Accidentally become a father-Chapter 43: A Gravity Test at the School Gates

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The elementary school gates were already visible from the end of the sidewalk.

And just as I had expected—

the area had already turned into a morning social market.

Dozens of children stood in front of the iron gates.

Dozens of parents watched from behind.

Shiny leather school bags reflected the morning sunlight like a row of new cars in a showroom.

Deep red.

Black.

Expensive brown.

All identical in shape.

Randoseru.

In the middle of that crowd, Yuna’s blue bag looked like a contract employee accidentally walking into an executive banquet.

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I stopped two steps from the gates.

"From here, you go in on your own."

Yuna gave a small nod.

Her hands gripped both straps of her bag.

Tighter than before.

Her eyes darted around, observing her surroundings.

Children with expensive bags.

Parents in neat clothes.

Several mothers glanced toward Yuna’s bag.

Stares that weren’t exactly hidden.

Yuna swallowed quietly.

I watched her fingers squeeze the straps.

No comments.

No explanations.

Just the facts laid bare before our eyes.

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Suddenly, the sound of running footsteps came from behind.

Fast.

Unsteady.

"Hey— wait—!"

A heavy-set boy ran along the sidewalk.

His black randoseru bouncing violently on his back.

He wasn’t looking ahead.

I had already predicted his trajectory half a second before the collision.

"Yuna."

I had barely spoken her name when—

Thud.

Her shoulder was clipped hard from behind.

Yuna’s small frame was pushed forward.

She lost her footing.

Her blue bag slipped from her shoulders.

And—

Crash!

The bag slammed onto the asphalt.

A loud noise.

Very loud.

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The boy’s bag also fell.

He stumbled as well.

Then fell straight onto the ground.

And—

"UWAAAAAAAH!!"

A wail instantly erupted.

Maximum volume.

Instant tears.

I looked at the contents of his bag.

A colorful plastic bento box had sprung open.

Its contents scattered across the asphalt.

Octopus-shaped sausages.

Eggs with rabbit faces.

Star-shaped apple slices.

All mixed with street dust.

The boy pointed at his food with a trembling hand.

"My bentooo!!"

Yuna stood frozen in place.

Her face was pale.

Her eyes immediately dropped to her blue bag on the ground.

Her hands trembled slightly.

She knew what was inside that bag.

The gray bento box.

The Tetris block.

And it had just...

fallen from shoulder height.

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A woman hurried out of the crowd.

Most likely the boy’s mother.

Impeccable hair.

An expensive bag over her shoulder.

She immediately crouched beside her son.

"Oh no—"

She saw the ruined contents of the bento.

Then her eyes shifted toward Yuna.

A sharp glare.

She didn’t say a word.

But her meaning was clear.

---

Yuna swallowed again.

Slowly...

she knelt beside her blue bag.

Her hand touched the zipper.

Paused.

I saw her fingers trembling slightly.

She took a small breath.

Then—

Zzzip.

The bag’s zipper slowly opened.

Her hand reached inside.

Touched the bento box.

She pulled it out.

The gray box.

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Still intact.

The lid was still locked.

Yuna stared at it as if holding an archaeological artifact.

Around us, a few parents began to take notice.

The boy was still crying.

Octopus sausages were still scattered across the asphalt.

Yuna stared at the bento box for a few seconds.

Then slowly—

Click.

She unfastened the lock.

The lid lifted.

And inside—

the row of rice.

The egg.

The broccoli.

The chicken breast.

Everything was still standing upright.

Nothing had shifted.

Nothing had fallen.

The Tetris block structure was still perfect.

Exactly as it had been fifteen minutes ago in the kitchen.

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Yuna blinked twice.

Her eyes widened slightly.

She stared at the contents of the box.

Then turned to look at me.

I was already crouching beside her.

I took the box from her hands.

Brushed a little dust off the outside.

"Standard gravity," I said.

I closed the lid again.

Click.

In front of us, the boy’s mother was still staring.

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I stood up slowly.

"Empty space in decorative bentos creates a collapse zone upon impact."

I pointed at Yuna’s box.

"A dense structure is more stable."

The woman didn’t reply.

She just blinked.

Beside me, Yuna covered her mouth with her hands.

Her shoulders began to shake.

She tried to muffle the sound.

But finally—

"Pfft—"

A small laugh escaped.

A very quiet laugh.

But a truly genuine one.

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