Tsukiyama pulled the door open.
Shinobu stood there, holding her keys. Next to her was a cheerful, brown-haired girl holding a grocery bag, and a slightly older girl with glasses. And behind them, holding her school bag was a girl with dark purple hair covering one eye.
Touka Kirishima.
Touka looked up. She expected to see Shinobu's family. Instead, standing in the doorway, blocking the exit, was the Gourmet.
Touka froze, her Kakugan threatening to activate right there in the hallway. What the hell is he doing here? Is Shinobu his next meal? Or is this some kind of setup?
Tsukiyama paused. He looked at Touka, immediately recognizing the angry little waitress from Anteiku. He looked at the oblivious humans beside her. His eyes gleamed with amusement.
"Ah. Kamii University students," Tsukiyama said. He reached out and gently took Yoriko's hand, kissing her knuckles. Yoriko blushed profusely. He did the same to Kimi. "A pleasure. Do take care of yourselves."
He stepped past them into the hallway, flashing Touka a knowing smile before stepping into the elevator.
Touka went still, barely breathing.
"Come in," Shinobu said, oblivious or pretending to be.
Touka stepped inside, her eyes darting from corner to corner for any sign of blood or torture devices. Instead, she took in the floor-to-ceiling windows, the Tokyo skyline, a big flat-screen TV playing FIFA, and a boy with dead eyes lounging on a sofa.
Touka barely had time to process when Mitsuri jumped to her feet. "Wait... you're the girl?!"
Touka stumbled back. "Wait—I'm… what?!"
"Shinobu-chan talks about you!" Mitsuri grabbed both of Touka's hands, "You work at the café! I go to that café! I'm Mitsuri!"
"That's Mitsuri," Shinobu sighed, hanging up her coat. "She's always like this."
Manjiro got to his feet, stretching slightly. "Welcome to our place," he said, offering a lazy, charming smile. "I'm Manjiro. Shinobu mentions you all a lot… though mostly complaining about the pharmacology professor. I suspect she's got better stories than that."
Kimi and Yoriko turned bright red. They looked at the massive, expensive penthouse, looked at Manjiro, and immediately started whispering to Shinobu. "Is that your brother? Your roommate? Oh my god… is he single?"
Touka stared, unsure what to make of him. He smelled human enough, but there was something about the way he carried himself. And somehow, he was casually living in an apartment that the Gourmet had just walked out of.
"I brought ingredients," Yoriko blurted out. "I know nobody asked, but I figured I'd make something."
"Oh, that sounds great," Mitsuri said, smiling as she led Yoriko toward the kitchen.
Kimi followed Shinobu to the kitchen island, the two quickly falling into conversation about class. Touka was left standing awkwardly in the living room, feeling out of place. Even now, she couldn't quite relax after running into Tsukiyama.
Manjiro dropped back onto the couch, patting the space beside him and tossing over a spare controller.
Manjiro picked up his controller, then looked over at her. "You gonna keep standing there, or are you joining?"
Touka sat down rigidly on the very edge of the couch, gripping the spare controller tightly. "I… I'll play," she muttered.
Thirty minutes later, the dining table was overflowing. Bowls, plates, and utensils were scattered everywhere. Steam rose from pots, the air rich with spices and sauces, and the kitchen was busy.
Yoriko and Mitsuri laid out a feast: hamburger steaks, rolled omelets, tempura, and rice. The humans were practically drooling at the smell. Touka, however, wrinkled her nose. To Touka, it smelled like hot garbage and rotting sponge.
As everyone grabbed their seats, Yoriko couldn't help but ask the question on everyone's mind. "So… how do you two know each other, Manjiro?"
Shinobu and Mitsuri exchanged a brief glance before answering truthfully, yet offering no explanation that would make it any clearer.
"We're his wives." they said in unison.
The dining room went dead silent.
"EHHHHH?!" Yoriko and Kimi shrieked simultaneously, nearly dropping their chopsticks.
"W-Wives?!" Kimi sputtered, her face turning red. "Both of you? At the same time? Is that even legal?!"
Yoriko looked like she was about to faint from the sheer romantic scandal of it all, her imagination instantly spinning wild.
Touka, meanwhile, just pinched the bridge of her nose, felt her headache getting worse.
"Um... Asakura-san?" Yoriko asked nervously, holding out a piece of her specialty rolled omelet on her chopsticks. "Would you mind trying this?"
Manjiro leaned over, ate it right off her chopsticks, and chewed thoughtfully.
"Yoriko," he said, nodding in approval, "I was planning to die today, but this complicates things."
Yoriko smiled, clearly pleased. "Touka-chan," she said turning to her best friend, "try the hamburger steak. I made it just how you like it."
Touka's stomach dropped.
She stared at the steaming hamburger steak on her plate. This was the curse of her existence. She wanted to eat it. She wanted to share this warm, happy moment with her best friend more than anything in the world. But if she swallowed it, she would have to excuse herself to the bathroom in ten minutes and violently vomit it all back up.
She picked up her chopsticks, her hand trembling slightly. She prepared her mind for the disgusting texture of human food.
"Hold on."
Manjiro reached across the table with his own chopsticks and tapped the edge of Touka's plate. A faint, almost invisible golden spark rippled across the dish. By infusing the food with just a little Hamon, Manjiro temporarily gave the meal the exact spark of life-energy needed.
He then picked up the piece of hamburger steak right off Touka's plate.
Touka blinked, startled.
Manjiro held the piece of meat out to her.
"Try this piece," Manjiro said, his dark eyes locking onto hers.
Touka felt her cheeks heat up, caught between irritation and disbelief. Around them, Yoriko, Kimi, Shinobu, and Mitsuri were watching with obvious curiosity and far too much amusement.
Touka looked up from the plate, her single visible eye darting to Shinobu and Mitsuri.
Shinobu was sipping her water, her violet eyes calm and entirely knowing. She gave Touka a faint, encouraging nod. Mitsuri, meanwhile, was beaming with a bright, supportive smile that held no judgment whatsoever.
Her heart pounded. She leaned forward, opened her mouth, and took the meat from his chopsticks.
She closed her eyes, bracing for the taste of dirty rag that's been used to clean up shit and vomit.