And so, my flashback ended and I returned to reality. The reality in which I’d just shouted the word “cheftastrophe” as loudly as possible. Oh. Oh god, I did, didn’t I?! I just called Renge a cheftastrophe to her face! My poor physical condition must’ve been influencing my thought process—I’d completely lost my ability to make rational decisions.
But, wait. If I ate Renge’s cooking in my current state, there’s no way I’d be able to resist its effects! I’d die for sure, or at least end up in a state where I might as well be dead! Calling Kiryu back and asking her to nurse me instead would mean that Renge—and, by extension, her cooking—would be forced to exit the scene. Then I’d just have to convince Kiryu to leave after she was gone! Yeah, this is a good plan! This’ll work!
“Kou?” Renge started, a bit slowly. “What do you mean by ‘cheftastrophe’? You pointed at me, but...you weren’t talking about me, were you?” She cocked her head quizzically. An ever-so-slight shadow was beginning to cloud her expression. She’d totally dropped the high-and-mighty rich-girl tone she always made sure to use in public, as well.
“I’m quite certain, Miss President, that he was indeed talking about you. You were the one who was talking about cooking something medicinal, after all,” Kiryu answered in my place. And, I mean, she’s right, but did she really have to say it that bluntly? Kinda pouring salt on the wound, there!
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Kiryu-san. Kou has told me that he loves my cooking, and I firmly believe that he wasn’t lying.” I was lying. I’m so, so sorry.
“If I may be blunt, it seems clear from his current state that he’s genuinely terrified of your cooking. This is just conjecture on my part, but have you ever cooked for him against his will? Perhaps under the condition that you’d continue to do so until he told you he liked it?” Where on earth did you pull that guess from, Kiryu-san?! You pretty much hit the nail on the head! You were so right, you didn’t even need to bother clarifying that it was conjecture!
“An amusing theory. Tell me—did you really believe that I, Myourenji Renge, would allow myself to be subjected to such mockery and back down without protest?”
“R-Renge-san?” I stammered.
“Kiryu-san, I hereby challenge you to a contest of cookery! We’ll determine once and for all who is better suited to nurse Kou back to health!”
“Are you kidding me?! What kind of shonen manga development is that?!” Renge was both the challenger and the guaranteed loser! I didn’t know whether Kiryu could cook at all, of course, but Renge was a cheftastrophe among cheftastrophes. She was a downright prodigy in her field—the god of terrible cooking incarnate. Kiryu could spend the entire contest spacing out in a corner, cook nothing at all, and still win!
“I suppose I should ask you, Kiryu-san,” continued Renge, “how would you estimate your own cooking ability?”
“My parents usually get home late, so I cook for myself on a fairly regular basis.”
“In other words, you’re used to cooking for yourself, and only yourself. From the sound of things, you’ve never had anyone else eat your food, have you? I imagine you would’ve mentioned it if you had.”
“And? What about it?”
“Well, you can’t deny that you’re a wee bit inexperienced, can you? You see, it’s only after someone else has tried your cooking that you come to understand what ‘cooking’ truly means. I almost have to commend you on your recklessness—it’s quite something to challenge me, lacking in experience as you are!”
“Grr...” Kiryu grimaced. Renge was doing an impressive job of acting like she had an overwhelming advantage, and Kiryu was clearly overwhelmed. That said, when I really thought about it, Renge was the one to challenge her in the first place, and Kiryu hadn’t even accepted yet. She was just acting as if it was a given that Kiryu would take the bait.
All that said, nothing could change the fact that—and I realize I’m beating a dead horse, here—Renge was a cheftastrophe. She was playing herself up as the sort of mid-game boss you’re railroaded into losing against no matter how you fight it, but her own defeat was already set in stone. She was confidently leaping directly into a pit trap that wasn’t even hidden. It would’ve been hilarious if it weren’t so pathetic.
“H-Hey, we don’t have to make it into a contest, right? This is getting out of hand!”
“I understand, Kou. You’re trying to spare Kiryu from a humiliating defeat.”
“That, but for you!” Is she following the conversation at all?! Or is she just that much of a sore loser?!
“All right. Fine.”
“Kiryu?!”
“I accept your challenge, and I’ll be putting my all into it!”
“No, seriously, you don’t have to! Boil up some cup noodles, and you’ll have already won! Hell, you don’t even have to boil them! You could win by feeding them to me dry!” But my snappy retort was in vain. The two of them were in complete battle-manga mode, facing each other down like fated rivals going into an epic duel. I could practically see the sparks crackling between them.
They were actually quite similar when it came to their competitive nature—in fact, they played off each other really nicely in that respect. There was pretty much no way I could stop them after letting them rile each other up that much.