The bell above the door of "Sakaki’s Table" didn't just chime; it sounded like a warning.
Yuri Sakaki didn't look up from the cutting board. He didn't need to. He could hear the sudden silence of the two businessmen at the corner table. He could feel the way their conversation died in their throats as he walked past them with a tray of hot tea.
Yuri was seventeen, but he had the height of a grown man and eyes the color of a bruised twilight. With his sharp, indigo-violet hair and a permanent crease between his brows, he looked less like a high school student and more like the kind of person who ended up on the evening news for a sidewalk brawl.
“Look at those eyes,” someone whispered at the far table. “Definitely a delinquent. I heard students from Chidori High are all like that.”
Yuri tightened his grip on the tray. He’d heard it since preschool. He was the "Scary Kid." The "Violet Demon." The "Problem Child." It didn't matter that he had a 3.8 GPA or that he spent his Friday nights scrubbing grease off floor tiles. The world had decided who he was before he even opened his mouth.
"Table four, Yuri! Stop daydreaming and move!" his father barked from the kitchen.
"On it," Yuri muttered, his voice deep and gravelly—a voice that, of course, only made people more nervous.
He moved through the small, wood-paneled restaurant with practiced efficiency. He was placing a bowl of miso soup down when the bell chimed again.
Usually, when the students from the prestigious St. Cerasus Academy—the "Elite Girl’s School" across the district—accidentally wandered in, they would take one look at Yuri, apologize with a terrified bow, and bolt out the door.
But this time, the footsteps didn't stop.
A girl stepped in. She wore the pristine, high-collared white and blue uniform of St. Cerasus. Her hair was a deep, silky indigo, tied up in a high, bouncy ponytail that swayed as she looked around. She looked like she belonged in a jewelry commercial, not a family-run diner that smelled like fried ginger and old wood.
Yuri felt a familiar tightening in his chest. Great. Another one who’s going to look at me like I’m a monster.
He stood behind the counter, crossing his arms over his black apron. He tried to make his face "neutral," which usually just made him look like he was planning a heist.
"Welcome," he said, his voice dropping into that "intimidating" register he couldn't help.
The girl turned. Her eyes were wide and bright. She looked at the menu on the wall, then at the steam rising from the kitchen, and finally—straight at Yuri.
Yuri braced himself. He expected her to flinch. He expected her to whisper a prayer and leave.
Instead, her face lit up like a neon sign.
"Oh wow!" she gasped, stepping right up to the counter. "It smells incredible in here! Is that the special ginger pork? I could smell it from two blocks away!"
Yuri blinked. He was so stunned he forgot to glare. "Uh... yeah. It’s the daily special."
"I’ll take it!" she said, clasping her hands together. "And an order of gyoza. Oh! And the large rice. Please!"
Yuri stared at her. "The large? It’s... it’s a lot of food."
She tilted her head, giving him a sunny, unapologetic grin. "I’m very hungry. I’m Selina, by the way! Nice to meet you, Mr. Chef!"
She didn't look at his "scary" eyes. She didn't look at his "delinquent" hair. She looked at him as if he were the most wonderful person in the world simply because he held the keys to the kitchen.
"I’m just... Yuri," he muttered, turning away to hide the slight heat rising to his cheeks. "Sit anywhere. I’ll bring it out."
As he retreated to the kitchen, he could feel her gaze on his back. It wasn't the heavy, judgmental gaze he was used to. It felt warm.
Selina, he thought, his heart thumping a strange, uneven rhythm against his ribs.
He reached for the pork, his hands surprisingly steady. He found himself picking the best cuts. He plated the rice with obsessive care, molding it into a perfect dome. He even added a small garnish of pickled ginger on the side—something he didn't usually do for the lunch rush.
Why am I trying so hard? he scolded himself. She’s just another girl who doesn't know any better. Once she hears the rumors at school tomorrow, she’ll never come back.
But as he looked through the small glass window of the kitchen door, he saw her. She wasn't looking at her phone or checking her reflection. She was staring at the kitchen door with pure, unfiltered excitement, her feet kicking slightly under her chair.
She looked exactly like someone Yuri used to know. Someone from a memory so old it felt like a dream. A memory of a playground, a sandbox, and a girl who had cried until a "scary" boy had stood in front of her.
Yuri shook his head, clearing the thought. There’s no way. It’s just a coincidence.
He grabbed the tray and pushed through the door. The slow burn had begun, and for the first time in seventeen years, Yuri Sakaki didn't mind the heat.
99Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYfsRsNFzqI
99Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2g4BvAvMwD
and then Add to home screen.