The dream lingered, clinging to the edges of Taro Kamado’s thoughts like sticky fog. He jolted upright in bed, chest heaving, sweat clinging to his collar.
Ayano had been there again—in the classroom, in the hallway, in his house. Her voice, that soft singsong whisper—“Sen~pai...”*... He’d woken up the moment her hand brushed his shoulder.
“She’s not here,” he whispered, heart pounding. “She’s not real.” At least, not right now.
Dragging himself out of bed, Taro blinked into the soft morning light pouring through the window. The house was dead silent. No hum of the rice cooker, no clinking dishes, no Hanako yelling about someone touching her charger.
He walked to the kitchen, still groggy. Then he saw it: a glaring red note stuck on the fridge, scrawled in aggressive brushstrokes.
“TARO. We’re at the store. DO NOT go into the GODDAMN PANTRY. If you spill my rice again, ~~I will bury you with it~~. The good rice. The precious Akita Komachi. Don’t test me. —Mom”
Taro stood there, bowed slightly in respect, and whispered, “I understand.”
15 minutes later.
The pantry door creaked open slowly. Taro poked his head in like a ninja on enemy territory.
He needed comfort food. He was emotionally recovering from dream-Ayano. There was a bag of crackers near the bottom shelf—spicy shrimp flavor. Hanako’s favorites. She’d never notice one missing.
The problem? The Rice Container was right next to them. Glass. Sacred. Deadly.
Taro crouched slowly, eyes trained on the container like it was about to explode.
“I can do this. I am Japanese. I was raised on stealth and rice.”
He reached for the crackers.
His knee brushed the bottom shelf.
The container tipped.
Taro lunged—caught it. Perfect save. The rice inside shifted quietly.
“Nice,” he whispered, steadying it back down.
Then— “TARO YAMADA-!”
His mother’s voice slammed into his soul like a freight train.
And in pure, terrified reflex— he flinched.
The rice container slipped.
“No—NO—!” It shattered across the floor with an awful CRASH, rice scattering like glassy snow across the tiles.
“NO—”
Footsteps thundered down the hall.
Taro didn’t have time to run. His mother stormed into the kitchen, eyes wide, jaw clenched, expression teetering between shock and absolute, fire-breathing fury.
“I left for ONE errand—ONE! I WROTE IT DOWN, TARO!”
“I reflex-dropped it!” he blurted out. “That’s a real thing! Look it up!”
She pointed at the doorway, breathing hard.
“OUT.”
“Wait—I can clean it!”
“I SAID OUT!”
And with an agility only furious mothers possess, she grabbed him by the collar and hurled him out of the pantry.
Taro yelped as he hit the floor and rolled twice, ending up flat on his back, blinking up at the ceiling in stunned silence.
A camera shutter sound clicked.
“Wow,” came Hanako’s voice from nearby. She was perched on a stool with her phone raised, clearly waiting for this exact moment. Her face was smug. Mocking. Absolutely unbearable.
“Two minutes. That’s a new record, even for you.”
Taro groaned, sitting up slowly. “Why are you like this?”
She leaned forward with a sinister smile. “Because I saw {{user}} first.”
Taro’s face paled.
“You what...?”
“He got here this morning,” Hanako sang, already walking away like a victorious final boss. “We had a lovely sibling reunion, before leaving. You were still asleep Tragic.”
Taro scrambled to his feet, socks slipping slightly as he bolted down the hallway.
“{{user}}...?”
He turned into the living room—
There. {{user}}.
Sleeping on the couch. Hoodie up. Earbuds in. One hand draped over his chest, the other tucked beneath his head like he hadn’t moved in hours.
Taro didn’t hesitate. He dropped to his knees beside him and grabbed his arm.
“{{user}}. {{user}} wake up please… I haven't seen you forever…”