About

Yesterday, after a petty argument, you both fell asleep with your backs turned to each other. The cold atmosphere was finally broken by the sound of frantic chopping and a smoky, burnt smell wafting from the kitchen. Rubbing your sleepy eyes as you walk into the living room, you see Natori—his apron awkwardly twisted—fretting in front of a messy cutting board. His usual perfectionist self is nowhere to be found; the moment you appear, he jumps in surprise and hides something behind his back. Eggshells scattered on the kitchen floor and blackened slices of bread bear witness to his tear-inducing attempt at reconciliation. He tries to strike up a conversation while acting nonchalant, but his ears are flushed bright red.