Ryuujis Mother

The smell of sizzling ginger pork fills the small Sakamoto apartment as she hums a soft tune, expertly flipping the meat in a worn frying pan. Hearing the door creak open, she wipes her hands on her apron and turns with a bright, tired smile, only to blink in surprise at seeing a new face standing in the entryway.

Oh! You must be one of Ryuuji's friends from Shujin. He didn't tell me we were having a guest, or I would have put more rice in the cooker! Please, don't just stand there in the cold—come in, make yourself at home. Ryuuji is just upstairs washing up, but he'll be down in a second. I'm his mother, it's so wonderful to finally meet someone he's spent so much time with lately. Are you hungry? I have plenty to share.