Rewrite Our Love? Too Late-Chapter 101: Meeting the Parents (After a Night Like That…)

The morning light crept softly into the hotel room.

Yukima Azuma's eyes fluttered open, stirred not by an alarm but by the biological rhythm he'd developed over years of relentless self-discipline. His body moved instinctively to rise—only to pause as a warm, gentle weight tugged at his right arm.

He froze.

Reality came rushing back. The unfamiliar ceiling. The faint smell of perfume on the sheets. The sensation of soft hair brushing against his chest.

He turned his head slightly—and saw her.

Gotoh Hitori lay curled against him, face calm, lost in some sweet dream. Her pink hair, ever so slightly disheveled, spilled across his arm like a silk curtain. Her breath was soft and even, lips parted just slightly in the purest vulnerability.

They had crossed a threshold the night before.

There was no hesitation in her, no resistance. Just a quiet, trembling surrender.

Gently, carefully, Yukima Azuma slipped his arm from beneath her head and slid out of bed. He moved silently through the room, not daring to exhale too loudly until he was clear of the bedroom.

Only then did he allow himself to breathe freely.

He made a quick call to the front desk.

"Good morning, Yukima-san. How may I help you?"

"I need fresh red dates, lotus seeds, pig kidneys, and a selection of warming spices. Delivered to my room as soon as possible."

"...Ah, would you like to order a meal instead? We can prepare something for you complimentary."

"No. Just the ingredients, please."

"Understood. We'll have it sent up immediately."

He hung up and walked to the door shortly after, finding a large box already waiting. The efficiency matched the price of this penthouse suite.

Azuma brought the ingredients to the kitchenette, igniting the stove with practiced ease. This was the first time he'd ever skipped his morning run since receiving the system. No storm, no exhaustion, no excuse had ever kept him from it before.

But today? Today, he had someone more important to care for.

Humming softly under his breath, Yukima Azuma sliced through ingredients with surgical precision. Every movement held the elegance of ritual.

Pork rib soup with red dates and lotus seeds—a dish to nourish blood and restore energy. And most importantly, something Bocchi would eat without hesitation.

"My love story, it may sound very gay~

Girlfriend say I'm loser~

Scared tomorrow lose her~

Memory no more, cry like baby~..."

His voice carried like morning sunlight—gentle, low, and sincere.

Behind him, the bedroom door creaked open.

He turned his head. Gotoh Hitori stood there, wearing only one of his white dress shirts. It reached mid-thigh, clinging to her curves in a way that made his throat dry. The fabric struggled heroically against her chest. One button looked like it wouldn't last much longer.

Gravity wasn't just a physical force—it was emotional too. And right now, she pulled him in like a black hole.

"Girlfriend find another~

Find another one like Taylor Swift~

We break up today, I think I okay~..."

She sang along, softly, her arms wrapping around his waist from behind.

Yukima Azuma smiled and leaned back into her embrace. Without instruments, their harmony was still perfect.

—

When Bocchi first awoke, the absence of Azuma beside her had startled her.

For a second, she thought he had left. But there was no resentment—only a whisper of anxiety. Was she... enough?

If she'd woken to see him kneeling with a ring, she might've had a panic attack. She wasn't ready to be someone's wife. She wasn't even sure she was good at being a girlfriend yet.

Giving love was easier for her than receiving it.

She was about to overthink everything again when she heard Azuma's soft singing from the kitchen.

Grabbing the nearest shirt, she slipped it on and peeked out.

There he was.

The boy who'd held her, whispered to her, kissed her until she melted. Now he stood barefoot in the morning light, surrounded by rising steam.

Her heart fluttered.

—

"Bocchi, wash your hands. Breakfast is almost ready," Azuma said, tapping her hand gently.

Her fingers were elegant and slender. Despite years of guitar practice, her skin remained smooth and soft. He held her hand a moment longer than necessary.

Now I understand Kira Yoshikage's obsession a little too well, he thought wryly.

She trotted off to the sink, obedient and light-footed.

When she returned, the scent of slow-simmered broth hung in the air like incense.

"Azuma-kun... Even if there's poison in that bowl, I'd drink it without hesitation!"

"What kind of declaration is that?" he laughed. "Just sit down and taste it already."

"Slurp... Mmm... It's so good... I think I might cry."

"Careful, it's hot."

He reached out and tapped her on the head. Instead of flinching or retreating, she looked up at him shyly.

The shyness in her gaze held none of the panic she used to have—only warmth.

They ate slowly.

Bocchi took her time with the soup, savoring every mouthful like it was the last thing she'd ever taste. Her vocabulary failed her—it was simply too good.

The tender pork, the sweetness of the red dates, the earthy fragrance of the lotus seed. The kind of meal that said: "You're loved. You're safe."

A far cry from the lonely meals she used to eat in her room.

By the time they finished, nearly an hour had passed.

Bocchi yawned and stretched. Her belly was just slightly rounded.

Azuma smirked and poked her playfully.

She covered her face in mock embarrassment.

"Do you want to lie down for a bit?"

"Mm... Maybe just a little."

"You're tired. You barely slept last night."

"Well... I did get a message from home. So, I should probably head back soon."

Azuma paused, then pinched her cheek.

"Your parents are already checking in, and you still want to sleep more? Aren't you worried?"

"I-I am! But if we leave now, we might still make it..."

"I want to flick your forehead, but I can't bring myself to do it."

"Eh?!"

—

Later that morning, the hotel staff arrived with high-end shopping bags in hand.

New clothes for both of them.

Azuma helped adjust Bocchi's dress collar in front of the mirror, his fingers lingering just a bit too long. Bocchi, still fumbling with the tie, eventually managed to fasten it around his neck.

They left hand in hand, stopping first at a luxurious fruit boutique to pick up some gifts.

Then, together, they headed to Gotoh Hitori's home.

As soon as the doorbell rang, the front door opened almost immediately.

The Gotohs stood in the foyer.

Azuma bowed politely. "Mr. Gotoh, Mrs. Gotoh, as promised—I've come to visit."

They noticed their daughter holding hands with the boy, wearing a new outfit. Different from when she'd left home yesterday.

They didn't need to ask what had happened.

There was no awkwardness—just surprise and a quiet joy.

Their daughter, once so withdrawn, now smiled more than ever. They could see it in her eyes. This boy—this young man—had brought her out of her shell.

Mrs. Gotoh beamed as she took the gift. "Come in, come in. Yukima-kun, you really didn't have to bring anything."

Bocchi blinked in surprise.

She hadn't expected him to walk in with her—she thought he'd just drop her off.

Her fingers nervously traced slow circles on Azuma's palm.

He tightened his grip, grounding her.

They sat across the table in the modest living room.

"Would you like something to drink, Yukima-kun? We have green tea, or orange juice."

"Green tea, please. Thank you."

As the drink was served, Mr. Gotoh coughed and asked, "Yukima-kun, what do your parents do? What are your plans for the future?"

"Honey!" Mrs. Gotoh shot him a look. "Is now the time for that kind of interrogation?!"

"Ah—just making conversation, dear."

Azuma only chuckled.

"It's alright," he said calmly. "Actually, I was hoping to talk to you both about exactly that."

He wasn't just any high school student.

And he wasn't here to say vague platitudes about love, either.

What Yukima Azuma promised was clear:

Not only would he protect Bocchi—he would build a life that could shelter her.

And he had already started doing just that.