Kuroha Akira's triumphant, borderline-goofy celebration seemed to amuse Asato Hitomi to no end.
"My, Kuroha-kun, your expression is so dramatic. Are you really that thrilled?"
"Of course! This is the first successful transaction of my life!" To be precise, the first of this life. The declaration carried the weight of a pioneer planting a flag on new, financially-viable soil.
"Pfft… A life's first transaction being… a semester's worth of lunch." She covered her mouth, but a snort of laughter escaped, quickly blossoming into full-bodied, unrestrained giggles. "Hahaha! Kuroha-kun, you really are the most interesting person!"
Watching Kuroha Akira pump his fist in a silent cheer, Asato Hitomi found herself clutching her stomach, laughing until tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.
Sigh… How long has it been since I laughed like this?
Smiling had always been her mask, her primary social weapon. A smiling face was harder to strike, a smile could deflect malice.
Always maintain your smile. It is for etiquette, and for profit.
Her mother's teachings were etched deep. To ensure no one saw the calculated machinery behind it, she'd perfected her demeanor, her posture, every micro-expression. Each gesture, each word, was calibrated to influence, to manage, to steer. For Asato Hitomi, social interaction was a high-stakes performance, mentally exhausting.
Now, for the first time in recent memory, she was laughing purely from amusement and a flicker of genuine happiness, with no agenda, no hidden objective. The feeling was… liberating. It was as if a heavy, stifling fog had been suddenly whisked from her chest.
This is… dangerous.
It was all Kuroha-kun's fault. Now that she knew she could laugh so freely, what if she lost the ability to conjure her perfect, natural-seeming (but utterly fake) smiles on demand? He'd have to take responsibility!
You have to compensate me!
Since he'd so bluntly stated, "You don't need to say such flattering words to me anymore," then she didn't need to carefully manage his emotions around him anymore, right? In front of him, perhaps she could finally… drop the act.
The thought alone made things feel… lighter.
Imagining Kuroha Akira showing up at the Literary Club's clubroom later sent a ripple of anticipation through her. If the days ahead could hold even a fraction of this afternoon's unscripted ease, then coming to school might stop feeling like merely fulfilling her mother's checklist.
Asato Hitomi used her thumb to wipe the moisture from the corner of her eye—the same thumb that had, just minutes ago, brushed away Kuroha Akira's tear. Then, in a slow, deliberate motion, she pressed that damp thumb against her own lips and softly licked the pad.
Kuroha Akira watched, his throat inexplicably going dry. The contrast was staggering—a face of pure, innocent beauty performing an action that carried a mature, almost provocative charm far beyond her years.
Having tasted the salt, she delivered her verdict with academic gravity. "Tears are salty."
"Isn't that, like, universal common knowledge? Class Monitor, with your grades, you must know that."
"I just wanted to confirm the taste personally. Is that not allowed?" There was a hint of childish petulance in her tone, a side she rarely showed.
"Fine, fine. Do as you please, Class Monitor."
"I wonder… whose tears are saltier, mine or Kuroha-kun's?"
"You can't possibly taste a difference. And even if you could, what's the point of comparing something like that…?"
"To test our compatibility, of course. From a scientific perspective, water flows from areas of low solute concentration to high concentration. Therefore, the less salty tears would be drawn towards the saltier ones. It's the semi-permeable membrane of the heart."
"What a magnificent new scientific theory. By that logic, all of humanity could eventually merge into one." Go on, brave maiden. Go turn all of humanity into tang. You are Japan's own Seele!
"Hmm… If a taste test is inconclusive, then we should compare sweat."
As she spoke, she leaned in, her face drawing closer to his—dangerously close, within kissing distance. The sudden, intense proximity triggered a wave of flustered panic in Kuroha Akira. He leaned back instinctively.
The psychological barrier of a fifteen-year-old girl kissing him—even though he currently inhabited a fifteen-year-old body—was too much. But his retreat was blocked by the unyielding bulk of the vending machine.
"W-wait, Class Monitor, this is a bit…"
Talking was one thing; actual physical contact on this level was crossing a line.
As Kuroha Akira squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact, he felt a touch on his cheek. Not the wet slide of a tongue, but the soft, dry brush of fabric.
He opened his eyes. Asato Hitomi was using her handkerchief to gently wipe the sweat from his temple, a mischievous, triumphant grin playing on her lips.
"Did you think I was going to lick it?"
"For a second… yeah, I did." His mind had even conjured the iconic line: 'This taste… is the taste of a liar!'
"I'm not that kind of frivolous girl. Though, I must say, today has been full of first-time experiences thanks to you, Kuroha-kun."
"Then don't phrase things so ambiguously! You're definitely teasing me on purpose."
"Hehe, because Kuroha-kun's reactions are the most entertaining." She laughed again, a happy, clear sound, before tucking the handkerchief back into her pocket.
Speaking of which… Kuroha Akira's brain belatedly supplied, that's the same handkerchief that was, until recently, wrapped around her panties.
But now, he strongly suspected her entire 'underwear offering' had been an act from the start. After all, her left hand's proficiency list had included [Acting: Lv1]. She'd probably just been teasing a virgin. As expected, the Class Monitor also fell into the category of 'mischievous JK.'
"Well," she said, smoothing her skirt, "to prepare Kuroha-kun's lunch for tomorrow, I should probably start heading back."
"Right, me too. Which way are you headed, Class Monitor?"
"I still need to lock up the library and return the key to the faculty office."
"Ah."
"If Kuroha-kun accompanies me, I'll treat you to a drink. How about it?"
"Please, allow me the honor of escorting you."
Perseverance pays off!
The original, primal goal—a cold drink—was finally within reach! It just went to show: simping only got you stuck with the bill. Strategic non-simping was the true path to freeloading success!
As they walked, Asato Hitomi continued her gentle interrogation. "So, Kuroha-kun, is there anything you particularly like to eat? And please, let me know about any allergies or things you can't stand."
"You take custom orders?"
"It is a bento made specifically for Kuroha-kun, after all. I'd like you to actually enjoy it."
"Hmm… I'm not picky. Make whatever you like. That said, I'm pretty sensitive to fishy smells. I can eat fish, but I don't love it. And things like tsukudani konbu… not my thing." Having lived inland in his previous life, Kuroha Akira had never developed a taste for seafood. Even after half a year in this island nation, the pervasive fishy undertones in many dishes remained a hurdle.
"Fishy smells, konbu… Understood." Asato Hitomi committed his preferences to memory with solemn focus.
In that case, I can't use konbu dashi for the miso soup. Bonito flakes are out too… but without them, the depth of flavor will suffer… How can I compensate for that…?
Her mind was already racing through culinary adjustments, solving the puzzle of crafting the perfect bowl of miso soup within his parameters.
She wanted to make miso soup for him. It was one of her best dishes. She'd never felt this keen, almost anxious desire for someone to taste her cooking before. Was it because this was the first time she was cooking for a boy? Even her own father had never eaten a meal prepared solely by her hands.
She wanted to do it well. She wanted to hear his praise. Cooking had always been an escape, a hiding place. She never imagined she'd one day look forward to it with this fluttery sense of purpose.
"And about portion size… Kuroha-kun is a boy, and it's a growing age. I'll make a little extra, okay?"
"No problem at all. I'll eat every last grain you prepare. I won't leave a single bite."
"Haha, that's a bit much."
But it would make me incredibly happy.
So… I'll make sure you eat your fill.
****
Tsukudani kombu is:
Kelp simmered down until it becomes a glossy, chewy, umami-packed side dish, usually eaten with rice, in bento boxes, or as a beer snack.
Konbu dashi is made by gently extracting flavor from kombu (edible kelp) in water. Unlike Western stocks, it contains no meat or bones—just pure, clean umami.