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Not wanting to let the other's kindness go to waste, Hiromitsu Morofushi took a bite of the seemingly ordinary chocolate stick, and his eyes immediately lit up.
"Mmm... it's delicious."
"Right?"
However, more than that, there was one point he was even more concerned about.
"Have you always eaten like this? What about actual meals?" Hiromitsu couldn't help but ask. "While it might be fine for now, in the long run..."
Looking at Hisano Nozomi, who looked no different from a high schooler, he unconsciously adopted the same tone his older brother used with him.
"Convenience stores have plenty of rice balls and instant food," Satoru Gojo said as he organized his luggage, lying through his teeth. "And there are small restaurants on the street; I can change the flavor whenever I want."
"No, I mean..." Hiromitsu felt a headache coming on. "Doesn't anyone in your family cook?"
The black-haired youth gave him an odd look, his tone as flat as if he were discussing the weather.
"I don't have any family."
The fingers holding the snack stiffened as if they had been pricked.
"...I'm sorry, I didn't know."
"It's fine~" Satoru Gojo waved his hand. "Hiro-kun's expression looks like he just saw a stray cat digging through a trash can."
"I..."
Judging solely by Hisano Nozomi's behavior, Hiromitsu had assumed he grew up being pampered. With talent and a face favored by the gods, his school life would naturally have been smooth sailing, easily capturing the attention of others.
To think such a person was like him—without mother or father.
How could that be?
"If you want to know, I'll just tell you," Satoru Gojo said as he stuffed a box of daifuku into the wardrobe. "Mmm... I grew up in an orphanage in Nagano Prefecture and lived by myself after entering high school. Cooking is such a hassle; I'd rather just go out to eat."
Basing his story on the background generated by the system, spinning a lie so tragic it could move men to tears... even Satoru Gojo felt his conscience sting for a tiny, tiny, tiny bit.
Of course, the rapid increase in impression points quickly made that sting vanish without a trace.
"So... that's how it is."
After listening, the guilt in Hiromitsu Morofushi's heart grew even heavier. The fact that the other was also from Nagano added another layer to his empathy.
In reality, he and Hisano Nozomi were still very different. Although he had lost his parents early, he had at least once possessed their pure love, and his brother, Takaaki Morofushi, had always been by his side to care for him.
Hisano... no, Nozomi-kun, had been alone from the very start.
Hiromitsu suddenly felt that this seemingly arrogant and defiant genius was, perhaps unexpectedly, like the daifuku wrapper in his hand—crushed and deformed by the suitcase. Hard, cloying, yet carrying a hint of disheveled reality.
The youth with grey-blue eyes said nothing more until Satoru Gojo finished tidying up and flopped back onto the bed to roll around.
"So hungry... right, it's almost dinner time, isn't it?"
The black-haired youth stretched, picked up his cup ramen, and headed for the door. "I'm going out to soak this~"
"Wait, Nozomi—"
Seeing that the guy intended to have cup ramen for dinner, Hiromitsu quickly called out to him.
"Hmm?" Satoru Gojo paused and looked back. "What is it?"
"If..." Hiromitsu pursed his lips and said softly, "If you don't mind, would you like to try some of my cooking? Actually, I was just about to go to the supermarket outside the school to buy groceries..."
"Hiro-kun can cook?"
"Just at an average level..."
"Doesn't matter—"
The youth, who had somehow pounced right in front of him, raised his hand like a student answering a teacher in class.
"I want cream stew, curry pork cutlet, and hamburger steak!" Satoru Gojo began rattling off dishes.
"Eh?"
He pressed his hands together, his eyes shining. "Please, this is the request of a lifetime!"
"There's no need for that..."
Facing a sea of crimson stars, Hiromitsu Morofushi found it impossible to say no. "Do you want to come to the supermarket with me? If there's anything else you want to eat, we can buy it together."
"Of course!"
By the time Furuya Rei in the next room had finished shouting at Matsuda Jinpei and stomped over to find his best friend to complain about the curly-haired bastard—and incidentally ask about switching rooms—Room 144 was already empty.
"Huh? Where did Hiro go?"
Where's my giant childhood friend?!
He hasn't been kidnapped, has he!
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