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 85-86

Chapter 85: The Swimsuit Episode (3)

I escaped from Yurina and plunged my hand into the cooler box filled with drinks.

“I haven’t had root beer in a while.”

The cold water, packed with beers and juices, made my hand feel like it was freezing.

“San♪ San♪ Sanpin tea♪ San♪ San♪ Sanpi…”

“Oh, Amatsuka-san…”

Just as I was singing a mysterious Sanpin tea song while reaching for a drink, I ran into Amatsuka-san. Her face gradually turned red, looking painfully embarrassed like a boiled octopus.

“Were…were you listening?”

“That was a cute song.”

“…Ugh…”

Amatsuka-san crouched down to hide her face. Though she managed to conceal her red face, she wasn’t aware that her red ears were peeking out from her blonde hair, which looked adorable.

When she crouched down, her chest got emphasized, and I looked away without thinking. Yurina’s earlier words came flooding back into my mind.

“Oh, it’s like that, right? When you think no one’s around while walking home, and you start humming, only to find out your classmate is nearby, and you feel unbearably embarrassed.”

“You don’t need to rub it in! Just forget it!”

“If anything, it was good enough to record and use as an alarm clock.”

“That’s too cruel!!”

“Written and composed by Miu Amatsuka. Sanpin Tea Song.”

“Please, stop…”

Finding it amusing, I took out the requested Sanpin tea and handed it to Amatsuka-san.

“Here, you go.”

“…Thank you…”

Amatsuka-san took the Sanpin tea with a sulky look and droopy eyes. I realized I might have gone a bit too far and reflected on it. But it was also a little funny.

“San♪”

“Stop it already!!”

Amatsuka-san started lightly smacking my shoulder. I figured it was time to stop. But she was really cute.

When the two of us returned to where everyone else was, we found Hinata buried in the sand.

“Look, Takeru-kun! Nice body!”

She winked at me, probably trying to look as sexy as possible. Her sandy figure was uncharacteristically curvy, giving her a voluptuous silhouette. I didn’t know her exact cup size, but it seemed like it could be around K-cup.

“Hey, Hinata! An adult woman!”

Nao was definitely teasing her…and struggling to hold back his laughter.

“I-I lost…”

Vice President Nakamichi knelt down, pretending to be in despair, reacting to the playful atmosphere. Hinata looked proud seeing his expression.

What is this heartwarming scene?

“Good for you, Hinata-san.”

“Hehe.”

They really seemed to be having fun. For some reason, Miko started poking Hinata’s puffed-up cheeks.

“Squishy, squishy.”

“My wife’s cheeks are great, aren’t they? They’re like marshmallows.”

“Why are you poking me too, Naoto-kun?!”

“I kind of want to touch them too.”

“Even you, Miu-chan?!”

Hinata, buried in the sand from the neck down, could do nothing but let them poke her cheeks repeatedly. She was literally helpless. Yurina was having a nosebleed in the background, but I ignored it.

“H-Hey! T-Takeru-kun, help me!”

“This is too funny, so I’m filming it.”

“You betrayed me!! That’s horrible! You’re so mean!! Stop filming and help me already!”

“I’m recording a video, not taking pictures.”

“It doesn’t matter which!!”

I kept filming, smiling at the half-crying Hinata. The helpless mascot continued to have her cheeks thoroughly poked.

“Naoto-kun! I want a divorce! Poking my cheeks is abuse!”

“Hehe, do you think you can sign the divorce papers when you can’t even move?”

“What?!”

Naoto was quite the strategist. And he was making a mischievous face.

“Chi-Chinatsu-chan, put him in solitary confinement for me!”

“My deepest apologies, Lady Hinata.”

“Hmph. Now, quickly rescue me.”

“Yes, my lady! Right away!”

Suddenly, the couple began a comedy skit. Naoto even bowed in apology. It’s amazing how the power dynamics in a marriage can shift with just one word.

“Naoto-kun, I’m thirsty. Bring me some water.”

“As you wish.”

Hinata was furious, but somehow, it was still cute. Amatsuka-san was also watching with a smile.

“Naoto-kun, I’m tired from being trapped in this sandy pit, so carry me princess-style to that chair.”

With that, Naoto carried Hinata princess-style and placed her on the beach chair.

“Ah, this isn’t so bad.”

Everyone was warmed by the sight of Hinata, content with being carried princess-style.

—

Chapter 86: Someday’s Thanks (1)

After enjoying their time at the beach, Tomitsugu-senpai, the Cooking Club members, and the Student Council left for the airport this morning.

Hinata and Naoto took Kurose somewhere, while the Miaki sisters went shopping with Momohara as their porter. Chika and Manoka each went to meet their friends, leaving just me and Amatsuka-san alone.

“What should we do for lunch?”

We were planning to go out this afternoon, just the two of us, but first, we needed to figure out lunch. Since we’d be returning to Tokyo tomorrow, we had already finished all the feast prepared for Obon. That meant I had to cook something.

“Come to think of it, I haven’t thanked Amatsuka-san yet.”

She had taken care of me when I was sick, and I’d promised to thank her. The idea was to make Okinawan food, but I still hadn’t done it.

“Should we go to the supermarket?”

“Are you going shopping? I want to go too.”

“Sure, but it’s just a regular grocery run.”

“I enjoy going shopping with you, so I want to go.”

“Okay then.”

For someone like me, who’s practically a stay-at-home husband, this is just routine. But if someone else can enjoy it, that makes it an inexpensive pleasure. So, we prepared and headed off to the supermarket.

Amatsuka-san, walking beside me, was wearing a T-shirt, hot pants, a cap, and sneakers. Somehow, she looked even more like a gal than usual.

“I’ll be making a thank-you meal for lunch, Amatsuka-san.”

“A thank-you meal?…Oh, for taking care of you when you were sick.”

“Yes.”

Holding the shopping basket, we began browsing the store. Amatsuka-san seemed to enjoy looking at the products on display.

“I see. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Well, it’s really just simple home-cooked food, probably just stir-fried vegetables.”

“I like that kind of stuff. I enjoy everyday meals like that. It gives me a sense of what that person usually eats, and I like that.”

“You’re quite domestic, Amatsuka-san.”

“Being ordinary is the best.”

Having a blonde gal in my life isn’t ordinary at all, though. But as she looked at the products, there was a distant look in her eyes.

I realized this was part of Amatsuka-san’s true nature. I couldn’t explain exactly what it was, but I felt it.

“Can I help with cooking too, Motobu-kun?”

“Well…I’d rather you sit and relax since it’s a thank-you meal.”

“…I’d like to do it together.”

“All right, since you’re the apprentice.”

“Yup!”

Though the purpose of this meal was to thank her, if she was enjoying herself, maybe that was enough.

It’s not about logic. Cooking is more than just feeding someone. It’s about more than just nutrition.

“Spam is pretty cheap here in Okinawa.”

“Yeah. It’s expensive back home, but here it’s always handy to have on hand.”

“Pork and egg onigiri is so tasty.”

“Okinawan ones are simple. I like them too. In Tokyo, they often add miso or tuna mayo, which is good but feels different.”

Japanese culture and Okinawan culture are different. I’ve always thought that Japan is really good at adopting other cultures and making them Japanese. The taste, the technique, even beliefs and concepts—they become Japanese. That’s probably one of Japan’s strengths.

“Now, let’s finish our shopping.”

“Today’s shopping was quick.”

“Yeah, when you know what you’re making, it’s faster.”

Normally, I base my menu on what’s cheap that day. If I’m planning to post on Instagram, I’ll be a bit more critical in my choices.

But this meal was just going to be simple Okinawan home cooking. The ingredient prices are pretty stable, and I wasn’t planning to use anything rare. Well, vegetables can be pricey sometimes.

“By the way, Okinawan rice is delicious, isn’t it?”

“That’s just because they add awamori when cooking it.”

“Really? Is that all?”

“Yes. It tastes good, doesn’t it?”

“It was so good! I felt like I could eat three bowls of rice just on its own. I thought it was some kind of Okinawan magic, but it was just awamori.”

“You could probably get a similar effect with sake.”

“Seriously? I’ll try that next time.”

Just when I think I have nothing left to teach her, there’s still more I can share. Talking with Amatsuka-san, who constantly changes expressions, is always fun.

“Motobu-kun, can I carry the shopping bags too?”

“No, it’s fine.”

It was kind of her to offer to help with the bags, but since I was cooking to thank her, the least I could do was carry the bags myself. It was a matter of pride as a man.

“You’re such a guy, Motobu-kun.”

“Yes, didn’t you know?”

“I knew~”

Looking at Amatsuka-san walking beside me, I always feel that no matter how close she is, she’s still out of reach. I recognize her as a girl, but also as an idol.

If someone told me that Miu Amatsuka had never existed, and that I’d just been dreaming, I would probably believe it.

She’s that kind of presence. And I can’t even imagine what she thinks of me. At best, I hope she sees me as “human.”

So, just knowing that she acknowledges me as a “boy” made me a little happy. But that also felt pathetic.

“Yesterday, when Naoto-san was princess-carrying Hinata-san, I thought, even though he sometimes crossdresses, he can still do that for his wife.”

Passing by a young married couple, Amatsuka-san said this.

“Well, considering the differences in muscle mass between men and women, it’s not surprising that he could do it.”

“Wow, that’s such an unromantic analysis.”

“Sorry, I’m not really capable of romantic comments.”

I didn’t grow up in an environment where I could afford to dream of romantic things, and I think I’ve already discarded most of those ideas.

Someone who seeks romance probably wouldn’t get excited about discount items at the store.

“Even if you can’t say romantic things, I think your cooking has a romantic touch.”

“Romantic? Hmm, I’m not sure. I do care about it, but I’m not a professional chef.”

“Maybe it’s like you’re just reaching a little beyond your usual limits?”

“Yeah, maybe that’s close…It’s abstract, though.”

If paying attention to cooking is considered “romantic,” then maybe I’m not far off. After all, it’s about more than just being practical—it’s about creating something meaningful. Even though I’m only sixteen, I’m not sure I fully understand that concept yet.

“Then, you’re like me. I think dyeing my hair blonde is probably the same thing.”

“Is that so?”

For her, dyeing her hair blonde was probably just reaching beyond her usual self. It’s not something I could pull off. But for her, it’s just how she expresses herself.

“We’re here. The key…”

“I’ll get it.”

“If you don’t mind, it’s in the right pocket.”

With my hands full of shopping bags, Amatsuka-san reached into my pocket to get the key.

Feeling the soft warmth of her hand through the fabric made me a little flustered for a moment.

“Got it. It’s open.”

“…Thank you.”

I responded without really thinking, but after considering it, I realized that nothing inappropriate had happened. It was just a small accident.

Compared to when we first met, I’m less cautious and self-conscious around her. If I don’t stay alert, I’ll mess up again. With that thought, I went into the kitchen and tied an apron around my waist.