I’m an Introvert, but After Taking Care of the School’s Most Beautiful Girl Who Lives in an Apartment When She Was Sick, She Became Attached to Me and Started Inviting Me Over to Her Place! - Chapter 12

Chapter 12

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“…Alright then. I’ll stay here so Natsuki-san won’t feel lonely, so go on and get some sleep without worrying.”

Brought along by Natsuki and allowed to remain in the house for a while longer, Sorato thought about what he should do as he spoke gently, telling her to rest. At a glance, she didn’t seem to have anything particularly wrong, but considering how well she had hidden her symptoms earlier, he wasn’t confident he would notice the next change if something happened again.

“Yeah. Thank you for indulging my selfishness… I promise I’ll pay you back next time.”

“No, no, that’s really not necessary. I’m just doing what Natsuki-san asked. You don’t need to feel any strange guilt about it, okay?”

Natsuki, looking happy yet somehow apologetic, gave a small nod and met Sorato’s eyes, pledging her gratitude and repayment. But Sorato gently declined her offer, saying that when helping someone, he didn’t expect anything in return.

The hardest part of having a cold isn’t for the person taking care of you, but for the one who’s sick.

It was only natural for someone with a cold to suffer and feel anxious. They were just classmates, but if staying with her would help her feel at ease, there was no way he wouldn’t accept that without asking for anything back.

“Sorato-kun, you’re really kind, aren’t you? I just learned another one of your good points.”

“This doesn’t even count as being kind. There’s no need for you to feel indebted, so please get some rest soon.”

“…! I see. You’re the kind of person who would say that…”

At what was probably an offhand remark from Sorato, Natsuki was struck with realization. It contrasted sharply with several things from her past and became a sentence that gave her hope. She once again recognized his kindness.

As if carefully tucking his words away, she placed a hand over her chest and cast backward glances at his face. This time, she closed the door firmly, and feeling his presence beyond it brought her a deep sense of reassurance as she retreated once more into her room. When she entered, the room somehow felt a little bigger. She wondered why.

“Oh, Natsuki-san? If you feel like eating something again, let me know. I’ll go buy it at the convenience store. Don’t hold back at all!”

One last time, through the door, Sorato spoke in a muffled voice, checking on her. Surely, because she had seemed hesitant to voice her needs earlier, he had tried as much as possible to make it easier for her to speak up. That thoughtfulness and consideration reached Natsuki clearly, once again warming her heart. Wrapped in that warmth, she gently tucked herself into her futon.

“Thank you, Suzuya-kun. I’ll tell you if anything comes up, okay?”

After expressing her gratitude to Sorato, the familiar, restrained sound of footsteps slowly moved away from in front of the door. He was surprisingly perceptive, sensitive to people’s behavior. Even though she thought she had hidden things well today, he had seen through it in no time.

So, making sure he absolutely couldn’t hear, she pulled the blanket over her head and whispered in a small voice, careful not to let it be noticed.

“But… I guess… Rather than the convenience store…”

The dish that came to her mind as she murmured to herself wasn’t something classic like curry or hamburg steak, but a very simple yet delicious-looking rice porridge. From yesterday through today, whenever she felt hungry, she couldn’t forget the taste of the porridge he had made for her. It was lightly seasoned to be easy to eat, yet the flavor was clear, perfectly stimulating her appetite.

“I want to eat your cooking…”

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Kaon Natsuki’s POV

Ever since I was little, my parents were almost never home.

My father was on a solo assignment and I rarely saw him, and my mother worked night shifts. She came home after I left for school, and by the time I returned, she was already gone. That was life in the Natsuki household. That was our normal.

If there was any connection with my family in that kind of life, it was probably just the meals my mother prepared in advance before leaving for work. Until I became a middle schooler and started cooking for myself, my mom made meals every day, wrapped them in plastic, and left them in the kitchen.

I loved the taste of my mom’s cooking. But if I had to put it bluntly, that was all. Within the circle called family, “prepared meals” were my only connection. A connection so fragile and thin it barely existed.

But it wasn’t that there was no love. My mother would sometimes make time to take me shopping, and if my father could get a long vacation, he would always come by with a cake and a present in hand. At times like that, I was overwhelmingly happy. It was fun. I could laugh with all my heart and let myself be spoiled. There was a sense of security, like being wrapped in warm feathers, as the family gathered together.

Those moments ended in an instant. Life would revert back again. It felt like living alone in an empty house. The only moments when I could feel my family’s presence in that cold daily life were those brief times. Housework that wouldn’t move forward unless I did it myself. A living room sofa with no one else there. My mother’s cooking—delicious, yet now bringing only a swelling sense of emptiness. A house with no sounds other than my own.

As time went on, it all grew heavier and hollower. I didn’t even lean on others anymore, and the painfully spacious living room was far too big for one person to live in. The clearest image I had of my parents was them looking busy while taking care of me. One time, on a rare day when both of them happened to be home, I collapsed with a high fever. I’d been studying late into the night for tests the day before, and after coming home, I’d been immediately caught up in housework without a break.

Seeing their faces must have made me let my guard down. As we chatted together and I sat down on the sofa, my body suddenly stopped responding. Even when I tried to stand, I couldn’t put any strength into it, and I couldn’t even manage to stand properly, my legs like a newborn deer’s. I hadn’t measured my temperature, but it was probably over 38°C. Even so, at the time, housework mattered more to me than my own condition, and like a toy with dying batteries, I forced my shaking body to start working again. But the next moment, my vision warped and suddenly went pitch black. When color returned to the world, I was being carried in my father’s arms. His panicked movements and the scenery flowing past felt strangely endless.

Eventually, I was set down on a bed, and my father slowly crouched beside me. I still haven’t forgotten the sense of relief and calm I felt then. I’d always had asthma, making colds worse for me, but no matter how sick I’d been before, my family had never stayed by my side like that.

I had endured nothing but anxiety and loneliness, bearing the desolation that stretched into endless darkness.

Is it okay for me to lean on them sometimes?

That was what I thought. At least when I had a cold, it should be okay to depend on my parents, right? So I held back the creeping fatigue and asthma and tried to spoil myself as much as I could with my father, who was sitting nearby.

“D-Dad… My—”

Brrriiiing♪

I’ll never forget that grating ringtone, like it was hammering directly into my brain. Just as I was about to gather my courage, that shrill sound rang out, shattering the room’s silence. If only he had granted that request, even for a moment, I could have tried my hardest at anything.

“Sorry, Kaon. I need to step out for a bit.”

That was what my dad said before leaving the room. Without hearing my one small wish, it was as if the ringtone had possessed him, making him forget about me entirely. Even so, I planned to gather my courage again and ask once he came back.

But my father never returned. My mother didn’t come into my room either. I could only hear her muffled voice through the door. I waited and waited. And when I next woke up, neither of them was home. I must have fallen asleep after losing to the rising fever. Thankfully, the fever had already gone down, and for once, my symptoms didn’t drag on. Still, as I looked at the now-empty living room, I was filled with the sensation of a different kind of “heat” cooling away.

“…Hold my hand…”

In my body, already free of fever, there remained only a faint emptiness and sadness. What slipped out then was the first—and last—word of “dependence” I had never been able to say at the time.

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