Chapter Three: Beef Stroganoff Is a Win
The after-school bell rang, and I wrapped up my stuff to head out. No club today, so I hopped on a train for about an hour, got off, and walked a familiar path until a small apartment building came into view. Grand Heights Number Three. My castle.
It looks rundown from the outside, but it was renovated five years ago or something, so the inside’s surprisingly decent. I climbed the spiral staircase, turned right, and reached my room, 203, at the end of the hall.
“Welcome back,” Sakuraba said, sitting in front of my door with shopping bags.
“Yo, you’re early. Been waiting long?”
“Not really. My shift starts at eight, so I’m all yours till then.”
“Got time to eat together?”
“Should be fine. I’m hoping you’ll make something actually tasty today,” she teased with a grin.
I took the bags from her and unlocked the door.
This was my third cooking lesson with her, but having a girl other than Yuna in my place still felt weird. A twinge of guilt hit me every time, but there’s nowhere else to practice, so I hoped Yuna would forgive me. It’s for my sake—and hers.
“By the way, I’ve been meaning to say, your bookshelf is wild. You really love books, huh?”
“Well… most of ’em are from middle school,” I said, trying to play it cool.
Truth is, that bookshelf’s the one thing in my room I’m proud of. I spent ages organizing it by label and author. Hearing her notice made me secretly stoked.
“Probably around three hundred books. The ones that didn’t fit got sent to my grandpa’s place, so these are just my favorites.”
“That’s crazy. You aiming to be a writer or maybe an editor?”
“Nah, nothing like that.”
“What a waste!”
Never even crossed my mind. When I was in kindergarten or elementary school, people always asked about my “dreams,” but as I got older, career talks turned into stuff about grades. After I started dating Yuna in middle school, I vaguely figured I’d end up taking over her hospital someday.
But yeah, there’s that saying about “turning what you love into your job.” Hadn’t really thought about it till now, but it hit me like a spark.
“Guess with all that reading, you didn’t have time to cook, huh? You really lived your whole life doing nothing practical, didn’t you?” Sakuraba teased, narrowing her eyes with a smirk.
She’s not wrong, so I just hung my head.
“…Can’t argue with that.”
She’d started me off with omurice to learn a single dish, but my sheer incompetence shocked her. This was our third lesson, and I still wasn’t making much progress.
“First, let’s get you cracking eggs properly,” she said.
“Right.”
“If you tap two eggs together, only one’ll break. The ingredients just need to be chopped, and as long as you don’t mess up the heat, you should be fine…”
“Uh, hold on.”
In front of us was my attempt at omurice. Or rather, something I wished I could call omurice. More like a brown lump.
It was supposed to be our dinner, but it didn’t look remotely edible. Maybe it’d taste okay? Couldn’t hurt to try. Alright, one bite!
“Nope, this is trash.”
“Figured,” Sakuraba said with a small sigh.
“I might’ve bitten off more than I can chew with you as a student.”
“You’re saying that to my face?”
“You know it’s true, so it doesn’t sting, right?” she teased.
It didn’t, but the sad lump of omurice seemed to glare at me, and that hurt.
You could’ve been a perfect omurice if Sakuraba made you, I thought, feeling guilty as hell.
“Ugh, fine,” Sakuraba said, standing up.
She cracked eggs with a quick tap-tap, mixed them deftly, poured them into a pan, and whipped up an omelet in no time.
“Midoriya-kun, grab a plate.”
“On it!”
I brought one over, and with smooth, practiced moves, she slid a perfect yellow omelet onto my sad lump. When she cut it open, the runny egg spilled out, covering my mess.
“Looks a bit tastier now, yeah?”
“A bit? This looks insanely good! Sensei, I’m following you for life!”
“Oh, come on. You’re so simple,” she laughed.
Damn right I am. It looked incredible.
“The chicken rice wasn’t awful, so let’s eat. But next time, I’m not bailing you out,” she said, pointing a finger at me like a scolding teacher before starting on her own omelet.
She told me to eat before it got cold, so I drew a ketchup cat on mine and scooped up a bite.
“So good!”
The inside was still my disaster, but the creamy egg masked the rough spots. Sakuraba’s seriously amazing.
Also, eating off a real plate instead of a paper one does make it taste better. Good call rushing to the hundred-yen store to grab a decent one so she wouldn’t judge me.
As I chowed down happily, Sakuraba came back, saying, “You’re enjoying it so much, I can’t even be mad,” with an embarrassed smile.
“Itadakimasu,” she said, digging in.
I hadn’t shared a table with anyone since moving out, so hearing someone else’s “itadakimasu” felt kinda nice.
She savored her food with a hum, then gave a vague smile.
“…Alright, let’s try harder next time.”
“What’s my score on this one?”
“Thirty-five.”
Ouch, instant answer. That stings a bit.
“I mean, think of it as tons of room to grow!” she added.
Weak follow-up. I faked a pout, and she panicked, piling on more shaky excuses, which was so funny I kept it going. Eventually, she sulked, saying, “Maybe I’m not cut out to be a teacher…” and I had to cheer her up.
Sakuraba looks like she could grace the cover of a soft, girly magazine—refined, delicate, unapproachable. But once she talks, she’s down-to-earth and easy to get along with. No wonder she’s so popular.
That’s great for me since she’s easy to talk to, but it probably means people misread her friendliness as something more, which causes trouble. That manager’s likely one of them. I—
Scene break to cooking club
The clubroom was buzzing when I got there, but not with the usual vibe. Something felt off.
I scanned the room and spotted her—Suzu, my old friend from Nagoya, casually sitting at the table like she owned the place.
“Suzu!?”
Her light-colored, silky hair swayed as she turned, a straight bob cut just below her jaw, suiting her perfectly. Tall for a girl, she had a boyish charm, like a prince from a girls’ school manga, but up close, her face was soft and youthful, her slim shoulders and feminine figure undeniable.
I hate to think this about my best friend, but she makes me nervous. I shook off her clinging arm.
“Your sense of personal space is still broken…”
“So cold. You used to hug me back,” she said, grinning without a hint of malice.
She needs to stop acting like we’re still in elementary school. I’m partly to blame for roughhousing with her back then, thinking she was a boy because of her tomboyish vibe. I didn’t even realize she was a girl until I saw her Instagrum years later.
As I reminisced, Suzu grabbed my hand, beaming.
“Hehe, it’s been forever, Shi-kun. I missed you.”
“Same, but why are you here? No way you’re joining cooking club.”
We were in the cooking club’s kitchen, which is in the regular school building, not the art department’s. Suzu, an art student, had no reason to be here.
When I asked, she blinked, confused.
“Not a member. Just here for food.”
She casually opened a shelf, grabbed a cup, and plopped down at the table like it was no big deal.
Something’s seriously wrong here, but none of the club members batted an eye.
“Suzu-chan? You’re here? It’s been a while,” President Miyase said.
“Yo, long time,” Suzu replied.
Even the president was chatting with her like it was normal. What the hell?
“Uh, President? She’s not in the club, right? Why’s she sitting there like she owns the place?”
“Oh, you know her, Midoriya-kun? She’s not a member, but she swings by for food sometimes.”
“Yup. Painting makes me hungry,” Suzu said, patting her stomach with both hands.
President just smiled.
“Well, we’ve got leftovers, so it’s fine. Plus, she’s cute.”
Cute? What’s that got to do with it? If that’s allowed, sign me up for that gig!
“Can I get that deal, too?”
“No way, senpai. You’re not cute enough,” Natsukawa chimed in, cackling.
This world is so unfair. Still, I get why Suzu’s hard to ignore. She’s like a stray cat—gorgeous and charming in her own way.
“Senpai! Help out!” Natsukawa called, heading back to the kitchen with plates.
I followed, carrying dishes. Today’s menu was beef stroganoff. They always make such fancy stuff.
Suzu, of course, stayed seated like it was her birthright.
“Shi-kun, over here,” she said, patting the chair next to her.
I sighed and sat there. What a selfish jerk, and she’s not even in the club.
Thanks to her, the other members were giving me an even wider berth than usual. President seemed friendly with her, but Suzu clearly wasn’t a club favorite.
Makes sense. A hot girl who only shows up to eat? Yeah, that’d rub people the wrong way.
“So, how’re you two so tight?” Natsukawa asked from across the table, ignoring her stroganoff to grill me.
“Me and Suzu?”
“Yeah. You’ve got, like, zero in common.”
After we all said “itadakimasu,” I was already stuffing my face when she asked. I tapped Suzu’s shoulder to answer for me, and she just said, “Health room?” before shoving a spoonful in her mouth.
That’s not it, dummy.
As expected, Natsukawa furrowed her brow, confused, so I swallowed my food with a gulp of tea.
“I told you I moved around a lot, right? Suzu and I were friends in Nagoya. Same elementary school.”
“Oh, got it. So you bonded in the health room or something?”
“Pretty much.”
It’s not that simple, but explaining’s a pain, and it’s personal, so I just nodded vaguely.
Suzu’s always been great at art, but when she’s focused, she tunes out everything else. That made her feel out of place in class, so she started hanging out in the health room.
I was a transfer kid with no real place in class either, so I’d fake being sick to skip. We started talking there and clicked. That’s the real story.
Man, beef stroganoff is this good? Suzu picked a great day to show up. Total win.
“By the way, Shi-kun, you joined cooking club?”
“Yup. I told you I was gonna live alone, right? Been struggling with meals.”
“You’re already doing it?”
She blinked rapidly.
Duh, it’s June now, and I started in April. I even told her.
“Living alone’s such a hassle,” I said.
“No kidding. So much for free time.”
I used to think living alone would be all fun and freedom. What a distant dream. I had no idea how much time it takes just to exist. I’m barely managing as a high schooler. How do working adults handle this? Creeps me out thinking about it.
“You’re extra picky, Shi-kun,” Suzu said.
“Compared to you, everyone’s picky.”
Suzu’s been living alone since her first year of high school, but she’s the type who doesn’t care much about food. She gets by on the same nutrition bars and supplements every day. If I tried that, I’d rather starve than live without the joy of eating. I’d be on a one-way trip to Hunger City.
“All I want is to eat something delicious every day…” I muttered, half-whining.
Natsukawa laughed. “You’re trying way too hard for that, senpai!”
“It’s not just trying—it’s, like, a food obsession. That’s why meeting you was such a lucky break for me!” she added with a grin.
“It’s not that intense,” I grumbled.
“Hey! Don’t ignore cute little Aoi-chan’s subtle flirting! You’re lucky to have met me, too, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, lucky, lucky.”
I mean, come on, eating’s like three times a day. It’s practically your whole life! I can’t wrap my head around people like Suzu who just don’t care.
While halfheartedly humoring Natsukawa, I glanced at Suzu’s profile. She seemed lost in thought, staring off into space, but then her eyes lit up like she’d had a revelation.
“I’m joining the cooking club,” she said.
“…Huh?”
“I said, I’m joining the cooking club.”
I heard the words, but my brain hit the cancel button. Suzu? In the cooking club?
“Wait, hold up. Can you even cook?”
“Nope!” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
What’s with that smug look?
“You probably don’t know this, but beginners get stuck chopping veggies forever.”
“…What’re we talking about? I’m joining to spend more time with you, Shi-kun. I’m here to eat.”
“No way. If you don’t work, you don’t eat. Join the club, and you’re chopping veggies with me.”
I could deal with her mooching as an outsider, but joining the club just to eat? Unacceptable. Forget what the others would think—it’s me who’d be pissed.
“Trying to drag someone else down with you, senpai?” Natsukawa teased, laughing.
Exactly.
“Fine by me. As long as I’m with Shi-kun, I’m good,” Suzu said.
For a second, I thought she’d back off, but she agreed way too easily, marched over to President Miyase to sign up, scribbled something on a form, and U-turned back with a huge grin, flashing a V-sign.
“I’m officially a member!”
“Uh… what?”
And just like that, Suzu was in the cooking club.
Things are about to get lively.
After the cleanup, I ditched Natsukawa’s whining—“I wanted to walk home together!”—and headed to the shoe lockers. I grabbed my sneakers, tossed them on, and crouched to tie the laces when a flat voice hit my ears.
“Onii-chan, you’re late.”
“You’re the one who bailed early,” I shot back.
She ate with us but vanished the second cleanup started.
Suzu crouched in front of me, her face blank like a question mark was floating above her head. I flicked her forehead.
She grinned, looking weirdly happy, her silky hair swaying lightly.
“Been a while since you did that. Feels nice.”
“Don’t get all giddy about it. And quit calling me ‘onii-chan’ already.”
“It’s fine. We’re alone now.”
Walls have ears, and shoji screens have eyes. Like that time I got dragged into Natsukawa’s drama, you never know who’s listening at school.
“Let’s go.”
“Can’t stand. Pull me up.”
“…Fine.”
I grabbed her paint-stained, delicate hand and hauled her up. When I tried to let go, she shook her head like a kid throwing a tantrum, so I gave up and left the school with her hand in mine.
I’ve always been weak to Suzu’s requests.
Her calling me “onii-chan” is a holdover from way back. We used to meet in the health room, and I thought she was younger because she was so small for a “boy.” She thought I was older, too, and somehow it stuck. I was totally wrong about the “boy” part, but back then, I was thrilled to have a “little brother” as an only child. I spoiled her rotten until I transferred and we lost touch.
Suzu’s a natural airhead with a face that’s hard to read, but she’s not clueless. She calls me “Shi-kun” around others, like with Natsukawa, so she can behave. Point it out, though, and she plays dumb. She’s probably a schemer, only pulling the “onii-chan” card when it suits her.
“You think I’ll do anything if you call me ‘onii-chan,’ don’t you?”
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just… weird.”
“That’s harsh. We’re like siblings.”
You’d be the older sister, though, age-wise.
“Wanna grab ice cream on the way home?”
“What, we’re done with that topic?”
Suzu nodded, and just like always, my protests got brushed off.
“By the way, how’s Yuna doing?”
“She’s good. She came to visit recently and seemed in high spirits.”
“Oh, yeah, I saw she was in Tokyo on her story. Figured she was here for you.”
Yuna and Suzu know each other. Suzu’s family is in the medical field, too, and since Aichi and Mie are in the same region, their parents cross paths at conferences and get along. The two of them aren’t super close, but they’re connected on SNS and come up in conversation sometimes.
“Can I visit your new place?”
“Hell yeah, come over and game.”
“Sweet. I’ll crush you.”
“Not happening. I’ve evolved, you know.”
“We’ll see about that.”
What’s with this final-boss energy? She does always destroy me, so I can’t argue.
The fighting game we’ve played since we were kids, Smash Bee Stars, lets you pick animal characters to battle. We started with the first generation, and now it’s up to the fourth.
“I’m not losing at fighters,” Suzu said, smugly waving her arms like she was working a controller.
“I’m not going down this time!” I shot back, slinging an arm around her shoulder with too much force.
“Whoa, you’re tiny. Have you lost weight, Suzu?”
“Maybe? Never thought about it.”
She’s always been curvy, so it doesn’t stand out, but touching her, she’s super delicate.
“Stop living off supplements and eat real food. You’re worrying me.”
“Hmm, if you’re worried about me, maybe that’s okay?”
“It’s not okay.”
I’m her “big brother” (kinda), so I’ve gotta look out for my “little sister’s” (kinda) health.
She’s way too unreliable for someone older than me. No way I’d ever call her “onee-chan,” even as a joke.
“But I don’t feel like eating properly unless it’s with you, Shi-kun.”
“What, you can only eat with me?”
“Yup.”
I don’t know why that makes her so happy—she’s grinning ear to ear. What she’s saying is kinda messed up, but I can’t lie, it feels good to hear.
“Guess I’ve got no choice…”
Maybe this is my fault. Have I been spoiling Suzu too much? Yuna’s chewed me out for it before, but it’s too late now.
“Good thing I joined the cooking club, then. You better show up.”
“You’ll be there?”
“Duh.”
“Then I’ll try my best to come.”
Her usual blank expression melted into a goofy smile. Even though she’s grown into this mature look, that childish charm from way back hasn’t faded.
I grumble, but I’m a sucker for my older-but-younger-brother-ish best friend.
It was almost 23:00. I was rushing to finish the dishes but didn’t make it before my phone rang. I quickly washed my hands and answered.
“Hey!”
“You free right now?” Yuna asked.
“Totally. Just washing dishes.”
I tilted the phone to show the sink, and she looked surprised.
“You wash dishes, Shiki?”
“I do! Believe it or not, I’m handling this solo life.”
“You were using paper plates last time I visited. You’re really living now, huh?”
It’s kinda sad that this impresses her, but yeah, when she came over, I was all about paper cups and plates. I’ve been reborn. Sakuraba’s killer cooking tastes way better on real dishes.
“I saw the picture. What’s that dish called?”
“Beef stroganoff, apparently. First time trying it, but it was insanely good.”
“I don’t think I’ve had it. Make it for me sometime?”
“No way. All I did was chop veggies.”
“It’s not impossible,” she said, laughing. Her smile, even through the screen, was stupidly cute.
“Oh, by the way, I ran into Suzu today.”
“…Suzu?”
“Yeah, and get this—she’s joining the cooking club. Wild, right?”
Suzu’s my best friend, nothing more, but she’s a girl. I’m pretty sure Yuna trusts there’s nothing between us, but with us being long-distance, I don’t want to give her any reason to worry.
When I brought up Suzu, Yuna sounded surprised. “That’s unexpected.”
“Right? She’s all about art, but she’s living alone, too, so I’m glad she might eat healthier.”
“What if Suzu gets better at cooking than you?”
“…That’d sting a bit.”
Yuna, don’t laugh. I’m legit bummed imagining that future.
“Hehe, you better work hard, Shiki.”
“No way I’m losing. …How’s your health lately, Yuna?”
“Ugh, it’s rainy season, so the pressure changes are rough. Feeling a bit off, but I’m okay.”
I asked because she looked pale, and I was right. Being so far away when she’s like this makes me feel useless.
“Get to bed early tonight. Make sure you sleep.”
“…Yeah, I know.”
“I’m saying it because I’m worried. If you go radio silent, I’m hopping on the next train.”
“You’re so dramatic. It’s just a migraine.”
Her migraines are no joke.
It’s not just headaches—when they’re bad, she’s thrown up or been bedridden. Low pressure always knocks her out. It’s not like the diagnosis being “just a migraine” makes it less serious.
I stared at her seriously, and she gave a weak smile.
“Don’t worry so much. I’m going to bed. Night.”
“Night.”
I hung up. We’re in our second year of long-distance, but not being able to rush to her side still sucks.
Hoping she’d at least have good dreams, I took a sip of water.
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