“Dad and Yuni-san wanted me to let you know that they’re gonna be home late today,” my stepbrother, or rather, my younger brother suddenly reported to me from my doorway.
I’d finally finished unpacking and organizing my things from the move and was currently elegantly enjoying a mystery novel.
“Oh, okay. And?”
“Really?!” My stepbrother, Mizuto Irido, shot me a sour look.
Hm? I see. So even having to talk to me because he was told to is painful for him. Interesting.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked.
“Are you trying to say that dinner’s my responsibility? I’m not your mom.”
“I know. I was just asking you as a person who sits at the same dining table as me to weigh in on the decision. God, talking to you is a waste of time.”
You make me sound like I’m indecisive, but I’m better now. Better than when we first met.
My thin-as-a-beanpole stepbrother began tapping his toes on the floor out of irritation. The look in his eyes, which has always been on the menacing side, got even worse.
Truth be told, he had a picturesque face, but it was ruined by his unkempt hair and baggy clothing. His crappy attitude would usually piss me off, but because of that face, it didn’t. This, in turn, just got on my nerves even more.
“Fine, I’ll make dinner,” Mizuto said with a scowl. “You’ll just have to eat whatever I make. Got it?”
“You can cook?”
“A little. After all, it’s just been me and dad all this time. What about you— Ah.” Mizuto stopped himself while letting out a short laugh, a smile creeping up on his face.
This guy knew that I couldn’t cook. In the past, he finished an entire lunch I’d made for him that was pretty much on the level of industrial trash, and then he lied through his teeth, telling me, “It was so delicious.”
“Well, we’re family now, so it behooves me to throw you a bone here. Be thankful as you slop up the food I make like the pig you are.”
I internally swore that I would kill this guy one day, but for now, I quelled the murderous intent welling up inside me and tried to force the biggest smile that I could.
“Oh, that’s quite all right, Mizuto-kun. I couldn’t possibly let you do all the work by yourself. Allow me to help.”
“Don’t need it. I don’t want to deal with the pain of having to bandage up your hands like a mummy.”
“I’m saying that I don’t want to accept your one-sided charity, you cold-blooded guy.”
“Sheesh, I don’t wanna hear that from a cold-blooded girl like yourself.” Mizuto let out a haughty sigh in response as if it was his last breath, and I secretly hoped that it was, with the way he was acting all high and mighty.
“Fine, then let’s go,” he said.
“Go where?” I asked, tilting my head.
“To go buy groceries for dinner. Did you expect food to just pop out of thin air or something?”
What the heck is going on? Why was I with my ex at the supermarket not even a month after we broke up? We looked like we were newlyweds who were living together!
“Hm... Oh, this is cheap,” my ex-boyfriend said as he stood next to me while tossing various products into the cart.
Does this guy feel nothing from being in this situation? Just how dense is he? Or maybe he doesn’t even see me as a girl? Well, I guess we’re not “boy and girl” to each other but “little brother and big sister.”
I tried to calm myself, realizing that at this rate I was going to end up repeating the past where I’d get too worked up over something that he wasn’t even thinking about in the first place. I needed to stay calm.
“It just looks like you’re grabbing whatever you can get your hands on. Do you know what you’re making?” I asked.
“Hm? No idea.”
“What do you mean you have no idea?”
“I’m buying whatever’s cheap and seeing what we can make. If we buy everything according to a recipe, there’d be some things that we’d have to buy no matter how expensive they were, right?”
“I guess...” I begrudgingly agreed with his reasoning.
Is this what people call common sense? I never thought his wisdom stat was so high. What’s wrong with him? Why is it so high?
“In the worst case, if we can’t think of anything, we can just throw everything into a pot, add some curry roux, and have curry, albeit a scuffed version. I hope you now understand the difference between ‘making food’ and ‘making a meal,’ my little sister.”
“I’m not your little sister. I’m your older sister.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The more he explained himself, the more pathetic I felt for giving him that horribly made lunch way back when.
“Well, poorly made food can be kind of cute every now and then, but having it every day would be a little overkill. So just keep that in mind.” These words fell out of his mouth without even the slightest hint of difficulty, but both my body and mind froze.
C-Cute? This guy is just talking out of his ass again. Wait, no, he didn’t seem to be putting too much thought behind what he said, so maybe he truly meant it?
“What’s wrong? You coming?” he called out.
I didn’t even realize that I was just standing still in the middle of the aisle. I hurriedly ran to catch up to Mizuto, shaking my head in an effort to clear my unnecessary intrusive thoughts.
This really was just like back then, when I’d get the wrong impression while this guy would just remain aloof. It was the epitome of unfairness.
I’ll make him self-conscious. I’m going to take that unpleasant face of his and make it redder than a tomato. I’ll make him call me “onee-chan.”
After shopping, we came back home, reluctantly stood next to each other as we cooked, and then ate our curry. It was overall uneventful, aside from Mizuto freaking out while watching me use a kitchen knife and saying things like “Stop, you’re scaring me! Put your fingers like this!” and then thoughtlessly touching my hands without my permission.
Our parents weren’t home, so we didn’t have to pretend like we were getting along. If anything, it was easier for us this way.
“Bath’s ready. What do you want to do?” he asked.
“I’ll take mine first.”
“Thought as much,” he said, unsurprised.