Vol3 Chapter 13: Breakfast

A note was passed over, adorned with delicate handwriting.

“Want to go out together?”

The dull ache of her hangover still pounded in her head, her throat tight and parched. Bai Ci blinked, struggling to focus on Eri’s clear, stubborn ruby eyes.

“Out?” Her voice was slightly clearer but still hoarse, laced with confusion and post-drunken exhaustion. “You mean… leave here? Go have fun?”

“Brother caught me yesterday.”

Despite being foiled by Genji in her runaway attempt, Eri hadn’t given up.

Eri could be stubbornly persistent.

She nodded vigorously, her long lashes fluttering, her eyes brimming with pure anticipation and unshakable resolve.

Her newly recognized sister, at their first proper meeting, was handing her an “escape” invitation? And after yesterday’s failure, she was ready to try again?

Bai Ci rubbed her throbbing temples. The physical toll of the alcohol lingered, now compounded by the mental shock of Eri’s tenacity.

Seeing no immediate response, Eri scribbled quickly in her notebook and held it up again:

“But I want to go out and play.”

“After breakfast, we’ll sneak out.”

Before Bai Ci could protest, Eri grabbed her wrist, pulling her from the disinfectant-scented medical room. The hangover’s dizziness and bodily soreness made her steps unsteady, practically dragged by Eri’s deceptively frail arm, which held surprising strength. The corridor’s cool air hit her alcohol-warmed skin, sending a shiver through her and slightly clearing her foggy mind.

They reached a heavy door. Eri didn’t knock, pushing it open to reveal a world unlike Genji Heavy Industries’ cold steel—a cozy tatami room filled with lived-in warmth, though, like the rest of the place, it had no windows.

A small box held toys: plastic Ultraman and monster figures, a plush Rilakkuma, and more. A large LCD screen hung on the wall, connected to a PlayStation—likely one of Eri’s pastimes.

This was Eri’s castle, her world.

Eri released Bai Ci’s wrist and strode to a large cabinet by the toy pile, pulling it open. Inside were neatly folded red-and-white miko outfits, identical to hers. She carefully selected one and handed it to the still-dazed Bai Ci.

Bai Ci stared at the pristine miko outfit, then down at her own wrinkled, alcohol-scented clothes, grasping Eri’s plan.

“You… want me to wear this?” Her voice was hoarse, incredulous. Wear Eri’s outfit? Everyone at Genji Heavy Industries knew the red-and-white miko garb was Eri’s signature.

Eri nodded firmly, scribbling in her notebook:

“Your smell isn’t nice. Shower, then change.”

She pushed the outfit forward, her intent clear.

Bai Ci met Eri’s insistent ruby gaze, feeling the hangover’s ache and thirst, then glanced at the room’s toys and the sunlight streaming in…

Fine. She did smell bad—a mix of perfume, alcohol, and rain. Eri not calling her stenchy was generous enough.

Sighing in resignation, she took the miko outfit, its fabric soft and sun-scented.

Eri seemed pleased, sitting to watch her.

Bai Ci said nothing, heading to shower. About half an hour later, she emerged, feeling much better—the hangover’s misery eased.

Eri’s miko outfit was a size too small. The chest was tight, the sleeves short, exposing her pale wrists, and the hem hit mid-calf. Bai Ci tugged awkwardly at the collar and sleeves, feeling like she was wrapped in a delicate but ill-fitting shell.

Eri studied her, ruby eyes sparkling without mockery. She circled Bai Ci halfway, then nodded approvingly, as if finding her in the outfit amusing.

Then Eri approached the toy box, arranging the figures on the kotatsu table with care—Ultraman and the monster side by side, Rilakkuma claiming its own corner.

Sitting at the table, she opened one of two bento boxes, clapped her hands together, and began.

Eri always ate breakfast alone.

It was routine.

Besides Genji and Masamune Tachibana, she had no close companions. They were busy, too busy to join her for breakfast.

Even alone, the little miko always wore her favorite outfit, clapped her hands before her toys, and silently thought, Itadakimasu (“Let’s eat”).

Bai Ci watched quietly, then sat beside Eri, mimicking her hand-clap. Finally, she said, “Itadakimasu.”

Her voice, still husky from the shower, rang clear in the quiet room. Eri paused, her long lashes lifting, her ruby eyes flicking to Bai Ci, then away.

She hadn’t expected anyone to join her small ritual, and a tiny spark of satisfaction bloomed within her.

Steaming rice, fragrant with nori, was dotted with glossy umeboshi. Beside it, rich miso soup held bits of tofu and wakame. The other bento had delicate tamagoyaki and grilled salmon—a classic Japanese breakfast.

Eri picked up her chopsticks with near-reverent care. She lifted a bit of rice with an umeboshi, held it before Rilakkuma for a second as if sharing, then ate. She “fed” Ultraman and the monster air, too, before eating herself, chewing quietly like a cat.

Bai Ci opened her own bento, the same meal wafting tempting aromas. Her empty, hungover stomach growled softly.

She ate silently, occasionally glancing at Eri. The little miko ate with focus, her lashes casting soft shadows. She’d look at her toys, her gaze gentle, as if they were dining companions. The light bathed her, gilding the edges of her red miko outfit and the soft lines of her neck.

It was almost sacredly quiet.

Yet so achingly lonely.