Chapter 5: 1.3

We will have another class very soon. It was food prep, and funny enough, it was one of the few classes I couldn’t daydream in, so I had no choice but to pay attention. Cooking simple meals has been an alright experience.

Well, my cooking is strictly for my taste buds, if you get my drift. To be a bit dramatic, let’s say I had to fight long battles in the kitchen.

It was a long, cold war between the stove and me. Embracing my inner phoenix, I rose from the ashes of defeat and conquered my enemy. Now I sometimes bring my bento boxes to school.

A far cry from having another person prepare them for you.

As I closed the door behind me, I noticed that everyone was already paired up with someone else.

Oh. It’s going to be one of those classes, and I’d say that this is one of the only times when my school's peace preservation plan is basically useless. Usually, there are 30 students, but since we’re basically missing one person, it’s uneven.

This most likely makes me the odd man out; talk about standing out. There are two factors explaining why I’m potentially single right now.

One is the fact that I made a detour to retrieve my phone, and number two is that I was too late to the dance.

Even Shigihara was partnered up, and he annoyed the majority of the people he came across.

Alright, take a deep breath and let’s think.

No matter how I slice it, there are only 29 students here, and unless I have the ability to clone another person or at least slice them in half butcher style, it doesn’t change the scenario.

However, all hope wasn’t lost.

The teacher can always be my partner, but again, that would be a new low if I sat down and beat myself up about it.

Like a kid with no one to swap food with during the class picnic and the teacher has to fill in that role. I can’t let that happen, no it’s more like I refuse.

So let’s go with a third plan. Joining a group of two already, it’s the only other logical choice.

As I walked further into the classroom, I noticed that Mashiro had distanced herself from everyone else. So there’s always the possibility that I can pair up with her.

Do I really want to pair up with the same girl who called me vanilla ice cream? She may call me something way worse than that, and I’m not one to be turned on by those things.

Almost as if she were waiting on me, Mashiro approached me and said, "Partner up with me now."

That wasn’t a request, but pretty much an order.

"Have you ever heard of the word "pretty please"? Maybe if you sprinkle a cherry on top, I’ll consider it." I replied.

I meant it as a joke, but Mashiro took an offensive approach.

"Bold of you to say those words when I can tell from just the look on your face that you were dreading having to potentially partner up with the teacher, isn’t that right, Yamaguri-kun?"

Ouch.

"Well, aren’t you a sharp-tongued woman?"

"Did I hurt your feelings because I’m not the type to sugarcoat anything?"

"My skin is a lot thicker than that, you know?"

"Is that so? I was under the impression that you were rather thin-skinned, and if I were to say the wrong thing, tears would begin to stream from your eyes."

"Where did you even get that impression from?"

"It just came to my mind, that’s all."

Ah, yes, this person is a pain, and not just any pain; she can be comparable to being bitten by a snake while falling onto a swarm of fire ants.

"I see."

"My time is valuable, so yes or no."

I’m honestly afraid of what will happen if I say no, so I went along with her request. Some may call it spineless, but I call it protecting myself from the unknown.

So, along with the harsh Mashiro, I walked sulkily towards an empty space. A few of our classmates looked on at the pitiful sight.

Our food prep teacher, Mr. Toju Yamataka, is quite a welcoming individual. I can safely say that he is one of the few teachers I like.

"All right, class, today, in honor of doing something fun and light, we will be preparing miso soup. It’s an easy recipe that I am sure some of you already know how to make."

"Alright!" exclaimed one of the students, who were very relieved that our class wasn’t considered anything heavy.

Miso soup? I wasn’t familiar with the meal.

Yamatake-sensei finished his announcement and passed a thin stack of papers to the student closest to him.

The student observed the first sheet of paper, then took one and passed it along to the next student.

That action was repeated until we received ours.

Mashiro passed the sheet with the prep instructions to me and asked, "Are you familiar with the recipe?"

I shook my head in response while scanning the contents of the paper.

"That’s a bit shocking, seeing that it is considered to be something extremely basic."

"How basic are we talking here?"

"So much so that some who are way younger than us can easily prepare."

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Upon hearing that, a minor wave of embarrassment washed over me. I'd been in the kitchen for at least three months and hadn't prepared it once.

Apparently scanning the room, Mashiro looked around. And after a few seconds, she paused and headed in the direction of the storeroom, where the ingredients were stored.

This was her strategy for getting ahead of everyone else who was still reading the paper or chatting amongst themselves.

Around 30 seconds later, I memorized all the steps, including the measurements, before placing the paper at my side so Mashiro could have a read as well, even though I doubt she’d need it.

Meanwhile, a voice said, "Mashiro-san, do you need help carrying those items?"

It was Tokinori Shiba; he and Mashiro had the same idea of getting their ingredients early, so both of them came out at the same time.

I believe his partner was Ikeya.

Mashiro shook her head no, balancing the items stacked one on top of the other.

I must admit, she is doing an excellent job so far. She then quickened her pace and gently placed all the items on our table.

She let out a triumphant exhale from her mouth and placed both hands on her waist.

"Ingredients check. Now let’s start to prepare."

Mashiro proceeded to sort out the items while I observed the rest of the class. Everyone seemed to be working hard.

My attention was brought back to our table as I felt pressure on my left shoe. I looked down and saw a 3.5-sized black flat dress shoe stepping on it. Following surprisingly thick thighs with my eyes, I saw that they were connected to Mashiro.

"Is there any reason why you’re stepping on me?"

"Don’t you guys like this sort of treatment?"

"Some of us do, but sadly, I am not part of that bracket."

With a satisfied look on her pretty face, Mashiro said, "Good now that I have your attention once again. Please assist me with the rest of the preparations."

She could have easily conveyed that without inflicting any sort of pain on me.

Commencing with the chopping of the green onions and chard, Mashiro oversaw the tofu, and I tackled the rest. As long as I read the directions beforehand, preparation isn’t an issue.

Meanwhile, Mashiro never once looked at the directions sheet, so she was going off of pure memory.

The amount of time that elapsed was roughly 20 minutes. Well, I was sort of attempting to keep track in my mind. I couldn’t whip out my phone in class or, especially, in the kitchen.

The analog clock that is hung above the classroom door, which is usually supposed to be ticking away the time, stopped, which indicated that the batteries had died, and no one has attempted to resuscitate the timekeeper.

We were done with our miso soup. I should say that Mashiro was done with her miso soup. I didn't do much, so the task I'll be given is using the good old stick, Yamaguri Yuki, to wash the utensils and pans. I think it's a smart strategy that traps me in a corner if she mentions the fact that I only diced a few things, which I proudly finished in a rather swift manner.

So, I will attack the point before Mashiro can stick it to me.

"I can manage the washing up so you can relax a bit," I said, opening my mouth.

Mashiro scooped some miso soup into a bowl and replied, "Taste test first."

I suspiciously eyed her while asking, "Shouldn’t the cooks be the first to taste their meal?"

That’s a rule of the kitchen in most places, and here shouldn’t be any different.

"Are you afraid that I’m trying to poison you, Yamaguri-kun?"

I wasn’t at first, but now she's placed the idea in my head.

"It’s one of the many possibilities floating in the air, if I do say so myself."

"You’re a bit too paranoid." She bluntly replied.

"Shouldn’t everyone be?"

She scooped some of the soup into a bowl and replied, "Depends on what the person is frightened of, so man up."

"Why don’t you ask one of the guys to do it? I’m sure that they would jump at the opportunity to taste Mashiro Saya’s cooking; it would be considered a once in a lifetime chance for them."

She shot a cold glare at me.

"Do I look like the type to share my cooking with anyone here? I only offered you because we’re a pair, nothing more and nothing less."

I conceded and took the bowl from her; it was the only way to alleviate the bubbling situation.

Meanwhile, Yamatake-sensei cleared his throat and captured everyone’s attention.

"Now let’s each have a taste of the other’s attempt. Remember to critique very nicely. "

After a few moments, soup bowls were passed back and forth as each of my classmates sampled the other’s item.

Mashiro refused to taste anyone else’s meal.

I avoided the chaos and didn’t partake in anyone else’s soup either.

Was that me being bashful? If so, I apologize to anyone I offended.

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