A Story About a Blonde Gal Angel Who Excessively Praises My Cooking. After Asking Me to Teach Her How to Cook, Feelings of Mutual Love Began to Grow - Chapter 5-6

Chapter 5: She Is Really an Angel

The night after cooking with Amatsuka, the angel.

My phone vibrated, which was rare. Actually, it kept vibrating.

‘Ah, hello, Master? Is it okay to talk now?’

“…Ah, yes. It’s fine. Yes.”

Thinking it was probably Manoka, I casually answered the call, but it turned out to be the angel.

I was sure she would be drunk again and say something like, “Come pick me up,” so I was caught off guard by her sudden call, but somehow managed to respond.

‘Sorry for calling out of the blue. You see, I made the omelet you taught me for dinner with my mom, and she was so happy that it made me really happy too. Ehehe.’

With a tone that sounded like she was bragging, the gyaru cheerfully shared a heartwarming story about her mom.

Isn’t she just too much of an angel? Well, she is Amatsuka, so I guess she really is an angel.

“I’m glad your mom was happy.”

‘Look at the picture! Considering I made it for the first time since you taught me, isn’t it pretty good?!’

Not used to it, I fumbled with the phone, switching from the call to the chat, and tapped the image she sent.

“…It’s really good.”

‘I did it! Master praised me! Ehehe~’

After teaching her, I thought it would be too much to expect her to practice making more omelets. It was a dish that used quite a few eggs, and we had already eaten the cake I brought (with Amatsuka doing most of the talking).

I never expected her to be able to make such a beautifully colored omelet on just her second attempt.

The shape was a bit uneven, but the color was just as good as the yellow omelet I made.

“Amatsuka, are you secretly capable if you try?”

‘Maybe!’

I could already imagine her proud face.

Yet, I didn’t feel annoyed at all. Cute really is justice, isn’t it?

‘Well, I watched your cooking video a lot before I made it.’

“I’m glad it was helpful.”

I had recorded the video so she could watch it later, to save the trouble of teaching her repeatedly, and it seems to have come in handy.

‘My mom was like, “Miu, you can cook like this now? You’ll make a good wife,” and she praised me a lot~.’

I don’t know what Amatsuka was feeling as she cooked.

But seeing her talk so happily like this made her seem so radiant.

“If it’s you, Amatsuka, I’m sure you’ll be a great wife.”

‘Thanks, Master. Grabbing someone by the stomach is really important, huh?’

“Well, there’s that old proposal line, ‘I want to drink the miso soup you make,’ so good food is important.”

People today probably wouldn’t use such a cheesy line, but a delicious meal is important.

‘I thought so too~. After eating your omelet, Master, I finally understood the meaning behind that kind of proposal. No wonder people would propose like that~.’

Amatsuka talked happily the whole time.

If you just looked at the content, it was simply a story about cooking a meal I taught her, serving it to her family, and making them happy.

But for Amatsuka to share that story with someone like me, she must genuinely be a good person.

At first, I was on guard because she’s a blonde gyaru, but she was so happy that I felt like I should be the one thanking her.

‘Oh, the bath is open, so I’m going to get in. Thanks a lot for today, Motobu-kun.’

“No, thank you.”

As I reached to end the call, I heard her voice again in the distance.

‘Master, would it be okay if you taught me how to cook again sometime?’

“Yes, of course.”

‘Yay! I’ll do my best! See you at school!’

With that, the call ended.

It was just a promise to teach her how to cook again.

But even so, I felt like my high school life was going to be just a little bit brighter.

—

Chapter 6: The Clingy Cousin

“…Good morning…”

“Good morning, Chika.”

This Sunday morning, I was in the kitchen, wearing an apron and making breakfast. It’s my daily routine to prepare breakfast and dinner.

Chika, still in her slightly disheveled pajamas, had washed her face and was now watching TV at the table.

“Alright. That should do it.”

I made a simple fried egg by cutting a slit in the middle of a fish sausage and cracking an egg into it before cooking it. The soup was a minestrone I made yesterday, filled with chicken and vegetables. As an appetizer, I prepared a colorful salad with avocado and tuna.

“Morning, Take-kun! Hehe, it smells so good!”

“Manoka-san, stop being sleepy and go wash your face.”

Manoka-san, with her messy bobbed brown hair, was dressed in a revealing camisole and underwear, and despite this, she had the audacity to hug a teenage boy first thing in the morning.

Ignoring her early morning embrace, I took photos for my Instagram and urged her to go wash her face.

“Ooh, looks delicious.”

“Manoka-san, I said go wash your face already.”

She tried to sneak a piece of tuna while still hugging me.

“Okay~.”

Manoka-san is our current guardian, even though she’s actually our cousin. At 24 years old, she is practically our parent, though she’s terrible at housework. So, I end up doing most of the chores.

“…Honestly…”

Being an only child herself, Manoka-san treats Chika and me like siblings. While I appreciate it, her physical affection is a bit overwhelming. Sometimes, her overly enthusiastic hugs and her…generous chest almost suffocate me, especially when she’s drunk. I used to get flustered, but now I’m used to it…

“Itadakimasu!!”

“Itadakimasu.”

The three of us sat down to eat breakfast together. This has been our routine ever since Manoka-san took us in.

“Wow, this is delicious! Take-kun, could you get me a beer?”

“…Mano-nee, how can you drink after coming home drunk last night?”

“Drinking beer on a Sunday morning with avocado and tuna is the best, Chii-chan.”

“…Just one, okay, Manoka-san?”

“That’s why I love you, Take-kun!”

Manoka-san, with a bright smile, gave a thumbs-up as she opened her beer. Chika and I secretly call her “Gubika-san” behind her back.

Manoka-san’s job often requires overtime, and because she’s good-looking, with a great figure and a sunny personality, she often gets invited to drinking parties, coming home late at night.

It must be tough for her, being such a hardworking “corporate drone.” And since she’s taking care of us, we can’t complain too much. We’re grateful she took us in.

“Mano-nee, you never gain weight, huh?”

“Maybe it’s because I’m always moving around at work.”

“I don’t get how you can eat my chocolate mint ice cream late at night and not gain weight.”

“Sorry, Chii-chan.”

“Ma…Mano-nee… I… I can’t breathe…”

Chika looked like she was about to suffocate from Manoka-san’s apologetic hug, but this is a common sight in our house.

“Thanks to Chii-chan, I’m becoming a chocoholic too.”

“I can’t breathe… The breasts… The breasts…”

For Chika, who’s in her first year of middle school and pretty much flat-chested, Manoka-san’s chest is an unfortunate weapon. Our mornings are always so fluffy and yuri-like.

“Ahh, the minestrone really hits the spot.”

“Mano-nee, you sound like an old man.”

“Then, I’m going to harass you, Chii-chan!”

Manoka-san’s idea of what an old man is like must be pretty weird… Well, since she’s in sales, she must deal with all kinds of things. Poor thing.

“But Mano-nee, what you just did is already harassment. That’s sexual violence. Almost suffocating someone with your chest is domestic violence, you know?”

“Thanks for the meal.”

As the two of them flirted, I quietly started clearing the dishes. I might seem crazy to someone watching us, but this is just how our family is.

“There are already comments.”

I started my Instagram to add a little color to our daily meals. By focusing on presentation, I naturally have to think about nutritional balance too.

I don’t have any grand dreams of becoming a restaurant chef or anything like that. It’s all about making meals that are within reach for ordinary people. That’s my concept.

In the comment section, followers wrote things like, “I’ll try making this next time ( ｰ̀ωｰ́ )✧” and “What a luxurious breakfast… It looks so delicious (*´﹃`*)”.

“Come to think of it, Amatsuka-san also follows my Instagram.”

Since I don’t use my real name, no one can tell it’s me at first glance, not even Amatsuka-san. I didn’t mean to hide it, but since she saw it by accident, I haven’t been able to bring it up.

It feels awkward, and I keep missing the chance to mention it.

“Well, I’m sure the right time will come eventually.”

After all, it’s just a relationship where I teach her how to cook.