—Itomori – An Old House by the Railroad
'Beep. Beep. Beep.'
The alarm clock rang. Yukino Yukari groggily reached for her phone and silenced it before sitting up.
"Morning already?"
Propping herself up on the tatami mat with one hand, she used the other to brush aside the strands of hair covering her eyes.
Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the room in crystal-clear detail.
After inheriting the house, Yukari had only replaced the torn paper screens with glass, allowing the morning light to fill the space completely, leaving no shadows.
Scattered across the floor were empty chocolate wrappers and beer cans. A half-eaten bento, a hairdryer, and a tissue box added to the mess.
Her once spacious room now looked utterly chaotic.
"Oh, right… I wonder if he replied to my message?"
Yukari glanced at her phone. The screen, unchanged since last night, still displayed only two messages.
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"Would you like to come over tomorrow at noon to try my cooking? Also, about the land we discussed last time."
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That was the message she had sent yesterday at exactly noon.
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"Um, can I reply to you tomorrow?" — Miyamizu Mitsuha
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Her response had come much later, at 10 PM.
Despite the long wait, Yukari didn't feel discouraged.
Just from the tone of the message, she could tell that the person replying was the real Miyamizu Mitsuha, not the one she had actually been hoping to invite.
Even so, she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.
With that thought lingering, Yukari propped herself up with her arms and got to her feet.
It was the weekend.
Normally, she would have downed beer until she passed out last night, then slept in until well past noon, aided by the lingering effects of alcohol.
But today was different.
She didn't know for sure if he would actually come, but she had to clean up her place just in case. And there was also the cooking to prepare.
The morning air in Itomori was refreshingly cool.
Still dressed in her sleepwear, an old T-shirt in a shade reminiscent of Tachibana oranges and a pair of shorts, Yukari started folding up her futon.
The tatami room, one of the few well-preserved spaces in this old house, was the only place suitable for hosting guests.
Kneeling on the floor, she smoothed out the blue blanket with careful, delicate hands, ensuring not a single wrinkle remained.
The neatly folded bedding stood in stark contrast to the surrounding clutter.
As she paused to take in the scene, a small smile formed in her dark eyes, framed by naturally deep double eyelids.
'Have I really let myself go this much?'
As the thought crossed her mind, her face, so finely sculpted it almost seemed artificial, lit up with a rare, genuine smile.
She began folding with precision, aligning the edges perfectly before tucking it away. Since she was putting it into storage, the mattress underneath had to be folded too.
For the first time in a long while, Yukari, the once careless woman who lived alone in disorder was tidying up her home.
She emptied the flat, stale beer from a can into the sink, then neatly placed it into a bamboo basket gifted by an elderly neighbor.
She gathered plastic waste into a garbage bag.
Next, she picked up the scattered laundry, delicate garments strewn across the floor and tossed them into the laundry hamper in the bathroom.
Before she knew it, the once chaotic room was now completely empty.
"Well done, Yukari. Now, time to clean the tatami!"
Her breath grew heavier, and a faint flush crept onto her cheeks.
What would be nothing more than a light warm-up for most people left her feeling exhausted.
But looking at the transformed room, she felt an unexpected sense of satisfaction welling up from deep within.
It was the same feeling she had when she first arrived in Itomori, the warmth of being welcomed by strangers, hearing them call out, "Yukino-sensei!" with genuine sincerity.
'Beep, beep.'
The notification tone made her freeze mid-motion. Abandoning the cloth in her hands, she rushed over to her phone.
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"I'll be over shortly. Do you need me to bring anything?" — Miyamizu Mitsuha
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Ah!
Gripping the phone tightly, she clutched it to her chest.
The cold surface sent a shiver through her skin, but the sheer joy swelling in her chest drowned out everything else.
Letting out a small, delighted squeak, she blushed—even though she was alone, the reaction embarrassed her.
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"No need! Just having you here is enough!"
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Her fingers flew across the screen at an unprecedented speed. The moment she hit send, she froze.
'Wait—what did I just write?!'
'Oh no, Yukari, what are you doing?!'
That was a message to him! The revered deity himself! Wasn't that way too informal?!
But there was no unsend option. And retracting it now might just make it worse.
At 25 years old, Yukari still had the heart of a 15-year-old girl.
Her face turned red, and she anxiously stared at the screen, awaiting a reply.
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"Okay, then I'll look forward to Yukino-sensei cooking." — Miyamizu Mitsuha
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"Got it."
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'Thud.'
She collapsed onto the tatami with a muffled sound.
Ignoring the mild discomfort from her sudden fall, she held her phone to her chest, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Was it from the physical exertion earlier? Or from the rush of emotions?
Either way, a thin sheen of sweat clung to her forehead, her fair skin tinged with a soft pink.
Her legs stretched out beyond the shadows, her delicate feet bathed in sunlight.
The slight arch of her instep almost seemed to glow, her thin skin so translucent that the faint blue veins and fine bones beneath were clearly visible.
Her round toes, basking in the warmth, flexed and stretched as if dancing in the morning light, so effortlessly charming.
The contrast of the sliding doors, wooden beams, and golden sunlight, combined with the figure of a woman who had been beautiful since childhood, created a scene so breathtaking it could have been a painting.
He would be arriving soon.
Yet, she hadn't even started cooking. She hadn't even finished cleaning the tatami.
And yet… Yukari wanted to linger in this moment a little longer.
The sunlight that made her want to drift back to sleep warmed her skin, just like the joy she had felt upon hearing him say, with his own voice, that he was not Miyamizu Mitsuha.
Itomori was a good place.
It had given this timid woman a fleeting moment of peace.
Boring? Yes.
It couldn't compare to Tokyo. It couldn't even compare to her hometown in Ehime Prefecture.
But here, no one knew her. No one knew her past.
A past that had been nothing but a cycle of running and hiding.
After graduating from university in Tokyo, she had landed a teaching job at a prestigious high school thanks to her outstanding academic record and skills.
Tokyo had everything.
As a teacher, she could spend her breaks strolling through the bustling city or quietly sipping coffee in a café, admiring the dazzling neon lights, so bright they almost seemed like light pollution.
Then the rumors started.
"Yukino-sensei is seducing the students' boyfriends."
The whispers spread from a group of third-year girls.
It hurt. But she wasn't surprised.
From elementary school to university, she had always caused a stir simply by existing.
Whenever she was around, the boys would fidget, and the girls would cast unreadable glances her way.
Why? Probably because of how she looked.
Slender limbs that seemed as if they would snap with the slightest pressure.
Features so perfectly sculpted they seemed unnatural. Even her plain black eyes, framed by deep double eyelids and thick lashes, appeared strikingly beautiful.
The ugly vest-and-skirt uniform that looked awful on most female students? On her, it looked as if it had been custom-made.
Even the shyness she despised about herself, the delicate fragility of her body—it all came together to make her even more alluring.
And so, her life in Tokyo had crumbled.
Yukari never liked the face that had brought her endless trouble. Rumors like the ones spreading at school now—she had been through them too many times to count.
She often thought about her old teacher, Hinako-sensei, the one who had once saved her during her student days.
Hinako had given her a simple yet profound piece of advice:
"Everyone's a little weird in their own way." Unlike Yukari, who stood out, Hinako had a round face, plain but not unpleasant features, and an overall ordinary appearance an everyday kind of beauty.
As a child, naive and hopeful, Yukari had wished every night before bed that she could wake up looking like Hinako.
That the world would bless her with the kind of face that blended in instead of standing out.
But the faith she had placed in Hinako, her beacon of normalcy, shattered in her third year of middle school just like a rainbow-hued soap bubble bursting with a soft pop, leaving only a wet stain behind.
At the farewell ceremony, Hinako-sensei told the class she was being transferred to another school. But the truth was something entirely different.
On a freezing, rain-soaked afternoon, she had taken Yukari aside and quietly admitted,
"I'm not transferring to another school. I'm going back home… to have a baby."
That was all she said—going home to have a baby.
There was no beaming declaration of, "I'm getting married!" No mention of a new life waiting for her elsewhere. Not even a simple, "I'm moving away."
At that moment, all the strength drained from Yukari's body. A chill seeped into her bones, not from the icy raindrops on her skin, but from a deep, paralyzing fear.
'Even Hinako-sensei… the perfect, wonderful Hinako-sensei… was giving up?'
'And now, she's giving up on me too, isn't she?'
She couldn't remember how she made it home that day.
After that, she threw herself into studying, got accepted into a prestigious high school in Tokyo, and fled.
Fled from the place haunted by memories of Hinako.
And now, it seemed like it was time to run again.
The rumors at school were getting worse. Parents were starting to get involved.
So she did what she always did, she ran. Back to her hometown in Shikoku.
But that escape came with a price.
She lost her sense of taste.
Pork cutlets, miso soup, even spaghetti drowning in meat sauce, nothing had flavor anymore.
At first, she thought she had caught a cold. After all, adjusting from Tokyo's climate to Shikoku's was bound to take a toll.
But then the symptoms piled up—headaches, stomachaches, swollen legs, persistent pain in her lower abdomen.
Doctors found nothing wrong.
"It's likely stress-related," the physician told her. "You should consider seeing a therapist."
Stress? Yukari was bewildered.
'Haven't I been dealing with this my whole life?'
'Shouldn't I be used to it by now?'
'Didn't I already escape from that suffocating place, from those horrible rumors?'
Before she could even think about following the doctor's advice, misfortune caught up with her once again.
"Isn't Yukino-sensei working in Tokyo? What's she doing back in a small place like Ehime?"
"Oh, you didn't hear? At her Tokyo school, she—"
Ah. So this is the downside of the internet age.
With practiced ease, Yukari started drafting her resignation letter.
Nothing new. Just another move in her endless cycle of running away.
She looked almost strong in that moment. Almost.
This woman, who seemed too childlike in everything she did, had mastered the art of escape.
So she turned to the very thing that had become her torment—the internet—and found a way out.
A small, isolated high school deep in the mountains: Itomori High.
It was so remote, so cut off from the world, that they couldn't even find enough teachers.
Desperation had finally pushed them to start hiring from outside.
'Isolated. Backward. No young people want to stay there.'
'It's perfect.'
Staring at the job posting on her laptop screen, Yukari quickly jotted down the school's mailing address.
Biting into a piece of chocolate, she took a sip of beer—her newfound lifeline, the only things that still had any taste.
And with that, she began writing her application.
There was no email option. Of course there wasn't.
'Perfect.'
Maybe this time, she could hide a little longer.
Less than a month after returning to Shikoku, she was packing her bags again. She had no doubts about getting hired.
She was terrible at sports, couldn't even walk a straight line on a balance beam but she had always excelled academically.
That was how she got into Aoyama Gakuin University and landed a teaching job in Tokyo.
Sure enough, before she even arrived in Itomori, her acceptance letter arrived at her family home.
And just as she had hoped, while her beauty once again caused a stir among the locals—"Such a stunning young woman!" the elderly ladies would exclaim every time they saw her—this time, the rumors did not follow.
At last, she had found a place to hide.
At least, until she met him.
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'Clap, clap.'
Yukari set her phone down and gave her cheeks a few light slaps. Even that small amount of force left a rosy tint on her delicate skin.
"Get it together, Yukari. You've got cleaning to finish and food to cook!"
Living on a diet of rice, chocolate, and beer had left her body frail.
Always fragile, always weak but at least the fresh air and warm sunlight in Itomori made her feel alive.
Well, not just those things anymore.
Now, there was him.
A god, residing in the body of a shrine maiden.
Wearing her Tachibana-colored T-shirt and dark green shorts, Yukari moved swiftly through the kitchen.
Lifting a small brown clay pot from the gas stove, she immediately winced, blowing on her fingers before pressing them against her cool earlobes to soothe the heat.
Once the sting faded, she rushed to weigh out a portion of white crystals on a small digital scale.
Her loose bob swayed with her movements, bouncing up and down as if mirroring her excitement.
That was the sight Kyousuke walked in on.
Yukari, buzzing around the kitchen not like a composed, mature woman, but more like a little girl sneaking into the kitchen to experiment while her parents were out.
Every action was clumsy, but filled with curiosity.
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"Yukino-sensei, I'm here."
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The kitchen was a small annex connected to the main house, barely used, and embarrassingly understocked.
"Mitsuha, you're here!"
Yukari rushed out of the kitchen only to stop in surprise at the sight of the small girl standing beside Kyousuke, her eyes full of curiosity.
"Yotsuba came too?" Her delighted expression froze for a second, then melted into an even warmer smile.
"This little one insisted on coming when she heard there'd be good food. I hope that's okay. She's even willing to help out." Kyousuke explained.
"Yukino-sensei, hello!"
Miyamizu Yotsuba didn't argue with her sister.
After all, today's Mitsuha was the "good sister" with her ponytail tied up neatly. Besides, she really had come along just for the food.
Of course, she knew this stunningly beautiful outsider, Yukino-sensei. When Yukari first arrived in Itomori, she had visited their shrine to pay her respects.
Back then, dressed in a mocha-colored blazer stretched slightly at the chest, a dark red ribbon tied neatly at her collar, and a plaid pleated skirt that hinted at her slender legs, Yukari had been mesmerizing.
Both Yotsuba and Mitsuha had stared in awe, silently making a pact to grow into elegant women just like her.
"Welcome," Yukari said politely.
Even though Yotsuba was just a child, Yukari still felt awkward. Shy as she was, she instinctively reverted to formal etiquette, offering a small bow to the young girl.
"Thank you for having me," Yotsuba responded just as formally, bowing back and holding out a small gift, a bag of snacks from her home.
"That's very kind of you, Yotsuba." Yukari accepted it with the same level of seriousness, bowing again.
Watching the two of them exchange bows with such sincerity, Kyousuke couldn't help but laugh.
Yotsuba shot him a fierce glare, her small face puffing up indignantly.
"Hehe," Yukari, on the other hand, simply blushed, tucking a stray strand of short hair behind her ear in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.
"Do you need any help?" Kyousuke asked, gesturing toward the kitchen. "And, uh… what exactly are you measuring so carefully?"
"…Salt."
Yukari's already pale face turned an even deeper shade of pink, like a strawberry-flavored candy melting under the heat.
She had no natural talent for cooking, nor did she have a functioning sense of taste, but she found confidence in strictly following recipes down to the gram.
If she followed the instructions perfectly, at least the food wouldn't turn out inedible.
If she were only cooking for herself, all she needed was a rice cooker.
A pot of plain white rice, a few bites of chocolate, and a can of beer—that was her daily diet.
Not because she particularly enjoyed the taste of rice, but because it provided the bare minimum energy to survive.
The chocolate and beer? They were the only things she could still taste.
"That makes sense," Kyousuke nodded approvingly.
"It's actually a good approach. When I first started baking, I followed recipes exactly, step by step. Even if it wasn't as 'soulful' as a master baker's work, at least it still tasted right."
"I'm really not confident in my cooking," Yukari admitted. "I just hope I don't disappoint you."
"That won't happen! Yukino-sensei looks like someone who can make amazing food!" Yotsuba declared with absolute confidence.
Clearly, the person who believed in Yukari's cooking skills the most was Yotsuba.
In her mind, anyone who treated her with respect like Yukari and Sayaka must be competent in everything they did.
After all, they took her seriously. That alone made them trustworthy.
"Thank you, Yotsuba," Yukari smiled warmly. "I'll do my best."
"If you don't need help in the kitchen, I'll get started outside," Kyousuke said.
"I'll help too!" Yotsuba chimed in.
"There are some tools over there," Yukari pointed to a few shovels and hoes leaning against the side of the house. "I borrowed them from one of the old ladies in town."
"Oh, right! I also brought an apple tree. We should plant it while we're at it."
Yukari finally noticed the sapling resting against the wall, standing just over a meter tall.
"An apple tree?"
"Yep! On the way here, we stopped by Uncle Jakuma's orchard, and Mitsuha bought it," Yotsuba explained.
"How much was it? I'll pay you back," Yukari said quickly.
"No need," Kyousuke shrugged. "That old man refused to take any money."
He had tried shoving cash into Jakuma's hands, but the old man had simply laughed, locked the door, and ignored him.
It reminded Kyousuke of receiving New Year's money as a kid, except this time, he was the one trying to pay.
"Should I at least get him a gift in return?" Yukari asked hesitantly, looking uneasy about the unspoken obligation.
"Don't worry about it. I'll handle it," Kyousuke assured her.
With that, he hoisted the apple tree onto his shoulder and headed toward the tools, Yotsuba following close behind.
The small plot of land designated for Yukari's vegetable garden was right next to the house, overgrown with weeds. Before planting anything, they'd have to clear it first.
As Kyousuke glanced at Mitsuha's pale, delicate hands, a new thought crossed his mind.
He had changed into workout clothes for easier movement, but once they started working up a sweat, then what?