To celebrate Ayumu Genya landing a well-paid part-time job, Eina Genya splurged for once and meticulously prepared a Sukiyaki hot pot.
Sukiyaki is a classic Japanese hot pot style. Japanese hot pot traditions generally include Sukiyaki, seafood hot pot, mountain-produce hot pot, and others—emphasizing delicate broth seasoning and aromatic condiments. Simply put, Sukiyaki is a rich beef hot pot brimming with assorted ingredients.
Though Eina didn’t buy premium-grade beef, it still cost a pretty penny—the beef alone matched what Ayumu earned on his first day working.
Ayumu felt a slight pang of guilt over the expense, but Eina acted completely unfazed. He understood: she wasn’t indifferent at all. She simply celebrated her child’s milestone wholeheartedly, without a second thought.
The dinner was exceptionally warm and joyful—the most relaxed, happiest meal Ayumu had enjoyed since Chufan Zhang’s soul transmigrated to Japan. That day, lingering tensions between Ayumu and Eina had cleared. Ayumu had secured a high-paying job, bringing him one step closer to his dream: studying abroad back in China. Truly, a day worth celebrating!
Over dinner, Ayumu casually suggested: after finishing his shift at 8 p.m. daily, he’d meet Eina at her workplace mall and walk home together. Eina was so delighted she had zero reason to refuse.
…
“Last night’s Sukiyaki was seriously delicious—I accidentally overate a little.”
That morning before leaving home, Ayumu suddenly felt stomach cramps, forcing another bathroom trip. Now he was nearly late for class. He didn’t dislike Japanese cuisine—in fact, he was deeply curious—but he avoided cold or raw foods. Faced with Eina’s perfectly seasoned, aromatic Sukiyaki, he’d momentarily lost restraint.
Hurrying all the way to school, Ayumu noticed the halls were unusually empty. Two possibilities: arriving too early… or, as was his case, cutting it close.
Thankfully, he wasn’t late yet. Swapping outdoor shoes at the classroom building entrance, he rushed toward his room. Passing other classrooms still buzzing with casual chatter, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
But as he neared Class 3-A’s door, the hallway hummed louder than neighboring rooms. Frowning, Ayumu stepped inside.
Inside, students whispered in small clusters, occasionally punctuated by soft laughter. Surface-level, everything seemed normal—but as Ayumu walked to his seat, he spotted the issue.
Many classmates kept glancing deliberately between the blackboard and Hina Mizuno. The blackboard’s reason was obvious: bold chalk letters declared “Mizuno XX is a net cafe refugee!” So their looks toward Hina? All suspicion.
Yet snippets Ayumu overheard confirmed it: though multiple students shared the surname “Mizuno,” everyone was certain the message targeted Hina Mizuno. The culprit left no name—but through murmured discussion, only Hina fit the “net cafe refugee” label.
In Japan, “net cafe refugee” refers to people unable to afford rent, living long-term in internet cafes. But to Ayumu, Hina was still a high schooler—shouldn’t she be living at home? How could she be one?
Ayumu doubted the claim’s truth. Had anyone actually seen it? Or was it biased assumption? He couldn’t grasp the writer’s motive—but the consequence was undeniably cold violence.
At the center of the storm, Hina Mizuno—the quietly insecure girl—had buried her face in her arms atop her desk, shutting out the world.
Ayumu couldn’t see her expression, but he knew sorrow hid there. When mocked by an entire class, no amount of self-deception could mask the ache within.
He wanted to help—but how? Comfort her? What words would work? Everyone carried hidden struggles. Like Ayumu himself: raised in a single-parent home, a secret no one knew. Even if classmates found out, few would dare mock him. Not after Ayumu’s recent reputation as a delinquent with off-the-charts combat skills. In this school of well-behaved students, provoking him meant courting trouble.
But Hina? A quiet, socially awkward, deeply insecure girl—she’d become the easiest target for bullies who preyed on the vulnerable. Ayumu’s chest tightened with anger: at the scheming culprit, at the classmates’ cold indifference.
Those glaring words on the board—if left until class started, the teacher would see them. Unacceptable. Hina was already hurting; Ayumu refused to let it worsen.
“Yui usually looks out for Hina… Why hasn’t she wiped the board?”
Yui Asou sat apart, quietly reading, seemingly unaware of the commotion. Time ticked closer to class. Ayumu stood to erase it himself—yes, it might stir gossip, but his notorious presence might silence the whispers.
Just as he rose, Yui finally noticed. She walked calmly to the podium and erased the board. In Ayumu’s memory, Yui had always been diligent and responsible—perhaps why the original owner of this body had quietly admired her. Class matters? Safe in her hands.
But to truly help Hina Mizuno, Ayumu knew: he first needed the truth. And the real reason behind the “net cafe refugee” rumor.
