The Beautiful Girl I Accidentally Helped Who Has Somehow Become Attached To Me. - Chapter 25: Collaboration.

Collaboration.

Upon returning home, I unpack and organize the items I bought, then start preparing lunch.

Mikami-san, dressed elegantly in the apron she’d chosen specifically for this kitchen, presses a cloth into my hands with a bright smile.

When I open it, I see it’s the apron she bought for me during last week’s shopping trip.

“Am I supposed to put this on?”

“Yes.”

“I mean, I don’t mind, but… won’t I just be in the way?”

Technically, I’m the homeowner and Mikami-san is the guest, but she’s relaxed here as if it’s her own place, with no limits on her actions.

Having a guest cook for me is certainly unusual, but since Mikami-san chose to invest in this setup, I decide not to worry about it.

As the guest here, Mikami-san shouldn’t be taking charge of the kitchen, and I should probably offer to help. But honestly, what good could I possibly do by joining her? I have zero confidence in my ability to assist, and I’m more likely to get in the way.

“You won’t be a bother at all. Just having you here in the kitchen with me makes me happy.”

Mikami-san’s cheeks tint with a soft blush, her expression filled with such angelic warmth that it takes my breath away.

Her words and gestures hit me like a wave, making me feel dizzy.

Why is she doing all this for me? I can’t help but wonder again, even now.

First, it was the best spots at school. Then, it was after class. Next, the mornings. And now, even weekends. Bit by bit, Mikami-san is encroaching on my solitary space, and I sometimes wonder what exactly she’s thinking.

But each time, I remember the moment I tried to sever ties after hearing rumors about her.

I convinced myself we weren’t suited to be friends, letting others’ opinions sway me, ignoring both her feelings and my own.

“Is it really so strange for me to want to be close to someone I like?”

Her gaze was unwavering, honest, and true to herself. She was so cool and beautiful in that moment, unafraid to stand firm.

Being by her side felt comfortable. I found myself wanting to stay there.

I decided then to be honest with my own feelings, which is why I’ve allowed her to “invade” my life this much.

So, really… there’s no turning back now.

I knew it even without thinking: I can’t run from Mikami-san anymore.

“…Fine. I’ll put it on, but don’t expect me to be much help, alright?”

“You being here is more than enough.”

“…Got it.”

“Yes.”

She always says things like this—casual comments that make my heart skip a beat, completely oblivious to the effect they have.

But, well… if I turn her down, she’ll only insist.

She’s been excited about us matching aprons since before she even bought them. If it makes her happy… I suppose I can go along with it.

“Alright, I’ll stand by and watch, cheering you on. But if I get in the way, kick me out.”

I put on the apron and, swallowing my embarrassment, step into the kitchen.

Mikami-san… for some reason, seems genuinely delighted.

***

After washing my hands, I start with the cooking.

It’s not just that I’m doing something I’m not used to; Mikami-san’s appearance in her apron is dazzling, making me feel even more nervous. It’s my first time actually watching her cook, but judging by the lunches she usually brings, it’s clear she’s quite skilled in the kitchen.

Her movements are graceful and refined.

“So, what should I do? Need a shoulder massage?”

“That’s a very tempting offer, but it might be dangerous while cooking, so please save it for later. As for now, Kirishima-san… I was thinking you could handle chopping the vegetables.”

“Got it. I’ll leave the first-aid to you in case I hurt myself.”

“…Let’s not start with that assumption.”

I look at the assortment of vegetables on the cutting board and the brand-new, gleaming knife. I’ll do my best not to make my fingers part of the ingredients.

“Please cut the carrots and potatoes to about this size.”

“…I think I can manage that much.”

Mikami-san cuts the carrots and potatoes into bite-sized pieces to show me the size. If she had asked me to finely chop an onion from the start, there might’ve been a bloodbath, but this seems manageable.

Mikami-san moves on to chopping the onions and slicing the meat, her hands working efficiently. Even though I’m focusing on my task, I feel her gaze on me. Maybe she’s worried about my clumsy approach.

Still, I managed. My cuts weren’t as smooth as hers, but for me, this was a solid attempt.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes, it’s perfect.”

“What’s next?”

“I’ll be making tamagoyaki alongside this, so could you crack the eggs?”

“…How many bits of shell are you willing to tolerate?”

“Well, I suppose a little bit is fine.”

Mikami-san is busy stir-frying the chopped ingredients, leaving me looking for my next instructions. She probably gave me a task she thought I could handle, but my lack of confidence must’ve surprised her. She looked at me three times, almost as if frozen in disbelief.

For someone as comfortable in the kitchen as Mikami-san, cracking eggs must be such a simple task. Clearly, we have a different sense of difficulty here.

“Wow… it’s been a while.”

I carefully crack the eggs, feeling tense. People who can do this one-handed—how many eggs have they cracked in their lifetime?

“It’s done. I don’t think there are any shells in there… probably.”

“Thank you. Is it alright if I season it to my taste?”

“Yeah, go for it.”

“Then, I’ll take over from here.”

The pot, now filled with water and seasonings, only needed to simmer over low heat. Without realizing it, cooking had progressed quickly while I was distracted—or rather, while I was nervously cracking eggs at a snail’s pace.

Mikami-san carefully added various seasonings into the bowl with the eggs, mentioning tablespoons and teaspoons, terms that honestly didn’t mean much to me. I was genuinely relieved she hadn’t asked me to handle that part.

“Could you tidy up the table, please? Once you’re done, could you also set out the plates, chopsticks, and serve the rice?”

It seemed my role as kitchen helper was done for now. At this stage, it looked like all that was left was to cook, and I’d only be able to stand by and cheer her on.

As a delicious aroma filled the kitchen, my stomach nearly growled. Before Mikami-san could hear, I quickly went to set the table.

Lunch came a little later than usual.

Kirishima-san seemed hungry, so I kept it simple with nikujaga and tamagoyaki.

The tamagoyaki was the sweet kind that Kirishima-san requested, a flavor I also enjoy. When I made it for him in a bento once, he seemed to like it, which made me really happy.

I put my all into making it tasty again, hoping he’d enjoy it…but I was so nervous. Standing side by side in matching aprons, cooking together for the first time—I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t on edge.

I found myself glancing over at him constantly, trying to memorize the sight of Kirishima-san in his apron. We caught each other’s eyes a few times, so he probably noticed. It’s embarrassing.

“It looks amazing. Can I start eating?”

“Yes, please. I hope it’s to your taste.”

“Thank you. Let’s dig in.”

“Let’s dig in.”

We put our hands together for the meal. The chopsticks, rice bowls, and dishes I chose were bought with the hope of sharing a meal with him like this someday. I’m thrilled that the time to use them came so soon.

It seems he’s starting with the tamagoyaki.

I feel my heart racing.

“How is it?”

“It’s delicious! I really do love your tamagoyaki, Mikami-san!”

Watching him enjoy the food and savor every bite, I felt a wave of relief.

After having lunch with him several times, I’ve come to recognize the expressions he makes when he truly enjoys something. His reaction just now wasn’t flattery or politeness; it was exactly what I had hoped for.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Thanks to the improved setup in the kitchen, I can cook for him anytime now. They say the way to someone’s heart is through their stomach…so I’ll have to keep doing my best.