Chapter 2

CHAPTER 1 The Grand Tactic of Pots, Meat, and Appetites
A_Required_Thing. 1 One thing after another happened, and soon it was lunchtime. “Guhhh. My stomach’s rumbling…” Due to various circumstances, Kamijou hadn’t eaten breakfast, but he’d still managed to last through morning classes somehow. The students heading for school lunch in the cafeteria or school store had dashed out of the classroom the moment break started, vanishing in an instant. He could hear voices overlapping, with Ms. Komoe shouting, “Hey, you! No running in the halls!!” while his more athletic classmates shouted back, “We’re not running! We’re sock skating!!” and “Sock drifting deployed!!” They were going so fast their protests actually had a Doppler effect going on. Kamijou, already devoid of energy, had totally missed the bus to excitement city. Normally, his lunch-break tardiness would have been a fatal mistake, but today, it wasn’t a problem. With a thud, he set his thin, flimsy schoolbag on his desk. And then he took out his ultimate weapon: a bento box. Just as Kamijou was thinking Okay, it’s time to eat and was about to open the lid to his packed lunch, his phone suddenly started vibrating in his pocket. He checked it and saw he had a text message from Mikoto Misaka, with whom he’d just recently exchanged phone numbers and e-mail addresses. Unfortunately, the contents of the display caused him to flounder. “Huh?” he muttered to himself. “DATA CORRUPTED. CANNOT OPEN MESSAGE?” That’s weird. I guess I’ll text her instead. He pushed the buttons with his thumb, sending a reply that read I DON’T GET IT, SEND IT AGAIN, I DARE YOU to her. He returned his phone to his pocket. Right now it was time for lunch. “Hrmm. I feel like this is rare for you.” But before he could start, someone approached him—Aisa Himegami, holding a small pouch. The girl had very traditional long black hair, and she packed her own lunch every day like it was only natural. “Ah, and here’s another one with something probably delicious.” “I don’t have any sides to give you for free. If you must have some, it will have to be a trade,” said Himegami, dragging over a chair from nearby, its legs scraping across the floor. As Kamijou popped the lid off his own bento box, he murmured, “…I had leftovers from yesterday, so I just randomly threw it in before making breakfast this morning… This must be the only thing that escaped her stomach…” “?” Himegami tilted her head, not understanding. The usual clamor that accompanied the beginning of lunch break had died down, with most of the kids who ate in the cafeteria having disappeared from the classroom and out into the halls. The remainder, those who always brought a bagged lunch, would rearrange the desks as they pleased, regardless of whose they were. Kamijou fished around in his bag for the cold barley tea he’d gotten on his way to school (which meant it was now lukewarm). “It’s cool that you have the motivation to make your own lunch every day, Himegami. It was a pain for me just to pack leftovers.” “Once you get into the habit, it won’t feel like as much work.” The difference in their culinary craftsmanship was clear as day. After all, Himegami’s bento had vegetable tempura in it, the main dish not being white rice but rice mixed with other ingredients—somehow, it looked extremely tasty. Where Kamijou had only packed leftovers, Himegami had planned for this spread to be her lunch while she was cooking it. Plus, since Kamijou had packed already-finished food, the gloppy broth was intruding upon the domain of rice in his lunch box now. With Himegami looking on in mild pity, Kamijou picked up his plastic chopsticks. “Presentation isn’t everything. It’s actually pretty good when the broth soaks into things.” “…Are you being a sore loser?” “Wrong, that’s not it at all!! My cooked food today is perfect, from the softness of the potatoes to the quality of the broth! And the rice is only more delicious, after the broth soaked into it! Taste it, and you’ll know Touma Kamijou’s skills firsthand now that he’s leveled up his mirin expertise yet again!!” “Then I will trade for this squash tempura,” she said, and their chopsticks crossed like passing planes, each pair air-dropping something to the other person’s plate. Not that it matters, but how long does this even take her? First thing in the morning, and she’s already making something as labor-intensive as fried foods? Maybe she’s a harder worker than I thought. Kamijou considered that as he put the tempura in his mouth. He hated to say it, but it was amazing. It must have been in that bento box for hours, but it was still nice and crispy. What a mystery. He’d have to beg for her secrets. Meanwhile, Himegami looked at the deformed taro that looked like something out of the meager repertoire of a single-dad businessman who had grudgingly learned to cook. She eventually brought it to her mouth and started to chew. “Yeah. This might not be so bad—” But before she could finish, she suddenly made a muffled grunting noise. She keeled over, hands to her throat. It must have gotten stuck in there. “Are…are you all right?!” Kamijou cried out without thinking, but of course she didn’t answer. Himegami was vaguely teary-eyed as she reached for her plastic bottle of mineral water. Kamijou wasn’t sure if he should do anything but then saw her free hand moving around to her back. “Wait, what? You want me to rub your back?!” he shouted. Himegami nodded, taking a drink of her water. He placed his hand at the center of her back, covered in her long black hair, but wasn’t sure how much force to use. He decided to gently go up and down, but Himegami’s painful-looking shaking wasn’t stopping. “Crap! I think we’d better get you to the nurse’s office—!” “Mgh. Mgh, mgh.” “What’s that? Harder?!” Having brought her arm around to point at the middle of her back, she nodded weakly. To provide her some relief as soon as possible, Kamijou wasted no time as he redoubled his efforts to rub her back, like she had requested. But then there was a snap. And then Kamijou’s fingers felt the strange sensation of a bra hook being undone. That very moment, Himegami wordlessly clenched a fist, then brutally drove it into his stomach (an act that drastically increased the amount certain parts of her bounced). With a brilliant wha-bam, Kamijou buckled forward, collapsing to the floor. Himegami ran off to the washroom, holding her chest. “Urgh. I… I just did what you asked… Why do I have such rotten luck…?” As he lay there trembling on the floor, his incredibly stacked classmate with long black hair and a prominent forehead came over, holding a plastic bag with stuffed bread in it. Seiri Fukiyose seemed to have just gotten back from retrieving food from her locker. With a sigh, she asked, “…What happened?”