...But as for the specific details, those were matters for later.
How could something like this be accomplished overnight?
Having a rough blueprint in her head so she wouldn't be flustered in the face of sudden situations was enough.
It wasn't as if she had to face this question the very next day, to dissect "who Rin is" for Reina, the audience, and the whole world.
In the days to come, it wouldn't be too late to slowly fill it in, revise it, and let this character develop from a blurry silhouette into a clear portrait.
Moreover, her relationship with Reina hadn't reached the point where they needed to know everything about each other yet.
There is plenty of time ahead.
Better eat first.
She stood up and pressed the light switch in the entryway with a "click."
Warm yellow light instantly filled the entryway, spilling over a bit to draw a soft boundary between the wooden floor and the tatami mats.
Rin tied on an apron; there was leftover curry from last night in the fridge, enough for one person.
She took out the white lidded container, peeled back a corner of the film, and leaned in to sniff it. There was no strange smell; the aroma of potatoes and carrots was still safely sealed inside.
She placed the pot on the stove and turned on the heat.
While waiting for the food to heat up, she leaned against the edge of the counter, her gaze falling aimlessly out the window.
The sign for the convenience store downstairs had already lit up.
Warm white light washed over the damp street, shining on several schoolgirls who had just finished classes. They were huddled in front of a vending machine, nudging each other as they chose drinks.
One said she wanted juice, another said she was cutting sugar lately; one stood on tiptoe to insert a coin, while another held her waist from behind to keep her from falling. Their laughter drifted through the windowpane—muffled, but the feeling of youth was still there.
Rin watched them.
She watched as one of the girls took two identical bottles of milk tea from the vending machine's dispenser and turned to hand one to her companion. The action seemed to have been repeated countless times—not a performance, not a deliberate display of intimacy, but a wordless understanding between two familiar people.
...So real.
Rather than a script, she sometimes felt this was more like another real world.
It's just that at the beginning of the story, there was a set track that could be observed, tracked, and recorded.
The people on that track were completely unaware, still living, loving, hesitating, and missing out with total sincerity.
Are all worlds like this, or is only this one special?
...Whatever, it's not important.
She had her own goals to achieve; there was no need to waste time on these metaphysical questions.
Rin withdrew her gaze.
The curry was bubbling, the steam making the pot lid rattle slightly. Rin took the opportunity to turn off the heat, served the rice, and poured the heated curry over the side.
It wasn't a perfectly neat scoop, but eating alone didn't require much attention to plating.
Taking only a spoon, she sat down with the bowl at the low table. The TV wasn't on; the only sound in the room was the light clinking of utensils.
The taste of the curry was familiar; the onions and carrots were stewed soft, their flavors fully seeped into the sauce. The meat was chicken thigh, cut into rather large pieces—she liked it that way, as it gave a solid sense of satisfaction when biting into it.
Finished eating, washed the dishes, dried them, and put them back on the drying rack.
She glanced at the old round clock on the wall; it was now 7:42 PM.
There was still a long gap before school tomorrow. Should she go rest now?
It felt a bit too early, and besides, it seemed like there was something left to do...
...Did the teacher... leave homework?
The corner of Rin's mouth twitched slightly. She picked up the bag she had casually left by the low table, unzipped it, and began rummaging for the textbooks inside.
...Fine, it does matter after all.
At this moment, she actually wished this world could be a bit more fake, if only regarding homework.
"...Do I have to write it too?"
Her eyes swept over the name field on the title page of the workbook; just that one look, and sleepiness washed over her like a tide.
Rin held the pen, stalling for a few seconds, as if engaged in a silent tug-of-war with herself.
Finally, she let out a long breath, resigned to her fate, and lowered her head, pressing the tip of the pen against the paper.