Naoko stood there holding multiple grocery bags in both hands.
Completely normal.
No blood.
No injuries.
No disturbing expression.
Just… groceries.
She blinked at my face once before laughing suddenly.
"Why do you look like you expected me to return holding a severed head?"
"I DIDN'T…!"
"You absolutely did."
"I didn't!"
"Haruko," she said while walking inside casually, "you look one second away from calling the police."
"…You came home late!"
"Yes. Because shopping takes time."
She lifted one of the bags slightly.
"Especially when elderly women start fighting over discount strawberries."
I stared at her speechlessly.
Naoko closed the door behind herself and smirked slightly.
"That expression is adorable, by the way."
"I'm not making an expression."
"You look traumatized by vegetables."
I hated that she sounded genuinely entertained.
Then I frowned slightly.
"…Why did you even buy all this?"
Naoko walked toward the kitchen while answering casually.
"I saw something online."
That somehow worried me immediately.
"…What kind of something?"
"A recipe."
I blinked.
"A recipe?"
"Mhm."
She placed the bags onto the counter dramatically.
"For chocolate cake."
I stared at her.
"You went shopping… for cake ingredients?"
"Yes."
"…At night?"
"Yes."
"…After…"
Naoko paused thoughtfully.
"…When you say it like that, I sound unstable."
"You ARE unstable."
"Rude."
She started unpacking ingredients afterward while humming quietly to herself.
Eggs.
Chocolate.
Flour.
Milk.
It looked bizarrely normal.
Like watching an older sister instead of a serial killer.
And somehow…
That felt more unsettling than the knife.
About thirty minutes later, I was still sitting on the couch listening to sounds from the kitchen.
Cabinets opening.
Metal bowls clanking.
Naoko muttering angrily under her breath.
Then suddenly
"OH COME ON!"
I jumped slightly.
"WHY WON'T THIS WORK?!"
A loud metallic sound followed immediately after.
"I HATE MEASUREMENTS."
I quickly got up and walked toward the kitchen.
And immediately froze again.
The kitchen looked like a disaster zone.
There was flour everywhere.
Chocolate batter somehow covered part of the counter.
One egg shell sat directly inside a bowl like it had given up on life.
And in the middle of all of it stood Naoko staring at a pan with pure betrayal.
"…What happened?" I asked weakly.
Naoko pointed dramatically at the bowl.
"It separated."
"…What separated?"
"The thing."
"That explains nothing."
Naoko sighed heavily.
"I followed the tutorial exactly."
I glanced toward her phone.
The video was paused.
Step one.
Naoko had somehow already failed at step one.
I looked back at the counter slowly.
"…Did you even measure anything?"
"Yes."
"…How?"
She pointed at a mug.
I stared at her in disbelief.
"That's not a measuring cup."
"It's cup-shaped."
"…"
Naoko crossed her arms defensively.
"Well excuse me for not being born as a bakery employee."
I couldn't stop myself from laughing a little.
A real laugh this time.
Small.
But real.
Naoko blinked slightly after hearing it.
Then narrowed her eyes dramatically.
"…Are you making fun of me?"
"Yes."
"Cruel. I opened my home to you."
"You nearly made chocolate soup."
"It was emotionally cake."
I laughed again despite myself.
Naoko looked at the ruined batter with visible disappointment afterward.
"…I don't know how to cook," she admitted finally. "Or bake."
"You can't do either?"
"I can kill someone quietly in under five minutes."
"That is NOT the same skill."
"It should count for something."
I rubbed my forehead tiredly before sighing.
"…Move."
Naoko blinked.
"Hm?"
"I'll do it."
For a moment, she looked genuinely surprised.
"You can bake?"
"…Before my mom got busy with work," I said quietly, "I used to make cakes for her sometimes."
The kitchen became quieter for a second after that.
Naoko looked at me silently.
Then slowly stepped aside.
"Alright," she said softly this time.
And for once…
She listened.
Naoko stayed beside the counter while I started fixing the disaster she created earlier.
I tied my hair back first before looking around the kitchen.
"…How did you even manage this?"
Naoko leaned against the counter innocently.
"Talent."
"There's flour on the ceiling."
"I was experimenting."
"With gravity?"
Naoko ignored that completely.
I sighed and started pulling ingredients closer.
"Okay. First, we need to restart everything."
"From scratch?"
"Yes."
"That sounds emotionally exhausting."
"You emotionally exhausted the batter already."
Naoko gasped softly like I had insulted her entire bloodline.
"That was rude."
"You put egg shells into the bowl."
"Extra crunch."
"Sensei, no."
For some reason, hearing me say that made her laugh immediately.
Not the creepy laugh.
A real one.
Light and stupid and weirdly normal.
I tried ignoring how strange it felt hearing that sound from her.
At first, Naoko mostly just watched me work.
But after a while, she slowly started helping too.
Or… trying to help.
Which honestly made everything harder.
"Can you hand me the sugar?"
Naoko confidently grabbed the salt.
"…That's salt."
"…They look similar."
"One ruins cake."
"One ruins people," she corrected casually.
I stared at her.
Naoko blinked once.
"…Too much?"
"WAY too much."
Five minutes later…
"Sensei, wait!"
"What?"
"You're mixing too aggressively."
"It's called passion."
"The bowl is shaking."
"That means I'm winning."
"You're fighting cake batter!"
Naoko looked genuinely defensive about it.
"It started first."
I couldn't stop a small laugh from escaping again.
The kitchen slowly became warmer as we worked.
Chocolate melted softly on the stove.
The smell became richer and sweeter.
The sound of mixing and quiet conversation filled the silence that usually haunted the house.
And somehow…
For a little while…
It almost felt normal.
Which scared me a little.
Because I kept forgetting who I was standing beside.
Eventually, after fixing Naoko's earlier "experimental tragedy," the cake finally went into the oven successfully.
Naoko stared through the oven window dramatically.
"…It's baking."
"Yes."
"…I made that."
"No. We made that."
She looked offended immediately.
"You're removing my artistic contribution."
"Your artistic contribution almost violated food safety laws."
Naoko crossed her arms.
"Perfection takes sacrifice."
"Not from the stomach."
About an hour later, the cake was finally done.
I carefully placed it onto the counter after decorating it properly.
Chocolate frosting.
Soft layers.
Small strawberries on top.
The smell filled the entire kitchen instantly.
Warm.
Sweet.
Comforting.
Naoko stared at it silently for a few seconds.
"…What the hell," she whispered softly.
I blinked.
"…Is that bad?"
"No," she said immediately. "That looks illegally good!"
Before I could respond, Naoko suddenly pulled out her phone.
And started taking pictures.
From every angle.
"…Sensei."
"Hold on."
"…Sensei."
"Lighting is important."
She crouched slightly for a lower angle.
Then moved around the counter again.
Then leaned dangerously close to the cake like some kind of food photographer possessed her body.
"…Why are you taking so many pictures?"
Naoko looked at me like the answer was obvious.
"Because nobody will believe I participated in creating this."
"You barely did anything!"
"I emotionally supported the process."
"You threw flour at me!"
"So what?"
"That made it worse!"
Naoko ignored me and took another picture proudly.
Then finally,
she smiled.
Not her usual smile.
Not the fake cheerful teacher smile.
Not the unstable terrifying smile.
This one looked…
Bright.
Almost childish.
Like she was genuinely happy over something small for once.
And weirdly enough.
That expression looked stranger on her than blood ever did.
I stared at her without meaning to.
Naoko noticed immediately.
"…What?"
"…Nothing."
"You're staring."
"You're smiling weird."
Naoko looked personally attacked.
"This is my normal smile."
"No it's not."
"…Rude."
Eventually we sat down together at the table.
Naoko cut the first slice dramatically like this was some life-changing event.
Then she took the first bite.
Silence.
I watched nervously.
Naoko stopped moving completely.
"…Sensei?"
Still silence.
Then slowly—
Her eyes widened.
"This is… amazing!"
I blinked.
"Huh?"
Naoko immediately took another bite.
Then another.
Then pointed at me with the fork.
"Why are you not working at a bakery?"
"…Because I'm sixteen?"
"Valid point."
She took another bite again before suddenly going quiet.
Completely quiet.
At first, I thought she was just focused on eating, but after a while I realized she was actually thinking about something.
Naoko rested her fork down slowly and leaned back in her chair, eyes drifting toward the ceiling.
The kitchen became strangely calm again.
I watched her carefully.
"…What?" I asked eventually.
Naoko didn't answer immediately.
She kept thinking for another few seconds before finally looking back at me.
Then casually—
"Well," she said, "you do need to make money eventually."
I blinked.
"…Huh?"
Naoko pointed at me slightly with her fork.
"Your mother can't support you anymore."
The sentence hit me harder than I expected.
Not because she sounded cruel.
But because she sounded practical.
And that somehow hurt more.
My eyes lowered toward the table automatically.
Right.
Money.
Rent.
Food.
School.
Life.
I had been so overwhelmed by grief and fear that I hadn't even properly thought about what happened after this.
My chest tightened slightly.
"…I didn't even think about that yet," I admitted quietly.
Naoko hummed lightly.
"That's normal."
I stayed silent.
Then Naoko added casually:
"And before you ask, no, I'm not rich enough to permanently adopt emotionally damaged teenagers."
I stared at her.
"…Adopt?"
Naoko shrugged.
"You're already living in my house."
"That's temporary!"
"Mhm."
"You sound unconvinced."
"I sound realistic."
I frowned slightly while Naoko took another bite of cake.
Then suddenly,
"…Actually."
She paused mid-bite again.
That immediately worried me.
"What now?"
Naoko swallowed before speaking.
"I might know someone."
"…Someone?"
"A friend."
The word friend coming from Naoko somehow felt unbelievable already.
"You have friends?"
Naoko looked offended immediately.
"Haruko. I'm mentally unstable, not socially extinct."
"That did not answer my question."
Naoko ignored me completely.
"She's rich," Naoko continued casually. "Very rich. The annoying kind of rich."
"…That's a category?"
"She once complained because her vacation house had weak wifi."
I blinked slowly.
"…There are multiple houses?"
"She's a terrible person financially."
"That's not even a sentence."
Naoko leaned her cheek against one hand lazily.
"She's been wanting to open a bakery for a while now."
That caught my attention slightly.
"A bakery…?"
"Mhm."
Naoko pointed toward the cake dramatically.
"But she keeps complaining she can't find the right baker."
I stared at her for a second.
Then realization slowly hit me.
"…Wait."
Naoko smiled slightly.
"You might actually be exactly the kind of person she's looking for."
I immediately shook my head.
"No way."
"Why not?"
"I'm sixteen…"
"And?"
"I'm not a professional!"
"She's not looking for a professional. She's looking for someone who can make people emotionally ascend through chocolate."
"That's not a real qualification!"
"It should be."
I looked down awkwardly.
"…I only know basic stuff."
Naoko immediately pointed at the cake again.
"That cake could heal depression."
"That's dramatic."
"I'm serious. I almost forgave humanity after one bite."
I accidentally laughed quietly again.
Naoko watched me for a moment afterward before continuing more softly.
"You're good at something, Haruko."
The words made me pause.
"You should stop acting surprised by that."
I didn't know how to answer immediately.
Because most people in my life only pointed out my flaws.
Too quiet.
Too awkward.
Too weak.
Not good.
Never good.
Naoko took another bite before speaking again.
"And honestly," she added casually, "you'd probably fit a bakery better than normal school life anyway."
"…What's that supposed to mean?"
"You have the energy of someone who apologizes to furniture after bumping into it."
"…I HAVE done that."
"I know."
"How do you know that?!"
"You radiate apology."
"That's not a thing!"
Naoko laughed quietly again.
Then after a small pause, her expression softened slightly.
"You know," she said more gently this time, "I'm not joking."
I looked at her.
"If you need work eventually," she continued, "I can introduce you to her."
"…Why?"
Naoko blinked once.
"Because you need a future."
The sentence came out strangely simple.
Like it was obvious.
But something about hearing it made my chest feel tight again.
Future.
Ever since my mother died, the word itself felt blurry.
Broken.
Like my life had suddenly stopped moving forward.
But Naoko said it so naturally.
Like she already expected me to survive this.
I looked down quietly at the half-finished cake.
"…Do you really think I could do something like that?"
Naoko didn't even hesitate.
"Yes."
The answer came too fast to be fake.
And somehow…
That scared me a little too.
Time skip!!
Saturday morning felt quieter than usual.
No school uniforms.
No crowded hallways.
No whispers following me around.
Just silence.
Warm silence.
I was still half asleep under the blanket, barely awake while staring at the wall lazily.
My thoughts drifted back to last night's conversation without permission.
A future.
The word still felt strange in my chest.
Bakery.
Work.
Money.
Living.
Normal things.
Things I stopped imagining after my mother died.
I turned slightly onto my side and pulled the blanket closer around myself.
Then suddenly…
BANG.
The bedroom door flew open so hard it slammed against the wall.
I practically died.
I shot upright instantly with a strangled scream.
"AH—?!"
Naoko stood dramatically in the doorway holding a coffee mug.
And immediately burst into laughter.
Not small laughter.
Full laughing.
She almost leaned against the doorframe from how hard she was laughing.
"Oh my god," she wheezed. "I missed scaring you."
My heart was still violently trying to escape my body.
"W-WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
Naoko pointed at me while still laughing.
"Your face—"
"I THOUGHT SOMEONE DIED!"
Naoko blinked once.
"…That sentence means less in this house."
"That's NOT comforting!"
She laughed again.
Meanwhile I was clutching my blanket like it personally protected me from emotional damage.
Naoko finally calmed down enough to sip her coffee.
"…Good morning."
"That was NOT a normal good morning!"
"It woke you up efficiently."
"You nearly sent me into cardiac arrest!"
Naoko hummed thoughtfully.
"Understandable."
I glared at her tiredly.
She looked way too proud of herself.
Then suddenly she straightened slightly.
"Oh right."
"What now?"
"Get dressed."
I blinked.
"…Why?"
Naoko casually took another sip.
"My friend is coming over."
That woke me up immediately.
"The rich one?"
"Mhm."
I stared at her in horror.
"WAIT TODAY?!"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?!"
Naoko looked genuinely confused.
"…I just did."
"That's not EARLIER!"
She ignored my suffering completely.
"She wanted to meet you."
"Why?!"
Naoko pointed toward the kitchen downstairs.
"You weaponized chocolate."
"That sentence sounds criminal!"
"It was life-changing."
I buried my face into my hands for a second.
Meanwhile Naoko looked completely relaxed.
"Relax," she said casually. "She's weird too."
"That does NOT help!"
"It should."
Then she walked away from the doorway before stopping briefly.
"Oh, and wear something normal."
"…What does that mean?"
Naoko looked back at me thoughtfully.
"…Actually…nevermind. My entire wardrobe looks emotionally exhausted anyway."
"LEAVE."
Naoko laughed again and finally disappeared downstairs.
I immediately grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it toward the closed door.
It hit nothing.
Which somehow made me angrier.
About thirty minutes later, I slowly walked downstairs after changing clothes.
Naoko was sitting on the couch casually drinking coffee while scrolling through her phone.
She glanced up immediately.
"Hm."
I instantly got nervous.
"What?"
"You look alive today."
"…Thanks?"
"That was a compliment."
"That's the worst compliment I've ever heard."
Naoko smiled slightly into her coffee.
Then—
Ding dong.
The doorbell rang through the house.
My body stiffened slightly.
Naoko looked toward the front door calmly.
"Oh. She's here."
For some reason, I suddenly felt nervous.
"What kind of person is she exactly…?"
Naoko thought about it for a second.
"…Rich."
"That explains nothing."
"She once bought a six thousand dollar chair because it 'felt emotionally supportive.'"
I stared at her.
"…What?"
"She's dramatic. You'll survive."
Then Naoko pointed toward the door.
"Go open it."
"…Why me?!"
"Because I'm comfortable."
"That's not a reason!"
"It is for me."
I stared at her in betrayal while she relaxed deeper into the couch like this was somehow my responsibility now.
The doorbell rang again.
Naoko looked at me lazily.
"She can smell fear by the way."
"STOP SAYING THINGS LIKE THAT."
Naoko grinned.
I took one last nervous breath before slowly walking toward the front door.
My hand hesitated on the handle for a second.
Then I opened it carefully.
And froze.
Standing there was a tall woman wearing black sunglasses despite the cloudy weather, holding an expensive-looking handbag in one hand and a tiny white dog in the other.
The dog was wearing clothes more expensive than mine.
The woman lowered her sunglasses slightly.
Then stared directly at me.
Silence.
"…Oh," she said finally.
A slow smile appeared on her face.
"So this is the emotionally damaged teenager."