Yoshiki wondered why, of all things, the menu for their cooking class had to be fried chicken.
As he mixed raw chicken and spices in a stainless-steel bowl, Yoshiki held back yet another sigh.
Even with his vinyl gloves on, a familiar sensation squirmed through his hands.
“Hurry up, Yoshiki!”
Yuuki, who was in his group, was rushing him. Then Yoshiki put his hands deep into the bottom of the bowl in resignation.
“Ugh!”
The more he thought about it, the more the texture reminded him of what Hikaru’s insides felt like.
Like raw chicken covered in marinade—an incredibly accurate comparison he came up with. It was so accurate that he almost wanted to pat himself on the back then and there.
He put up with the hairs standing on end at the nape of his neck and looked over at Maki, who was also in his group.
Maki had been instructed to cut their cabbage into thin slices but was cutting it into fairly thick chunks while exclaiming, “Yahoo! I love fried chicken!” Seeing him like that, Yoshiki felt jealous. He was genuinely envious of someone who could get that excited and say “Yahoo!” over something as simple as fried chicken.
Maki was wearing an apron with a dragon design on it. He had made it in his elementary school home economics class and wore it without an ounce of shame. Yoshiki also felt… No, actually, he wasn’t particularly jealous of that.
“Ya weren’t even helpin’ out none, and when you finally did, you didn’t shred the cabbage like ya were s’posed to! What the heck is this?!” Yuuki wailed.
She scowled and picked up a piece of the “shredded” cabbage that was about as thick as her thumb.
“Ah, shut up! You my mama or somethin’?!” Maki snapped back, and predictably, an argument ensued.
Yoshiki quietly pushed the entire bowl of seasoned chicken over to Yuuki and then washed his hands without saying a word. Despite the fact that he had been wearing gloves, he just had to scrub his hands clean.
“Yer bandana…,” came a voice.
Someone behind Yoshiki tugged on the bandana covering his hair, causing the top edge to flap about.
“They look like them triangle caps that ghosts wear.”
Hikaru had a grin on his face. There was a dragon on his apron, too, though it was slightly different from Maki’s. Yoshiki couldn’t understand how those two high schoolers were completely fine wearing dragon aprons.
“Why were ya starin’ at the chicken somethin’ fierce earlier?” Hikaru asked. He was pointing at a bowl with chicken in it.
What the heck? Was he watchin’ me?
Yoshiki should have avoided the question, but he hesitated instead.
“Well,” he said. “It’s just…”
“Just what?”
“It’s just…the way raw chicken feels… It’s kinda like how it felt that one time…”
Inside you.
Yoshiki was about to say that, but he realized that Hikaru was staring at him—and so was the dragon on Hikaru’s apron.
“Dang, man, you’ve been thinkin’ ’bout that stuff all this time? Havin’ them nasty thoughts while lookin’ at that raw chicken all on yer lonesome…”
Hikaru snorted, barely containing his laughter, and Yoshiki instantly glared at him. That was all he could do.
“The heck?! What’s with that reaction, man?! It’s not like that,” Yoshiki grumbled.
“Naw, it’s all right, though.”
But Hikaru’s shoulders continued to shake with laughter. Just when it seemed like he had finally stopped, a strangely calm smile spread across his face, and he started looking intently at Yoshiki.
“Wanna try feelin’ it again?” Hikaru asked.
It looked like Yuuki had started frying the chicken. Hikaru’s group started doing the same. Soon, the entire room was filled with the sizzles and cracks of popping oil.
To Yoshiki, it almost felt like he was being jeered at or warned of something yet to come.
“No way,” he told Hikaru. “It feels too freaky. That’s not the kinda thing I can get used to.”
“But ya know, you were like this back when we were on that forest path, too. You really can’t handle it when guys like me get all up in your space. Gets me nervous jus’ lookin’ at ya. That’s why it’s better if you get used to feelin’ it!”
Hikaru looked at Yoshiki to gauge his reaction, and something about what Hikaru said gave Yoshiki a bad feeling. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was almost as if there was some ulterior motive behind Hikaru’s words.
Before Yoshiki could respond, Yuuki, who was standing in front of their group’s stove, said, “Yoshikiii, put out a plate,” and pointed to a cabinet.
“That Maki’s totally useless,” Yoshiki grumbled.
When he glanced at Maki, Maki was busy showing off his “super awesome” apron to the guys in Hikaru’s group.
“All right. Fine.”
Yoshiki should’ve said that to Yuuki, but for some reason, he found himself directing his response at Hikaru instead.
“Great,” Hikaru replied. “Then let’s do it after school.”
Hikaru then went back to his group, looking pleased.
Thanks to Yuuki, Yoshiki’s group managed to fry their chicken to delicious perfection. Meanwhile, Hikaru’s group’s fried chicken was burnt beyond recognition, rendering it inedible. People had a lot of negative things to say about it, including how it looked like dark matter or how it tasted like the back end of a truck, but Hikaru seemed to enjoy it all the same.
Compared to years ago, Kibogayama High School had seen a steady decline in the student population, leaving the school with many empty classrooms. However, the classrooms still retained traces of their past, making it clear they had once been put to proper use.
At the farthest edge of the school was an unlocked classroom despite the DO NOT ENTER sign on its door. In the corner of this room, Hikaru undid two of the buttons on his short-sleeved shirt, just like he had done once before.