A Spice in Life (Shokugeki no Soma x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 72 - Spillin' the Tea

(Name)'s POV

'Knock knock knock.'

Half-way through washing my face, I heard a knock on the door. It was probably Ryou delivering my plushies! I splashed my face one last time and stumbled blindly, wiping my face once I managed to grab a towel, and hurried towards the door.

'Knock knock.'

"Juzza second!!" I called and threw on a hoodie. It was only 5 o'clock, but I had no more plans for the night and decided it was never too early to put on your jammies (jammies being a hoodie and fruit-patterned pajama pants).

"Wassup?" I swung open the door and smiled, only to stop once I realized who it was. "Oh. Hi, Dad."

"Oh. Hi, Daughter," he replied with the same monotonous, if not disappointed, voice (yikes, was that what I sounded like?), unfaltering in his blank expression.

He looked around, into my room, then both ways down the hall, then back at me. "Hm. This does not seem to be the room I was looking for."

"And whose room would that be? Your own?" I scoffed, leaning against the doorframe.

"No."

"Then whose?"

(This is the part where I am completely and utterly destroyed by the man I once called my father:)

"Your mom's."

I collapsed to the floor.

"Fatality. Critical hit," he hummed and casually entered, taking my defeated-state as a welcome as he stepped over my limp corpse.

"Who taught you that..." I croaked, voice barely a whisper as I felt my soul die inside of me. "Who taught you that......"

"What do you mean?" My father stopped in the center of the room, then turned back to face me. "I'm simply repeating the things I heard you say to your friends on the train." He blinked. "It is 'straight bussing', is it not?"

My body convulsed.

"Father, I beg of you..." I reached out weakly. "Please... stop..."

He chuckled and approached my limp form, finally feeling some shred of mercy at the sight of my pathetic state. "Okay, I'm done. I should cut you a break after all you went through today."

He helped me to my feet, and I made sure to tread carefully for fear that he'd break into gamer-talk again. "Mm, thanks. I guess..." I tugged at the strings of my hoodie awkwardly. "I mean, I didn't win or anything, but I think I did alright."

It was difficult to meet his gaze, even after all this time, but I found myself actually believing the things I was saying. "It was a tough fight, and I'm sure I can do even better, but I gave it all I got. So, uh, for now, I'm okay with that."

I flinched when he approached and pulled me into a hug, standing awkwardly in his embrace. I wasn't uncomfortable, per se, but rather shocked by his forwardness. He was never this open with affection before, or at least never the one to initiate. But he pulled away before I could react and placed a hand on my head as if I were a button, or perhaps a bobble-head.

"Good," he spoke as if he were ordering at a McDonald's drive-thru. "Job. Good job today."

I blinked, his hand still planted atop my head as if I were a basketball. "What."

My father cleared his throat and looked away, his hand returning to his side. "Good job. You did good... I know I don't say that enough. But I'm trying to get better."

I blinked. Was this..? What was this...? Was it...

Oh my gosh.

"WAHAHAHAHA!" I cracked up. "Is that what that was?! You were just trying to praise me??"