Chapter 4: The Pudding War Declaration

The peace had lasted for a few weeks. A few blissful, calm, and utterly predictable weeks. Our dates became routine. We’d meet after school, grab a snack, walk home together. It was nice. It was comfortable. It was everything I thought I wanted.

But I started noticing a change in Rina. A subtle restlessness. The mischievous glint in her eyes seemed to be dimming, replaced by a placid fondness that was, frankly, a little unnerving. The girl who once replaced the sugar in my coffee with salt was now content to just… sit there and drink her own tea. The beautiful, chaotic storm I had fallen for was becoming a gentle spring breeze.

I didn’t realize how much I missed the rain until she declared war.

The catalyst was, of all things, pudding. Not just any pudding. This was the legendary, once-a-month, limited-edition “Golden Caramel Dream Pudding” from the school cafeteria. It was rumored to be made by an ex-pastry chef from a Michelin-star restaurant. The cream was richer, the caramel was darker, the texture was smoother than any other dessert known to student-kind. They only made twenty servings. They always sold out in under five minutes.

We were sitting in the library, supposedly studying, when the announcement for the next day’s pudding special came over the PA system.

Rina’s head snapped up. Her eyes, which had been half-closed over a history textbook, were suddenly wide and sharp. A slow, dangerous smile spread across her face. It was a smile I hadn't seen in weeks. It was the smile she used to wear right before launching a new, diabolical scheme against me.

“Aoshi,” she said, her voice a low purr. “Tomorrow. The last cup of pudding.”

I blinked. “What about it?”

“It will be mine,” she declared, closing her textbook with a decisive thud. It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a statement of absolute fact.

I chuckled, relieved. She was just playing. “Alright, alright. We can share it.”

She looked at me with an expression of profound disappointment. “Share? Aoshi, you misunderstand. This isn't about eating pudding. This is about victory. I will acquire the final cup of the Golden Caramel Dream Pudding. You will try to stop me. And you will fail.”

The intensity in her eyes was real. This wasn't a joke. This was a challenge. The old rivalry, the one I thought had been put to rest, was roaring back to life. And honestly? A jolt of excitement shot through me. The gentle breeze was gone. The storm was back.

“You’re on,” I said, a grin spreading across my own face. “Prepare to taste defeat, because that’s the only thing you’ll be tasting tomorrow.”

The library was no longer a place of study. It was a war room. We stared at each other from across the table, battle lines drawn. The era of peaceful hand-holding was over. The Great Pudding War had begun.

I knew I couldn’t face her alone. Rina in full schemer-mode was a force of nature. I needed backup. I needed my own bumbling, misguided, but loyal-to-a-fault army. I needed Danawa.

I found him by the vending machines, trying to decide if “Corn Potage” was a drink or a soup.

“Danawa, I need your help,” I said, my voice grave. “It’s a matter of life, death, and dessert.”

I explained the situation. His eyes lit up. “Dude! It’s a classic power play! She’s testing your dominance! It’s all in the book!” He brandished his copy of The Alpha Bro’s Guide. “Chapter 7: ‘Conquering the Culinary Battlefield.’ We gotta form a plan. A strategy. We need… Operation Pudding Shield!”

Meanwhile, Rina was assembling her own forces. She found Aomei rehearsing a dramatic death scene in the empty auditorium.

“Aomei, I require your assistance,” Rina said, her voice filled with a gravity that Aomei, a connoisseur of all things dramatic, could appreciate. “I am embarking on a quest of epic proportions.”

“A quest!” Aomei gasped, abandoning her death scene. “Does it involve star-crossed lovers? A forgotten prophecy? A duel at dawn?”

“It involves pudding,” Rina said. “And the crushing of my beloved rival.”

“Even better!” Aomei declared, her eyes blazing with theatrical fire. “My skills in misdirection and emotional manipulation will be your greatest weapon! We shall call this… Operation Sweet Sorrow!”

Their final recruit was, surprisingly, Yuna. They found her in the science lab, calibrating a microscope.

“Yuna, we need your brain,” Rina said simply.

Yuna looked up, her expression unchanging. “My brain is currently occupied with observing the cellular structure of onion skins. State your query.”

Rina explained the objective: secure the last pudding.

Yuna was silent for a full minute, processing. Then, she pushed a button on a calculator. “The cafeteria rush hour follows a predictable pattern. Peak velocity is achieved at 12:05 PM. The optimal route requires navigating three major choke points. The probability of success for a two-person team is 67.4%. With my logistical analysis, we can increase that to 92.8%.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “The mission is logical. I will assist. Let us call it… Project Custard Acquisition.”

The next twenty-four hours were a blur of absurd preparations. My “Operation Pudding Shield” consisted mostly of Danawa suggesting terrible ideas from his book. His grand strategy involved me creating a distraction by challenging the lunch lady to an arm-wrestling match while he snuck in to grab the prize. I vetoed that immediately. We eventually settled on a slightly more sane plan involving timing and creating a pincer movement.

Rina’s team, on the other hand, was operating like a well-oiled, if deeply strange, machine. Yuna had drafted a full-scale blueprint of the cafeteria, complete with projected student traffic flow and optimal infiltration routes. Aomei was practicing various dramatic fainting spells to create a diversion. Rina was the mastermind, coordinating their efforts with the precision of a seasoned general.

The night before P-Day, she sent me a text. It was a single image: a cartoon cat smiling smugly with the caption, “The sweet taste of victory awaits me.”

I retaliated with a GIF of a different cartoon character tripping and falling flat on his face.

The war was no longer just about pudding. It was about honor. It was about pride. It was about proving who was the ultimate strategist. It was the most ridiculous, high-stakes, low-prize conflict in the history of our relationship.

And it was the most fun I’d had in weeks.