Capítulo 14: Chapter 14: Beef Bowl
When we stepped into the dormitory, Mitsuru was already seated in the lounge, her eyes fixed on the television as the faint glow of the screen lit her features. The local news anchor was reporting on the so-called "mysterious illness" sweeping the city: Apathy Syndrome. The grim-faced reporter spoke of rising cases, now tallying around five patients under hospital care.
Mitsuru turned her gaze toward us as we entered. Her eyes briefly flicked from our faces to the takeout bags we carried, then back to us.
"You're back," she said. "You came back together. That's good."
"Good evening, Kirijo-san," I greeted half-heartedly, my attention drifting to the television. "Didn't realize the TV even worked. And the news…"
She nodded, following my line of sight. "We rarely use it, but yes… As expected, the number of Apathy Syndrome cases is increasing. It's small for now—just in the tens—but in a few months?" Her tone grew heavier. "Who knows."
I glanced at Akihiko, whose jaw had tightened. His hands clenched into fists, a spark of frustration evident in his posture.
"Mitsuru, let me patrol tonight," he said abruptly.
Mitsuru sighed, a familiar weariness settling over her. "Don't overdo it."
"I won't." He didn't wait for further discussion, striding toward the stairs. His departure left a strange silence in his wake, broken only by the droning background noise of the news.
I moved to the couch opposite Mitsuru and placed my food on the table. She didn't acknowledge me at first, her attention drifting back to the television—except for a brief glance at the takeout bags.
"You're not going with him?" I asked, leaning back slightly.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "My involvement in patrolling isn't necessary. I only accompany the team for explorations in Tartarus." Her eyes flicked to the bag again, though she tried to keep her expression neutral.
Was she… eyeing my beef bowl?
I followed her gaze and smiled faintly. "Are you hungry, Kirijo-san?"
Her eyes widened slightly before she composed herself, closing them with a small sigh. "No. I've already eaten."
"You sure?" I asked, suppressing a chuckle. "I bought two bowls just in case. Midnight snack, you know? But if you want one, it's yours."
Her expression softened, though she cleared her throat, attempting to maintain her composed demeanor. "Well… if you insist."
I chuckled and slid one of the bowls across the table, placing a set of chopsticks on top. "C'mon, let's move to the dining room. Better to eat there than here."
—
As we settled at the dining table and opened our beef bowl takeout containers, the rich aroma of seasoned beef and onions wafted into the air. With a pair of chopsticks in hand, I dug in, but my gaze kept drifting toward Mitsuru. Her expression was… unexpected, as if she were experiencing something entirely new.
"This flavor…" she murmured softly, clearly not intending for me to hear—but I did. "It's so… refreshing, considering how simple the dish is."
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Your reaction is a bit dramatic, Kirijo-san. It's just a beef bowl."
Realizing I had caught her slip, a faint blush crept up her cheeks. True to form, she quickly regained her composure. "Forgive me," she said with a measured tone. "I've never had the chance to eat food like this growing up. I must admit, I'm curious about all the things I've missed."
Ah, yes, her social link—trying out "normal" experiences for the first time. Maybe I could get closer to her through this…
"How come?" I asked, feigning casual curiosity. "A beef bowl is as basic as it gets. Even if your family chef planned all your meals, you could've just asked for it."
"I never… questioned what was served to me," she admitted, almost wistfully. "How about you, Ginba-san? You seem knowledgeable about this type of food."
I smiled, shrugging. "It's cheap, filling, and tastes great. What's not to like? You can get it almost anywhere."
"I see…" She paused, her eyes lingering on the bowl. "We truly are quite different."
"What were you expecting?" I said. "Somebody completely different?"
Her silence lingered for a moment before she met my gaze. "Perhaps," she admitted. "When I first heard about this… arrangement, I expected someone typical of a corporate heir: stoic, stern, and… entitled. When a person grows up in wealth and privilege, they tend to be spoiled. I assumed I'd have to endure your whims, as long as they didn't cross the line. But you've proven me wrong."
"Wow," I laughed softly. "You thought so little of me."
"Forgive me," she said sincerely, setting her chopsticks above the bowl. "It's difficult to adjust to someone who is so…" She searched for the word. "Casual. Friendly, even. I don't excel in situations like these."
"Really?" I grinned. "I just figured I made you uncomfortable. You've seemed pretty tense around me all week."
She sighed, shaking her head. "Not uncomfortable. Uncertain. I'm unused to this kind of dynamic, that's all. But I see now that you're trying to make the best of this situation, and I appreciate that. I'll try as well. This… isn't an easy arrangement for either of us. I feel guilty that you've been dragged into my family's problems."
"Don't blame yourself." I waved it off. "Blame my father, if anything. He's the one who put me in this position."
For the first time since our conversation began, a genuine, peaceful quiet settled between us. Not awkward or strained—just a shared, silent understanding. We finished our meals in companionable silence, the tension from earlier all but gone.
As I leaned back with a satisfied sigh, I couldn't help but smirk. "Well, that was a good talk. Who'd have guessed all it took to break the ice was a beef bowl?"
Mitsuru chuckled softly, a rare sound. "Am I that obvious?"
"Just a little," I replied, smiling. "Tell you what—I'll get you another one next time. But for now, I'll leave you to your thoughts. Goodnight, Kirijo-san."
"Goodnight, Ginba-san," she said, her voice lighter than before.
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