Chapter 7: The Angel’s Naggy (2/2)

Thud! Once she was done with what she wanted to say and give, Mahiru closed the door.

Clank. The chain behind the door was latched up, and Amane looked towards the tupperware in his hands.

Within his palms was the still-warm dinner, and he let out a sigh before returning to his apartment.

The eggplants and pork with sesame seeds were really delicious, and he had a craving for rice.

Thus, every day, he would exchange an empty tupperware container for one with food, his food nutrition taking a drastic turn for the better.

Mahiru’s cooking was not particularly heavy in flavoring, but it was extremely appetizing, so every dinner, he would prepare pre-cooked rice to eat with these dishes.

There were different dishes every day; whether they were Japanese, Western, or Chinese, they were all delicious, impossible to refuse, whetting Amane’s appetite.

The opportunity to eat these every day had Amane looking forward to them. He was apologetic about it, but it seemed he was being domesticated, melancholic if he never got to eat her food.

Perhaps the Angel’s cooking was truly addictive. While thinking this was not a good thing, Amane obediently accepted the tupperware container, and indulged himself in the food.

“…You’re looking great recently. Got your food sorted out?”

Amane was looking a lot better, probably due to having sufficient nutrients from dinner. It was lunchtime when Itsuki stared at his face.

Amane was having udon at the cafeteria, and was shedding cold sweat in the face of the perceptive Itsuki.

“Itsuki, I think you’re looking scary.”

“What, did I hit the bullseye?”

“No…well, I had to reflect on that.”

He would be told off whenever he met Mahiru at the apartments, and given that he was receiving dinner from her, it was to be expected that his quality of life had improved.

He wanted to express his thanks to the Angel, but at the same time, he felt she was somewhat a busybody.

So he confirmed ambiguously, and Itsuki gleefully giggled.

“Of course. Your old unhealthy look was because of your living habits after all.”

“Shut up.”

“But you managed to get it fixed just like that?”

“… I was forced, sorta?”

“Haha. Your mom knows?”

“… Not exactly, I would say.”

Mahiru’s tone was similar to his mom’s.

She was way too young and cute to be called his mom, but Amane did not want to reject Mahiru who had been taking care of him for some reason.

“Say Itsuki. Did I look really unhealthy?”

“Yeah. Mostly because you looked too pale. You’re tall but skinny, and your face just looked unhealthy.”

“But my face’s like this.”

“I know. You can be livelier in your expressions though.”

“That’s impossible…I see, a dead-looking face…?”

As he hardly checked his face in the mirror, Amane hardly knew how he looked, but to others, he appeared to be utterly sickly.

Perhaps Mahiru was worried about Amane because he usually looked dead.

“Amane, you should pay attention to how others look at you. You won’t look like this if you sort it out.

“Are you just rubbing it in?”

“No, what else can I do without saying it plainly that you look dead?”

Itsuki took the opportunity to coax Amane into focusing on his health and appearance. “None of your business,” he said, and looked aside.