A week had passed since Ichika taught Fujimoto how to make his wife's udon. Since then, Mikonand her father had become regulars at Ichizawa's Diner, stopping by after school and work.
It was a slow afternoon when the bell above the door chimed again. Ichika looked up, expecting another customer, but was surprised to see the exhausted young businessman from before—the one who had left the note on the bill.
He hesitated before walking in, his movements less rigid than before. He took a seat at the counter, glancing around as if seeing the place differently this time.
"You're back," Ichika said with a knowing smile.
The man nodded. "Yeah… I figured I could use another meal that 'warms the soul.'"
Ichika chuckled, tying her apron. "Same katsudon as last time?"
He hesitated, then shook his head. "Actually… do you have omurice?"
Her eyebrows lifted slightly at the change. "Coming right up."
As she cooked, Ichika noticed something different about him. The first time he came in, he had barely spoken, his exhaustion weighing him down. Now, though still tired, there was something lighter in his expression—like a man slowly finding his way.
She placed the plate of fluffy, golden omelet over rice in front of him, drizzled with a delicate line of ketchup. "Here you go. The perfect meal after a long day."
He picked up his spoon and took a bite. A slow, thoughtful chew. Then, a deep sigh.
"…This reminds me of when I was a kid," he muttered, almost to himself. "My mom used to make this when I was sick or sad. I haven't had homemade omurice in years."
Ichika leaned on the counter, watching him with a soft smile. "Food has a funny way of bringing back memories, doesn't it?"
He nodded, staring at the plate for a moment before finally meeting her eyes. "This place… it reminds me of home."
Ichika felt warmth spread through her chest.
"Then come back anytime," she said simply. "Ichizawa's Diner will always have a seat for you."
As the young businessman finished his meal, Mikonand her father entered, the little girl cheerfully greeting Ichika. A group of college students followed, laughing over an inside joke. An elderly couple settled into their usual booth, sharing a quiet conversation over tea.
Ichika watched as life unfolded in her little diner.
Some came to eat.
Some came to heal.
Some came to remember.
But all of them left with something more than just a full stomach.
And as Ichika turned back to the kitchen, ready to cook another meal, she knew one thing for certain—Ichizawa's Diner was more than just a place to eat. It was a place to return to.