Volume 1 Chapter 2: Stepsister

I head home, forcing myself to dredge up the half-erased memories of a route I once knew by heart.

On the way, I pop into a convenience store and buy a few pieces of the cheap chocolate I loved in grade school. I eat them as I walk, tears welling up.

People passing by stare, but I can’t stop. I went through a phase where I hated chocolate—who knew it could taste this good…

This familiar road feels unreal, like I’m still dreaming. Dreamlike, yes. With every step, another fog-shrouded lid on my memories flips open.

A vending machine, the post office, a traffic mirror, a crosswalk, a signal light, the little park I always played in. The shrine. Elementary school. Junior high. The river. The bridge. Friends’ houses, and finally—my own. I’m back.

Standing all alone in front of that house is my stepsister.

“You’re late!”

“…Mm.”

For me it’s been five years. For her it’s only been since this morning. I guess I really am late compared to usual. Probably.

Unsure what to say, I just grunt. How nostalgic.

Her name is Mihane Todou. My stepsister, the same age as me. Mom’s new husband brought her home when we were first-year middle-schoolers.

Her raven-black hair is long and straight, pulled into a ponytail. Her slightly upturned eyes are wide and uneasy. A neat nose, well-shaped lips glistening with moisture—she parts them.

“…Did something happen to you?”

“…Nothing.”

Huh? No, seriously—nothing happened. The beating that was supposed to take place today never even rose to the level of horsing around. All I can say is that nothing happened.

She looks skeptical. Usually, if I remember right, she’d hurl insults, then march straight back to her room. There was even a phase when she went “Onii, Onii” and clung to me.

Oh—right. It’s because I’m meeting her gaze while we talk. Back then, other people’s eyes always felt harsh.

In the other world you’d die if you looked away. I couldn’t afford to break eye contact with an opponent. So much information hides in a person’s pupils. Look away for an instant and—stab—bodies like that were everywhere.

I channel mana into my eyes and stare straight into hers: worry, relief, anxiety, arousal… Arousal?!

…That’s a complicated blend of colors. So that’s what she’s been feeling.

Complicated, to say the least.

I expected pure, one-hundred-percent loathing. Well, the Revelation spell isn’t flawless—but since this isn’t another world, it probably hit true.

“H-hurry up already. How long are you going to keep me waiting? Make dinner.”

“…Ah, yeah. Got it.”

Right—ever since we started high school, I’m the one who cooks. Our parents were posted overseas, weren’t they? When we moved up a grade Mom went with my stepdad, leaving the two of us to live here alone.

Was she lonely being home by herself? I was too caught up in my own problems back then to notice.

Judging by the color of her eyes… so she’s just a tsundere after all.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“Yeah.”

Not that any of that really matters right now.

I’m home.

Volume 1 Chapter 3: Dinner

“So good…”

“…”

Well, that’s MSG for you.

With this stuff, anyone can make food taste amazing. In the other world we never had anything so convenient or foolproof.

Come to think of it, did she even bother to comment back then?

When I finally got home, I traced the tiny scratches and smudges on the walls and banister, soaking in the nostalgia, then stepped into my room. It looked exactly like it had the day I was summoned.

A gentle melancholy settled over me as I changed into loungewear. Everything was so familiar it hurt.

To placate my stepsister, I headed straight for the dining room and started cooking. Compared to the old days, it was absurdly easy.

All I made was a quick fried rice—toss the veggies in a pan, add the rice, sear, done.

I whipped up some miso soup too, using magic to hit the perfect temperature for both dishes.

In the other world, if you didn’t coax out the ingredients’ flavor, dinner got depressing fast.

The seasonings were the real nightmare.

Towns were far apart, and the shelf-stable spices tasted weird—and they went straight for your gut.

Everything was so overpowering, and it always wrecked my stomach. Who wants a hero constantly sprinting for the bushes?

Fortunately, as long as I avoided the heavy stuff in town, I was fine.

But on the road it was a life-or-death dilemma, and having an all-girl party didn’t make it any easier.

After endless trial and error, I came up with a method: probe each ingredient with magic, draw out its umami, then combine them.

Kind of like Japanese cuisine, I guess—maybe. It was the only style I ever mastered.

I called it Magical Cooking. Straightforward, sure, but the shrine maidens loved it.

So whenever I stir-fried vegetables, I did it instinctively with magic. I just did it again… Does mana even regenerate here? Probably.

For Mihane’s fried rice I used MSG; mine got the soy sauce, salt, and pepper I’d been dreaming about. If I ate MSG right now my tongue might go numb.

Then again—maybe I’d be fine. My senses are still caught between worlds.

The other world had no soy sauce or pepper—plenty of bizarre spices, but they almost always nuked my stomach.

That trauma left me clinging to straight umami plus salt.

…Man, soy sauce is delicious! Pepper is amazing!

“…Your cooking’s level-upped—what did you do?”

“…Anybody could make this, right?”

“No way.”

“Really?”

No one escapes MSG’s pull. Its umami is that intense. Even if I read the veggies perfectly, it should all taste more or less the same.

Praise doesn’t move me. Cooking’s practically an extension of my body now. On the road I never let anyone else near the pot—no one was messing up my stomach.

I just nod. To hide the five-year gap, the best strategy is to keep my mouth shut. I’ll pretend I’m still shaken from today’s beating.

I try to remember where I fit in back then—who my friends were. Funny how little sticks. I scroll through my phone, digging up the past.

“Hey, stop that.”

“…What?”

“The phone.”

“…”

I shut it without a word. Huh? I thought she was the one always glued to it…

I’d scold her, she’d snap back—that was the routine, if I recall.

“Weren’t you the one who always nagged me about it?”

“…”

She’s right, but arguing is a pain. I’ll polish off dinner and hit the bath.

Yes, the bath. We have a bath! Sudden excitement bubbles up.

“Why do you look happy while I’m scolding you?”

“…”

Sharp girl.

I’m just thrilled about the bath. Last time I soaked was near the edge of human territory.

A wonderfully wild hot spring.

In demon lands I had to make do with magic and a rag… Man, I really went far.

“All done.”

“You eat too fast.”

Right, I used to chew properly. Over there, eating slowly could get you killed.

Of course I minded my manners around royalty—fried rice never shows up at a noble banquet. Habit’s terrifying.

Bath time.

“Mind if I go first?”

“Not a chance. Tonight’s my turn.”

“…Got it.”

Dang. Bath duty’s on rotation, huh? Fine. The bath isn’t going anywhere. Can’t outrun a hero—but I’m not a hero anymore.

Guess I’ll hole up in my room and jog my memory until she’s done.

And school starts tomorrow… That feels way too otherworldly—I might die.

I don’t remember a single thing.