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Chapter 177 – Apron, and Doubts
🕑 Added 2025-09-25 17:36:02 +0000 UTCThe chocolate dango wasn’t too sweet—just right. As the signature item of this dessert shop, it truly lived up to its reputation.
After their conversation—and the unexpected confession that had left the air heavy—Ryo tugged Aoki Kei inside the shop. Surprisingly, she didn’t bring the topic up again.
They ordered, then sat in a comfortable, if slightly awkward, silence, eating quietly.
About thirty minutes later, just as they finished, Niji-san sent a message: they’d already bought all the ingredients.
After a brief exchange, they decided to head straight to Aoki Kei’s apartment and meet there.
It was rush hour, so instead of squeezing into the packed trains, Aoki Kei and Yamada Ryo hailed a taxi. They arrived earlier than the others.
Ryo waited in the living room while Aoki Kei went into the kitchen to prepare.
He rinsed the copper pot they would use for hotpot.
Just as he set it down, there was a knock at the door.
Ryo went to answer it, and in came Nijika, Kita, and Bocchi-chan.
“Ah—Ryo-senpai!”
Carrying bags of ingredients, Kita peeked around from the back of the group, glancing around before greeting Ryo.
“We bought a ton of stuff. There’s no way we’ll finish all of this tonight…” She lifted one of the bags for Ryo to see, then blinked playfully.
“By the way, where’s Kei-senpai?”
Ryo stepped aside to let them in.
At Kita’s question, she froze for a split second, then quickly answered, “In the kitchen, cleaning up the cookware.”
“Ohhh, I see.” Kita nodded, giving Nijika and Bocchi-chan a gentle push forward. “Let’s go inside, then—”
Just as Aoki Kei stepped out of the kitchen, they entered the living room.
“Thanks for going out of your way,” he greeted.
“It’s no trouble—we only did a quick round at the supermarket,” Nijika replied, setting the bags down. “Were you washing kitchenware? I can help.”
“No need, I just finished.”
“Then I’ll start prepping the ingredients—can I use the same apron as last time?”
Nijika rolled up her sleeves, ready to work. But before Kei could answer, Kita jumped in.
“I’ll help too! Oh—Kei-senpai, I also bought those corn sausages you liked. Remember? You said they were really good when I put them in your bento last time.”
She pulled a small pack out of the shopping bag—its packaging featured a cartoon corn mascot—and held it up proudly.
Kei gave her a brief nod and a “Thanks.”
But Nijika… froze for a moment.
She watched Kita’s easy, practiced movements, the casual way she smiled, and the warmth in Kei’s tone.
They looked so comfortable together. Too comfortable.
A faint, inexplicable ache stirred in her chest.
It wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t overwhelming.
Just a quiet, persistent discomfort, a strange mix of possessiveness and uncertainty that shouldn’t have been there at all.
At that moment, Nijika realized—
At some point, without her knowing, Kita had started making lunches for Kei.
When had they gotten this close?
To the point of preparing food for each other… could they still be “just friends”?
Her thoughts tangled, spiraling.
She quickly forced herself to stop.
Lowering her gaze, she forced a smile and said softly, “I’ll get started in the kitchen, then.”
But once she stepped into the kitchen, the thoughts returned, unbidden.
No matter how hard she tried to shut them out, they kept slipping in.
The sound of running water filled the air.
She stared down at the leafy greens in her hands, momentarily lost in thought.
They had bought a surprising variety of food—more than many hotpot restaurants offered.
Once everything was prepped, Kei plugged in the pot and added the soup bases.
At Kita’s request, just like last time, there was one clear broth and one spicy broth.
By six o’clock, the soup was gently boiling, ready for ingredients.
Kita sat poised, ready to take on the spicy challenge again.
Ryo and Nijika stuck to the clear broth.
Bocchi, as always, sat tense and cautious.
It had been a while since their last hotpot together.
In some ways, things had changed.
In others, they hadn’t at all.
The evening passed in a warm, easy atmosphere.
Around eight, Nijika put down her chopsticks and excused herself, saying she had something to take care of at home.
Bocchi-chan followed suit, making her own excuse.
With nearly half the group gone, it was time to wrap up.
Kei began cleaning up, but when Ryo and Kita offered to help, he waved them off.
Eventually, they also prepared to leave.
He stacked plates, tied up the trash, poured out the leftover broth, and set the copper pot aside.
Just as he was about to wash the dishes, he heard the door open—Kita and Ryo were gone.
Exhaling softly, he turned on the tap—then paused.
He wasn’t wearing his apron.
Reaching for it, his hand froze mid-air.
The apron was still hanging in its place, perfectly neat, untouched.
Out on the street, the November night was cold.
Ryo breathed out, watching the white mist form in the glow of the streetlamps.
They walked together for a short while before Kita, whose route home was different, prepared to say goodbye.
But Ryo spoke first.
Looking up at the streetlight—not at Kita—her voice was quiet, almost questioning, yet somehow certain.
“Kita… you like Suki-san, don’t you?”
