After our argument had reached a deadlock, there was a knock at the sliding door.

When Yarai-san answered, it opened to reveal her mother.

“Ritsu-chan, is your home around here?”
“Um… two stations by train.”
“Then that’s still fine… How about joining us for dinner tonight?”
“Wah?!”

A weird sound escaped me. I mean, it was my first time at their house, and now dinner?

Honestly, I wanted to refuse—but invitations like this are so hard to turn down…

“Mom, you talk all high and mighty, but I’m the one cooking, right?”
“Huuh!?”

Another strange noise escaped me. Wait, Yarai-san can cook? That was way too surprising…

Apparently she noticed the expression on my face.

“Oh, Kaidou-san, that look—are you doubting I can actually cook?”
“…Well, I guess I am.”
“Alright then! I’ll teach you a lesson!”

That phrase doesn’t mean proving someone wrong, you know…¹

Without waiting for my reply, Yarai-san rolled up her sleeves and left the room.

That left just me and her mother.

“…Um, I guess I’ll join you for dinner, then.”

I remembered telling Shirabe to leave food for me before I left. I should message her later.

“Okay, come to the living room.”

I moved as instructed. As expected, this room was smaller than my own home’s.

Their kitchen wasn’t a modern system kitchen, just an old-fashioned setup.

With her hair tied at the back of her head and an apron on, she looked like a newlywed. Silent, she really was that kind of woman…

I had been skeptical of her cooking skills, but it looked like she really could cook.

Watching her work with practiced hands, it was obvious she spent a lot of time in the kitchen—definitely more than me.

I felt a little guilty just standing there and watching.

“Yarai-san, can I help with anything?”
“Nope. Kaidou-san, you’re the guest, so just relax.”

She didn’t look away from her work as she spoke.

“I see…”

Knowing her, it probably didn’t mean “don’t get in my way,” but it was still a clear notice that I wasn’t needed. So I ended up standing there, idle.

I wondered what she was making. Since I never cook, I had no idea what was going on just by watching.

“Ritsu-chan, you don’t cook either?”

I’d been staring blankly at Yarai-san’s back when her mother spoke.

Looking up, I saw her already downing a can of beer. On the table in front of her was some chilled tofu. Had Yarai-san made that too?

“Yeah, I’m hopeless at cooking.”
“Cooking’s such a hassle, isn’t it?”
“Y-yeah…”

Earlier, Yarai-san’s mother had looked so composed and impressive, but now… well, she looked completely different. Yet somehow, this more casual demeanor really did feel like the mother of Yarai Tsuzuri. I realized just how rude that sounded in my head.

“So she cooks because you’re busy?”
“Well, that was the start of it. But before I knew it, she’d taken the lead in the kitchen.”
“Mom’s cooking isn’t tasty!”

Yarai-san, who’d been listening to our conversation, suddenly shouted. I had no idea how to react to that brutally honest statement. Laughing would probably be rude…

Then I realized the important part: Her mother was laughing her head off.

“And there you have it! And honestly… yeah, I’ve thought it myself. Always felt mine was a bit off.”
“H-huh…”
“And maybe… just maybe, the reason my husband ran off was because of my cooking? Haha!”

She said, laughing as she downed her beer.

…Yep. These two are definitely parent and child.

Not just in appearance—their mentalities were nearly identical.

The way they casually discussed topics that would make anyone else completely awkward… it was uncanny.

I mean, who talks about their husband running off to another family’s child on the first meeting? No matter how clever I tried to be, I couldn’t think of a smooth response.

“Mom, there’s no point telling Kaidou-san that, you know?”

Finally, a lifeline. Out of nowhere, Yarai-san stepped in with common sense and scolded her mother.

Could it be… the daughter is actually the more reasonable one?

“Kaidou-san, can you serve the rice? Mom isn’t moving now.”
“Oh, sure. Where’s the rice bowl?”
“In that cupboard.”

Seeing my hesitation, Yarai-san handed me a task. I gratefully accepted.

I stood up and headed to the rice cooker on the rack next to the kitchen. There were only supposed to be three of us, but the amount of rice cooked looked enough for four. Probably more than a typical family of three would eat.

I spooned rice into the bowls, estimating the portions. I didn’t know how much Yarai-san or her mother would eat, but since both were women, this seemed reasonable.

Or so I thought.

“Kaidou-san, why is there only that much rice? You should scoop more!”

Yarai-san popped her head over and peered into the bowl.

“Uh… isn’t this enough?”
“Oh, no, Ritsu-chan. Let her do her own rice. She eats a lot.”
“H-huh…”

Following her mother’s instructions, I handed the rice paddle to Yarai-san.

She planted herself in front of the rice cooker and scooped the rice with dramatic flair. Then she slammed it into the bowl. A literal manga-style mountain of rice.

I stared, dumbfounded. Yarai-san looked at me and asked,

“Kaidou-san, you also want about this much?”
“No way…”

I politely declined.