The First Shared Meal and a Tsundere's True Feelings
Sylvia froze like a statue at Ayane's unexpected lunch invitation. Her pale cheeks flushed deep red, and her emerald eyes darted about in bewilderment. For an elf who had lived in solitude deep within the forest, an invitation to share a meal with a lively human family—especially one with children—was as shocking as a bolt from the blue. Akio and the others held their breath, waiting for Sylvia's response.
“W-why should I… sit at a table with mere humans…” Sylvia finally managed to force out the words, her voice noticeably trembling. She had clearly intended to sharply refuse, and though her words still carried a hint of their usual prickliness, their sharp edge had already dulled.
But before Sylvia could finish her rejection, Yume and Miko tugged gently at the hem of her clothes, looking up at her with innocent, pleading eyes.
“Come eat with us, Sylvia Oneechan!”
“Ayane Neechan's food is really tasty!”
Ayane also smiled softly as she continued.
“Thanks to you, Sylvia-san, Yume is all better now. This is just a small token of gratitude from our family. Please, only if you're comfortable with it…”
Faced with the children's pure gazes and Ayane's sincere words, Sylvia's resistance visibly weakened. She opened her mouth to speak several times but faltered, until finally, she let out a long sigh, turned her face away, and muttered:
“… I-it's not like I'm interested in your food or anything. I just… need to check what you humans are making. Consider it… a poison test! Yes, a poison test! Besides… the inside of your little hut is suffocating. But… outside… outside I might be willing to stay for a little while, maybe…”
Her hurried, clumsy words were her awkward attempt at covering her embarrassment—and unmistakably, her agreement.
“Yay!” the children cheered, and Akio and Ayane exchanged relieved smiles.
Akio quickly brought out the makeshift round log table and a few stump chairs he had crafted recently. It was the perfect spot, shaded beneath the trees, where the gentle spring sunlight and a pleasant breeze drifted through.
Ayane carried over the meal: a nourishing soup of freshly harvested turnip-like greens and dried meat, accompanied by fragrant bread made from ground nuts. Sylvia sat stiffly at the table, observing the food with a wary expression. As the children cheerfully clapped their hands together and said, “Let's eat!” Sylvia reluctantly picked up one of Akio's handcrafted wooden spoons and cautiously tasted the soup.
And then, she froze.
(… Not bad. No, actually… it's rich in nourishment, and the natural flavors of the ingredients stand out.)
Determined not to let her surprise show, Sylvia kept her expression neutral and muttered brusquely,
“… Hmph. Well… it's edible, at least. It'll fill your stomach, I suppose.”
But her hand, carrying the spoon, moved more smoothly than before. In particular, she secretly appreciated the warm, comfortable feel of the wooden bowls and spoons Akio had made—something even her keen elven senses found pleasing.
Akio and Ayane, without overbearing politeness, treated Sylvia naturally, with subtle care and respect. The children, oblivious to the adults' careful tension, bombarded her with innocent questions.
“Sylvia Oneechan, what do you eat in the forest?”
“Where is the land of the elves?”
Sylvia didn't respond much, but she listened to each question with a troubled yet faintly intrigued expression.
When the meal ended and Ayane began gathering the wooden dishes, Sylvia quickly tried to slip away. But when Akio casually asked, “This seedling isn't doing well… think the soil's wrong?” Sylvia stopped in her tracks.
“… You're overwatering it. That herb prefers dry soil. Also, that red-flowered plant you planted next to it… they're incompatible. Their growth hinders each other. You should transplant one of them.”
It was as if she were tending to her own garden. Sylvia began giving precise instructions without hesitation. In the end, she carefully examined the herb garden's soil, offered advice to Akio, and even quietly watched the children playing by the nearby stream from the shade of the trees, her gaze soft and gentle.
“… Children really are noisy, troublesome little things…” she muttered under her breath to no one in particular. Yet, her words carried no bitterness—only a nostalgic warmth, as if recalling something long forgotten.
By the time the orange glow of sunset enveloped the forest, Sylvia finally stood up.
“… I'll come check how you're drying those herbs tomorrow. If you humans ruin their medicinal properties with your clumsy handling, it would be wasteful.”
It was her way of declaring she'd return the next day. For Akio and the children, it was an unexpected joy.
“Thank you, Sylvia-san. That'll be a big help,” Akio said with a smile.
Sylvia averted her gaze again, swiftly retreating into the forest. Watching her retreating back, Akio was certain—Sylvia was slowly but surely opening her heart to this place, and to this family. She was beginning to find joy in being together.
Just as the powerful summer sun loomed on the horizon, their future, too, was gradually being bathed in a bright, warm light.
What do you think about this chapter?
