The bell above the ramen shop door jingled low as Mira stepped inside.
She'd only meant to stop by Moonlight Crumbs. Just to sit. Just to think. But somehow, her feet had pulled her here afterward, like they had a map of their own and her heart was just following.
The air inside was warmer than outside—thick with the scent of soy broth and grilled garlic. A pot simmered somewhere in the back, slow and patient, like everything in this shop always was.
Kobayashi stood behind the counter, towel slung over one shoulder, wiping a bowl clean. He didn't look surprised to see her.
"You missed dinner rush," he grunted.
"I wasn't hungry," Mira said, though her stomach chose that moment to betray her with a low, unmistakable growl.
Kobayashi raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"
Mira winced slightly, trying to brush it off with a shrug.
He didn't press her, but turned around anyway, stepping into the kitchen with that same unhurried pace. Mira slid onto the nearest stool and rested her elbows on the counter, unsure whether to feel embarrassed or grateful.
Within minutes, he returned and set a steaming bowl in front of her.
Donburi. Chicken katsu. Soft egg still slightly runny over the rice, green onions scattered across the top. Mira blinked at it.
"You didn't have to—"
"Didn't ask if I had to," Kobayashi said, picking up the rag again. "Eat."
She picked up the chopsticks slowly, hands warming over the bowl.
The first bite made her realize just how empty her stomach had been.
The second bite made her realize she might cry if she wasn't careful.
Kobayashi didn't say anything. He just worked quietly, wiping down the counter, checking a pot, giving her space to chew in silence.
"I thought I'd feel better," Mira said eventually, her voice low. "After everything. New job. The apartment. Hikari doing okay. It should feel like progress, right?"
Kobayashi nodded once, setting a ladle aside. "You look tired."
"It's not the kind of tired that goes away with sleep."
He didn't answer, but she kept going.
"I keep thinking if I just get it right—balance everything, stay ahead of it all—it'll stop feeling like I'm always one breath away from… I don't know. Falling apart."
She didn't know why she was saying all of this. But it came easier between bites of donburi, like food made the truth easier to chew.
"You think life's supposed to line up just because you worked hard enough?" he asked, not unkindly.
Mira shrugged. "I thought… if I stayed responsible. If I didn't mess up. If I kept everyone safe, including myself. Then maybe it'd stop being so—"
"Lonely?" Kobayashi offered.
Mira paused, chopsticks halfway to her mouth.
Yes.
That was the word.
"You've been living like everything's your fault," he said. "Like if something goes wrong, it's because you weren't good enough."
He wasn't scolding her.
Just saying it like it was.
"That's not control," he continued. "That's fear wearing a responsible face."
Mira let out a soft breath.
Kobayashi leaned forward on his elbows. "You're not in control. And you don't have to be. Life doesn't wait for your permission to happen."
Mira stared at the half-finished bowl in front of her.
She didn't have anything to say. Not right away.
But something in her exhaled—like a knot she didn't know she was holding had come loose just a little.
Kobayashi didn't press. He just nodded, as if that silence said enough.
Then he stepped into the back, rummaged through a shelf, and came back with a paper-wrapped bar of chocolate.
He placed it next to her bowl without a word.
Mira blinked.
"For the walk home," he said.
"…You're gonna make me cry," she muttered, voice thick with emotion she hadn't planned to show.
"Then cry after you finish the rice," he replied, already turning away.
She laughed—quietly, honestly—and wiped at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Kobayashi waved her off, like it wasn't a big deal.
But it was.
It was.
—
Outside, the air had cooled.
Mira walked slower than usual, chocolate in her pocket, warmth in her chest that wasn't just from the food. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring. She still didn't have the answers.
But tonight, she didn't feel like she had to.
She didn't feel like she was holding everything alone.
She didn't feel like she had to be anyone else just to deserve the space she took up.
Not strong. Not perfect. Not ahead of the curve.