Hiro grinned. "We're cooking."
"What are you cooking?” The grogginess from Reo’s voice lifted. “Is it macaroni and cheese?"
I bit back a chuckle.
Hiro spoke, "We're making Eggs Benedict with potatoes and banana bread."
There was a longer pause this time.
Then a beep, and Reo’s voice sounded. "Perhaps I should come down there to make sure everything is in order."
Hiro laughed and looked at me.
I shook my head. “Tell him that he’s getting a bento box.”
“His second bento box?”
“Just tell him and stop counting what people get. For God’s sakes, the Claws are getting their own cocktail party.”
“Fine.” Hiro rolled his eyes and pressed his watch. "She'll be making you a bento box."
I gave him a thumbs up.
Reo sounded highly pleased and almost smug. "Thank you very much. I can’t wait."
We continued cooking.
More reggae songs played.
The kitchen filled with the smells of banana bread baking, potatoes crisping in butter, hollandaise sauce coming together under Hiro's careful whisking.
I wanted to ask him things. Why he'd been sleeping in the kitchen instead of his bedroom. Why he looked so tired. Why the sake. What was haunting him so badly that he couldn't find peace even in sleep.
And of course, I wanted to know more about this woman that he’d decided not to share with Kenji.
But we were having fun.
He was smiling—really smiling—in a way that looked like it hadn't happened in a long time.
We were swaying to the reggae music, singing along.
And even my guards were bopping their heads.
And. . .I began to feel like this was all medicine.
Not just for him, but for me too.
And I knew, instinctively, that this was enough. Whatever demons Hiro was fighting, this moment of normalcy—of cooking, music, and laughter—was what he needed.
So, I didn't push.
I just taught him how to poach an egg, how to toast an English muffin to the perfect golden brown, how to plate food so it looked as good as it tasted.
When everything was done, I made his plate first—generous portions, everything arranged beautifully.
Then I helped assemble the bento boxes for the guards and Roar. I drew little symbols on each one—a tiny dragon holding a gun for Kenji's guards, a small tiger gripping a deadly pen for mine.
I put in thick slices of warm banana bread with small containers of caramel sauce and whipped cream I’d quickly made earlier.
