside me.

Helping with the washing.

We stood close.

Occasionally—

our hands would brush against each other.

Fleetingly.

Unintentionally.

"Itsuki-san..."

I didn’t look up.

"What do you usually do for work?"

"I... work for a stage production company."

I turned a leafy green over under the running water.

"Designing stages, setting them up, then tearing them down again."

"Hmm..."

She gave a slow nod.

"It sounds exhausting."

"Fairly."

I turned off the tap for a moment.

And moved the vegetables into the strainer.

"What about you?" I asked.

"Yuna mentioned you work at a restaurant."

"Yes."

She dried her hands slightly.

"I work there part-time."

"Does that mean you have the day off today?"

"No."

She shook her head slightly.

"I have the night shift later."

"Oh..."

I nodded.

"In that case... mind if I drop by sometime?"

She paused for a moment.

Glancing at me.

"Sure."

Her answer was brief.

"But don’t come too often."

"Why not?"

A faint smile touched her lips.

"It is expensive."

"Hahaha... and here I was wondering why."

We finished washing up.

The tap was turned off.

We moved back to the counter.

Cutting boards were set down.

Knives were drawn.

I grabbed a carrot.

She grabbed a cabbage.

We started chopping.

Chop.

Chop.

Chop.

My hands moved at a steady pace.

Not too fast.

Not too slow.

Beside me—

Chop-chop-chop-chop.

Her movements were much faster.

Neater.

More precise.

I stole a quick glance.

Her hands were nimble.

Without a hint of hesitation.

"...Used to this?" I murmured.

She didn’t look up.

"You could say that."

Her knife kept moving.

"By the way..." I said.

"Where is this restaurant?"

She told me the name.

I gave a slow nod.

"Alright. I’ll keep it in mind."

_

"Sis!!"

"Papa!!"

The voices rang out suddenly.

Loud.

Coming from the living room.

Both of us turned our heads at the same time.

Over there—

Mika and Yuna were standing in the doorway.

With bright, enthusiastic expressions.

"Explosion!!"

"Fireball!!"

Whump!

Whump!

Two pillows flew through the air.

Flying straight.

Smacking right into our faces.

Soft—

but still startling.

The pillows dropped to the floor.

Silence.

.

.

.

And then—

"MIKA..."

Misaki’s voice changed.

It was lower.

Deeper.

And—

clearly furious.

"What if that hit the frying pan?!"

"That’s dangerous! Do you realize that?!"

Her hand was still holding the knife.

Raised slightly.

A reflex.

Too close.

I immediately grabbed her wrist.

Holding it back.

Gently.

And took the knife from her hand.

"Alright..."

I placed the knife down on the counter.

"There’s no need to get that angry."

I turned to look at the two kids.

Mika and Yuna stood frozen.

Especially Mika.

"Did you hear what she just said? You shouldn’t bother people while they’re cooking," I said calmly.

"It’s dangerous."

I bent down slightly.

Picking up the pillows from the floor.

"Do you know why?"

"Think about it yourselves."

I tossed one over.

Then the other.

They caught them on reflex.

Catch.

Catch.

Silence.

Mika lowered her head.

"I’m sorry, Sis..."

Yuna did the same.

"Yeah... I’m sorry, Papa."

I gave a small nod.

"Just don’t do it again."

They nodded.

Then turned around.

And scurried off.

Their footsteps quick.

Disappearing from the kitchen.

_

"..."

Misaki stood in silence for a moment.

...

Then let out a long sigh.

And turned back to me.

"Does that... happen often?"

"The pillow throwing?"

"Fairly often."

"And you don’t get mad?"

I picked up my knife again.

And resumed chopping.

"Not really."

"Why?"

She returned to her cutting board as well.

"Doesn’t it bother you?"

"Yes, it’s a bother."

I nodded.

"But getting angry..."

My knife paused for a second.

"...brings me no benefit, and it only hurts them."

She fell silent.

Digesting my words.

The knife in her hand began to move again.

"Hm..."

"I suppose that’s true."

She was chopping slower now.

"But still..."

She glanced slightly toward the kitchen door.

"...it’s frustrating to be interrupted out of nowhere."

I let out a soft chuckle.

"Yeah."

"It is."

We went back to chopping.

The sound of knives filled the kitchen once again.

The flames kept burning.

The water began to reach a gentle boil.

Time passed.

Slowly.

Before we knew it—

the dishes were ready, one by one.

Arranged neatly on the counter.

Waiting to be brought to the dining table.

~~ • ~~