After school, Shimizu Akira and Horikita Suzune walked side by side toward the second floor of the cafeteria.
He intended to keep his promise—treating her to a meal.
The first floor was an affordable, communal dining hall offering daily set meals like donburi and ramen.
The second floor, however, was an entirely different world—a collection of upscale restaurants: Western cuisine, yakiniku, high-end sushi, all available at correspondingly higher point costs.
It dawned on Shimizu that he hadn't set foot on the second floor since enrollment.
All this time, he'd been taking his meals in the spacious first-floor cafeteria.
"Anything in particular you'd like?" Shimizu asked, glancing at her.
Horikita thought briefly before replying flatly, "Anything. You decide."
He knew the hidden implications behind the word "anything," but then again—this was Horikita Suzune. She wasn't the type to play mind games like most girls.
"Then let's go with yakiniku," Shimizu decided quickly.
He'd been intensifying his physical training lately and needed quality protein. Horikita, too, had been noticeably light on meat intake these past few days.
Yakiniku was the perfect choice.
"Fine." Horikita nodded.
For her, "anything" meant exactly that—she genuinely had no preferences.
They took a window-side table for two.
The modern ordering system was convenient—just scan the QR code on the table, and the digital menu appeared on their phones.
As Shimizu scrolled through the options, he was struck by the meticulous categorization of Japanese yakiniku.
The menu didn't just list common cuts like pork belly and sirloin but included specialized divisions like upper shank tendon, spinal core, and leg triangle meat.
Naturally, the rarer the cut, the steeper the point cost.
He casually selected a few recommended meats and added a mango juice for himself.
At checkout, he realized his order alone totaled nearly 4,000 points.
A glance at Horikita's selections showed she'd only picked two basic portions of pork belly.
"You've already ordered plenty..." Horikita noticed his gaze and added quietly, "We can always order more if needed. Waste is unacceptable."
"Fair point." Shimizu nodded in understanding.
Yakiniku was best enjoyed fresh off the grill—no need to overorder upfront.
A server arrived promptly to activate their grill, the metal plate gradually heating with a faint sizzle.
Dish after dish of meat soon arrived.
Shimizu surveyed the restaurant and noted the sparse crowd.
The few occupied tables were all pairs of upperclassmen, judging by their uniforms—second- and third-years.
Their interactions were particularly striking—the boys attentively flipped meat slices with tongs, transferring perfectly grilled pieces to the girls' plates.
Amidst the symphony of sizzling meat,
soft laughter and intimate chatter filled the air.
Shimizu averted his gaze, refocusing on their grill.
The metal plate now emitted faint wisps of smoke—the temperature was just right.
"I'll handle the grilling." He picked up the tongs and laid pork belly slices onto the surface.
The moment meat met heat, a satisfying "sizzle" erupted, fat slowly rendering out.
Horikita sat with her hands folded neatly on the table's edge, silently observing his movements.
Her posture remained as impeccably upright as ever, maintaining an almost ceremonial dignity even in this casual setting.
"Do you eat yakiniku often?" Shimizu ventured for conversation.
"Not really. Just once before." Her reply was curt. "Aniki considers it unhealthy."
The meat's edges began to curl, releasing an irresistible caramelized aroma.
Just then, laughter burst from the next table over.
A second-year girl playfully swatted her boyfriend's hand away from the grill. "Ew, this piece is totally burnt!"
Shimizu's gaze flicked toward the sound before he quickly looked away.
A sidelong glance at Horikita revealed her sitting ramrod straight, her fingers subtly tightening around her chopsticks.
"First time eating out with someone your age?" Shimizu asked softly. "You seem tense."
"...Second time. The first was with you in the cafeteria. I'm not tense." Horikita paused mid-reply, her voice quieter than usual.
"Relax," Shimizu couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm not some predatory carnivore—well, technically, we are eating meat, but you get the point."
"...I know." Her eyes drifted elsewhere, but the tension in her shoulders eased slightly.
"Try this." Shimizu transferred the first grilled slice to her plate.
Horikita picked it up gracefully, dipping it lightly in sauce.
"Barely passable." Her critique was succinct.
"At least it's edible." Shimizu exhaled in relief, serving himself a piece.
"You used me as a taste tester?" Horikita's gaze snapped up.
"Obviously?" He grinned.
The moment the meat touched his tongue, he realized it was slightly overdone.
Shimizu hastily adjusted the grill temperature, his movements just a tad flustered.
This slip drew a faint upward twitch of Horikita's lips—though her neutral mask returned almost instantly.
"Next time," she said abruptly, "pork belly only needs thirty seconds."
When Shimizu looked up, he found Horikita had already taken up the tongs between them, expertly flipping new slices with unexpected finesse.
Shimizu raised a brow. "...You said you'd only been once?"
"Once doesn't mean incompetent." Her movements remained fluid, the meat arcs flawless.
"Don't tell me you practiced for your brother?" The words left Shimizu's mouth before he could stop them.
Horikita's tongs froze mid-air. She shot him a glare. "Eat. And stop talking."
Her reaction confirmed his guess.
Amused, Shimizu noted the faint pink tingeing Horikita's ears but wisely didn't press further.
Horikita shook her head slightly, memories of middle school resurfacing.
That time, she'd begged her brother to take her for yakiniku, even staying up late to binge-watch grilling tutorials.
Yet throughout the meal, her brother hadn't let her touch the tongs once—just silently piled her plate with perfectly cooked meat.
(What Aniki never got to use... now he gets to enjoy.)
She peeked up at Shimizu, who was devouring the meat with zero decorum—sauce smeared at the corner of his mouth, cheeks puffed as he chewed.
Somehow, the sight was... oddly comforting.
"Wipe your mouth." Horikita finally couldn't take it anymore, thrusting a napkin at him.
"Thanks." Shimizu dabbed at his face before grabbing another freshly grilled piece. "But seriously, your grilling skills put mine to shame."
Horikita hmph-ed quietly, but her tongs moved almost reflexively, loading more meat onto the grill.