03 Returning Home
Jin's house, left untouched for approximately two years.
A common type of residential unit within the convoy.
Perhaps slightly superior in security, marginally.
One room within it is Jin's fortress.
The interior design was elaborate, but not unreasonable for a space intended for habitation.
He unlocks the key, opens the door, and stands frozen.
The cleaning has been performed relentlessly by the home computer.
Not a trace of dust remains.
A corridor, newly constructed, stretches ahead.
It exerts a pressure greater than any enemy.
Jin has not stepped inside.
For the past two years, he has been the temporary occupant of a nap chamber.
Not because he lacked the will to return.
Because he feared enduring a home without people.
And now, in truth, he cannot endure it.
Seeing Jin thus, Mio steps forward into the entranceway.
Then—
"Welcome home."
She turned with a vaguely uneasy expression and said that.
Only then did Jin realize.
How he could read that emotion from Mio’s expressionless face.
The manner of her expression was restrained, yet showed a change remarkably similar to that of the Command.
When Mio hesitated slightly, her words faltering, her expression grew more anxious.
Once noticed, Jin found Mio’s emotion easier to understand.
After all, the correct response already existed in his mind.
The reason was simple—once thought about.
“Welcome home.”
That one word had been missing. That was what had unsettled her.
The moment she heard it, Mio’s expression brightened.
From today onward, they would live together.
Mio wanted this place to become a safe home.
She had decided to take him in. She had to be strong.
She forced strength into trembling legs and stepped forward into the room.
It was exactly as terrifying as it had been two years ago.
Everywhere he looked, there were the furniture Mio had chosen.
The wallpaper Mio had chosen.
The curtains Mio had chosen.
Mio. Mio. Mio.
No matter where he turned, the memory surged forward.
His chest ached.
He had thought he had severed all ties with her in two years.
He now realized that was nothing but an illusion.
The greatest reason he had failed to prepare a new room was this.
The memories of Mio that remained.
He could not bring himself to destroy them with his own hands.
A slight tug at his sleeve brought him back to awareness.
He reflexively turned right—then remembered she was on his left—and turned his head again.
“Something wrong?”
“Jin… you were spacing out.”
Ah, yes, he understood.
He had meant it to be only a moment, but apparently he had been lost in thought long enough to worry Mio.
“Ah… right. Let’s start by showing you around the house.”
Not exactly large enough to warrant a proper tour, though.
A two-bedroom apartment—finished in minutes.
“This is Mio’s room… sorry, I haven’t bought furniture yet. Let’s go pick some new ones.”
Originally meant for Rei.
Rei had chosen the furniture, but leaving it for Mio felt like a cruelty.
Just thinking about discarding it brought a pain like tearing through the chest.
Still, Jin wanted Mio to choose her own things. Yet Mio tilted her head.
“Why?”
“Why…?”
He’d thought she might be hesitant, but the expression was not that.
Purely, she seemed to like what was already here.
“This room… I like it. Smells nice.”
Smells?
Jin twitched his nose, uncertain.
He couldn’t detect anything.
But if Mio liked it, that was enough.
He felt genuine happiness at being told he liked what Ryo had left behind.
"Got it. Then we'll keep it this way. If you want something, don’t hesitate to say so."
One day, surely.
Slowly, Mio’s purchases would accumulate, and the lingering trace of Ryo would fade.
The thought of that day arriving was bittersweet—yet she looked forward to it, imagining Mio’s growth along the way.
"Un."
A small nod. Jin relaxed, satisfied for now. Then he noticed what was missing.
"Ah. Right—I forgot to buy a bed."
Only a queen-sized bed stood in the room, originally meant to serve as both the bedroom and Jin’s private space.
He assumed she’d object to sharing the same bed—yet—
"Jin’s room had one?"
She said it with genuine bewilderment.
"No, that one’s mine."
"Big enough for Mio to sleep in too?"
They can sleep, certainly.
If two adults can fit, then one child shouldn't be a problem.
Isn't Mio bothered by it?
Why? You said Jin and Mio were family, teacher said so.
The one called "teacher" must be the doctor from when we were in the hospital.
It seemed Jin was explaining, in detail, what would happen after he took Mio in.
"Teacher said family is always together. Did the teacher lie?"
Jin raised both hands in surrender, watching Mio’s sudden realization.
The doctor who taught it to Mio was correct.
There's nothing unusual about ordinary parents sharing a bed.
Jin had simply overprepared.
Mio’s adaptability appears to be higher.
Regardless, Jin had felt since earlier that he was consistently losing to Mio.
That’s right. Then Mio can use my bed too.
"Good. The teacher wasn’t lying..."
A faint trace of envy toward the teacher, now somewhat trusted.
Rather, he resolved to solidify that trust further—no room for defeat from here on.
"Shall we eat then?"
"Oooh."
Mio raises one hand in delight; Jin’s expression softens.
Setting aside all other matters, Jin has no aversion to children.
Rather, he falls into the category of those he likes.
"Anything you feel like eating?"
"Chow mein!"
"Again with the bland choice."
Jin, slightly surprised by Mio’s minor deviation from the norm within the convoy, begins preparing the meal.
"Nutritional balance: standard. Flavor profile: chow mein."
He issues the order to the home computer. Seconds later, the meal emerges, processed into a cube.
"Here."
"…Huh?"
Chow mein flavor hadn’t been tasted in quite some time, but Jin thought it was surprisingly decent.
He noticed Mio not touching the cube, though he had chewed it down with some resistance.
“What’s wrong?”
Staring at the cube food, she tilted her head slightly.
“Is this rice?”
“Yeah. You’ve eaten it at the hospital, haven’t you?”
“I thought it was hospital food.”
Jin’s expression—though he hesitated—was something like shock.
A look not often seen on a child’s face.
“You don’t cook.”
“Cook…? Ah. Well, the equipment’s here, but…”
He glanced briefly over his shoulder.
The kitchen was indeed present in the house. It had been installed at Let’s insistence.
But in the Third Fleet, cooking was the exception, not the rule.
Most meals were consumed as cube food.
Nutrition was managed by the home computer, linked to nanomachines in the body, which compensated for deficiencies automatically.
In fact, traditional cooking likely caused more nutritional imbalance.
Thus.
"I can't do it at all."
"Surprised."
Eyes wide, Mio perhaps more startled than at any moment since their meeting.
"Change the flavor?"
Jin wonders if Mio might have grown tired of the fried rice taste, but she shakes her head slightly.
"Will eat."
Mio chews the cube food with an expression too subtle to describe.
Now, Jin wonders if he might have, in some way, genuinely expected real cooking.
If so, he's done something wrong.
Still, the question remains—where did he learn that?
On this convoy, cube food is standard.
Eating out is the only alternative.
For someone like Rei, attempting to cook by hand is the exception.
"...Tastes good."
Her expression, however, is full of regret.
After the room, after the bed—three straight losses.
Perhaps it's just in her mind. She feels her trust slipping.
Still, it was unrealistic for Jin—completely inexperienced—to prepare a meal that would meet Mio’s expectations.
The ingredients weren’t available to begin with.
He’d likely need to go to an agricultural plant ship just to source basic materials.
Since it was Rin who chose this location, perhaps there was a store nearby that sold cooking supplies.
Alternatively, he could place an order through a standard delivery service from some online vendor.
But Jin knew nothing about either option.
Struggling to think of a way to please her, Jin finally came up with an idea.
He remembered one acquaintance who was an exception.
"Alright, got it. We’ll eat out tonight."
"?"
Mio tilted her head, a smudge of food still on her lips, at the sudden declaration.