I arrived at the apartment entrance at 8:15 sharp.
My hair was standing straight up like a Saiyan's, a messy bird's nest of a heap, and I was carrying several plastic bags—I looked as pathetic as could be. The man walking his dog looked at me in surprise, muttering, "Tokyo really has all sorts of people..."
I endured.
Fumbling to pull the keys from my bag, I took a deep breath and composed myself before opening the door, a typical gentle and considerate smile on my face.
Now, all I had to do was swallow my pride and make Tempura! I hadn't eaten dinner yet either, so I had bought some Ribs, pork, and tofu, planning to make some Chinese food to treat my own stomach.
Carrying the bags into the kitchen, before I even had a chance to put them down, the lazy voice of the girl lounging on the sofa drifted over: "There are still forty-five minutes until nine o'clock, Miss Nozawa."
"I can read a watch." My smile was forced through gritted teeth. "What you mean is, there are less than thirty minutes left until my execution."
"Yes. If the food isn't good, you're dead too." She turned around, her pupils like dark, lustrous pearls, the curve of her lips suggesting a half-smile.
Childish. Utterly childish.
I began cleaning the kitchen knives, carefully peeling the shrimp and removing the veins. Then, I prepared a batter with gluten, coated them in a thin layer of starch, heated a large pot of oil, and dropped the coated shrimp in to fry.
The golden Tempura shimmered, with the slightly reddish tails peeking out, looking particularly appetizing. After a light dusting of Tempura powder, the dish was complete.
Some shops like to use breadcrumbs when making Tempura; I wasn't sure if Kusanagi liked them that way, so I had bought a pack just in case.
"Miss Kusanagi, do you like your Tempura with breadcrumbs?" I asked her while frying.
Kusanagi crossed her arms over her chest and leaned over with interest to take a look. "Of course. Tempura must have breadcrumbs."
I breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully I bought them; if even the slightest thing wasn't to this young lady's taste, I feared my mind and body would suffer. However, her tastes were surprisingly similar to mine; so far, the foods she liked were almost identical to my own favorites.
The fried shrimp came out steaming hot, perfectly coated in breadcrumbs.
"You eat first, I still have a few more dishes to make." I brought the dish to the dining table. Kusanagi had been waiting for a while; she gripped her chopsticks, her grape-like pupils fixed on the Tempura as she poked at it firmly.
A moment later, her eyes narrowed in satisfaction.
"Miss Nozawa, you are spared from death," the girl mumbled, her mouth full of shrimp.
Well, thank you very much.
Next, I was going to make Chinese food: Sweet and Sour Ribs and Mapo Tofu.
I rolled up my sleeves, a bit of sweat forming on my brow from the heat. I blanched the Ribs, melted the rock sugar to a caramel color, then tossed the Ribs in to coat them evenly. After adding water and various seasonings, I covered the pot to simmer on medium heat for fifteen minutes.
While waiting for the Ribs to glaze, I cut the tofu into small cubes and sautéed the minced meat. Soon, the rich, savory aroma of the base filled the room. Finally, I added the tofu and sprinkled on some chopped coriander and green garlic. Done.
"What are you making? It smells so good." The girl couldn't help but lean in.
The Ribs were finished too. After simmering on medium heat, they were tender and succulent, the thick sauce enveloping the fresh meat. I took a quick taste to check the seasoning; mhm, the flavor was just right.
"The dish on the left is called Sweet and Sour Ribs. You should know the one on the right—it's Mapo Tofu, a Sichuan dish from China."
Upon hearing 'Mapo Tofu,' Kusanagi's eyes lit up instantly, her face practically screaming "I really want to try it." But she didn't want to show it, so she feigned composure and rubbed the back of her neck. "I wasn't going to eat any more, but since you made it, I suppose I'll reluctantly have a taste."
Kusanagi surely had never eaten Mapo Tofu, but I just felt she would like it. Therefore, I had specifically used less Sichuan peppercorn and chili, making it as light and palatable as possible while maintaining the flavor profile.
Reluctantly have a taste? What an awkward brat.
I blinked, speaking with complete innocence: "That's quite alright, Miss Kusanagi. You don't have to force yourself. I can eat these two dishes myself."
The corner of the girl's mouth stiffened imperceptibly. "There's a lot here; you can't finish it alone."
Me: "I can finish it. I have a big appetite."
Kusanagi: "No, you can't."
Me: "I can."
Her: "You can't."
Me: "I really can."
"..." It was a rare sight to see Kusanagi at a loss for words; an embarrassed flush crept onto her porcelain face.
"I'm going to eat it! I'm not full yet!"
...I could hardly keep from laughing.
I put on a hurt expression. "Miss Kusanagi, if you want to eat, you can just say so. After all, my cooking is so good, it's only natural to want a taste."
The corner of the girl's eye twitched as she immediately retorted, "Who wants to eat it? I don't care for Chinese food."
I sat down slowly, meticulously chewing a rib and pairing the tender tofu with a bowl of rice. I took a bite and let out a surprised sigh of delight.
"Oh my god, this is too delicious! It melts in your mouth and slides over the tongue." I stole a glance at Kusanagi; her eyes had already drifted over, but her body remained unmoved.
"Oh dear, if I can't finish it, I'll have to throw it all away. What a shame, since tofu shouldn't be kept overnight." Meanwhile, I counted down in my head: three, two, one.
The girl pulled out a chair and sat down, glancing at me. "See, I told you. I'll help you since you can't finish it."
Just as I thought. I gave a vague hum and nodded solemnly. "I didn't realize I wouldn't even be able to finish two pieces of tofu. It seems my appetite has shrunk; I'm going to get thin."
"..." Kusanagi naturally understood my teasing, so she decided to ignore me. She tried to pick up the tofu with her chopsticks, but it was difficult to grasp, slipping away from her time and again.
Smiling broadly, my voice turned as smooth as water: "Use a spoon." A spoonful of bright red, tender white tofu was thus ladled over the crystal-clear rice.
Kusanagi had no other choice. Her long, dark lashes lowered, and her soft black hair swayed near the corners of her eyes. "Itadakimasu."
She gripped the white handle of the spoon; it was a bit hot, so she pursed her rosy lips to blow on it before taking a large mouthful, her snowy, soft cheeks instantly bulging.
"Mmm."
It seemed she really liked it; I hadn't guessed wrong. I noticed she liked to take large bites when eating, unlike most girls who chew slowly. Instead, she boldly finished everything in one go, which matched her overbearing personality quite well, though it didn't quite fit her cool, delicate appearance. It created a strange sense of contradiction.
"Is it good?" I looked at her plate; her appetite was still on the small side, as even with the rice, it was only a few mouthfuls' worth.
"It's okay. Just a bit spicy." Kusanagi habitually pulled out a few tissues to place on the table before putting down her chopsticks. The table remained neat and clean, as if no one had even touched it.
Likely only a family with strict discipline would cultivate such habits. As Mr. Kuroki's only daughter, Kusanagi must have been raised with strict etiquette.
Despite her perverse and wildly arrogant personality, many details showed that she came from a wealthy, prestigious family—she was every bit the rich young lady.
For example, during the last picnic, she would take the food off the bamboo skewers and eat it all from a bowl; if she couldn't finish, she'd throw it away, never taking another bite. She changed her clothes every day, rarely repeating an outfit, and every set was from an expensive niche brand, including luxury labels like Hermes and LV.
The guitar she played looked unremarkable at first glance, but its finish was lustrous, its shape elegant, and its tone mellow—clearly of immense value.
Some people's aura is innate; it can't be faked.
With her soft, fluffy short black hair resting on her shoulders, Kusanagi said, "The food that woman makes is truly terrible. Luckily, yours is decent."
"I think Mrs. Kuroki's cooking is actually quite good."
"It's just terrible. This is much better."
I said while clearing the dishes, "Didn't you just say you didn't care for it?"
"Eating it once in a while is acceptable." The girl leaned back leisurely, casually changing the subject. "Hey, are you going to work at the Bookstore later?"
I raised an eyebrow. Why was she suddenly asking about the Bookstore? I was still shaken from nearly losing my job because of her.
"I don't have to go to the Bookstore today. Why?" I put the dishes in the sink, put on plastic gloves, and washed them carefully as spots of oil drifted away in the stream of water.
"We agreed on japanese lessons last time. Let's do it tonight." Having eaten her fill, the girl stretched, a trace of imperceptible pleasure in her tone.
"Tonight?" I was a bit surprised. "Uh, then let me prepare. My books and everything are in my room..."
"Then I'll go shower first. You 'prepare' well; I'm going to test you." For some reason, Kusanagi emphasized the word 'prepare' heavily before turning toward the bathroom.
Test away. In all my years, I've never been afraid of a test.
Ten minutes later.
...I wonder if it's too late to take that back?
Kusanagi sat beside me, wearing a crisp, clean short-sleeved shirt. Her toenails were painted with black polish, one hand propped up her left cheek, and her long legs were lazily braced against the corner of the table.
Crucially, she wasn't wearing anything on her lower half; I could clearly see some details I shouldn't be seeing.
Her skin was like milk, smooth, delicate, and almost translucent. Her toes were like small, exquisite grapes, lined up softly together.
My head began to ache.
Even though I'm a woman too, having those long, white legs constantly swaying in front of me was quite distracting.
Why am I feeling distracted? Did the Mapo Tofu make me go crazy? I touched my face in confusion.
"Let's do a quick quiz before the lesson." Kusanagi pulled my thoughts back. She spun her pen, her tone sounding quite serious. "Let's start with body parts. You're a doctor, so you should be very familiar with this."
"Fine, let's begin." I was full of confidence.
"I'll only test five. Write them in Chinese on the paper. If you get even one wrong, you fail. If you fail, you have to accept a punishment."
I smelled a trap.
"That's fine, but you can't test particularly obscure words or extremely specific technical terms." I paused. "I might not be able to answer those."
Her smooth short hair swayed mischievously. "I promise to only test words used in daily life. How about it?"
"Then no problem, let's start." If it was daily vocabulary, I'd be fine. Body parts are basic vocabulary, the first things you encounter when learning japanese. She probably wanted to test my fundamentals.
Seeing me agree, the corners of the girl's lips curled up. "Then I'll begin. First question: skin."
Skin? That was child's play for me. "Hada."
"Second question: muscle."
"Kinniku." I answered immediately.
Kusanagi probably didn't expect me to answer so quickly. "Third question: blood vessel?"
Blood vessel was... kekkan?
"It should be kekkan." I thought for a moment; I wasn't entirely sure of this one and was a bit hesitant.
"Correct. Sigh." The girl looked a bit dejected, shaking her head.
Hey, why do you look so disappointed that I got it right! Seeing how accurate and fast I was, her eyes scanned me. This time, she thought carefully before speaking.
"Fourth question," Kusanagi slowed her pace, lowering her voice as she said each word: "How do you say chest?"
Chest? Which chest? I couldn't help but ask, "Miss Kusanagi, do you mean..."
The girl gave a half-smile, her gaze drifting lightly across my chest.
"I actually know this one. Mune."
I suppressed the urge to smack her; her intention to be a rogue was plain as day. As a doctor, of course I'd know that word!
"I underestimated you. Last question. If you answer this, you pass." Kusanagi lowered her lazily dangling legs and spoke in a very serious tone. "Listen carefully. The final question: breast."
"Didn't we just do that?" I didn't understand what she meant.
"Chest is chest, breast is breast. Even though it's the same place, the terms are different."
Kusanagi spoke with righteous indignation as she began to explain, "Surely Miss Nozawa wouldn't be ignorant of this word?"
I searched through the vocabulary library in my brain, but there was no sign of the word. Isn't chest just breast? She was clearly cheating. However, I vaguely remembered a noun, a formal term specifically for breast, but I couldn't recall it at that moment.
I made several guesses based on memory, but none were right.
"Last chance. If you get it wrong again, you'll have to accept the punishment." Kusanagi cupped her face in her hands, her grinning gaze fixed on me, adding a lot of invisible pressure.
I swallowed hard, my brain nearly crashing from the effort. What kind of test was this? It felt like I had stepped into a devil's trap.
"...I give up. I don't know the word. If there's a punishment, let's have it now. I'll take my loss like a man." I was a bit annoyed; a quick end is better than a slow one.
"Hahahahaha! It's 'chibusa'! You're so stupid!" The girl laughed unrestrainedly, her long legs kicking wildly on the chair. Her oversized white shirt slipped to one side, revealing a slender, delicate shoulder.
My face darkened. Was it really that funny?
"As for the punishment... eat a whole tube of wasabi, touch every part of your own body..." She felt that wasn't enough. "And do a sexy striptease or something. Or go out and ask a stranger for their phone number."
"..." At that moment, I felt regret—deep regret.
Calling it a test, but I was the only one who stood to lose; she lost nothing if I won. Her little scheme was quite clever. People naturally have a rebellious streak, and being toyed with by a girl so many years younger than me made me feel competitive. Rather than being led by the nose, I'd rather take the initiative and turn the tables on her.
Striptease? Fine.
I stood up. Being a full head taller than Kusanagi, from her perspective, I must have been quite imposing. I slowly unbuttoned my shirt and dropped it on the floor in front of her. Then, I braced one hand on the table in front of Kusanagi and reached behind my back with the other, pretending to unhook my bra.
Think I don't dare? I'll show you exactly how bold I can be.