Chapter Five: Cream Stew Delivery
The LINE from Sakuraba pops up just as I’m finishing lunch, blood sugar spiking and eyes drooping into an afternoon haze.
She did mention she’s got a rare day off from work, but why not just chill for once? Probably thinks it’ll be awkward if she doesn’t show her face at the club soon. I don’t have any reason to say no, so I rub the sleep from my eyes and shoot back a quick, 《Sure thing.》 Natsukawa’s gonna lose it, considering how tight she says she is with Sakuraba.
“…What’s next period?” Nikaido asks from the seat behind me.
“World history,” I reply.
“Sweet. I’m all about that,” he says, grinning.
“Oh? What part?”
“It’s just fun, y’know? German names sound like they belong on weapons or something.”
“That’s a wild take,” I laugh.
We’re tossing around this forgettable banter when I spot Sakuraba in the hallway. Must be heading to a different classroom.
“Whoa, there’s Sakuraba-san. Radiant as always,” Nikaido says, practically swooning.
His comment sparks a weird sense of smugness in me. Surrounded by a gaggle of sparkly girls, Sakuraba’s soft smile makes her stand out as the cutest by a mile. You’d never guess she’s the same girl making tonjiru in my kitchen, grinning like a kid when a dish turns out perfect.
Midoriya Shiki: 《Look over here.》
On a whim, I send her a LINE. She glances at her phone as she passes our classroom, her eyes scanning the room. When she spots me, they crinkle like she’s saying, Gotcha! and she flashes a mischievous grin.
“Pfft,” I snort, a grin spreading across my face for no reason, jolting me awake.
Gotta crush it in class.
“Sakuraba-san totally looked over here!” Nikaido says, freaking out.
I ignore him, prepping for world history, when he smacks my shoulder. “Dude, you’re grinning like an idiot. Finally joined the Sakuraba-san fan club?”
“Shut up,” I mutter.
I’m dying to tell him I’m getting cooking lessons from her at my place. Too bad I can’t.
Burying my smirk, I slump over my desk. My phone, on silent, buzzes softly. Probably Sakuraba. I bolt upright to check.
Haru: 《What the heck!? You startled me!》
It’s just one line, but I find myself rereading it, unable to look away.
We don’t really talk at school, so this feels… fresh. Special, even. Kinda nice.
It’s not like I’m cheating or anything. She straight-up said I’m not her type. I flip my phone over and shove it in my desk.
The bell rings, and world history starts, but Sakuraba’s playful grin keeps popping into my head, wrecking my focus.
When people ask if Sakuraba’s a friend, I don’t think so. She’s not like Nikaido or Suzu, where it’s all easy and chill. At first, it was just a deal—cooking lessons for playing her fake boyfriend. But now? There’s a bit more… something. Warmth, maybe.
Being around her’s fun. Seeing her smile makes me happy. And knowing some creep’s hassling her makes me want to protect her.
If it’s not love or friendship, then what is it? Some kind of… protective instinct?
I tune out the teacher’s boring tangents, lost in thought.
After school. I’m killing time on my phone by the stairwell near the cooking room when I hear rapid footsteps. I look up, and there she is—Sakuraba, her curly hair bouncing lightly. The kind of beauty that makes anyone feel lucky just to catch a glimpse. She hurries over, a little flustered.
“Sorry for the last-minute invite,” she says.
“Nah, it’s cool. I was heading there anyway. Bet it’s awkward showing up after so long, huh?”
She hasn’t been in touch with Natsukawa, who’s supposedly her friend, so maybe she’s more nervous than I thought. Girls’ friendships are a total mystery—too complicated for me to get. Probably why she reached out to me, the guy with no baggage.
Her smile’s a bit stiff as we head down the stairs, like she’s bracing herself.
Time to lighten the mood. “Heard we’re making cream stew today,” I say.
“Oh, I saw that in the group LINE—”
“Seeeenpai!” A familiar voice cuts in, followed by a thud as something slams into my arm. A slender arm wraps around mine, clinging tight.
This girl thinks she can do whatever she wants with me, doesn’t she?
“Natsukawa, it’s hot,” I grumble.
“Aw, senpai’s so shy~ You’re the only one who can give me that annoyed look, y’know?” she teases.
What an honor. Now let go.
I’d normally snap at her, but Sakuraba’s staring, stunned, so I keep quiet. I’m not getting dragged into Natsukawa’s chaos.
“Wait, Haru-chan-senpai?!” Natsukawa chirps, spotting her.
“…Ah,” Sakuraba mumbles.
“Been forever!” Natsukawa beams, but Sakuraba just looks bewildered, like she’s struggling to process.
Hold up. They’re actually friends, right? This isn’t Natsukawa’s imagination?
I shoot her a skeptical look, and she shakes her head vigorously, like I’ve insulted her. Then she glances at Sakuraba, as if to say, What’s up with her?
Guess they are friends. So what’s got Sakuraba so thrown?
She looks between me and Natsukawa, still clinging to my arm, and murmurs, “…You two are close?”
“Huh? With Shiki-senpai?” Natsukawa asks.
“Y-Yeah. With Midoriya-kun.”
“Super tight!” Natsukawa declares, winking at me with a “Right?!”
Close? That’s a stretch, but she’s the easiest person to deal with in the club.
“Well, we’re both kinda the odd ones out…” I say, shrugging.
Natsukawa’s practically wagging an imaginary tail, thrilled. Hey, being outcasts isn’t something to celebrate.
Sakuraba’s still got this shocked, uncertain look.
…Crap. Did I forget to tell her I know Natsukawa?
She’s nervous about coming back to the club, and now this curveball’s got her rattled. My bad.
I open my mouth to explain, but Natsukawa, all giddy, cuts in with, “My favorite people are all in the club today!” and I miss my chance as we head into the cooking room.
Turns out, my worrying was pointless. Sakuraba’s in top form, slicing ingredients with razor-sharp precision. Meanwhile, Natsukawa and I barely contribute before our portion’s done. I’m basically dead weight.
Guess the real thing to worry about is my cooking skills—or lack thereof.
Thanks to Sakuraba, the cream stew’s done in record time. Pre-cooking the ingredients in the microwave cut down the simmering, apparently. Skill makes a huge difference in flavor and speed. It’s unfair.
Today, we’re split into stew and bread teams. The stew’s done early, so we’ve got time to kill while the bread bakes. The clubroom turns into a chat fest.
I check that Sakuraba and Natsukawa are happily chatting before heading to President Miyase, who’s organizing dishes.
“Hey, President, sorry to bug you. How much stew are we making today?”
“Hmm, we always make extra, so there’ll probably be leftovers. Wanna take some home?”
“Yeah, for Suzu. She joined the club but barely shows up. I’m worried she’s not eating right.”
“No problem at all. She’s actually paying club dues now, unlike before,” President Miyase says with a mischievous grin, handing me a soup container. “Why don’t you eat with her?”
She even packs a portion for me. Total lifesaver.
I thank her profusely and fill the container with two servings. It smells insane—my stomach’s growling already.
Kinda feels like I’m stealing, though.
I’m already the club outcast, so I’m trying to be sneaky, but Natsukawa and Sakuraba catch me red-handed and head over.
“Senpai, what’re you up to? So hungry you can’t wait?” Natsukawa teases.
“Shh! Keep it down!” I hiss.
“Haha, that’s such a guilty reaction,” she laughs.
“That’s a soup container, right? Taking it somewhere?” Sakuraba asks.
“Yeah, for a friend… Suzu. I’m gonna eat with her, so you guys head home without me.”
“Got it!” Natsukawa says. “Hey, Haru-chan-senpai! Wanna go on an after-school date with me?”
“…Sure, let’s do it,” Sakuraba replies.
“Woo!” Natsukawa cheers.
Looks like they’ve patched things up. I felt bad leaving Sakuraba behind, but seeing them so chummy, I figure she’s fine.
I swing by the school store for some bread, then head to the art building—what us general studies kids call the “art wing.”
“…Quiet as hell,” I mutter.
The general studies building’s still noisy at this hour, but the art wing’s eerily silent. Soundproofing for focused work, maybe? Guess with all the talented students here, they’ve got the budget for it.
The long hallway’s lined with paintings, and one portrait’s eyes lock onto mine, making my heart race. I don’t come here often, so everything feels unfamiliar and kinda nerve-wracking.
“Just find Suzu and get outta here…”
She’s not answering my messages.
That’s normal for her, but she never breaks promises. She said she’d show up to the cooking club, so if she’s AWOL, her latest project must be eating her alive. I got worried, remembering when I collapsed a few weeks ago, so here I am.
“This is her room, right?”
Suzu’s a genius. Even I, clueless about art, could tell she was special as a kid.
She’s apparently swept every major art award, and our school’s got her on a full-ride scholarship—free tuition, excused absences, even housing support. One perk is her own private atelier, and this is it. Never been here before, but damn, it’s bigger than my apartment. Makes sense, though—she said she needs space to create.
Her messy handwriting on the door says “Atelier,” so I’m in the right place.
Knock knock. No answer.
“Hellooo?” I call.
Knock knock. Still nothing.
“Midoriya Eats, delivery!” I try.
Is she even at school today?
Starting to worry, I knock again.
“Midoriya Shiki, here for Suz—!”
“Shi-kun?!” A loud bang cuts me off as the door flies open, and something tackles me to the ground.
It’s Suzu, reeking of paint thinner. Something soft presses against my face, making it hard to breathe.
I tap her back frantically, and she scrambles up, smoothing her messy hair and squeaking, “S-Sorry! I heard your voice and got so excited, I just…”
“…I called you, like, a million times,” I grumble.
“Really? Didn’t hear a thing.”
Is she programmed to only respond to her own name or what?
Sighing, I check the soup container. The stew’s safe, no spills. Phew.
“Cream stew!” I announce.
“Made it at cooking club today. You haven’t shown up in forever, so I got worried and brought some.”
“…What time is it?” she asks.
“Six.”
“…Wait, is club over?”
“We eat and bounce. That’s why I’ve got stew.”
“I was gonna go today!” she whines.
Lost track of time obsessing over her art, huh? Figures.
“When’d you last eat?” I ask.
“…Yesterday? Lunch, maybe?”
“Knew it. Eat up, now!”
I’m not one to talk, but that’s bad. I hand her the stew and the rolls I grabbed from the store. Her pale face breaks into a faint smile.
“Yay, love delivery,” she says.
“With a bonus: I’ll hang out and chat while you eat.”
“…Really?” she asks, eyes wide.
“Yeah. You won’t eat otherwise, right?”
“Yup.”
I was half-joking, but her dead-serious nod throws me off.
She invites me into the atelier, muttering, “It reeks of paint, so I’ll air it out,” and opens all the windows. The paint thinner smell’s strong, but the artwork scattered around grabs my attention more. Even an art-ignorant guy like me can’t look away. That’s talent. And Suzu works her ass off without letting it go to her head. She’s pretty damn cool. Every time her work’s displayed somewhere, I feel proud as her friend.
“…Stop staring. It’s embarrassing,” she mumbles.
“Sorry,” I say.
“If you like one, it’s yours.”
“For the stew? Nah, I’d just waste something that valuable. Pearls before swine, y’know?”
“How’s the stew?” I ask.
“Delicious. First good food in forever. And warm, too.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Watching her scarf down the stew with that happy look makes my chest ache, tears pricking my eyes. How does modern Japan let someone get like this? She’s a pro at self-neglect.
I’m not one to judge after my own collapse, but maybe like attracts like.
“If I swing by regularly, you cool with that?” I ask.
“You’ll bring me food? For real?”
“I’d rather you came to club, but that’s probably not happening often. After seeing you just now, I’m more worried about leaving you alone.”
“…Heh. Gotta have a kind big brother, huh?”
Am I spoiling her? Maybe.
Yuna’d probably chew me out… No, wait, this is a humanitarian mission.
Convincing myself, I dig into my stew. Sakuraba’s perfectly cooked veggies are soft and flavorful, pure comfort.
We keep eating, chatting lazily, and say “Gochisousama” in unison.
Suzu’s face has some color back, and just seeing that makes me wanna cry. Yuna must’ve felt like this when she came to check on me.
“How much longer on this project?” I ask.
“Dunno. Still a ways to go. If you could bring food the day after tomorrow, I’d be stoked.”
“No prob, but I’ve got plans, so I can’t eat with you like today. That cool?”
“…Plans?” she asks, tilting her head.
“Getting cooking lessons from a clubmate. Her job’s near my place, so it works out.”
“Hold up.”
She grabs my arm, pulling me down to sit on the atelier floor. It’s early summer, but the sun’s dipping, and the unlit room’s getting dim. Despite the art wing’s usual silence, I can hear students outside through the open windows.
In the fading light, Suzu’s glossy red lips stand out, her expression almost… seductive.
“That’s gonna look bad if your girlfriend finds out, right?” she says, her cheeks flushed, her usual blank vibe replaced by a sly, sultry smile.
“…Nothing shady’s going on. I told Yuna about it,” I say.
“Oh. But she doesn’t know it’s a girl, does she?”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, right on cue. My heart jumps. Probably Yuna or Natsukawa. Maybe Sakuraba.
It vibrates a few times, then stops, leaving the room dead quiet.
“I was shocked, y’know,” Suzu says. “It’s been a while, and suddenly Shi-kun’s chatting up all these girls.”
“…Just how things worked out,” I mumble.
“Yuna’s not gonna be okay with that.”
I’ve never gotten crazy jealousy from Yuna, so I don’t get why Suzu’s acting so serious. Is she pulling a Nikaido, worrying for no reason?
Back in Mie, I barely talked to anyone but Yuna, but I don’t think she’s the super jealous type.
Still, with Suzu’s personality, you’d think she’d let this slide. Why’s she grilling me?
“…Can you keep it quiet?” I ask.
“Sure,” she says.
“Really?”
She came on like she was gonna blackmail me, but she agrees so easily it throws me off.
What’s her deal? I relax, but then she shoves her phone in my face. It’s an Instagrum DM to Yuna, half-typed: Shi-kun’s cheating.
“Hey!” I yelp.
“Haven’t sent it yet,” she says.
I check—yup, it’s still in the draft. But this is way too close for comfort.
“Nobody’s cheating! Let’s just talk—”
“Do it with me too,” she cuts in.
“…Huh?”
“I’ll keep quiet. But do something with me that’d make people think you’re cheating.”
“…What’re you talking about?”
“Be my art model. I’ve wanted to paint you forever.”
Her words keep catching me off guard, and my brain’s turning to mush.
She holds up her phone, finger hovering over the send button. In the dimming room, the screen’s glow is blinding.
“…Is that a no?” she asks.
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The light from Suzu’s phone glints off her eyes, which look suspiciously teary.
Why’s she giving me that anxious stare when she’s the one blackmailing me? And for something I’d probably agree to anyway. We’re best friends, aren’t we?
Her cheeks flush deeper, eyes shimmering with unshed tears, lips pressed tight like she’s bracing for something big.
I don’t get why she’s the one looking so determined, but if this is all it takes to keep her quiet, fine. I nod once, firmly.
“Alright. I’ll do it. I’ll be your model.”
“…Yes!” Suzu’s face lights up with a soft smile. She powers off her phone and sinks into a crouch, letting out a heavy, “Haa,” like she’s the one relieved.
Pretty sure I’m the one who should be sighing here.
“Yo, you that happy about this?” I ask, skeptical.
“Yup. I love your body, Shi-kun. That rugged vibe’s perfect for my brush.”
“You’re after my body?!” I blurt.
“Yup,” she says, dead serious.
That’s backwards! It’s supposed to be the other way around!
Before I can process, she stands and slides a finger across my chest, slow and deliberate.
“Gonna touch you a lot from now on,” she murmurs.
…Oh, crap. Her eyes are gleaming with that dangerous spark I’ve seen before—the one she gets when she’s about to go off the rails.
I might’ve jumped the gun on this one.
Sketchy deal or not, Suzu’s still my best friend.
We decide to hash out the details before heading home. Her work’s at a stopping point for the day, so we leave school and hit up a nearby WacDonald’s.
“What’re you getting?” she asks.
“WakuWaku Set. The pancake one,” I say.
“You just ate stew. You’re gonna balloon up.”
“It’s fine. Dessert’s a separate stomach.”
I try to sell her on the separate-stomach theory, but she just says, “My stomach’s full,” and orders a shake.
She always says that, then gets jealous when she sees my food.
“What’ll it be, sir?” the cashier asks.
“WakuWaku Set. Oh, and the accessory prize, please.”
Every time I come to WacDonald’s, I remember Sakuraba wanting one of those prizes. I keep getting the WakuWaku Set, hoping to score it, but my luck’s trash. This time, it’s a purple butterfly necklace.
Total bust. What am I supposed to do with this at home?
“Here, Suzu. It’s yours,” I say.
“For real?!” she chirps, beaming.
“Put it on,” she insists, so I help her with it right there. She hums happily, looking pleased as punch.
She’s always this innocent, quirky girl, so that sultry act earlier caught me off guard. Didn’t know she had that in her.
“Take a pic to remember this,” she says.
Guess guy-girl friendships can work, huh.
Muttering that to myself, I snap the photo she asked for.
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