What If You Spoil a High School Girl Who Looks Like a Landmine? - Volume 1 Chapter 5.4

The Real Thing 4

『To think the day would come when I’d have love-talks like this with Onee-chan. I’m not sure if it’s a common love talk or not though. Oh, did you know? Mom and Dad are worried about you.』

“Is that so?”

『Yeah, because it’d be bad if you got tangled up with a no-good guy. Hahaha, well, that’s completely off the mark, isn’t it?』

“…Yeah.”

At this point, I understand that as well.

『Whether it’s convenient or malicious, Onee-chan’s desire to take care of people doesn’t respond well to those who are self-indulgent. Because Onee-chan wants to care for those who are working hard.』

“… That understanding might be one step short.”

『Eh, Really?』

“Yes. What I want is—”

At my following words, Kanon was silent for a moment, then said,

『…Onee-chan, you’re really the real deal.』

***

Opening my eyes, the digital clock on my bedside table reads 5:30 a.m.

It being a Saturday, there’s no school today, and although I have work, I don’t usually wake up this early.

…I woke up to the sound of something breaking.

“…Mom, is that you?”

She didn’t come home last night, and she rarely comes home at this hour.

I don’t have a good feeling about this.

Mom has been showing up at this house more frequently lately.

Based on past experiences, that generally means things are not going well with her boyfriend.

The last time she came home, she seemed a bit unstable, and I failed to catch a smartphone she threw in a sudden outburst.

The congestion around my eye, which I hide with an eyepatch when I go out, is a remnant of that.

With these thoughts, I walk through the corridor to the living kitchen.

There’s a noise coming from there.

“Mom—”

“Too slow!”

The moment I open the door, a plate comes flying at me. It hits around my collarbone with an unpleasant sound. Worse than the pain, a nasty sweat bursts from my body at Mom’s angry shout.

“Why don’t you come sooner!”

“Sorry, I was sleeping…”

“…I guess you don’t care about Misa, huh?”

Mom says, suddenly switching to a dark tone.

Her emotional volatility stoked my anxiety even more.

“You don’t care about Misa, do you?”

“That’s not—”

“You don’t care, do you?”

…My guess that something must have happened with her boyfriend is probably right.

She seems more agitated than usual, likely because of that.

Shattered plates are scattered around my mom’s feet in the kitchen.

…She was in a terrible rage.

“…Ughh! uuuu, ugh…”

Mom is frantically tearing at her own hair.

“It’s your fault…”

“Ts…um…”

“Misa doesn’t cook… it’s because you said you wanted to do the cooking yourself, right?”

…The topic has shifted, and the line of reasoning is a bit unclear.

However, there are signs that cooking had been attempted in the kitchen—ingredients, a frying pan, and a knife are all out.

Did she try to make something?

…Mom doesn’t really cook.

From what I remember, she’s terrible at it and gets irritable whenever mealtime comes around.

Because of that, I took over the responsibility of cooking many years ago.

“It’s all your fault, not Misa’s.”

…if I had to guess, did they break up because of something related to cooking?

I think that’s probably the case.

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault…but Mom,”

Glancing down at the floor, I notice the broken plates that look like they could cut my mom’s feet.

I take a step closer to at least move her away from them.

“Misa’s not at fault!”

Thud—

An impact popped into my face. A moment later, the pain rushes in.

Through my blurry vision, I see my mom holding a frying pan.

It’s old, rugged, and heavy—the impact from being hit with it is considerable.

“…ughh, uuu.”

It seems like I picked a bad time to walk in.

When I got hit with it while it was heated before, I didn’t feel this wobbly.

This time, it probably hit around my jaw.

Unable to stand, I involuntarily lean against the wall.

“Mom——”

“..Ah, ah, …you’re making a face like it’s Misa’s fault! Ah! Ahhhh! Like that!”

“It’s not…ouch!”

Thud—

It came from within my body.

Looking down, the frying pan had hit me in the stomach, right at the pit of my stomach.

Unable to hold back, I let out a groan and curl up on the floor.

Glancing upwards through my still-distorted vision, I see that Mom still has the frying pan in her hand.

“You always blame Misa…! It’s always Misa who ends up getting hurt!”

Mom has a tendency to imagine things I haven’t said, and her thoughts spiral from there.

“I, I didn’t…”

“…If it were Takkun, he would have been much kinder. Takkun never told Misa she couldn’t cook…!”

“…..”

Dad…

Dad was a man who could do anything.

“So why!… Why don’t you do anything for me!”

Tears start to stream down Mom’s face.

“You’ve always been clumsy like an idiot, without any talent, constantly causing trouble for Misa… M-M-Misa is always the one who ends up getting hurt because Takkun is gone…”

Mom stomps on the floor angrily.

Amidst the shattered plates at her feet, she could hurt herself at any moment.

“M-Mom…a-at this point, pleas stop—”

I try to intervene, but the pain from the hit to my jaw hasn’t subsided yet.

Unable to stand up straight, my balance wavers…

I ended up grabbing hold of Mom’s clothes.

“Ah…”

“..Eh?… Ah, Aaaaaah! He’s angry! He’s angry at Misa! Ah! Aaaaaaaaah!”

A scream as loud as an explosion, reverberates through my eardrums and shakes my heart.

“How could you, how could you, why, ah~!!”

“No, Mom—”

“How could you, how could you, why does everyone treat Misa like this!? Aaaaaaah!”

What my flickering vision captures is Mom holding a knife.