It was just him and her, the girl he liked, under one roof. And with this acknowledgement came the incredibly conscious awareness of Koyuki’s presence—the sound of her breathing, the flipping of pages in her book. These subtle noises suddenly became as loud as a pachinko parlor in the silence of the empty house.
Self control, Naoya, self control. She’s reading right now. Don’t bother her, Naoya mentally chided himself, surprised by his own carnal desires. He closed the sliding door behind him and then slapped himself lightly on the cheek. “All right, it’s time to work.”
As Naoya had explained to Koyuki earlier, his job was taking care of Kirihiko’s chores. Tending to cleaning and laundry was obvious, but his job included cooking, as well. He normally stopped by two-to-three times a week and cooked a number of easy meals that Kirihiko could eat while he was gone.
He put on an apron and got to work. Kirihiko’s place was the typical old public house, the only difference being that the kitchen had been renovated and sported a clean and modern integrated style.
To start, he tackled the dishes that Kirihiko had allowed to pile up. Then he took stock of the spices and ingredients in the kitchen. This allowed him to mentally compile a small menu of the meals he would be making.
“Hmm... I can make braised burdock roots with carrots and then komatsuna—mustard spinach—stew. Maybe some sliced daikon radish after that. We’re almost out of soy sauce, so I’ll get Kirihiko to buy some for me,” Naoya noted out loud. With that, he quickly prepped all the vegetables and texted Kirihiko.
Almost immediately, he received a response. “Roger Dodger☆,” the text read. Kirihiko’s icon was a plump pancake dish, which always gave Naoya the vague feeling that he was speaking to a teenage girl.
Naoya was about to resume his cooking when he received another message. “I was all brave and left my humble abode today, so do me a favor—don’t go getting down and dirty in my house, okay?”
“As if we were actually planning that!” Naoya quickly replied. With his message of denial sent, he squatted down in the kitchen, his head in his hands. He was just a normal highschool boy. Although he had spent a lot of time with Koyuki recently, this was the first time they’d been alone together in an enclosed space—it was only obvious that he’d be overly conscious of it.
“That’s right, this exact situation cropped up in a romcom I read recently. What did the protag do?” Naoya thought out loud to himself as he forced his stalled brain into action. He tried his hardest to recall the plot. It found the protagonist alone in a house with the heroine. What had happened then? Ah, that’s right—the heroine had embraced the protagonist and softly declared, “You can do whatever you want to me...”
“It’s way too early for that!” Naoya yelped, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind. To make matters worse, the heroine’s voice had been perfectly replaced in Naoya’s mind with Koyuki’s. He wasn’t specifically against anything physical happening, but he knew his mind and body couldn’t take it. Naoya shook his head once again so as to cast off his impure thoughts. “Control yourself, Naoya. She’s not even that kind of girl anyway.”
There was no way she was going to come clean with her feelings right now, let alone actually throw herself at him. Although he was admittedly slightly disappointed by that realization, he decided to put all that aside for the time being. It was best to occupy his mind with work—both for his safety and hers.
He was just about to start on the first dish when he was interrupted by a small voice calling out from behind him. “Sasahara?”
“Wagh!” Naoya practically jumped up with a strange, strangled yelp. As he whirled around to face her, he found himself thinking, There's no way... She’s not actually going to that...
Koyuki stood there, the same as ever. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity while she looked at the vegetables on the counter.
“Sh-Shirogane? Do you need something?” he managed to choke out.
“Not in particular. I’m halfway through the book, so I’m just taking a break,” she answered calmly. She pointed at the vegetables and asked, “Other than that, are you making something? Can you cook?”
“Well, just as much as everyone else can, I guess...”
“Whoa! That’s awesome.”
“It’s really not anything impressive,” Naoya replied with an awkward smile at her praise. She really was only there to take a break. Her pure, innocent excitement—especially when compared to Naoya’s current licentious thoughts—stabbed him in the heart like a knife.
“I think I’ve mentioned this before, but my parents are overseas. I’m living alone right now, so I kind of need to be able to fend for myself, you know,” he explained. Before his mother had left, she’d taught him the basics of cooking. He’d also managed to work out a lot more by himself through trial and error. Although he did buy ready-made meals from time to time, he tended to cook dinner for himself and had the leftovers for lunch.
Koyuki appeared very surprised by this development. “So the stuff you eat for lunch is your own cooking?!”
“Yeah. I’m not really any good, though. Like, I was just gonna make something really simple with these vegetables here...” he faltered.
“That’s still really impressive. Are you doing that thing protagonists do where they’re super modest all the time?”
“You got that one from Sakuya, didn’t you?”
“Obviously.”
“Thought so.” Naoya wondered what the conversations that went on in that household were like.
A short silence occurred, during which Koyuki continued to glance around the room distractedly. Finally, she pointed at the vegetables and asked, “Hey, can I help?”
“Nah. I’m fine, thanks. You’re pretty much a customer here anyway.”
Koyuki snorted lightly and smiled. “Sasahara, since I’m well aware of how much of an airhead you are, I’m just making sure you’re doing your job properly. You should be grateful.”
“You’re just trying to make it seem like you know how to cook because you think that’s what women should be able to do, right?” Naoya asked pointedly.
“Uh, no. I never said that, did I? And why exactly would I care about showing off to you?” Koyuki declared loudly before she withdrew into herself. “When did I say I was bad at cooking, actually? How did you know...?”
“I mean, I could pretty much tell just by looking,” he replied. Her obvious unease around knives told the whole story.
Still, what should I do? I’m happy that she wants to help, but having her so close to me is not good for my heart right now, Naoya pondered to himself.