Chapter 5 – “Cooking Practice of Doom”

Riko Tachibana stood in her kitchen, glaring down a row of ingredients like they were her sworn enemies.

“Alright,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “How hard can cooking be?”

Mina, sprawled on the counter with a bag of chips, raised an eyebrow. “You nearly set the rice cooker on fire last time.”

“That was a fluke!” Riko protested. “Besides, this time’s special. I’m making lunch for Daichi.”

“Oooh, love bento!” Mina grinned. “Classic move. Feed him, win him.”

Riko’s face went pink. “I-It’s not like that! I just… owe him, for, you know, saving me at the station.”

“Right. Totally not romantic,” Mina teased, licking chip crumbs off her fingers. “So what’s the plan, Chef Disaster?”

Riko frowned at the recipe book open on the counter. “I’ll make tamagoyaki, karaage, and rice balls. Simple stuff.”

Mina peeked over her shoulder. “Those are like, three levels above ‘simple.’”

Riko gripped her spatula like a sword. “I can handle it!”

---

Ten minutes later, smoke filled the kitchen.

“Riko! The pan’s on fire again!” Mina yelled, fanning the air with a towel.

“I’m trying! Why won’t it stop burning!?”

“Because you poured soy sauce like it’s holy water!”

“I thought that’s what ‘season to taste’ meant!”

“Not when you season it to death!”

They both coughed, waving the smoke toward the window. The pan hissed, blackened bits of egg clinging to the metal like battle scars.

Riko wiped her forehead. “Okay… that was the test batch.”

Mina squinted. “Test batch number three.”

Riko growled. “Fine! Fourth time’s the charm!”

---

By the fourth try, the kitchen looked like a culinary warzone. Flour dusted the floor, eggshells decorated the counter, and Mina had migrated to a safe distance — munching on what little food had survived.

Riko finally lifted a new pan of tamagoyaki, golden and actually resembling food. “Ha! Look at that! Perfection!”

Mina blinked. “Wait… you didn’t burn it.”

Riko puffed her chest. “Told you I could do it!”

Mina cautiously took a bite.

Her face twitched. “…Tastes like revenge.”

“What!?”

“It’s edible, but it’s angry. You can taste the violence in it.”

Riko glared. “I’ll take it.”

---

Next up: karaage.

“How hard can frying be?” she muttered, dipping chicken into batter.

Mina raised her phone like a camera crew. “Last words of a doomed chef.”

“Quiet, you!”

The oil sizzled as Riko dropped in the chicken pieces — and splashed immediately.

“HOT! HOT!” she screamed, dodging oil droplets.

Mina ducked behind the counter. “Told you to use chopsticks, not your hands!”

“I panicked!”

When the chaos finally settled, the karaage came out uneven — some golden, some blackened like charcoal meteors.

Riko sighed. “If I mix them, maybe he won’t notice.”

“Sure,” Mina said. “Just pray he doesn’t break a tooth.”

---

After hours of effort, the bento box was finally assembled: slightly overcooked rice balls, emotional tamagoyaki, and a handful of suspicious chicken pieces.

Riko stared at it proudly. “It’s not perfect, but it’s made with love.”

Mina grinned. “And despair.”

Riko jabbed her chopsticks at her. “Out.”

Mina laughed her way out the door. “Good luck, Iron Chef of Chaos!”

---

The next morning, Riko carried the bento like it was a sacred relic. Her stomach twisted with nerves.

What if he hates it? What if he laughs? What if he dies?

“Stop it,” she whispered to herself. “He’s your friend. It’s just lunch.”

At the school gate, Daichi was stretching as usual. “Yo, Riko-bro—”

She held up the bento box like a weapon. “Lunch.”

He blinked. “Lunch?”

“For you,” she said quickly, cheeks red. “I, uh… made it.”

He froze. “You… cooked?”

“Don’t make it sound like I committed a crime!”

“N-no, I’m just surprised. You, uh, never cook.”

“Yeah, well, today’s different,” she muttered, shoving it into his hands. “Just eat it.”

He opened it slowly, as if expecting something to explode.

Riko stood there, sweating bullets.

Daichi picked up a rice ball, took a bite — and chewed thoughtfully.

She leaned forward anxiously. “Well?”

He swallowed, looking serious.

“You made this?”

“Y-Yeah.”

He looked back down at the box, then up at her, and smiled softly.

“…Tastes like courage.”

Riko blinked. “Huh?”

“I mean, it’s rough around the edges,” he said, scratching his cheek, “but it’s… you. Strong, weird, and kind of awesome.”

Her heart did a somersault.

“T-That’s not even a real compliment,” she stammered, turning red.

He laughed. “No, seriously. Thanks, Riko. I’ll eat all of it.”

“You don’t have to force yourself!”

“Who’s forcing? It’s good!”

He took another bite — of the karaage this time. His expression froze for a second, then he smiled again, eyes watering.

Riko gasped. “It’s spicy, isn’t it!?”

He coughed. “Nope! Just… full of flavor!”

“Daichi, your eyes are literally crying!”

“It’s called passion!” he wheezed.

Riko buried her face in her hands. “I’m never cooking again.”

Daichi laughed through his tears. “Please do. I’ll bring a fire extinguisher next time.”

---

That afternoon, Mina cornered Riko by the lockers. “Sooo? How’d it go?”

Riko looked half-dead. “He said it tasted like courage.”

Mina blinked. “That’s… actually kinda sweet.”

“He almost died!”

Mina giggled. “Well, love’s supposed to be dangerous.”

Riko sighed, but a small smile crept onto her face. “Maybe. Still… he ate it all.”

Mina winked. “Then you’ve already won half the battle.”

Riko looked out the window, where Daichi was laughing with his friends — smiling that same honest smile that always made her heart race.

Maybe next time, she thought, I’ll get it right.