The three of them sat around the dining table, the morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a golden glow on the wooden surface. The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of buttered toast and steaming white rice. The rhythmic clatter of plates and utensils filled the space, creating a comforting morning ambiance.
Hikari watched as his mother moved with practiced efficiency in the kitchen, her every motion seamless and precise. She reached for the fridge, her hand moving so fast that the eggs barely rattled in their carton as she pulled them out.
In one swift motion, she grabbed a can of corned beef from the cupboard, the clang of metal against wood echoing softly. The stove flickered to life with a quick turn of the knob, two pans heating simultaneously. It was a routine she had performed countless times, yet it never failed to impress.
Hikari tore a piece of his toast, spreading a thin layer of butter over its crisp surface. His gaze flickered toward his father, who sat with his arms crossed, eyes following his wife's movements with quiet admiration. Even Mitsumi, still slightly hesitant after the morning's awkward encounter, had stopped eating to watch the cooking display before them. It was almost comical, how mesmerized they looked.
The eggs cracked against the rim of a bowl with practiced ease, their golden yolks spilling into the mixture as his mother's whisk moved in rhythmic precision. The can's lid peeled back with a clean pop, its contents sliding into the preheated pan with a satisfying sizzle. In less than a minute, the scent of cooking eggs and corned beef filled the room, the rich, savory aroma making Hikari's stomach growl in anticipation.
There was something comforting about it—watching his mother cook. It was familiar, grounding, a quiet reminder of all the mornings he had spent like this growing up. He remembered sitting at this very table as a child, legs swinging under the chair, watching in awe as she worked her magic. Even now, nothing had changed. She still moved with the same effortless grace, still made it look so easy, as if cooking was second nature to her.
Within minutes, the meal was served. Scrambled eggs, fluffy and golden, sat beside a steaming mound of white rice. The corned beef, glistening from the heat, was portioned neatly on their plates. Hikari hadn't even realized she had cooked the rice beforehand. Had she woken up earlier than them just to prepare it?
He took a bite, savoring the warm, rich flavors. "This is really good," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
His mother beamed, clearly pleased. "Of course. I always make sure my cooking is top-notch, especially when there's a guest."
Mitsumi, seated across from him, took a careful bite of her eggs. A small smile tugged at her lips, her usual guarded expression momentarily replaced with something softer. "Thank you for the food, ma'am. It's delicious."
"Oh, please, I told you, you don't have to be so formal with me," his mother said with a wave of her hand. "You're welcome here anytime, Mitsumi-chan."
Hikari almost choked on his rice. The thought of Mitsumi coming over regularly had never crossed his mind until now. His gaze drifted toward her as she took another bite, completely unaware of his inner turmoil.
Would that be such a bad thing?
His face warmed. Agh! What was he even thinking?! He shook his head, trying to shove the ridiculous thought out of his mind. No, no. It was just breakfast. Nothing more.
As the meal continued, the peaceful morning ambiance settled over them. The sounds of clinking utensils and occasional conversation filled the space, creating a warm atmosphere that made Hikari forget, just for a moment, about everything that had happened the night before. It almost felt normal.
But then, a shift. A presence.
The feeling crept up on him like a shadow stretching across the floor, an unnatural weight pressing against his senses. It wasn't the kind of presence that belonged in a warm household setting—it was something foreign, something that did not belong.
Hikari stiffened, his chopsticks hovering mid-air. Slowly, he turned his head, his gaze flickering toward the far wall. A shadow loomed there, darker than the rest, elongated and shifting unnaturally despite the stillness of the room. His stomach twisted.
No one else seemed to notice.
Excusing himself hastily, he pushed his chair back and made his way toward the restroom, forcing himself to move at a normal pace despite the unease crawling up his spine. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the sink.
A familiar voice spoke.
"You sensed it, didn't you?"
Hikari's reflection in the mirror flickered, the faint silhouette of Master Ryu appearing behind him.
He turned, leaning against the sink. "That wasn't normal," he muttered. "What was that?"
Master Ryu crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "Residual energy. A remnant of what happened last night. You're more attuned to it now."
The mention of last night sent a shiver down his spine. "What's going on with that, anyway? The authorities… they haven't said anything."
"They won't," Master Ryu said, his tone heavy with meaning. "The incident is being covered up. The media has been fed false information. As far as the public is concerned, a serial killer was caught by a student skilled in combat."
Hikari's stomach dropped. "Skilled in combat? Me?" He scoffed, a sharp, incredulous laugh escaping his lips. "I could barely throw a punch. Who on Earth came up with that nonsense?"
Master Ryu didn't react. "It's better this way. The existence of Irregulars isn't something the public is prepared for."
A bitter taste settled in Hikari's mouth. He understood the logic, but that didn't mean he had to like it. What would this do to his reputation at school? He could already imagine the whispers, the exaggerated rumors, the ridiculous expectations. People would think he was some kind of hidden martial arts prodigy.
Great. Just great.
Master Ryu watched him for a moment before changing the subject. "Do you have time?"
Hikari hesitated. "Why?"
"Training."
He blinked. "Wait, right now?"
Master Ryu nodded. "No better time than the present."
Hikari exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He knew he had no real excuse to refuse. If anything, after last night, he needed answers—needed to understand what was happening to him.
"Fine," he muttered. "But don't expect much."
Master Ryu smirked. "I never do."
Steeling himself, Hikari exited the restroom, pushing aside the lingering discomfort from their conversation. He took one last glance at his family, their laughter blending with the morning light. Then, with quiet determination, he stepped outside.
A couple of minutes later, Hikari was preparing to go out, changing his clothes as his mom and Mitsumi cleaned up the table. He was a bit embarrassed to see Mitsumi helping out so he grabbed the dishes she was carrying, putting it on the sink.
A soft gaze and a warm smile appeared on Mitsumi's face as she muttered a soft thanks, her face turning into a light tone of pink as she did so. Hikari's parents smiled, but they wore a poker face as soon as they noticed Hikari catching a glimpse of them.
"I'm going for a quick run, mom, dad," He said, rushing towards the door as he hastily wore his rubber shoes.
"Aren't you going to take Mitsumi with you?"
"It's fine, you can go ahead, Hikari, stay safe." She let out, sensing that Hikari must be going outside in connection with the events last night. After all, there was a certain anxiousness on his face.
"I'm off! I'll be back in a couple." He continued, rushing outside before his parents could reinforce their offer of taking Mitsumi with her.