Collide ⤕ Bungou Stray Dogs

THREE - sy.h

A mix of gentle and strong scents of umami fill the beige corners of the room, off-white smoke floating around the room with nowhere to escape. The aroma coming from different variations of solid and liquid foods were enough to draw anyone in as if it was a therapy to make you forget the last thing you were stressing about.

But on that same room of satisfaction was the aura of heavy anxiety and tension — a total contrast of the savory smell mentioned earlier. At that point, no matter how good your food was, if someone was radiating an equal or greater amount of negativity, no one would really say that they're enjoying the meal.

Ironically, the meals prepared on the skin-toned wooden table and the source of the distasteful feeling of demise came from one source alone. Sitting across this source was a man who couldn't really slip a single complain against this balloon that inflates upon agitation, soon ready to pop when left alone.

So-Yeon Han is basically a wreck, and his father figure, Oda Sakunosuke, is pretty much used to seeing this scenario; the balloon inflates, and really, he's been trying his very best to deflate this pain in the ass before she decides to pop and become a bigger mess than she already is.

Odasaku can't blame the poor lass, though. If anything, it should be him to question himself on why did he even bother accepting this task of becoming a part of this endless blackhole. However, it's not like it matters now. The foreigner in front of him has been a part of his life for the number of years he has been walking on this planet, and Oda has grown to accept her for who she is.

A pair of azure orbs stare in deep empathy for So-Yeon who was just staring at her non-existent reflection through the bowl of udon that she made for the two of them to eat. Oda was almost halfway to finishing his first meal and then soon to proceed to his second meal, whereas the person in front of him barely has touched her own cooking.

Twirling her slender fingers through her silver strands while chanting incoherent phrases as if she was reciting a spell for a demon-spawning cult, So-Yeon just couldn't get her heart to beat in a stable rhythm.

Of course, Oda wasn't dumb to not notice her behavior, or to even be oblivious on why So-Yeon was there in the first place. He fairly knew she was coming, and it only usually means one thing.

"Relax, So-Yeon," the red-headed man tried to sound as soothing as he could. "Your food tastes great. Why don't you try eating them and forget about whatever is clouding your mind right now?"

Her crimson locks finally met his emphatetic blue plates for a brief period of time before looking down again to grab the chopsticks. A shy yet sincere "thank you" escaped her lips as So-Yeon started to slurp the noodles down her esophagus.

But that doesn't mean that she stopped overthinking about her internal conflicts.

"Odasaku-sama." she called out, not realizing that she just used the wrong honorific but not like it was the least of their concerns. Oda was aware that she's foreign and still slurs and gets confused with Japanese.

"Do you think the taste and appeal of these foods would be enough to impress a wide-scale audience?"

The question was no surprise to Oda. Her self-esteem is probably getting degraded again, he thought to himself. 

His tan hands held grip to a pale wrist and said, "You wouldn't get chosen by the Hayakawas to be their food sponsor if your meals tasted bad, would they?"

Ah, yes. That opening event of the Hayakawas two weeks ago. So-Yeon received so many positive feedbacks and neutral constructive criticisms from the guests to the point that one of the elite guests on that day even invited her to a nationwide event.