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Reborn in Type-Moon: Starting by Adopting Sakura - Chapter 30
🕑 Added 2025-07-31 04:24:18 +0000 UTCManaka's voice drifted from the kitchen, a bright melody weaving through the familiar sounds of chopping and sizzling. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this light, this genuinely happy.
That troublesome woman would finally be gone. As for Sakura—well, she was hardly competition at this stage. A quiet laugh escaped her as she stirred the pan. Really, Master ought to notice how hard she'd been working lately. All the effort she put in deserved some recognition, didn't it?
Sakura closed her programming book and padded out of her room. That busty glutton had claimed the couch again, naturally, surrounded by cake crumbs. But something else caught her attention—Manaka looked different today. Actually happy, not just putting on her usual pleasant mask.
The entire kitchen seemed to glow, as if someone had thrown open invisible curtains and let sunshine pour in.
"Manaka-nee, something good happen today?"
Despite Manaka's love for horror stories and her occasionally questionable cooking experiments, she'd always treated Sakura kindly. Sure, she didn't really know Sakura's preferences—what she liked or couldn't stand—but living under the same roof meant they’d gotten used to sharing quiet moments and bumping into each other around the house. Sakura didn't mind her company.
"Oh, Sakura-chan!" Manaka turned around, practically glowing. "Hehehe, it's really nothing special."
Her smile seemed to fill the room, like she was standing in a garden full of blooming flowers.
"But today feels wonderful. Look, I made hamburger steak—your favorite!" Her voice carried a warmth Sakura had rarely heard before, soft and genuinely affectionate.
Sakura blinked.
Hamburger steak? She did enjoy it, but she was fairly certain she'd never mentioned that to Manaka. Just like she'd never brought up her dislike of tomatoes, green peppers, celery, or bitter melon.
Strange. But as long as none of those vegetables made it onto her plate, she wasn't about to complain.
…
The table groaned under the weight of dish after dish, each one more elaborate than the last. Everything looked picture-perfect, almost too good to be real.
Well, it was Irisviel's farewell dinner, after all. Manaka had decided to be generous and pull out all the stops. She kept glancing at the clock as she waited for Master to come home. Six o'clock.
Golden light filtered through the shop windows, bathing everything in that soft, end-of-day warmth that made even the dusty book spines look cozy.
Manaka breathed in the quiet satisfaction of the moment. Soon, very soon, things would be exactly as they should be.
If it wouldn't have been completely undignified, she might have already started packing Irisviel's suitcases for her.
Ding-ling-ling.
The wind chime stirred lazily, its gentle notes floating through the still air.
"Welcome home, Master."
Manaka had positioned herself near the entrance, wearing her most radiant smile. She looked like she’d stepped out of a painting—effortlessly beautiful.
"Mmm, smells incredible." Irisviel beamed at her. "Thank you so much, Manaka-chan. Every meal you've made has been absolutely wonderful."
Manaka's smile never wavered. "Oh, don't mention it. I love cooking. Really, it's no trouble at all."
The picture of domestic bliss.
Dinner proceeded quietly, with Lancer maintaining her usual impeccable table manners. She ate without a word, every movement deliberate and refined, embodying the sort of courtly behavior you'd expect from someone of royal blood.
The woman certainly knew how to conduct herself properly.
Yuu surveyed the feast spread before them, his gaze lingering on one particular dish. That caviar alone had probably cost a small fortune—maybe 180,000 yen, if he had to guess. He shrugged internally. Well, if it made Manaka happy, who was he to question it?
"Oh, and don't worry about making lunch tomorrow. Iri and I will be out."
"Huh?" Manaka's head tilted, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. "You still haven't found anywhere?"
Made sense. Tokyo wasn't exactly known for its abundance of affordable housing.
"Found what?" Yuu looked genuinely puzzled.
"Didn't you mention this morning that you were taking Miss Iri to look for property?"
"Oh, that." Understanding dawned on his face. "We found something. At Asakusa Temple."
"Asakusa... Temple?"
Manaka's confusion deepened. Even she knew that historical landmarks didn't exactly operate as rental properties.
"I'll be spending some time there reading scriptures," Yuu explained. "Iri's coming with me as my secretary."
Hearing this, something inside her chest made an audible crack—the sound of carefully constructed hopes crumbling into dust.
Irisviel. Acting as Master Yuu's secretary.
Just the two of them, tucked away in some quiet corner of an ancient temple.
How had this happened? How in the world had things turned out this way?
"Manaka? Are you okay?" Yuu had caught the way her smile had frozen in place.
"N-No, everything's fine..." She wanted to slam her forehead on the table, but there wasn’t even space to do that—she'd covered every inch of it with the elaborate spread she'd spent hours preparing.
"Well then, let's dig in." Yuu's gentle smile returned.
Whatever storm had been building in Manaka's chest quietly fizzled out under the warmth of his expression, leaving behind only a hollow ache.
"I'm... I'm actually not hungry anymore." She set her chopsticks down carefully and pushed back from the table. "I think I'll go upstairs."
"What's gotten into her?" Irisviel wondered aloud as Manaka's footsteps faded up the stairs.
"Probably just worn out from all that cooking. Don't worry about it." he shrugged.
Sakura watched Manaka disappear around the corner, then quietly reached for the rice cooker to serve herself another portion.
The food really was exceptional tonight.
…
The evening air carried salt from the distant ocean as Kirei Kotomine made his way down the narrow path that wound away from the hilltop villa, alone with his thoughts.
He'd spent years as an Executor for the Holy Church, enduring the kind of rigorous training that stripped away comfort and left only discipline behind. Silence, hardship, purpose—or what had passed for purpose, anyway.
Two years ago, everything changed. The Church had reassigned him—at least on paper—to the Mage's Association. Just like that, he'd become apprentice to Tohsaka Tokiomi.
The official paperwork bore signatures from both organizations, neat and bureaucratic, formally declaring Kotomine Kirei's transfer as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
When he'd first read those documents, surprise hadn't even registered. He'd moved beyond surprise long ago, straight into a kind of numb shock.
And no one had bothered to ask his own opinion on the matter.
But why should that bother him? Kirei had never really possessed a will of his own anyway.
The arrangement had a simple enough purpose—to help his father's old friend and current teacher win the Holy Grail War.
It struck him as tedious and meaningless.
Then again, for as long as he could remember, no ideal had ever seemed worth chasing. Nothing brought him genuine satisfaction. Joy remained as foreign to him as a language he'd never learned to speak.
He'd spent countless hours wondering why his emotions seemed so completely out of step with everyone else's, why what moved other people left him empty. He'd never found an answer.
Still, his father had wanted this. So Kirei would follow through, like he always did, without protest or hesitation.
Executor work, the Holy Grail War, whatever came next—he had to keep moving, keep doing something.
Because the alternative was worse. The alternative was standing still long enough for that terrible emptiness inside him to swallow him whole.
