Chapter 172

Sitting at the dining table, which made a satisfying sound as she rhythmically tapped on it, Mahiru was cheerfully completing her homework. Mahiru generally did her homework in her own room, but on the days when Miss Koyuki came, she often worked at the dining table while listening to the sounds of Miss Koyuki cooking. Honestly, it was simple for Mahiru to get through something as easy as her homework, but sitting there at the table like that, leisurely doing her homework while she listened to the sounds from the kitchen—knives chopping, ingredients sizzling in the pan, gentle simmering—and smelling the aroma wafting out was the thing she loved most of all. Besides, Mahiru knew if she sat at the table, Miss Koyuki would see how hard she was working, and she would praise her. Mahiru happily worked away at her homework, aware Miss Koyuki was looking in to check on her from time to time. She worked ever so slowly, to make it last until Miss Koyuki had finished cooking. Though Mahiru was hungry, she enjoyed this time, and she hoped it would last even longer. It was worth being hungry to spend more time with Miss Koyuki. “Young lady, your supper’s ready.” “Okay!” After a little while, Mahiru heard the voice she had been waiting for and called back excitedly as she rushed to close the notebook that had been open on the table. Though she had tried to delay reaching the end of her assignment, she had already completed it, so she couldn’t keep pretending she was working on it to get praise, but since she was finished, she would probably get praised anyway. Mahiru smiled modestly to herself. If she didn’t clean up properly, Miss Koyuki would scold her when she came to set dinner out, so Mahiru carefully gathered up all of her eraser crumbs and threw them away in the trash can, then collected her notebook filled with scrawled numbers, as well as her numerous printouts, and set them on the living room table. Then she entered the kitchen with a smile, just as Miss Koyuki was taking off her apron, wearing a gentle smile of her own. “You worked hard at your homework again today, didn’t you?” “Yes.” As always, she had been watching Mahiru. The woman who filled two roles as both housekeeper and governess kept a gentle smile on her face as she folded her apron and whispered to Mahiru, “Go and wash your hands, and I’ll set out your dinner.” Unhesitatingly, Mahiru nodded and went over to the sink. As she stood on her tiptoes washing her hands, she glanced over at the numerous dishes being arranged on the dining table, and she smiled. Apparently the day’s menu was Japanese-style food. The rest of Mahiru’s family didn’t think much of Japanese food, but Mahiru herself loved the taste. She liked Western-style food, too, but personally she thought Japanese food was more comforting and reassuring. Miss Koyuki always said, “You need to taste all sorts of different things and develop your palate while you’re still young,” and she made a variety of different foods for Mahiru. But Mahiru’s absolute favorite were the Japanese-style meals. After washing her hands thoroughly, Mahiru went to the table. Miss Koyuki sat down across from her. There was no meal for Miss Koyuki. Though Mahiru wished just once they could eat a meal together, Miss Koyuki was, after all, just the “housekeeper,” and not family. Since Miss Koyuki always declined while sounding restrained and apologetic, Mahiru felt like she ate all of her meals alone. I wish we could eat together. However, she knew whining selfishly about it would put Miss Koyuki in an awkward spot, so she never voiced this desire. As she let out a secret little sigh, she admired the dishes on the table. That day, a perfect Japanese meal had been arranged for her, including the usual rice and miso soup, as well as rolled dashi omelets, stewed chicken and vegetables, and boiled spinach dressed in sesame sauce. “It looks yummy.” “I made everything to the best of my ability, as always. Eat please, before it gets cold.” “Okay.” Mahiru nodded, put her hands together, and politely intoned, “Thank you for the meal,” then quietly took a sip of miso soup. The soup’s warmth gradually sank into her insides, and the mild, comforting flavor was Mahiru’s absolute favorite. Whenever she drank this soup, she had the sensation of being pleasantly warmed from the inside out, and it made her happy.