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621 – Do Kids These Days Even Know What “Public Decorum” Means?!
🕑 Added 2025-10-29 19:32:10 +0000 UTCIf Sawamura-san ever found out what her “assistant” was doing back then, that “assistant” would probably be downgraded to “dead meat” in seconds.
“Let’s go for a nice, relaxing walk!”
That’s what Yamauchi Sakura said.
So, Kyousuke smiled, politely said goodbye to the reporters, editors, and literary colleagues around him…
Only to find himself, ten minutes later, sitting inside a Shinkansen.
A “walk,” huh? Wasn’t this a bit much?
What was he supposed to be, the Iron Train Hero or something?
Who the hell takes a walk along the railway tracks?
‘Clack-clack, clack-clack—Shinkansen—clack-clack, clack-clack—Shinkansen—'
“Hmhmhmhmhmhm♪”
Sakura hummed a cheerful tune as she finished tying her hair up into a cute bun.
Everything about her—the smiling face, the off-key humming—radiated pure happiness.
With a pair of disposable chopsticks in hand, she tapped between the two bento boxes in front of her, her expression one of blissful indecision.
“Bento, bento~ On the left, Mom’s special steak bento. On the right, the luxury seafood bento I bought at the station. So, Mr. Shinkansen, tell me—” she turned her sparkling eyes toward the person sitting beside her, “—which one should I eat?”
Still dazed from the sudden “map change,” Kyousuke let out a small chuckle and reached for the seafood bento.
“Well, since your mom took the time to make this with love, Sakura, you should enjoy it properly. I’ll take the seafood one. Been a while since I’ve had it anyway.”
But before he could finish his sentence, Sakura pressed his hand firmly down onto the steak bento.
The move was quick, natural, and completely intentional.
“Ahaha, I knew it! Kyousuke really does prefer Mom’s flavor! Aunt Mikiko will be so happy to hear that!”
She clapped her hands in delight, grinning from ear to ear.
Kyousuke shot her a sideways look but gave in, pulling the steak bento toward himself.
“Hehe~”
Sakura’s grin widened like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.
Just as mischievous, just as adorable.
Then, like the same cat, she wrapped her soft, pale arms around Kyousuke’s and gave it a playful shake, as if to comfort him.
Kyousuke knew this girl all too well.
From the start, she’d already decided she was going to eat the seafood bento.
The whole “which one should I eat” act was just her way of easing her guilt for not eating the one her mom made.
So she set up this little “moral dilemma” and waited for him to bail her out.
Her way of calling Mikiko “Mom” or “Aunt Mikiko” flipped back and forth without rhyme or reason, but neither of them cared.
The steak bento, true to its name, was a simple meal: a golden-brown steak resting on top of rice, with a small section of sauce on the side.
That was it.
Minimalist, like a Hinomaru bento except instead of a pickled plum, you got steak and sauce.
So, it wasn’t hard to see why the ever-flattering Yamauchi Sakura would betray her “Aunt Mikiko’s Love Bento” in favor of the glamorous seafood box.
As Sakura once joked:
“The reason I’ve got such strong teeth now is because I spent my childhood gnawing on Mikiko’s steak.”
Back then, she was still a kid—easily tricked, full of energy, ready to wrestle with any piece of meat.
But now she was a young lady; she had an image to maintain.
Better to let Kyousuke do the chewing for her.
Of course, “better” didn’t mean she wasn’t going to steal a few bites.
By the end of the meal, most of both bentos would somehow end up in Kyousuke’s stomach.
After their “fair” division of labor, Sakura let out a gleeful “Woohoo!” and snapped her chopsticks open with a pia!
The seats were fairly spacious.
As she carefully opened her bento, her legs swung back and forth under the table in rhythm with the train.
For a “luxury” bento, the presentation had to live up to the name.
After all, nobody actually bought train bentos for the taste, unless they were made by some famous coastal granny who sold them fresh off the docks.
Two giant fried prawns, assorted sashimi and sushi.
The whole box was a riot of color and texture.
Naturally, Sakura pulled out her phone and took several photos, making sure to get a few of Kyousuke’s steak bento too.
Then, she tapped, typed, and posted:
———————————————————————
“Mom’s bento tastes amazing! Turns out raising your own cow does make your beef recipes better Σ(っ°Д°;)っ!! (photo)”
———————————————————————
Kyousuke glanced over and burst out laughing.
Sakura’s shamelessness could probably send Eriri into an early grave.
Hearing his laughter, Sakura turned and wrinkled her nose in mock protest.
Then she picked up one of the now-soggy tempura prawns and held it up to him.
“Ah open wide!”
With one hand cupped under it, she shoved the entire prawn into his mouth before he could react.
And before he’d even started chewing, she opened her own mouth expectantly:
“Ahhhh~~”
Kyousuke chuckled, picked up the second prawn, and pushed it toward her mouth.
It went about a third of the way in before getting stuck, and Sakura frowned, biting down with a snap to break it in half, gesturing for him to continue feeding her.
This was Yamauchi Sakura, she is adorable, reckless, and impossible not to adore.
Her moods came and went like sunshowers, it was sudden, bright, and gone just as fast.
Even so, after all her effort, she only managed to eat half the oversized prawn.
The rest, naturally, went to Kyousuke.
Their little “battle” wasn’t exactly loud, but in the quiet car, it was still hard to ignore.
A woman in a business suit sitting across the aisle noticed them and turned her head curiously.
There they were a young couple with puffed-out cheeks, chewing furiously while staring at each other like competitors in an eating contest.
Watching them, the woman instinctively straightened up, wanting a better look.
She saw the girl with a bright amber eyes sparkling as she swallowed her bite, then cheering in triumph with a peace sign raised high.
The boy, though clearly young, had a tall, athletic build.
Even seated, his T-shirt stretched over well-defined muscles, his chest perfectly shaped.
There was no way a guy like that actually lost an eating contest to a tiny girl.
No, she realized that he let her win.
He just wanted to make her happy.
The girl, meanwhile, beamed so radiantly that even her eyebrows seemed to smile.
She was like a petal drifting on the wind so soft, vivid, and impossibly bright.
‘How wonderful…’
The woman sighed quietly.
The boy’s gentle indulgence made even someone her age feel envious, of course not for their youth, but of the tenderness in those small, ordinary moments.
Because if he cared that much about her joy over something as trivial as a bento…
how happy must they be in the rest of their lives?
What struck the woman most wasn’t just the girl’s victory pose—it was the boy’s expression when she did it.
His smile was just as bright, just as genuine.
He was truly happy, simply because she was.
Ah… youth.
Then, the woman watched as the boy picked up an entire piece of steak with his fingers and held it up to the girl’s mouth.
The girl obediently bared her teeth and began to tug at it like a determined puppy.
Her amber eyes even glinted with a fierce light—yet she couldn’t tear a single piece off.
The woman chuckled softly.
‘So that’s it. Must be the steak she cooked herself.’
‘She probably forgot to cut it beforehand.’
‘Poor girl. You’ve got a long way to go.’
‘A wife should at least be able to make a meal her husband can eat without breaking his jaw.’
That thought barely finished forming when her eyes suddenly widened.
The girl pouted, reluctantly let go of the steak, glared at the tooth marks she’d left, and said something to the boy in a small, sulky voice.
The boy shook his head, looking conflicted but then the girl grabbed his arm and started shaking it, her bright face turning irresistibly cute.
The woman smiled to herself.
‘Hah, these modern girls… they have no idea how to properly act spoiled anymore.’
Feeling a bit smug, she decided to play the “experienced older woman.”
When the girl suddenly looked her way, the woman instinctively wanted to look away but pride and experience told her to hold her ground.
If she furrowed her brows a little, maybe the girl would look away out of embarrassment.
Except… she didn’t.
That bold girl met her gaze head-on, her amber eyes sparkling mischievously, and then she winked.
Before the woman could react, the girl turned to her boyfriend, wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and pulled him toward her.
And then the woman saw it.
The girl’s lips now had a faint streak of brown sauce on them, and her cheeks moved as she chewed happily.
‘Wait… no way. She didn’t just—'
Yes. She absolutely did.
The boy had bitten off a piece of steak for her, and she had taken it from his mouth.
The woman’s jaw nearly hit the table.
These kids nowadays… honestly!
———————————————————————
“Uncle Ichirou’s cooking really has gotten better,” Sakura muttered, rubbing her aching jaw. “But wow, three years away and Aunt Mikiko’s steak skills have really gone downhill.”
Kyousuke could only give her a speechless look.
His father wasn’t just “good” at cooking, he was the cook of the family.
In their household, there were exactly two people who never touched the kitchen: his little sister, and his mother.
Cooking, cleaning, washing dishes—none of it was ever Mikiko’s job.
As his father liked to say, “Leave those dirty dishes alone. I’ll wash them after I finish feeding the cows.”
“But it’s fine!” Sakura said cheerfully, eyes sparkling with mischief. “After you processed it through your mouth once, it actually tasted way better. Hehehe~”
She winked playfully, teasing him like the little rogue she was.
Kyousuke sighed, smiling helplessly. “Maybe keep it down a bit? The lady across the aisle looks ready to call the cops.”
A public kiss might have been one thing, but feeding each other mouth-to-mouth?
Even for him, that was pushing it.
Only Sakura could pull something like this off without a shred of shame.
Thankfully, once she’d gotten her fill both of food and showing off she finally calmed down.
She tucked her legs up neatly, happily feeding Kyousuke pieces of her meal instead.
The woman across the aisle, however, was practically grinding her teeth to dust, silently chanting “Kids these days…” over and over in her head.
The two had boarded at Shinagawa Station.
Sakura had bought the tickets herself about 30,000 yen for both.
Kyousuke had just escaped a reception full of editors, journalists, and publishing people, and thought Sakura only meant to take a short walk along the Meguro River—maybe, at most, by the Tama River to catch the evening breeze.
But then she’d whipped out two Shinkansen tickets like a magician and dragged him aboard before he could protest.
Her reasoning?
“I’ve got way too much pocket money. I live at home, Hojou cooks, Naoka picks my clothes, Eriri buys snacks.
And Utaha’s credit card swipe is so goddamn cool it makes me scared to use my own. I literally can’t find ways to spend money, so I might as well splurge here.”
A spontaneous “walk,” she called it a trip that began with no plan and no destination.
The high-speed line from Tokyo to Kyoto took just over two hours, stopping at only four stations.
As the train left Shinagawa, it sped southwest past the elevated highways, glass towers reflecting sunlight, streams of cars below, and parallel rail lines flashing by in blur.
The further they went, the quieter the scenery became.
The skyscrapers vanished, the tightly packed houses thinned out, replaced by open fields and endless blue sky.
Inside the carriage, peace settled in.
Sakura leaned gently against Kyousuke, the two of them sharing food and watching the scenery roll past the window.
Time is precious precisely because it never repeats.
This moment, this view only the two of them would ever share it.
“I’ve decided!” Sakura declared suddenly, eyes sparkling. “Today is our Official Walk Day! I’m gonna take tons of photos, and when we get back, I’ll have Eriri turn them into an illustrated diary!”
She said it with such enthusiasm that Kyousuke could only chuckle.
Who said time was unique, anyway?
Maybe love worked the same way not divided into pieces, but multiplied infinitely.
This moment might belong only to her and Kyousuke…
But through Eriri’s art, she could still share its colors and warmth.
“Please spare me,” Kyousuke sighed. “If you tell her that, she’ll have me on the next flight to London tomorrow night.”
“Hahaha! That’s fine too! Save me a seat in the cargo hold, okay?” Sakura laughed loudly, finding even that idea delightful.
By the time the train arrived in Kyoto, the sun was already setting.
The rails gleamed like ribbons across a golden sea, cutting through the glow of the evening sky without disturbing its calm.
After disembarking, Kyousuke suggested stopping by to greet Sakura’s grandparents but before he could finish.
She had already grabbed his hand and pulled him straight onto a bus bound for the Kamo River.
“Fine, but promise me we’ll visit them after our walk,” Kyousuke said firmly. “Your grandparents always send me gifts whenever you come back home. It’d feel wrong not to see them while we’re here.”
“I knooow, I knooow,” Sakura waved it off lazily. “You don’t have to nag. If I don’t bring you, Grandma’ll lecture me to death next time anyway.”
And with that, she leaned against his shoulder, humming again, as the bus carried them into the glowing heart of Kyoto’s twilight.
