The fluorescent lights of the Home Economics lab hummed with a low, persistent buzz that was quickly drowned out by the clatter of stainless steel and the nervous chatter of thirty high school students.
The air smelled of antiseptic cleaner and the faint, lingering ghost of burnt toast from the previous class, a scent that screamed high school cooking disaster.
For most students, Home Eco was a break period, a chance to gossip and eat mediocre food. But for many, it was a stage, a stage to showcase their skills.
"Alright everyone, settle down! Today's practical recipe is curry."
The teacher, a middle-aged woman with a tired smile and flour on her apron, clapped her hands for attention. "This will be conducted as a graded group assignment. You will be judged on teamwork, presentation, and, obviously, taste. Groups have been assigned based on the seating chart. Check the whiteboard and get your ingredients."
Renji leaned back against the counter, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. He glanced at the whiteboard, a faint, knowing smile touching his lips. It wasn't just random luck, it was fate. Or rather, it was lazy programming. The game mechanics dictated how the main characters should be arranged in any and all group activities to maximize drama.
~~~~~
Station 4:
Kamishiro Renji
Hoshino Takumi
Aihara Hina
Nishimura Mika
~~~~~
It was the perfect ingredients for a storm. The protagonist, the childhood friend, the gyaru, and the best friend. A classic setup for a rom-com disaster, or a masterclass in seduction.
"We're together again!" Takumi cheered, bounding over with enough energy to rattle the pots hanging from the overhead rack. He slapped Renji on the back, grinning like he'd won the lottery. "This is perfect! You can cook, Hina can cook... and I can eat! It's the dream team!"
Renji adjusted his cuffs, rolling the pristine white sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. The movement exposed the lean, vascular muscles of his forearms, a detail that didn't go unnoticed by the girls at the neighbouring station.
"You're helping too, Takumi," Renji said, his voice making it clear that Takumi wasn't getting away without making any contribution. "No freeloading. Since you're a hazard with a blade, you're on peeling duty."
"Peeling? Easy! I'm the peeling master!" Takumi declared, grabbing a potato with the enthusiasm of a warrior drawing a sword.
Renji shook his head slightly, turning his attention to the rest of the team.
Hina was already at the station, tying her apron strings. She looked flustered, her arms twisted behind her back as she struggled with the knot. She was wearing a plain beige apron that she had clearly brought from home. It was simple, functional, and gave her the undeniable aura of a young wife.
But it was the fit that drew the eye. The apron cinched her waist, emphasizing the flare of her hips and the soft, heavy curve of her chest. The fabric strained slightly against her G-cup bust, a detail Takumi completely ignored as he juggled a carrot.
Renji watched her struggle for a moment. In the game, these kind of situations would lead to a scene where Takumi obliviously helps her or makes a joke depending on the player's choice.
"Need a hand?" Renji asked, keeping his distance.
Hina jumped slightly, her hazel eyes widening. "Ah! R-Renji-kun?"
"Turn around," he instructed gently.
Hina obeyed, turning her back to him. Renji stepped closer and deftly caught the strings she was fumbling with. His fingers worked quickly, tying a neat, secure bow without ever grazing her back.
"Done," he said, stepping back immediately.
Hina turned around with a small smile. She touched the knot at the small of her back. "Thank you... Renji-kun."
"No problem," he said, offering a polite nod.
Then the door banged open.
Nishimura Mika had arrived, a whirlwind of colour and attitude. She wasn't wearing the standard school apron. She wore a custom one, bright neon pink with a leopard print pocket and frills along the hem. It barely covered her uniform, acting more like a fashion accessory than protective gear. The way she had tied it was deliberate, pulling tight under her bust to emphasize her cleavage and hiking up her skirt even further.
"Ugh, it's cooking," Mika groaned, tossing her platinum curls over her shoulder. "My nails are gonna get ruined. Can't we just order takeout and plate it?"
She dropped her bag on a stool and sighed, looking at the ingredients with frustration.
"Don't worry about that," Renji said, picking up a knife and testing the edge with his thumb. "You can just handle the washing up later. Less chopping and exposure to heat, hence less risk to your nails."
Mika narrowed her eyes at him, her purple contacts flashing. "Are you saying I can't cook, Kamishiro-kun?"
"I'm saying I don't want plastic in my curry, that's it," Renji deadpanned, nodding at her long, galaxy-themed acrylics. "And honestly, I'd hate for you to chip that gradient design after you spent three hours on it."
Mika paused, the defensive snap dying in her throat.
She huffed, looking away to hide her expression. "Fine, but you better make it taste good. My palate is expensive."
"Don't know about your palate, but I'll do my best," Renji said with a smirk.
"Alright, team!" Takumi announced, slamming a potato onto the cutting board with enough force to make the bowls jump. "I'll now handle the veggies! Watch the master at work! HIYAH!"
He raised a knife like he was about to decapitate a monster.
"Takumi-kun, wait—" Hina started, reaching out.
Thwack.
The potato, slick with water, shot out from under the knife like a bullet. It bounced off the counter, hit the rim of a washing bowl, and sent a wave of dirty vegetable water spraying outward.
"Hey!" Mika shrieked, jumping back.
It was too late. Dark spots of dirty water speckled her pristine white shirt and the front of her pink apron.
Mika looked down, horrified. Her face crumpled. "Are you serious?! This is silk! Do you know how much this shirt cost?!"
"Ah! Sorry! Sorry!" Takumi panicked, dropping the knife. He grabbed a rag from the counter, a dirty grey thing used for wiping down grease, and lunged toward her. "I'll get it! Don't move!"
"Don't touch me with that!" Mika yelled, backing away and shielding herself with her hands. "It's filthy! Get that away!"
Takumi froze, looking like a kicked puppy, the dirty rag dangling from his hand. "I... I just wanted to help..."
The mood in the station plummeted, and the other groups were also staring.
Mika looked like she was about to storm out in embarrassment.
Renji sighed and set down his knife with a deliberate click. He knew that no activity was going to be simple when it included the main cast. 'Honestly, it's a miracle this guy survives his own game.'
"Takumi," Renji said, his voice soft but commanding. "Put the rag down. You're making it worse."
He walked over to Mika.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.
"Here," he said, offering it to her.
Mika looked at the handkerchief, then at him. "You're... giving it to me?"
"It's clean," Renji said. "Dab it, don't wipe. Silk fibres are delicate."
Mika took the handkerchief. and dabbed at the spots, watching him from beneath her lashes.
"I hope you don't mind Takumi's mishap. He treats everything like a baseball," Renji murmured, his tone apologetic but amused, as if trying to lighten the mood. "He forgets that some things need a gentler touch."
"Thanks, and don't worry, I know how Taku-chi is," she muttered, clutching the handkerchief. "Also, I'll... I'll wash it and return it."
"No need to do extra work. You can just keep it," Renji said. "After all, it's an apology for my friend's clumsiness."
He turned back to the counter, clapping his hands once. "Alright. Takumi, you are demoted. No knives for you. Use the peeler and do it over the sink."
"Right! Over the sink! Got it!" Takumi said, relieved to have a job he couldn't mess up (hopefully).
Meanwhile, Renji moved to Hina's side, who was staring at a block of pork loin, knife in hand, looking hesitant. The meat was thick, and her grip was unsure.
"It's tough," she murmured, biting her lip. "I don't want to ruin the cut."
"Your angle is off," Renji observed from beside her.
"Shift your weight to your left foot," he instructed. "And choke up on the handle. Like this."
He demonstrated the grip with his own hand in the air.
Hina adjusted her grip, mimicking him.
"Good," Renji said. "Now, use the heel of the blade. Don't saw at it. Do it in one smooth motion."
Hina took a breath and sliced. The knife slid through the meat cleanly.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, looking up at him with shining eyes. "It worked perfectly!"
"Don't look at me." Renji chuckled. "You just needed a small adjustment. You're a good cook, Hina."
Hina flushed, looking back down at the meat with renewed confidence. "I... I try. I cook for Takumi a lot."
"He's lucky," Renji said with a smile. "He probably doesn't realize how much skill goes into it."
The rest of the class went smoothly. Renji orchestrated the station like a conductor, directing Takumi to safe tasks and guiding the girls with verbal instructions.
Soon, the smell of rich, savoury curry filled the air.
"Time to eat!" the teacher called out.
They sat around the small table. Takumi dug in immediately, shovelling rice into his mouth.
"Whoa!" Takumi mumbled. "Renji, this is amazing! You're such a good husband candidate! Whoever marries you is gonna be lucky!"
Renji smiled thinly. "Thanks for the high praise, Takumi."
Mika poked at her food cautiously, then took a bite. Her eyes widened. "Okay, wow. This is actually legit."
"Hina did the seasoning," Renji said immediately. "I did the prep but the flavour is all her work."
Hina beamed. "Really? You guys think it's good?"
"It's more than just good," Renji said, holding her gaze across the table.
Hina looked down at her plate to hide her smile, but the happiness radiated off her.
Renji ate calmly, when he noticed Mika looking at his spoon. She had finished her portion, a small one for diet reasons, and seemed to be eyeing the extra garnish on his plate, a specific pickle she hadn't taken.
"Curious about something?" Renji asked, noticing her gaze.
"Huh?" Mika blinked. "Oh. I just... didn't grab any of those."
Renji picked up a piece of the garnish with his spoon and simply held the spoon out, hovering it over her empty plate.
"Want it?" he asked.
Mika looked at the spoon, then at him. "You think I want your portion?"
"Well, I did notice you eyeing it," Renji said. "Don't mind the small stuff. Go ahead."
He dropped the garnish onto her plate. It was a small gesture, sharing food, but it felt intimate in its attentiveness.
Mika picked it up with her own chopsticks and ate it. She looked at him as she chewed.
"Thanks…" she said, her voice softer than usual.
Renji simply nodded, finishing his meal and elegantly wiping his mouth with a paper napkin.
Just then, the sharp trill of the bell rang through the lab.
"Alright, time to clean up!" Takumi shouted, leaping out of his chair. "I'll carry the heavy pots to the sink! I gotta burn off these curry calories!"
"Please don't drop them on anyone," Renji said, his tone carrying a genuine note of worry.
As they walked out of the classroom into the busy hallway, Hina fell into step right beside Renji.
"Renji-kun," she whispered softly. "Thanks for... the help today. As always."
"Anytime, Hina," Renji said smoothly, keeping his gaze forward, a smile resting on his face.