When Maki finished the first verse of the song, he grabbed his pen and scribbled on the sheet of paper, muttering to himself, "This should be another F, not C."
He was completely focused on the music sheet; he didn't notice Nemuri watching him with a smile. It wasn't the simple teasing smile she usually wore—it was something deeper, a smile that showed she had finally decided something in her heart.
She pressed the stop recording button. She didn't continue to take her bath. Instead, she went straight to her room and lay down for a while, not wanting the lingering feeling on her neck to disappear as she drifted to sleep.
But before sleeping, she posted the video on her Hero-net page and added a caption:
His first song.
After posting the video, she closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his presence and the melody still playing in her mind.
While she slept, Maki continued adjusting the chords and refining how he should sing the song more properly. After retouching Die With a Smile, he set the paper aside.
Then he grabbed another piece of paper. It was filled with many scratches and erased lines, showing how many times he had gotten the lyrics wrong.
Maki smiled at the paper and murmured to himself, "You're my first song then. Not because I like this song… but because it reminds me of my own world."
While all of this was happening, Nemuri's Hero-net feed was buzzing with notifications—likes, comments, and shares flooding in.
But neither of them knew about it yet.
♤
Maki then finalized the music sheet he was holding. He stopped, knowing it was already night and that Nemuri was soundly asleep.
He flexed the paper and the guitar, slowly placing it back on its own rack. After finishing the cleanup, he walked to Nemuri's room. The door was left open, and he saw her wearing her white robe, sleeping peacefully. He approached her, picked up the neatly folded blanket at her side, and gently covered her. Then he bent down, kissed her forehead, and whispered, "Good night."
He left her room and slowly closed the door. After that, Maki went to his own bed and fell asleep.
♤
Exactly at 5 a.m., Maki woke up. His body had become accustomed to this routine—it was a hobby he couldn't change. He walked to the kitchen, washed his face with water from the faucet, and examined his hands, preparing to do his daily task of cooking Nemuri's breakfast. Even though it was Saturday, he did it not because he was told to, but because he wanted to.
He took out a chicken breast from the fridge, washed it, and began preparing a dish called Chicken Piccata—a classic Italian-American meal that transforms humble chicken breasts into a restaurant-quality dish. Its signature "zippy" sauce combines bright, buttery, and briny flavors from lemon and capers.
The secret to Piccata, Maki knew, was thinness. He sliced the chicken breasts in half horizontally, butterflying them to make four thin pieces. He placed them under plastic wrap and pounded them with a heavy pan until they were about half an inch thick. He seasoned them with salt and pepper, then dredged them in flour, shaking off the excess.
Next, he heated oil and one tablespoon of butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat. He fried the chicken for about three minutes per side until golden brown and cooked through, then removed the pieces to a plate, tenting them with foil to keep warm.
Maki didn't wash the pan. He lowered the heat to medium, added a splash of oil if needed, and sautéed shallots and garlic for one minute. He poured in wine (or broth) to deglaze, scraping the bottom to collect all the flavorful brown bits, letting the liquid reduce by half.
For the finish, Maki whisked in chicken broth, lemon juice, and capers, letting the sauce simmer for five minutes until it thickened slightly. He then turned the heat to low, whisked in the remaining three tablespoons of cold butter to create a glossy, emulsified sauce, stirred in parsley, and added the chicken back into the pan for one minute to coat. Once finished, he served it on the kitchen dining table.
After washing and drying his hands, Maki walked slowly to Nemuri's room. She was already up, leaning against her headboard, scrolling intently on her phone, her eyes moving frantically across the screen.
Maki leaned on the doorframe and crossed his arms. "Honey, the food's ready. Come, let's eat."
Nemuri looked up at his voice, then at him, and smiled. "Oh, don't scare me like that, honey." Her voice wasn't teasing as usual. She opened her arms and added in a childlike tone, "Why don't you carry me? I'm still feeling weak."
Maki didn't waste a moment. He kissed her forehead, slipped his left arm under her legs, and his right arm under her armpits. "Okay, hold onto my neck," he whispered. Nemuri smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Maki carried her out of the room and into the kitchen.