Finale Chapter 5: The Final Spoonful

The lunch bell rang. It wasn’t a bell. It was a war horn.

Pandemonium erupted. Danawa and I, positioned strategically by the west entrance of the cafeteria, took a deep breath. “Go, go, go!” he yelled, as if we were storming the beaches of Normandy.

Our plan was simple: I would make a direct, high-speed assault on the dessert counter, while Danawa ran interference, “accidentally” dropping his tray to create a temporary roadblock for any potential competitors. It was clumsy, but it was all we had.

Across the battlefield, Rina’s team launched their own, far more sophisticated operation. As we charged in, Aomei, positioned near the center of the cafeteria, suddenly let out a blood-curdling shriek and collapsed to the floor in a dramatic faint, clutching her heart.

“My… my fragile constitution!” she wailed. “Betrayed by a love I could never have! The sorrow… it is too much!”

It was a masterful performance. Half the students in the vicinity stopped dead in their tracks, creating the exact diversion Yuna’s traffic-flow model had predicted. I saw Yuna herself, slipping through the chaos with eerie calm, a stopwatch in her hand, muttering, “Phase one complete. Diversion effectiveness at 98.7%.”

But where was Rina? I scanned the crowd, my eyes darting everywhere. There was no sign of her. She was the commander, she wouldn't be on the front lines. She was smarter than that.

Danawa executed his part of the plan with gusto. He "tripped" with the grace of a falling elephant, sending mashed potatoes and gravy flying in a perfect arc, creating a slippery, impassable barrier. “My bad, dudes!” he yelled, with a wink in my direction.

The path was clear. I sprinted towards the dessert counter, my heart pounding in my chest. I could see them. The glorious, golden cups of pudding, glistening under the fluorescent lights. There were only three left.

I reached the counter, gasping for breath, a triumphant grin on my face. “One Golden Caramel Dream Pudding, please!” I said to the lunch lady.

And then, a hand placed a ticket on the counter right next to mine. A calm, steady hand.

I turned. It was Rina. She hadn't come through the main floor. She had used the side entrance, the one mostly used by staff, a route completely overlooked in our brute-force planning. She was already here, waiting. She gave me a smug little smile.

“Two puddings left,” she said sweetly.

We both looked at the lunch lady, who was slowly, methodically serving another student. One pudding gone. We were down to two. We were neck and neck.

And then we both lunged.

Our hands slammed down on the counter at the exact same time, right next to the very last pudding cup. We were a hair's breadth from victory, a perfect stalemate.

“It’s mine, Aoshi,” she whispered, her voice a low growl.

“You wish, Rina,” I shot back, our faces inches apart. “Your little drama-club diversion was clever, but you underestimated my sheer, unadulterated speed.”

“You mean your clumsy, brainless charging?” she retorted. “You’re all brawn, no brain.”

“Oh yeah? Well, you’re all schemes and no… uh… non-scheme-y stuff!” I fired back, my insult-generating abilities failing me under pressure.

This was it. The culmination of our rivalry, new and old. The playful teasing of the past weeks had been fun, a cute imitation of our old dynamic. But this? This felt real. The competitive fire, the desperate need to win. It was exhilarating.

And then, in the heat of the moment, fueled by adrenaline and a week of built-up mock-antagonism, I said it.

“Honestly, Rina! Can’t you just be a normal girlfriend for five minutes? Is everything a competition with you?”

The words were out before I could stop them. And I knew, instantly, that I had crossed a line.

The fire in her eyes vanished. It wasn’t replaced by anger, but by something far worse: a flicker of genuine hurt. Her smug smile faltered. The playful tension between us evaporated, leaving a cold, awkward silence. The game was over.

She slowly pulled her hand back from the counter.

“Fine,” she said, her voice quiet and flat. “You win. Take it.”

She turned and walked away without another word, disappearing into the lunchtime crowd.

My victory felt hollow. The pudding cup on the counter no longer looked like a trophy; it looked like a consolation prize for being a complete idiot. I had taken our fun, ridiculous game and twisted it into something ugly. I had hurt her.

I bought the pudding, my appetite completely gone. I found her where I knew she’d be: the school rooftop, our spot. She was leaning against the railing, facing away from me, her shoulders slumped.

I walked up and stood beside her, holding out the cup. “Here.”

She didn’t look at it. “I’m not hungry.”

“Rina, I’m sorry,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “That was a stupid thing to say. I didn’t mean it.”

“You did, though,” she said, finally turning to look at me. Her eyes were red-rimmed. “You think I’m too much. You want a ‘normal’ girlfriend.”

“No! That’s not it at all,” I insisted, stepping closer. “Look, these past few weeks… they were great. They were peaceful. But… it didn't feel like us. It felt like we were playing the part of a normal couple. And I missed… this. I missed the scheming, the rivalry, the chaos. It’s our thing, you know?”

I looked down at the pudding in my hand. “I was just so caught up in the competition, I forgot we were supposed to be on the same team, even when we’re fighting. What I said was insensitive and jerky. I’m really sorry.”

A small tear escaped her eye and she quickly wiped it away. “I got bored,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “I thought you were getting tired of me. You seemed so happy with everything being calm and easy, and I thought… maybe I should try to be that girl. The calm, easy girlfriend. But I’m not. And I missed fighting with you. It’s how I know you’re paying attention.”

I reached out and gently tilted her chin up, making her look at me. “Rina, I am always paying attention to you. You’re impossible to ignore.”

A small, watery smile touched her lips. “Jerk.”

“Your jerk, though,” I said, smiling back.

I popped the lid off the pudding and handed her the little plastic spoon. “First bite is yours. You earned it with that side-door trick. That was brilliant, by the way.”

She took the spoon, her smile growing a little more genuine. She scooped up a bit of the golden caramel dessert and, instead of eating it, held it up to my mouth.

I ate it. It was, without a doubt, the best pudding I had ever tasted.

We stood there on the rooftop, under the bright blue sky, sharing the single cup of pudding. The war was over. The truce was signed. And our strange, chaotic, wonderful balance was restored.

“You know,” she said, after swallowing the last spoonful. “I still would have won if you hadn't been a jerk.”

“In your dreams,” I scoffed, flicking a drop of water from a nearby pipe at her.

She gasped in mock-outrage and flicked one back.

And just like that, we were back. Not enemies, not just lovers, but something perfectly, uniquely in between. And it was anything but boring.