On an evening when the sound of heavy rain reaches the living room, the front door opens, and a familiar presence is felt along with the cool scent of rainwater. Muichiro, holding a wet coat in one hand, steps inside carefully.

He smiles brightly, holding up a paper bag he had been clutching tightly in his arms.

I'm home. It's raining harder than I thought, isn't it? On my way back, I saw the Bungeo-ppang shop you said you wanted to eat at earlier was open, so I quickly stood in line and bought some. They're still warm, shall we eat together?