The morning air was still cold when Raku slowly opened his eyes. His first glance fell on the bedside clock—the hands pointed exactly at 5:00 a.m. He blinked slowly, his eyes heavy with sleep.
"Five o'clock again…?" he muttered softly, half yawning. "Why does my body always wake up at this hour…?"
Raku tried to close his eyes for a moment, but his body seemed already accustomed to waking up. With a lazy motion, he got up, stretched, and walked toward the men's bath. The warm steam from the bath brushed against his skin, gradually chasing away the drowsiness.
After finishing his bath, his hair still slightly damp was wrapped with a small towel. He stepped into the large kitchen of the house, where the faint aroma of broth and toasted bread lingered.
Inside, several servants were already busy preparing ingredients. Chopped vegetables, meat, and spices were neatly arranged on a long wooden table. Ryunosuke stood in front of the stove, his black apron covering his shirt, stirring a steaming pot of soup.
Ryunosuke looked up at the sound of footsteps.
"Oh, good morning, Bocchan. What brings you to the kitchen so early?"
Raku gave a small smile while rubbing his eyes.
"Good morning, Ryunosuke. I… want to help cook. My body is much better now. Besides, I will study with the private tutor later. So… I want to try something different this morning."
Ryunosuke observed him for a few seconds, then his lips curved into a warm smile.
"I see? In that case, come. I'll teach you a little cooking basics. You can take a look at the ingredients here first."
Raku stepped closer, examining the fresh vegetables—carrots, potatoes, onions, cabbage, and fresh chicken that had been cut. His hand reached out, as if he already knew exactly what to do.
"Bocchan, here's the kitchen knife," said Ryunosuke, handing him the chef's knife. "Try cutting these vegetables. Be careful not to hurt your fingers."
Raku took the knife, holding it firmly. He paused briefly, then without hesitation, his hands moved. The knife danced on the cutting board, tap tap tap tap! The rhythmic sound of swift chopping filled the air. Carrots were cut evenly, onions sliced thin and neat, and the chicken pieces arranged perfectly without a single mistake.
The servants preparing the spices spontaneously paused, looking over with astonished expressions.
"Eh… Bocchan… so fast…" whispered one of the servants.
"Even the cuts are neat, as if he's been cooking for years…" murmured another.
Ryunosuke simply stood beside him, smiling in satisfaction.
"Hahaha… it seems your body still remembers, even if your head doesn't. So that's how it is, Bocchan… even with amnesia, your manual skills remain intact."
Raku paused for a moment, looking at the results of his chopping. His brows furrowed slightly.
"So… I used to cook often?"
Ryunosuke nodded slowly. "Not as often as professional chefs, of course. But you had the habit of helping in the kitchen occasionally. Especially when you wanted to learn or simply calm your mind."
Raku looked down at the neatly arranged vegetables. A small smile appeared on his face.
"I don't remember… but it feels… enjoyable."
Ryunosuke patted Raku's shoulder.
"Then, just continue. Let your hands remember again. I'll prepare the soup seasoning while you sauté these vegetables."
"Alright."
Raku took the frying pan, poured in a little oil, and turned on the heat. His movements were natural—pouring, stirring, sautéing—the aroma of sautéed onions quickly filled the kitchen. All the servants watched with a mixture of surprise and pride.
Amid the rising steam and warm cooking smells, the kitchen of the Ichijou household was filled with a soft commotion—not from noise, but from admiration.
Ryunosuke glanced at Raku's back, muttering to himself:
"This is Bocchan… even without his memory, he's still himself."
After a while, the aroma of chicken soup and sautéed vegetables filled the large kitchen of the Ichijou family. Raku stirred the pot carefully, the hot steam rising to his face, yet he smiled faintly as if enjoying every step.
"Bocchan, that's enough," said Ryunosuke, tasting the soup with a long-handled spoon. "The flavor… is just right. Not too salty, not bland. Good job."
Raku looked at the pot, his face slightly relieved. "So… I can really cook."
Ryunosuke gave a faint smile. "Not just that. You have trained hands. It's as if your body remembers everything even if your mind doesn't."
The servants clapped quietly, some smiling warmly.
"Excellent, Bocchan!"
"This soup will surely be a favorite at the dining table."
Raku just blushed, bowing his head slightly. He felt warm, even though he didn't fully understand who he used to be.
Dining Room
The long table typical of the Ichijou family was filled with various dishes: Raku's chicken vegetable soup, soft omelets, grilled fish, fresh salad, and warm rice. A crystal chandelier illuminated the dishes, making them even more enticing.
Issei was already seated at the head chair, his house shirt neat, his face serious as usual but with a faint smile. Once everyone was seated, including Raku on his right side, they began with a short prayer and then started eating.
"Hmm… this soup," said Issei, blowing on his spoon before tasting. He paused for a moment, then smiled faintly. "It's soft and warm. Who made this?"
Ryunosuke, sitting not far away, replied with a slight smile. "Bocchan, Sir. He came to the kitchen this morning by himself and asked to learn cooking. At first I thought he just wanted to try, but… his cuts were neat, sautéing fast, and this soup is almost perfect."
The spoon in Issei's hand paused. He glanced at Raku, who was slightly bowing, holding his chopsticks awkwardly.
"I see," said Issei softly, then chuckled. "Even though your memory is gone, your body still retains old habits. That's what they call muscle memory."
Raku smiled shyly, scratching his head. "I just wanted to help… even a little."
Issei put down his chopsticks, then gently patted Raku's head.
"Good job, Raku. I'm glad to see you not only studying, but also trying to do something with your own hands. That's the most important."
Raku looked at his father and nodded slowly. "Thank you, Father. I'll try even more."
Ryunosuke just smiled watching them. The dining room, usually full of the Ichijou family's yakuza dignity, felt warmer that morning, like a normal family enjoying breakfast together.
Issei sipped his tea, then added, "Like this, I have nothing to worry about. You'll be fine facing the days ahead."
After breakfast, the long table was gradually cleared by the servants. Raku put down his chopsticks, let out a small sigh, then finished the rest of his tea. Issei, sitting calmly in his chair, looked at his son.
"Raku," said Issei in a deep yet warm voice. "Your private tutor will arrive in an hour. Be ready. I want you to study seriously so that when school starts after New Year, you won't have any difficulties."
Raku turned with a serious expression and nodded. "Understood, Father. I will prepare myself."
Time passed slowly. Raku returned to his room, tidying his study desk, arranging textbooks, and making sure his notebooks were ready. Though he tried to calm himself, there was a slight nervousness. He had never truly studied with a private tutor before, especially after losing his memory.
In Front of the Gate
Exactly one hour later, the sound of a small car engine stopped in front of the Ichijou family residence. A young woman stepped out, wearing a thick light gray coat, her long soft pink hair flowing, her green eyes calm yet slightly trembling. She clutched her black work bag tightly.
Kirisu Mafuyu took a deep breath, staring at the large gate guarded by several burly men. 'Calm… I'm just a private tutor. Nothing to be afraid of,' she thought, though her face remained stiff.
She pressed the bell beside the gate. Shortly after, a servant's voice came from the intercom.
"Yes, who's there?"
"I-I'm Mafuyu Kirisu. The private tutor scheduled for today." Her voice sounded firm, though inside she was full of nervousness.
The iron gate slowly opened with a heavy creak. Two large men in black suits slightly bowed, signaling her to enter. Mafuyu swallowed hard, then stepped inside.
Inside the Residence
As soon as she stepped onto the inner grounds, she was immediately taken aback by a sight she had rarely imagined. Dozens of men in formal black attire, their bodies covered in tattoos, stood neatly on the left and right sides, as if welcoming a very important guest.
Mafuyu walked slowly, her heels clicking clearly on the marble floor. She tried to maintain a calm expression, but in her mind, only one word remained: 'This is really a Yakuza family house…'
The crowd then parted, opening a path. From the main staircase, a man with a strong yet calm aura walked slowly. His face was cold but full of authority. As he approached, he stopped in front of Mafuyu.
"Welcome, Miss Mafuyu Kirisu," he said, his voice deep and steady. "I am Issei Ichijou, head of this family and Raku's father. Thank you for coming, even on short notice."
Mafuyu bowed politely, trying to keep her voice steady. "M-my name is Mafuyu Kirisu. I will be Raku Ichijou's temporary private tutor. Please take care of him."
Issei nodded briefly, a faint smile appearing on his stern face. "I entrust my son to you. He's been having a little difficulty lately, so guide him so he can follow his school lessons."
"Understood," Mafuyu replied promptly.
Ryunosuke, standing not far away, then stepped forward. "If so, I will escort Miss Kirisu to Bocchan's room. Please follow me."
Mafuyu nodded, then followed Ryunosuke through the long corridor. Every step made her heart beat faster. Her green eyes glanced around: old paintings, crystal chandeliers, and men in black suits who looked scarier than any student she had ever met.
'Calm, Mafuyu… you are just a teacher. Do your job. Don't show your nervousness.'
Even so, her hands still gripped her work bag tightly, as if it were her only lifeline in this foreign world called the Yakuza.