Chapter 105
Shoko's large, round eyes were now fixed on me with a calm curiosity—unhurried, and without any sign of excessive fear.
She hadn't moved much. Instead, she simply observed me in silence, like a little girl trying to determine whether the stranger before her was someone safe to approach, or someone to be wary of.
"Is this girl your daughter? Nice to meet you!" I said as I gently patted Shoko's head, keeping my movements slow so as not to startle her.
Her hair felt soft and light against my palm, smooth like fine silk that was almost imperceptible to the touch, carrying a faint warmth as if it still held traces of her body heat.
Shoko looked at me without saying a word for a few seconds. Her eyes blinked slowly—once, then twice—as if she were processing who I was and what that touch meant.
She didn't react immediately. She remained quiet, but a moment later, her small lips slowly curved into a faint smile—a pure, gentle, and utterly sincere smile that appeared naturally, without the slightest hint of force.
The smile was simple, yet somehow it held a strong charm, enough to make me nearly lose focus for a brief moment.
Damn… Shoko's smile when she's this young is seriously adorable.
That soft expression made her face seem much brighter. Her eyes shimmered slightly, like a small light suddenly appearing in the room, spreading a subtle warmth that could be felt deep in the chest.
That simple smile felt far more soothing than any words, like a gentle warmth slowly seeping in without needing any explanation.
It was no wonder that those who knew Shoko always wanted to protect her—to preserve that smile so it would never fade because of the cruelty of the outside world.
Yaeko, who witnessed the scene, fell silent for a moment. Her gaze lingered on Shoko's face, as if she were savoring a rare moment she seldom got to see—her daughter smiling at someone she had just met.
There was something soft in Yaeko's eyes, a mixture of relief and unspoken emotion. Then, slowly, she walked toward me with careful, measured steps, as though she didn't want to disturb the atmosphere that had just formed.
After making sure her mother wasn't paying attention from the kitchen, Yaeko leaned slightly closer to me. The movement was small, almost unnoticeable, yet enough to show the seriousness of her intent. Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper, soft enough that only I could hear.
"Can it be done now, sir?" Yaeko asked, her voice hesitant, almost trembling at the end of her sentence.
Her tone was low, almost like a restrained breath, but the anxiety within it was unmistakable.
Behind that simple question lay a great hope that she tried to hold back, as if she feared it would collapse if spoken too clearly.
She seemed afraid of hoping too much. There was a shadow of doubt in her eyes, a concern that reality might not turn out as she wished.
Her fingers lightly clasped together in front of her, fidgeting restlessly, revealing a nervousness she couldn't fully conceal.
"Yes, let's do it," I replied just as softly, deliberately leaning in slightly so only Yaeko could hear me, keeping my tone calm to ease her anxiety.
For some reason, that simple answer caused a faint blush to spread across Yaeko's cheeks. A soft red tint appeared gradually against her pale skin, and she quickly looked away, as if trying to hide her sudden reaction.
Her shoulders stiffened slightly, and her breath seemed to catch for a moment, as though she herself didn't understand why her body reacted that way. Was she embarrassed? Or simply nervous because the situation felt too close… too personal?
The sight nearly left me stunned.
Yaeko Nishimiya—the woman who, in my memory, always appeared cold, firm, and composed, just as I knew her from *Koe no Katachi*—was now standing in front of me with a faint blush on her face, all because of a brief whisper.
Good grief... this was truly a rare sight I had to remember well. If there had been a camera, this moment would've been worth framing and hanging on a wall, proof that even someone like Yaeko could show a fragile side.
Not long after, Yaeko walked over to Shoko. Gently, she took hold of her daughter's small wrist. The touch was light, careful, like a mother who fully understood her child's boundaries and didn't want to startle her.
That touch made Shoko look up at her with a confused expression. Her round eyes blinked slowly—once, then twice—as if she was wondering what was happening and why she was suddenly being led away.
But Yaeko only responded with a soft, reassuring smile. A gentle mother's smile, one that didn't need words to say that everything was fine.
Seeing her mother's smile, Shoko returned it with a small, equally innocent one. She didn't ask anything, didn't show any resistance—she simply accepted it calmly, trusting her mother completely without the slightest doubt.
After that, Yaeko, Shoko, and I immediately headed toward Yaeko's room.
Our steps were slow as we passed through the apartment's living area, now filled with the faint sounds of cooking from the kitchen. The soft clinking of utensils and the subtle aroma of food drifting through the air added warmth to the small home, creating an atmosphere that felt both peaceful and alive.
The air inside the apartment felt slightly warmer than before, as if the presence of the three of us had brought a subtle, invisible change.
Then we entered the same room we had visited earlier. The door closed slowly behind us, muffling the sounds from outside. The room was once again filled with a gentle silence, carrying with it a calm atmosphere and a sense of anticipation that slowly began to grow, as if something important was about to happen.
Once everyone was inside, the door was shut tightly, followed by a soft click from the handle—a small sound that felt distinct within the silence now enveloping the room.
In an instant, the room was separated from the outside world, cutting us off from the faint noises in the apartment's living area and creating an atmosphere that was far quieter, enclosed, and private, as though the walls themselves had become a boundary isolating everything beyond them.
Light from the window fell softly onto the floor, forming faint, stretched shadows, making the room feel quiet yet filled with a subtle, tangible tension. The moment the door closed, I immediately turned toward Yaeko without hesitation.
"Please remove Shoko's hearing aids," I said as I walked toward the wall with calm, steady steps, my pace measured and unhurried.
"Alright," Yaeko replied briefly, her voice low yet firm.
Without wasting any time, Yaeko knelt slightly in front of Shoko. Her movements were quick but still careful. With both gentle hands, she began removing the hearing aids from her daughter's ears slowly, making sure each touch caused no discomfort.
Her hands moved with caution, as if she were holding something extremely fragile and irreplaceable. Even her fingertips seemed to restrain the slightest pressure, showing just how precious the device was to her.
From the look in her eyes, it was clear that Yaeko was doing her best to ensure Shoko remained comfortable throughout the process. Her gaze was full of attention, carrying restrained worry along with the warmth of a mother.
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[Note: This novel is updated on every even-numbered date]
[Note: This is my other novel: As the White Spider-Man in Earth-76 with the Spider-Man System]
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