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 87-88

Chapter 87: Someday’s Thanks (2)

“This time, we’re making tofu champuru.”

“Yay!!”

“Just chop, stir-fry, and it’s done.”

“That’s quick!”

With Amatsuka’s unexpectedly high energy, we start cooking. Amatsuka, too, puts on her own apron and stands in the kitchen with me.

“By the way, island tofu has a unique taste, doesn’t it?”

“Well, maybe? I’ve been eating it since I was a kid, so it doesn’t feel strange to me. It’s different from regular tofu, like hiyayakko.”

Island tofu has the characteristic of having less moisture than mainland tofu. I often use it when making mapo tofu, and I personally find that it holds up better during cooking. Its flavor is milder compared to mainland tofu, but it’s delicious.

“Not so strange, but it feels more substantial. This tofu is more satisfying. I bet if you made tofu burgers with island tofu, they’d be amazing.”

“…You’ve finally started coming up with ideas like that, huh? Maybe it’s time for me to retire.”

“Grandpa Takeru, you’re in the middle of cooking! Let’s cook together.”

“Miu-san, is breakfast ready yet?”

“Grandpa Takeru, we’re making lunch right now.”

“Oh, that’s right, that’s right.”

For some reason, an impromptu comedy routine between Grandpa and the older sister begins. No, I started it, but still.

“Oh, if you fry the island tofu first and get a nice sear, it won’t fall apart easily.”

“Oh, Motobu-kun’s back to normal.”

“I just missed the timing to return because Amatsuka’s energy was so good.”

“I live by riding the energy!”

That wink hit me hard.

“If you sear it and coat it with some soy sauce, this will be the star of the dish.”

“Sounds delicious.”

Though we add Spam, the main star of tofu champuru is definitely the island tofu. No objections allowed.

“Now, just toss in the veggies, stir-fry, and it’s done. Island tofu heats up with the residual heat, so this dish is pretty easy.”

“The seasoning was kind of eyeballed, is that okay?”

“It’s just the two of us, and champuru is usually made by feel anyway. Adding a little at a time and tasting as you go is basically the same.”

My mom used to tell me that cooking was “by feel.” Since both of my parents worked, we didn’t always have planned-out meals, and now that I’m the one doing the cooking, I can see how “by feel” really works.

As long as the taste isn’t too strong or you don’t mess up the seasoning, there’s no problem.

“This feels so homey.”

“Shall we eat? We’re going out in the afternoon.”

“Yeah!”

Amatsuka takes off her apron and triangle bandana, making sure to check her hair. She’s really a girl. I’m just wearing a simple waist apron, so it’s easier for me, but being a girl seems tough.

“Let’s eat.”

With some awamori-mixed rice, we eat the tofu champuru. I thought about making miso soup too, but since we might eat something while we’re out, I didn’t want to overdo it and cause trouble for Amatsuka. So, lunch is kept simple.

“This kind of meal feels comforting, doesn’t it?”

“Does it?”

“Yeah, it’s laid-back. I like it.”

Amatsuka smiles while eating happily. If this is considered a proper thank-you, then I’m glad.

“Doesn’t this feel a bit like we’re a married couple? Like, this could be an ordinary day for a couple?”

Cough! Cough…

“Are you okay, Motobu-kun?!”

“Ah…yes. I’m fine.”

Amatsuka hurries over and pats my back. Being told something like that so casually is unsettling.

“Here, have some water.”

“Thank you.”

After drinking the water, I finally catch my breath. Amatsuka really is starting to look like an actual angel.

“Is this your image of married life, Amatsuka-san? I imagined it would be more lively and sparkling.”

“That would be nice too. But, you know, I was raised by a single parent, and you don’t have your parents either, right? I guess that’s why I kind of long for that—‘an ordinary married life.’”

“So, that’s how it is.”

Since I only have vague memories of my parents, I don’t remember much about how it was. Maybe that’s why Amatsuka, who was raised by a single parent, feels that way.

“Marriage, huh…I do admire it.”

“I’m sure you’ll have no problem getting married, Amatsuka-san.”

“What about you, Motobu-kun? Do you have any dreams like that?”

“…I don’t know. I’m too busy with the present to think about enjoying the future.”

There’s so much to do every day, and housework takes up a lot of time. There’s no one to scold me about studying, and no relatives asking me, “What’s your dream for the future?”

I’m just focused on getting through each day. Even maintaining this house in Okinawa is something I’ve left mostly to Yuri-natsu.

I don’t have the luxury of dreaming about a bright future right now.

—

Chapter 88: Okinawa Date (1)

“Date, huh, Motobu-kun.”

“…A date, is it?”

While swaying on the bus, Amatsuka was cheerfully looking outside and then smiled brightly at me.

A date with Amatsuka would surely be an incredible joy for any guy.

“Well, in terms of the Western concept of a ‘date,’ it’s when a man and a woman casually go out together, so technically, this isn’t wrong.”

“You don’t have to say it like that. I was really looking forward to hanging out with you, Motobu-kun.”

“For someone like me, a background character, this is a bit much.”

A beautiful girl and me, the background character. If there was a similar term, it would be something like “Beauty and the Beast.” But in terms of presence, the beast is far stronger, so that’s definitely a superior comparison.

“Motobu-kun, you’re not a background character.”

“In 6th grade, my nicknames were ‘Mob,’ ‘Mobtaro,’ ‘Hey You,’ and ‘Uh…what’s your name again?’ So, I’m definitely a background character.”

My Instagram username, “Background Mobtaro,” was a self-deprecating nod to those old nicknames.

“There’s no need to say that. I wanted to go on a date with you, Motobu-kun. So, stop calling yourself a background character.”

“…Okay. I’ll do my best.”

“So, for today, I’m appointing you as my, um, boyfriend!”

“…I can’t do that. I’ll die.”

“Stop letting your eyes go dead all of a sudden! Is it…is it really that bad?”

“It’s not that I dislike it, I just can’t handle the stares from others, so please spare me from that.”

If we were actually dating, maybe I could walk beside her, accepting that fact. And besides, there are no classmates around here.

But this isn’t something you can just do by pushing yourself. Amatsuka, driven by her mood and excitement, is probably just casually calling me her “boyfriend for the day.” There’s no way I could suddenly start acting like her boyfriend.

“…You don’t have to worry about what others think…”

She muttered softly, turning her eyes back to the window.

“We’re almost there.”

“Right. We should get ready to get off.”

Okinawa’s Kokusai Street. It’s a popular tourist spot where bringing people almost always guarantees their satisfaction. If we had a car or some other form of transportation, we could visit the Churaumi Aquarium as well, but as a high school student, that’s beyond my means.

“I can’t wait to wear the Eisa dancer costume!”

“This place mainly deals with Ryukyu-style clothing, but they also carry Eisa costumes and other outfits, so you won’t get bored.”

“Ryukyu-style clothing…sounds cool.”

“What would you like to do? Shall we go in right away or wait until later?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure. I kind of want to save it for later.”

“So you’re the type who saves the strawberry on top of your shortcake for last, right?”

“Definitely!”

She flashed a thumbs-up and a smug look. Her dazzling smile was brilliant.

“Oh! Look, Motobu-kun! A pig’s head!”

Amatsuka’s excitement suddenly skyrocketed, her gaze locked on the store display showcasing pig heads, or chiragaa.

“That’s chiragaa.”

“Motobu-kun, your enthusiasm is so low!”

“Well, it’s impactful, but as an Okinawan, I’ve never found it particularly appetizing, so I don’t really have much to say.”

“That’s true. By the way, why is it called chiragaa?”

“‘Chira’ means face, and ‘gaa’ refers to the skin. Together, it’s called chiragaa.”

The Okinawan dialect isn’t very elegant. For instance, when Yankees get into a fight, they might throw out insults like, ‘Ya-no-chira yo.’ ‘Ya’ means ‘you,’ so it’s used when talking about someone’s face in a derogatory way.

Even when something’s just dirty, people use that phrase, but for those of us who grew up speaking standard Japanese, it sounds like an insult. At least, that’s how I feel personally.

Because of that, to me, the word chiragaa for a pig’s face always sounds like an insult.

“Motobu-kun, I want to take a picture with chiragaa!”

“…Got it.”

She’s quite peculiar. But for Amatsuka and other tourists, it’s something unusual, so I suppose it’s only natural to be curious.

“Pigs actually have pretty cute eyes, don’t they?”

“I’ve never looked at them that way before, but they do seem to have gentle eyes.”

After taking the photo, Amatsuka smiled as she looked at it. We continued strolling along Kokusai Street, with her gleefully dragging me to explore various spots.

“Oh, I know this! It’s Shisa!”

“Shisa are like Okinawa’s guardian deities. They ward off evil spirits.”

Amatsuka picked up a Shisa keychain. Shisa, usually portrayed with fierce faces, were cutely deformed into tiny figures as keychains. It came as a set of two, with one Shisa having its mouth open.

“So cute.”

Amatsuka admired the Shisa keychain in her hands. She seemed to be debating whether to buy it, as she began scrutinizing the price. She had been buying a lot of things today, so she appeared to be consulting with her wallet.

“By the way, Amatsuka, isn’t your birthday coming up soon? Since we’re here, let me buy this for you as a present.”

“What? Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. I’d feel bad.”

“But you like it, right?”

“W-Well, yes.”

“Then let me get it for you.”

“Thank you.”

I purchased the keychain and handed it to her. I’m not good at surprises, and besides, it’s not like we’re dating or anything. I can’t do much for her, but at least this should be fine.

“Then, how about you keep one of the Shisa?”

“No, I—”

“Teacher and student. Let’s share it.”

Amatsuka handed me the Shisa with its mouth open.

“Here.”

“Alright.”

We each took one half of the keychain set and continued walking together.

“I’ll treasure it. Thanks, Motobu-kun.”

“You’re welcome.”

It wasn’t romantic in the slightest—just a simple gift. Even so, Amatsuka seemed genuinely happy. Seeing her pleased over something so small made me feel a little happy too.