Mother’s Return

Erina's eyes grew misty.

Tears threatened to fall, but—as always—she held them back.

She had trained herself to be strong. To never show weakness. Not in front of others.

But deep down…

For all the hatred she held toward her mother, Mana Nakiri, there was still a sliver of longing. A desperate, childlike yearning for the kind of love everyone else seemed to have without effort.

There were countless nights when she'd imagined it—falling asleep in her mother's arms, feeling safe, for once, in her life.

But that kind of peace… had always been a dream too far away.

Her gaze dropped to the now-empty ceramic bowl.

A simple dish had stirred so many complicated feelings.

If she really were to meet her mother again one day…

What would she say?

Could she forgive her?

Could the distance, the silence, the pain between them ever truly be repaired?

No one had the answer to that.

"Interesting," Rindō murmured, arms folded, eyes on Erina.

"A plain old Oyakodon," she mused aloud, "and it nearly made the Queen of Ice herself cry…"

She leaned back, eyes half-lidded in thought.

There really were dishes that could move people to tears.

Sure, spicy foods could bring about tears through sheer physical intensity.

But then there were dishes like this—ones that touched the soul. Dishes that didn't need an elaborate backstory or theatrical plating.

Their magic came from resonance.

Sometimes it was the nostalgia.

Sometimes, the warmth.

And sometimes… the love.

Zane's food didn't rely on complex techniques or luxury ingredients.

But it was always warm. Always heartfelt.

It had a way of filling more than just the stomach—it filled something empty in the soul.

Even Rindō, free-spirited as she was, had her own moments of sentimentality—moments where the smell of street food reminded her of old friends or late-night cram sessions at Totsuki.

So yes—she believed in the power of Zane's cooking.

But she still couldn't understand why he'd chosen to use it to move Erina of all people.

What was he really after?

"Here."

Zane's voice broke the silence.

He reached out, gently brushing away a speck of rice and grease from the corner of Erina's lips with a clean handkerchief.

Erina blinked, startled.

"Th-thank you…" she murmured, cheeks flushing. She quickly took the cloth from him and dabbed her lips with quiet grace.

Zane smiled.

"So… what did you think of the dish?"

"It's okay," she replied, reflexively.

"Just okay?" he raised an eyebrow, folding his arms.

"Didn't it remind you of anything?"

The moment he said it, her smile faded.

Her eyes dimmed again, the memory of her mother creeping back into her mind.

Just her name—Mana—was enough to shatter her composure.

"Is… is anorexia really that terrifying?" she asked softly.

Zane looked at her, expression serious.

"Eat."

"Throw up."

"Eat again."

"Throw up again."

"Imagine kneeling over a toilet at 3 AM, for the tenth time that day, your throat raw from acid, your stomach cramping so hard it feels like your spine is splitting."

"You swear you'll stop. You'll eat better tomorrow."

"But then the cycle repeats. Again. And again."

"The pain isn't just physical. It's psychological. It eats you alive."

Erina listened, lips pressed into a tight line.

"But even so…" she whispered, "my mother still shouldn't have left me. She could've explained. Anything—anything would've been better than silence."

She wanted to understand.

She should have understood—after all, she bore the same curse.

The God Tongue had taken her childhood. Her innocence. Her sense of normalcy.

And yet, she still couldn't forgive her mother.

Because what she lost… wasn't just food.

It was love.

Zane sighed.

"It seems you still can't understand."

"But… Mana Nakiri is in Japan. She tasted my food here—at this very tavern."

Erina froze.

Zane continued, voice low.

"Her condition was… terrible. She's surviving only through nutritional infusions now. The God Tongue has made her life unbearable."

"She could have ended it all. She had every reason to."

"But she didn't. Because she couldn't bear to watch you suffer the same fate."

"So she left—not to run away, but to fight."

"She traveled the world, enduring the agony of her own cursed palate, searching for a dish—any dish—that might conquer the God Tongue."

"And now… she's returned."

"Because of you."

Silence fell like a weight.

Erina sat there, stunned.

Her emotions swirled—confusion, disbelief, pain, hope, and something she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years:

Fear.

Her mother was alive.

And closer than she'd ever imagined.