Each Their Own Curry
—α Timeline (Misato’s Perspective)—
My brother’s approach to curry was all about efficiency. Knowing he wasn’t particularly skilled at cooking, he prioritized saving time and avoiding mistakes. For instance, he microwaved the root vegetables first, which reduced the risk of them being undercooked. Honestly, why does he always try to live so cautiously, only to stumble upon surprisingly innovative ideas? That’s just so like him.
“Aunt Misato, do you need help?”
When Airi-chan offered, I smiled and said, “Yes, please.” I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to teach her my brother’s recipe. Aside from his microwave shortcut, his curry method was pretty straightforward. As long as you used the same roux, it was easy to replicate the flavor.
Even though she was still in elementary school, Airi-chan said she’d used knives in cooking class. When I asked her to peel a carrot with a peeler, she handled it quickly and efficiently. I couldn’t help but smile, thinking she might even be better at it than my brother.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing. I just remembered the first time Onii-chan made curry. He peeled so much off the carrots that there was almost nothing left of them. You’re really good at this, Airi-chan.”
When I praised her, she smiled brightly, her eyes brimming with tears.
That must’ve been because I was cutting onions right next to her.
“The onions sting my eyes.”
When I mentioned it, Airi-chan replied, “Yeah, they make me cry too.”
We both paused for a moment, our tears flowing as we thought about my brother—the one we both loved so much.
I wanted Airi-chan to remember my brother as a happy part of her life. That had become my wish now. After crying together, we shared stories about the fun times we’d had while making curry. Airi-chan said she’d never forget the day her dad took her to Disneyland.
My husband chimed in, “Well, why don’t we go next time? I can get discounted tickets through the company’s employee benefits.” Surprised, I quietly asked, “Why didn’t you ever tell me about this?” He gave a sheepish grin and replied, “It’s more fun to go with cute Airi-chan. Ow! Stop that!”
Honestly, we usually used those benefits for cheap movie tickets and shabu-shabu. I wouldn’t mind visiting that dreamland myself every once in a while.
Still, I couldn’t help but feel excited about the idea of the three of us going together.
By the time the curry finished simmering, I realized we’d made quite a lot. Tomorrow, I might make a little white sauce and turn the leftovers into curry doria.
“““Itadakimasu!”””
And so, our first dinner together as a new family began.
“Aunt Misato!”
Airi-chan took a bite of the curry, her face lighting up with joy.
“What is it?”
“This curry tastes just like my dad’s! It’s so good! Thank you.”
Hearing her say that warmed my heart. We smiled at each other, sharing a moment of pure happiness.
—β Timeline—
“““Itadakimasu!”””
As dinner began, I couldn’t fully judge how the food had turned out until I heard Kaede-san’s opinion. I kept glancing at her, waiting for her reaction.
Meanwhile, my always-hungry sister quickly devoured her salad, mumbling something about “veggie first,” before eagerly moving on to the nikujaga. It had been ages since I’d heard someone actually say that.
Misato ate the curry with visible enjoyment, giving me a thumbs-up and saying “Good!” in her short but sincere way. Since she’s perpetually hungry, I couldn’t help but wonder if her evaluation was truly objective. Still, seeing her enjoy it made me genuinely happy. Come to think of it, Misato had always loved my curry in the previous life too.
Airi had always asked for seconds, too. In that moment, I silently added showing Kaede-san the faces of her future grandchildren to my list of life goals.
Watching Misato enjoy herself, Kaede-san took her first bite of curry. Her face softened into a smile, as though the exhaustion melted away. After trying the nikujaga, she nodded approvingly.
“Michitaka-san, this curry is delicious—the vegetables are so tender. Thank you for cooking.”
Relief washed over me.
“I’m glad you liked it. I’ll make it again sometime.”
“Please do.”
Kaede-san chuckled softly, her eyes glistening faintly. It suddenly hit me that in the previous life, I’d only started cooking more often after Kaede-san passed away. This was the first time in two lifetimes that I’d cooked a meal for my mom. A deep sense of accomplishment filled my heart.
This was just the beginning. I was determined to bring even more happiness to everyone and continue moving forward. As I ate my curry, I felt profoundly grateful for reclaiming the joy we three had once lost.
If there’s any curry left tomorrow, making curry doria with white sauce sounds like a perfect plan. It’s the ultimate way to bring out the depth of second-day curry.
—Kaede’s Perspective—
“Hey, Hirotaka-san, Michiru? Guess what? Michitaka-san made curry for me today! And salad and nikujaga, too. He even suggested the nikujaga would work for tomorrow’s bento, maybe as a gyudon-style dish. It feels like a dream, having him cook for me.”
Since the two of them had retreated to their room, I carried out my daily ritual of sharing updates before taking a bath. Michitaka-san’s name came from combining Michiru’s “Michi” 「美知」, modified to “Michi” 「道」, with Hirotaka-san’s “Taka” 「隆」.
The character “Taka” 「隆」 originally symbolized a ladder used by gods to travel between the heavens and earth. Over time, it came to represent elevation, growth, and prosperity—a beautiful name reflecting the path of rising higher alongside others.
I truly believed it was a wonderful name, perfectly embodying the two people I loved so deeply.
“As for Misato, her name was meant to bring comfort and warmth to those around her, like a beacon of light. I also borrowed part of Michiru’s name for hers.”
While Michitaka moves forward to create happiness, Misato’s name reflects someone who stays behind to provide rest and support for those in need.
“And if her brother ever feels tired or lost, I hope she’ll be there to support him, even as his little sister.”
“Michitaka-san’s curry was truly delicious. It wouldn’t feel right to enjoy it alone, so I brought some for you two. Please try it—it’s amazing.”
Perhaps Michitaka-san thought it would trouble me to bring food to the altar himself. But he didn’t need to worry. I loved all three of them equally.
“You know, I’ve always thought of Michitaka-san as my real son. He carries the best qualities of both of you. Today, it felt like he was reborn, more driven than ever. Maybe it’s because I’ve been busy adjusting to my new department, but he’s been so considerate. I’m so proud to call him my son—the son of all three of us.”
Saying that, I opened my finest bottle of sake. Naturally, I set out three glasses.
“To the growth of our precious boy—cheers!”
In my heart, I imagined Hirotaka-san and Michiru enjoying the curry and sake with me, sharing this moment of joy.
After finishing the computer setup, I adjusted it to handle basic tasks at home. Even though we planned to make games, we were still just high school students—we couldn’t realistically create specialized game engines. I needed a way for even those unfamiliar with computers to contribute to game development.
That’s when the idea of using game-making software came to mind.
Tools like RPG Maker, which lets anyone create their own RPGs, or software for making visual novels, were incredibly intuitive. Even people with no programming knowledge could join the process.
Games made with such software could be as fun as your imagination allowed. These tools even let creators publish free games that could go viral if introduced by online streamers. It wasn’t impossible to achieve widespread recognition or success this way.
My phone buzzed. It was a message from Rika.
Earlier, I’d invited her to lunch, telling her I’d make an extra bento for her. For most high school boys, sending a message like that to a girl would be nerve-wracking—hours spent drafting the perfect wording, then anxiously awaiting a response.
I totally get it. I used to be like that, too.
But now, with the mindset of a man in his forties, I could casually invite girls without overthinking it.
Of course, if Rika ever responded with something like, “What are you misunderstanding? I’m only nice to you because we’re neighbors—pretending you’re my boyfriend is just pathetic”, I’d be emotionally devastated.
Nervously, I checked her reply.
“I’d love to! I’m looking forward to it.”
A cute bunny sticker with “Thank you!” accompanied her message.
Mission accomplished! Overjoyed, I dived onto my bed. Wait… isn’t this behavior a bit childish for someone with the mentality of a middle-aged man? Chuckling at myself, I decided to get a drink of water.
Kaede-san was in the tatami room, sitting before the family altar and speaking softly to my parents. It was part of her nightly routine to share updates about our lives.
“He’s truly someone we can be proud of—our son, all three of ours. So, let’s toast to the growth of our precious boy.”
I accidentally overheard those words, and my chest swelled with warmth. Tears welled up in my eyes. No—not yet. I couldn’t cry just yet.
“But I’m so glad I got to see Kaede-san again.”
Quietly, I grabbed a bottle of water and returned to my room without making a sound. Once inside, I allowed my emotions to overflow, tears streaming freely as I processed everything.
It was a night filled with gratitude—for the present, the second chance I’d been given, and the people I held dear.