Chapter Nine: Omelet Rice Gets an F

Days passed since Sakuraba stopped coming over.

I was managing… sorta. My cooking’s still mediocre at best, but compared to before Sakuraba’s lessons, it’s night and day.

I choke down barely edible meals and crash. It’s bearable, but cooking or hitting the supermarket without Sakuraba feels empty. Lonely.

“…I screwed it all up, didn’t I?” I muttered.

If I’d just told her about Yuna from the start, maybe we could’ve been good friends. No mess, no complications.

I whipped up a bland stir-fry for dinner, then wandered out toward the shopping district. I told myself I wanted ice cream—a Friday treat after a long week. That was a lie.

I was checking on Sakuraba, making sure she wasn’t in trouble.

Even if I’d played her boyfriend, her creepy boss might not have given up. Her workplace is close, and the convenience store selling my current favorite ice cream is right behind it. Duty—or guilt—kept me patrolling.

“All clear, as usual,” I said, watching familiar coworkers leave from the shadows.

I’m known as Sakuraba’s boyfriend there, so getting spotted would be awkward. They might’ve forgotten by now, though. It’s been a while since I stopped escorting her.

Sakuraba wasn’t among them. Either she left early, or it’s her day off. Even the manager, who usually lingers until closing, rushed out tonight.

“Hot as hell. Time for that ice cream,” I mumbled, an excuse to no one, and headed for the store.

“Sakuraba-san’s boyfriend, right?” a voice called.

I jumped, turning to see a woman from Sakuraba’s workplace. I didn’t know her name, but we’d exchanged greetings before. Denying the boyfriend thing felt wrong, but so did confirming it. Before I could answer, she hit me with something unexpected.

“Sorry to bother you, but… have you heard from Sakuraba-san?”

“What? Is something wrong with her?”

“Well, just now, she was called by the manager, then suddenly bolted out of the shop. I thought she went home, but seeing you here made me wonder…”

She bolted? Sakuraba? The manager rushed out too, like he was chasing her.

A sick feeling twisted my gut.

“Thanks! I’ll try calling her!” I said, hurrying off as I dialed Sakuraba’s number.

I gripped the phone like a lifeline, but it wouldn’t connect. Maybe she blocked me. Or her battery’s dead.

“Don’t let this be for nothing,” I whispered, breaking into a run, picturing every place Sakuraba and I had been. I had to find her before her boss did.

“…Not here either, huh?”

Long story short, I was wrong.

I checked everywhere—our usual supermarket, the diner, my apartment. No Sakuraba.

That’s fine. Better my bad feeling’s off. Maybe it’s not about her boss. Could be a stomachache or something, and she’s already on a train home.

I caught my breath outside my apartment when a cold drop hit my arm.

“Ugh, rain? Seriously?”

Just my luck.

I started toward my door, then hesitated. I grabbed two umbrellas and headed back out.

If Sakuraba’s getting harassed by her boss and caught in the rain, that’d be too cruel.

I never got that ice cream either. One more lap, then I’ll call it quits.

Muttering to myself, I jogged back to the shopping district. Some parts have arcades; others don’t. I checked the uncovered areas carefully. Still no Sakuraba.

The drizzle turned into a downpour, pounding the streets.

Time to head back. I slowed to a stop.

“…Sakuraba?”

At the edge of a dark, unlit road, something was crouched. I couldn’t see clearly, but instinct made me call out. A weak voice answered.

“…Midoriya-kun.”

It was her.

I rushed to her side, holding an umbrella over her. Sakuraba’s beautiful face managed a faint, fragile smile, her lips trembling as she spoke.

“…Help me…”

My breath caught. Without thinking, I hooked an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to her feet. She slumped against me, limp and cold from the rain, her icy skin startling me.

Supporting her barely responsive body, I guided her back to my place. By the time we got there, it was well past ten p.m.

Once inside, Sakuraba had warmed up enough from my body heat to talk normally again. Still, I wasn’t taking chances. I hurriedly filled the tub, urging her to take a bath. Honestly, the sound of running water from the bathroom made me nervous, but I shoved my nerves down—this was an emergency.

“Midoriya-kun… do you have, like, cleansing oil?” she called.

“Yeah, right side of the bathroom shelf.”

“Thanks.”

The cleansing oil was Yuna’s, of course, but a little less wouldn’t give me away.

I finished some kitchen cleanup, then collapsed onto the bed, limbs splayed, taking deep breaths. The quiet room amplified the faint sounds from the bathroom.

Stop it. Don’t make me imagine anything.

As I steadied my breathing, my phone buzzed. It was already eleven.

I scrambled to the corner of the room and tapped the answer button.

“Hello?” Yuna’s voice came through.

“Sorry, I’m kinda tied up! Can’t talk tonight!” I blurted.

“Oh, you okay? Should I call back later?”

“Nah, I’m feeling rough. Gotta crash early. Sorry.”

“That’s fine, but… take care, okay?”

I’d just told a blatant lie.

No way I could say I was sheltering a classmate who’d been harassed. I had to end the call before Sakuraba got out of the bath, but man, I felt like garbage.

Yuna didn’t doubt me for a second, her voice dripping with genuine concern. Guilt gnawed at me, spiraling into self-loathing.

“By the way, Shiki, your voice sounds rougher than usual. Stay warm, alright?” she said.

“Will do. Thanks.”

“Night. Sweet dreams.”

“Night,” I mumbled back. She hung up.

Right then, the bathroom door creaked open, and Sakuraba’s soft, slightly sweet voice called out. “Midoriya-kun, I’m done.”

I nearly died. That was the tightest rope I’d ever walked.

“Yo,” I managed, turning toward her. My oversized hoodie hung loosely on her, and—wait. Wait, wait, wait.

I’d given her pants too, so why were her smooth legs peeking out from under the hoodie?

The memory of her leg tangled with mine at the takoyaki party flooded back. I tore my eyes away.

“Sakuraba, why aren’t you wearing the pants?” I asked, voice tight.

“They kept slipping off. I almost tripped earlier… figured it was safer without them.”

If she’s fine with it, I’m fine. More than fine. Despite the situation, I couldn’t help an internal fist-pump at the sight.

Calming myself, I sat her on a cushion, still rocking my fake-boyfriend hoodie. She bowed deeply, almost frantically.

“I’m so sorry for the trouble!!”

“It’s fine, really,” I said.

“No, it’s not! I told you to stop pretending to be my boyfriend, and now I’m leaning on your kindness like this…”

“That’s not a big deal. But… I kinda wanna know what happened.”

She didn’t need to feel bad about today—hell, I blame myself. But I couldn’t stop wondering why she was crouched in the rain by a dark road.

Sakuraba’s face, etched with guilt, softened as she began to speak, her words slow and halting.

It boiled down to this: after I stopped playing her boyfriend, her boss’s harassment got worse. Today, he crossed a line, threatening to tell her school about her job unless she dated him. Trying to charm her would’ve been one thing, but blackmail? That’s low, even for a creep like him.

When Sakuraba refused, he snapped, saying she was “getting cocky” and nearly got violent. She bolted.

“My address is on my resume, so I was scared to go home,” she said. “My phone was dead, and I was wandering, trying to figure things out. Then it started raining. I tripped, and… I just couldn’t get up. I stayed there.”

“Rough day, huh?” I said softly.

Hearing her story hurt. She’d probably had the worst day of anyone in the area.

“At least you got away, and the fall didn’t hurt you too bad,” I said. “But you gotta quit that job.”

“I will…” she murmured.

“Good.”

If she’d said she was staying, I’d have marched in there myself to make her quit.

I didn’t mention I’d found her while patrolling her workplace. Too complicated. I just said I was on my way to buy ice cream.

More importantly, I needed to make sure she didn’t catch a cold. The conversation settled, so I grabbed the hairdryer from the bathroom and returned to the living room.

“Sakuraba, here. You’ll catch a cold with wet hair.”

“Thanks.”

She fiddled with the buttons, then lowered her brows further, looking troubled. “Um… I don’t know how to use this.”

“Yeah, it’s tricky.”

It was Yuna’s, of course—a fancy one with too many settings. I took it from her, switching to the “moist” mode I use for Yuna’s hair.

I grabbed a handful of Sakuraba’s hair.

“I-I can do it myself…!” she stammered.

“Nah, I got it. I like drying hair.”

I don’t bother with my own, but drying long hair is kinda fun. Sakuraba looked embarrassed but a little pleased, so I kept going.

“…That’s not fair,” she muttered.

“Huh? You say something?”

The dryer’s hum drowned her out. I leaned closer, but she didn’t repeat it.

Her hair was soft, fluffier than Yuna’s, pleasant to touch. Once it was mostly dry, I switched to cool air to set it. Sakuraba checked the results and grinned. “Wow, you’re like a pro!”

She seemed perkier. Good. Those MeTube tutorials Yuna made me watch paid off.

“By the way, Midoriya-kun, have you eaten dinner?” she asked. “If not, I could make something to say thanks…”

“I ate, I’m good. But don’t you wanna see how your star pupil’s doing?”

“Huh?”

I led her to the kitchen, pulling out what I’d made while she was in the bath, shaking off distracting thoughts.

“…Omelet rice?” she asked.

“Yup. Might be a bit cold now.”

It was the first dish she’d made for me, the first she taught me. For two weeks, I’d practiced it, planning to show Yuna. It’s my best dish by far.

“Your stomach was growling earlier,” I said.

“…Ugh. It smells so good, though. I haven’t eaten dinner. Can I have it?”

“Course. Made it for you.”

She carefully scooped a bite, slipping it into her mouth. I watched intently until she scolded me. “Stop staring!”

I thought it turned out well, though I hid a burnt spot with a ketchup-drawn cat. A few tricks like that had me nervous, but she ate quietly, so it couldn’t be that bad.

Relieved, I grabbed something from a drawer.

“Meant to give you this,” I said.

She paused, spoon midair, tilting her head.

When she unwrapped the package, her puzzled look turned to wide-eyed shock. “…Why… this?”

“You said you wanted it, right?”

She stared at the pink ring in her palm.

It was from a Waku-Waku Set, but the collab made it surprisingly well-crafted for a toy.

“Got sick of eating Waku-Waku Sets,” I said.

Everything at the diner’s good, so I kept ordering them on a whim. Seven sets later, I’d completed the collection. The extras are decorating my room now.

I grinned smugly, but a tear rolled down Sakuraba’s right cheek.

“…I’ll treasure it,” she whispered.

“Huh?”

“I’ll keep it forever! It’s going in my grave…!”

Whoa, a Waku-Waku toy? I tried to tell her it wasn’t that serious, but she shook her head, insisting she’d cherish it until she died. Her joy made me wonder if I should’ve given her something nicer. Complicated feelings crept in.

Sakuraba wiped her tears and slipped the ring onto her left ring finger without hesitation.

That finger… isn’t that a bit much? For a cheap toy? From me?

I panicked, but she gazed at it, utterly enchanted, so I couldn’t say anything.

I hadn’t even given Yuna a ring yet. This was probably a bad move. Cold sweat prickled my skin, but it’s not like she’d find out, and Sakuraba was so happy. It’s fine, right?

She returned to the omelet rice, taking another bite.

“This won’t do,” she said.

“What…?”

“If you made it, I’ll eat every bite. But as your teacher, I can’t give this a passing grade.”

She giggled, her smile warm but tinged with a crying-laughing expression. “Looks like I’ve gotta keep looking after you.”

So, she’d keep teaching me to cook?

A grin spread across my face. I reined it in, heading to the drawer where I keep important stuff. I grabbed the first thing inside and tossed it to her.

“Here’s my spare key.”

“…What?”

“You’re quitting your job, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe. If you run into your boss or he shows up at your place, come here. Anytime.”

After today, she needed a safe haven. From what she’d said, her boss knew her address, and I was the only one who knew about her job troubles. No one else seemed reliable, so this felt right. A spare key might be overkill, but I didn’t want regrets if something happened.

She’s not my girlfriend, but she’s important to me.

“Give it back when you don’t need it,” I said. “Think of it as a charm, a safe place to crash.”

“I keep… taking so much from you,” she murmured, staring at the key in her palm.

She whispered, “Thank you,” her fingers gently tracing its surface, as if confirming it was real.

The next morning, I woke with a foggy head.

“…My throat’s toast…”

I’d caught a cold for real. Probably from running around in the rain. My head felt heavy—maybe a fever. I’d turned my lie to Yuna into truth. Her noticing my voice over the phone was impressive, though.

“…Mmm…”

I glanced over. Sakuraba was sleeping peacefully.

Well, next to me. She was in my bed, while I’d taken the floor with a spare futon. Probably why I got sick.

Sakuraba’s honestly cute. Do I like her? Sure. More than Yuna? I could shake my head no without hesitation.

I had to protect her because I’d gotten involved. I’d piled up secrets I couldn’t tell Yuna, but she’s still the one I love most.

Still, I need Sakuraba to keep teaching me to cook.

For now, I just wanted things to stay like this.

“Morning,” I said.

Sakuraba stirred, cracking her eyes open. She blinked, confused, then seemed to remember where she was, her lips curving into a soft smile.

“…Morning.”

She lingered in bed, spacing out for ten minutes before dragging herself up. After washing her face, she was suddenly sharp, like a different person.

“Could’ve stayed sleepy a bit longer,” I teased.

Her groggy face was insanely cute. Ugh, my voice was wrecked.

“Ugh, that’s embarrassing!” she said. “I can’t just laze around in someone’s house… Wait, your voice sounds off.”

“Yeah, caught a cold. You okay, Sakuraba?”

“I’m fine. You were really out there looking for me, weren’t you…?”

“…Not really.”

“Don’t lie. Someone from work texted me.”

She grabbed her uniform, changing quickly, her face lit with an odd joy. “Hold on! I’ll grab some cooling pads and stuff!”

My place isn’t stocked for nursing anyone. Sakuraba, somehow more familiar with my apartment than me, rushed out, locking the door with the spare key.

I stared at the ceiling, body heavy, too sluggish to move. Then the intercom buzzed.

“Who the hell…”

A delivery? Sakuraba would’ve used the key. If it’s a solicitor, I’m not in the mood. I shuffled to the peephole.

“…!”

Sharp, almond eyes. Glossy black hair.

“Shiki?”

Only my girlfriend calls me that.

I bolted back, shoving the futon I’d slept on into the closet. Sakuraba had insisted on cleaning the room and bathroom last night, thank God. I gathered her stuff, tossed it onto the balcony, and threw a tarp over it.

Sorry, Sakuraba!

The intercom rang again. I started for the door, then remembered. Grabbing my phone, I shot Sakuraba a message:

“Don’t come back. I’ll get your stuff to you later.”

Message sent. I opened the door.

Yuna stood there, arms full of drugstore bags.

“…Yuna!? Why—”

“Whoa, careful!”

The strain from earlier hit me, and I stumbled forward. Yuna caught me, wrapping her arms around me, exhaling in relief.

“I couldn’t focus on anything—studying, nothing—thinking you were sick,” she said. “I tagged along on Dad’s Tokyo business trip.”

“You’re so dramatic,” I mumbled.

“You’re the one about to collapse,” she teased, but her smile was radiant. “God, Shiki, you’re hopeless without me.”

Love makes you wish the person you care for has a wound just small enough for you to heal.

A line from an old romance novel flashed through my mind.

“…Seriously, how’d you know I was sick?” I asked.

“Cause I’m your girlfriend. I just know.”

“I love you.”

“W-What!? You’ve definitely got a fever!”

I leaned into her, consciousness fading. As the door opened, I caught a glimpse of the spiral staircase to the second floor. For a moment, I thought I saw Sakuraba, arms full of shopping bags.