Ah, yeah. This is the taste. It’s almost nostalgic…
Half an hour into the party, the table was laden with dishes Alisa had prepared with Akemi’s help. Among them, Masachika found himself staring at the borscht Alisa had made, caught in a strange reverie as memories surfaced of the borscht that she had cooked for him when he was bedridden with a cold before summer vacation.
Though this version featured beef along with a few other ingredients, its distinctive sweet-sour essence remained unchanged.
It’s really good.
Just as he emptied his bowl of borscht, another plate—heaped with food—was swiftly set down beside him.
“Thank you…”
He bowed, then peered at the silent man by his side—still as intimidating and expressionless as ever. Not a single word had left his lips, yet his hands had been steadily filling Masachika’s plate since they’d started eating.
What is going on?! Is he welcoming me?! Or is he testing me?! Is this one of those “What?! Is the food I’m giving ya not good enough for ya?!” kind of things?!
Masachika’s eyes darted around for help, but Maria and Akemi were deep in conversation at the same table while Ayano was focused on her pasta.
Why me?
Masachika lamented his fate while casting a sidelong glance at the lively adjacent table.
The divided seating arrangement was to blame; since there wasn’t enough room for twelve people to sit at the main table, there was an improvised tatami-style area with a folding table and cushions to accommodate more people.
Alisa, being the birthday girl, sat at the head of the main table while her parents sat on either side. Ayano then sat beside Akemi with Masachika next to Mikhail, while the seven others sat in the tatami-style area. Although Masachika was initially not so excited about having to sit next to Alisa’s father, he soon resigned himself to his fate. The real issue began a few minutes ago…when Alisa switched places with Maria to go talk to the others.
I mean, she is the birthday girl, so I get it. It’s only natural for her to mingle with her guests.
Masachika understood the logic behind it, and seeing Alisa surrounded by her friends and smiling happily should have filled his heart with joy…but sitting next to her father left him feeling nervous. To make matters worse, her father kept piling more food onto his plate, even though his stomach was already about to burst.
Uh… I believe they call this beef stroganoff? I know the name, but this is the first time I’ve ever tried it…
Masachika scooped up some mushrooms and beef from the light brown cream soup with his spoon and took a bite, and his eyebrows went up in astonishment at how tender it actually was.
Hmm? The name made it sound like it was going to be tough, but this tastes more like the inside of a beef cutlet…or a braised hamburger steak?
Regardless, he knew one thing for sure—this was going to be filling. Even if he managed to finish what was in front of him now, the next helping would be a challenge, especially with cake still in their future.
Which means I’m going to have to start turning down some food.
But refusing food frightened him, especially since he couldn’t figure out what Mikhail was thinking.
As a child, Masachika’s communication skills had been trained with the expectation that he would one day become a diplomat. Through practical exercises, he learned the value of having a conversation and how most people in the world could get along, as long as they put an effort into getting to know one another. He’d also discovered that he could make a meaningful connection with most people, whether they were powerful politicians, charismatic CEOs, or even well-known celebrities.
Whether he actually wanted to converse was another matter, and just because he could act like he was enjoying himself didn’t mean he wasn’t actually intimidated. Despite having a wide network of acquaintances at school, his narrow personal circle was proof that he wasn’t one to actively seek deeper connections. In short, he was reluctant to bond with strangers and, if possible, avoided engaging with people who intimidated him.
But now’s not the time to keep to myself.
Sensing that Mikhail was about to give him more food, Masachika mustered up all his courage.
“Oh, I’m full. Thank you, though.”
Mikhail stared down at Masachika from high above, making the boy inwardly yelp. However, determined not to let his intimidation show, Masachika quickly asked, “By the way…would it be okay to ask you for your full name?”
Mikhail tilted his head slightly before answering.
“Mikhail Makarovich Kujou.”
His Russian accent was so thick that anyone other than Masachika probably would have had to ask him to repeat his name a few times. Masachika, however, showed absolutely no sign of being flustered.
“Thank you, Mikhail Makarovich.”
Seeing Mikhail’s eyes widen in surprise filled Masachika with a surge of triumph.
Yesss! I did it! I remembered! You don’t call people ‘mister’ in Russia to show respect. You call them by their first and middle name!
He decided to carry on the conversation with a feeling that he was off to a good start.
“You have the same last name as your wife, right? Does that mean you changed your last name when you got married?”
Mikhail nodded.
“Interesting. I heard that many people keep their last names when it comes to international marriages, but is there a reason you decided to change yours?”
However…Mikhail remained silent, his gaze shifting elsewhere, making Masachika wince.
Ack!! I must have picked the wrong topic!!
He had simply asked a question about something he was curious about, but perhaps it was a sensitive topic, so he decided to go for a rebound and come up with another subject instead when—
“A—”
Mikhail suddenly spoke, making Masachika flinch and look up. Then, in awkward Japanese, Mikhail muttered:
“Alisa… How’s school?”
“…Are you asking me how she’s doing at school?”
Mikhail’s nod gave Masachika a quiet sense of relief, sparing him from the pressure of having to come up with a topic on his own, so he shifted his gaze to Alisa.
“Hmm… Well, she is well-known as a model student who takes her schoolwork seriously. She’s hardworking and puts a hundred-percent into everything she does, and I think those qualities earn her a ton of respect from everyone around her.”
Masachika found himself genuinely relieved that Mikhail didn’t ask him this when Alisa was still sitting with them.
“But because of that, she used to come across as a bit too perfect and that made her somewhat unapproachable. But lately, she’s been warming up to her peers, and it seems like she’s a lot more social.”
Mikhail remained silent the entire time Masachika was speaking, staring intently at him, causing him to grimace inwardly.
Why isn’t he saying anything? Why is he being quiet when he’s the one who asked?!
Masachika, panicking internally, started to wonder if this was really what Mikhail was asking about, but before a full-blown meltdown could set in, god Tomohisa swooped in to save him once again.
“Ho-ho-ho. Do not worry so much, kiddo. Unlike Japanese, Russians don’t nod or give verbal acknowledges while someone is speaking—they simply listen in silence.”
Are you sure?! Are you really telling me the truth, or are you just telling me what I want to hear?!
By now, it seemed like he was just making things up to make Masachika feel better, prompting him to mentally grab the mini Tomohisa in his mind and shake him like there was no tomorrow.
“Uh… Last semester, she seemed to struggle speaking in front of others, but she was able to speak in front of the school at the school festival with remarkable confidence. In other words, she seems to have overcome her fear of public speaking, making her an even more promising candidate for the next student council president. Plus, she has a surprisingly open mind. She respects and accepts people who are different than her, and that’s something I genuinely admire about her.”
The longer Mikhail remained silent, the more Masachika continued to ramble, desperately racking his brain to avoid running out of things to say, but his voice unconsciously grew louder and louder until it wasn’t only Mikhail listening to what he had to say.
“Oh, my. I had no idea you felt that way about Alya.”
As Masachika passionately extolled Alisa’s virtues, Akemi’s voice interrupted him, halting his praise mid-sentence. He froze, awkwardly glancing at her, only to find her in the seat diagonally opposite with her cheek resting on her hand, smiling warmly. Maria and Ayano were also listening intently…which was when the silence finally registered. He timidly turned to face the others in the tatami-style area to find a crowd of curious and amused faces watching him. There was at least one person in particular who was blushing with a downcast gaze.
Oh, gosh. Someone, please kill me.
As negative thoughts swirled in his now completely blank mind, a chuckling Akemi turned her gaze to Mikhail.
“Giggle. You have no idea how happy that makes me. You too, right, darling?” After Mikhail nodded in agreement, she gently narrowed her gaze at Masachika and continued, “I have to apologize for him, Masachika. He can only speak basic Japanese, and he’s not much of a talker, either, so it must have been hard having a conversation with him. This is the first time Alya’s brought all of her friends over like this, too, so he seems to be more nervous than usual.”
“O-oh… Uh…”
“But thank you for trying to talk with him. You must be thrilled, right, honey?” Akemi asked, prompting Mikhail to look down at Masachika with his usual blank expression.
“Yes… Very happy,” he confirmed.
“Oh… Um…”
But beneath Masachika’s strained smile was a young man screaming internally with all his might.
So he’s just shy + he can’t speak that much Japanese?! That’s it?!
Masachika immediately seized god Tomohisa—who was attempting to flutter away with a dismissive laugh—and violently slam-dunked him onto the concrete. In the same mental sweep, he exiled the snickering devil Yuki to the furthest recesses of his consciousness for good measure, too.
While glancing sideways at Masachika—who was enduring an embarrassment the likes of which he’d never experienced before—Alisa kept her gaze lowered and bashfully whispered:
“<Dummy.>”