Chapter 3: A Sunrise and a Bento
Dawn had not yet broken when my eyes snapped open.
No alarm.
No birdsong.
No Daichi yelling from the hallway like a human foghorn.
Just a quiet stillness… and the rush of something electric humming under my skin.
Excitement.
Nerves.
A strange flutter in my chest that felt a little like fear… and a lot like hope.
Today was the day.
My first official day as a working adult. My first step into the world I had only ever stared at through windows and dreams.
"I'm going to work," I whispered to no one. My voice was hoarse, soft. As if saying it too loud might shatter the fragile magic of the moment.
But it didn't.
Instead, a slow grin pulled at my lips. I sat up and said it again—louder, prouder.
"I'm going to work."
There it was again—that spark. That quiet flame burning behind my ribs. The one that had gotten me this far.
No turning back now.
I dressed quickly, fingers fumbling slightly as I smoothed the new company blazer over my shirt. It smelled like plastic wrap and potential. I stared at myself in the mirror for a beat longer than necessary, wondering if this really was me. Haruki Aizawa . Employee. Adult. Dream-chaser.
And then… I ran.
Not out the door—but to the kitchen.
The Kagurazakas had already done so much for me. Taking me in. Feeding me. Tolerating my face. The least I could do was start the day with something warm.
I tied on an apron—possibly Hinata's mom's, judging by the frilly lace—and got to work.
The rice cooker purred like a cat.
The eggs sizzled.
Miso soup stirred softly in a pot like an old song.
I plated grilled salmon with daikon, added tamagoyaki, pickled radish, and steamed veggies to two neat bento boxes. Mine... and Hinata's.
Because if gratitude had a language, it was food.
The scent filled the small kitchen, drifting into corners I hadn't realized were so quiet before.
Then—
"AIZAWA?!"
I nearly jumped out of my slippers.
Hinata stood in the doorway, hair still tousled from sleep, eyes wide and confused as if I'd just summoned breakfast out of thin air.
"I… made breakfast," I said sheepishly, holding up the spatula like a peace offering.
Her lips parted.
Closed.
Then opened again.
"I just—how are you even awake?!"
Before I could answer, a dramatic rustle echoed down the hallway.
Her father burst in like a stage actor making his grand entrance.
"Young man! You… you've made breakfast?!" he clutched his chest with the fervor of a man witnessing divine intervention. "Such devotion! Such diligence! Marry my daughter this instant!"
A chair flew across the room.
Direct hit.
"Dad, shut up!" Hinata growled, arm still extended like she'd just pitched in the ninth inning.
Her mother appeared next, eyes lighting up at the scent. "Oh my... miso with tofu cubes? Grilled fish?" She spotted me at the stove and gasped. "My goodness. You are husband material."
My cheeks burned. "I-It's nothing really! Just... a thank-you. For everything."
Nami shuffled in last, hair a chaotic explosion of pigtails. "Is it my birthday or did the food fairy finally get my letters?"
"Just eat, Nami," Hinata muttered, cheeks still tinged with pink.
We gathered around the table. It was loud. Cluttered. Joyful.
The Kagurazaka household was chaos—beautiful, endearing chaos.
I sat beside Nami, who squinted at me suspiciously.
"You made this?" she asked, poking her rice like it might explode.
"Yep."
"Are you secretly a spy?"
"What? No!"
"Okay," she said, shoving rice in her mouth. "Just checking."
The family ate like I'd cast a spell. Compliments flew faster than chopsticks.
"This is amazing!" Hinata's mom grinned.
"A flavor of honest effort and humble origins!" her dad declared between bites. "If you open a restaurant, I shall fund it! Or clean the toilets! Whatever you need!"
Hinata remained mostly quiet, a soft look in her eyes every time I caught her glance.
When I handed her the second bento box, she paused.
"You didn't have to," she murmured, fingertips brushing the lid.
"I wanted to."
Nami leaned across the table. "Is this flirting? Because it smells like flirting."
"Nami," Hinata said flatly, "stop narrating our lives like a romance manga."
Once breakfast ended, we left together.
The morning air was crisp, touched with the scent of dew and faint traffic. Our footsteps echoed down the street, casual but close.
"You're really excited, huh?" she asked, hiding a smile.
"Of course I am," I said. "This is it, you know? The life I've been chasing since high school."
She glanced at me, eyes gentle. "You better not screw it up."
I smiled back. "No promises."
---
The building loomed like a monument of ambition. Towering glass walls. Sleek marble floors. Polished brass fixtures. Every corner radiated wealth, precision, and silent pressure.
I suddenly felt very... small.
"Welcome to the battlefield," Hinata said, nudging me.
I gulped.
We marched through the corridors. She pointed out emergency exits, coffee machines, hidden vending corners, and areas I absolutely should not be caught slacking in.
Then, like a cherry on top—
"Oh my~ Hinata~"
A voice drifted like perfume down the hallway.
A stylish woman approached, heels clicking against marble. She twirled a pen between her fingers like a blade.
"Bringing your boyfriend to work already?" she teased. "I didn't even get the office memo."
"He's not—!" Hinata snapped.
"I'm just the new hire!" I stammered.
The woman grinned, clearly amused. "I'm Ayaka, Marketing. You're cute. Try not to get eaten alive."
Before I could thank her—or run—Hinata grabbed my sleeve and yanked me away.
We finally reached our department office. A tall, composed woman greeted us—hair tied, glasses perched just so. Ms. Takamine. Head of the division.
"You're Aizawa?" she asked, scanning me with the efficiency of a barcode reader. "Hinata's mentioned you."
"Wait, she has?"
"She didn't shut up," Takamine said dryly—then smiled. "We're glad to have you. Welcome aboard."
Applause. Honest-to-goodness applause.
I bowed low, swallowing the lump in my throat.
"I'll do my best."
---
The day passed in a blur of forms, passwords, polite laughter, and printer jams. By lunch, I'd mistaken a copier for a toaster. By three, I knew the coffee machine's internal struggles better than I knew my own.
But I was surviving. Somehow.
By the time we walked home, the sky had turned gold. I carried two convenience store bags and a mind full of new names.
"You didn't die," Hinata said, casually proud.
"Still breathing," I replied. "Barely."
"Progress."
We stepped into the house—and were ambushed.
"AIZAWA!!!"
Her father barreled toward me with all the grace of a flying sumo wrestler.
"My son! My warrior! You've returned!"
He crushed me in a hug thick with cologne and emotion.
"Dad, he was gone for eight hours," Hinata groaned.
"And I missed every second!"
Another flying object. Another clean hit. This time with a pillow.
Dinner was louder than breakfast.
We cooked together again—Hinata chopping vegetables with exaggerated sighs, her mom managing three pans at once, her dad occasionally 'taste testing' everything that wasn't nailed down. Nami quizzed me on riddles she Googled just to mess with me.
I failed half and guessed the rest.
The food was perfect.
The company even more so.
At some point, her mother smiled at me across the table. "You fit in nicely here."
I glanced at Hinata—who immediately looked away, pretending the rice on her plate needed full attention.
After dinner, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the house quiet except for the hum of the fridge and soft ticking of a wall clock somewhere down the hall.
I made it.
One step closer to everything I'd dreamed of.
But strangely, what lingered in my chest wasn't the building or the suit or even the applause.
It was the warmth of the kitchen.
The laughter.
The quiet glance Hinata gave me when she thought I wasn't looking.
I closed my eyes.
"Please let my parents be safe," I whispered into the dark. "And I hope… you'd be proud of me."
My first day.
My first real day.
And tomorrow—
It begins again.