Chapter 10
1258words
The cooking classroom of home economics.
At Hoshimi Academy, home economics is an elective course with mixed gender classes and free grouping. I would absolutely never choose such a troublesome course, but when selecting courses last semester, I just randomly checked one with my eyes closed to fulfill my credits.
Who would have thought that Rin had also selected this course?
"According to the analysis of your course schedule, home cooking class is the only formal setting for 'food preparation' training. This is the optimal choice."
When I asked her why she was here, she answered expressionlessly.
Today's assignment is to make the most common Japanese hamburger steak.
The Home Economics teacher, a plump, always smiling middle-aged woman, was explaining the steps in detail from the podium.
"...The onion should be chopped into fine pieces, then sautéed in butter until translucent. This will make the hamburger patty taste sweet and fresh. Then mix the sautéed onions with ground pork, beef, eggs, and breadcrumbs. Remember, stir in one direction until the meat mixture becomes sticky..."
I was listening drowsily, my mind filled with my classmates' thoughts like "sounds so easy," "I'm hungry," and "I want to start cooking soon."
However, when I turned to look at my partner—Kurosawa Rin—I noticed her expression was unprecedentedly serious.
Her sharp eyes were fixated on the podium, her gaze even more focused than when we were tracking down the first attacker in the library.
"All preparation procedures recorded. Beginning task breakdown."
"Phase One: Target Processing—Onion. Required Tool: Kitchen Knife. Tactical Objective: Decompose it into cubes smaller than 3 millimeters."
The voice in her head gave me an ominous feeling.
Group practice began.
Our group was assigned a decent-looking onion.
Just as I was about to pick up the kitchen knife, Rin had already beaten me to it, gripping the ordinary household knife in her hand.
Her knife grip... no matter how you looked at it, it wasn't for cutting vegetables. It was a stance full of killing intent, a hybrid of a reverse dagger grip and tactical chopping.
"Hey, Rin, you..."
Before I could finish speaking, she moved.
I watched as her left hand firmly held the onion in place, while her right hand turned the kitchen knife into a dizzying silver blur!
"Swish-swish-swish-swish-swish—!"
The air filled with a rapid succession of dense cutting sounds, like a machine gun firing.
Less than three seconds.
She stopped her movements.
On the cutting board, the onion that was intact just a moment ago had turned into a pile of... almost paste-like... mush.
"Target decomposition complete. Time consumed: 2.8 seconds. Efficiency assessment: Good." She calmly concluded.
I stared at the puddle of onion mush in astonishment, unable to speak for quite some time.
Students from other groups around us were also attracted by the commotion, all casting shocked glances in our direction.
"Umm... Kurosawa-san?" The home economics teacher walked over, looking at our cutting board with her trademark smile frozen on her face. "This... this is..."
"Reporting to teacher, onion pulverization process completed," Rin answered with a serious expression.
"Pul... pulverization..." The teacher's mouth twitched. "Although... but... what we generally mean by 'mincing' isn't quite this..."
"Noted. Definition of 'mincing' contains cognitive deviation. Will correct next time." Rin nodded readily.
The next step was to mix the meat filling.
I took a deep breath, feeling that I shouldn't let her continue.
"Um, Rin, let me handle the mixing step. It requires some strength." I tried to take the large bowl of meat filling from her hands.
"Rejected," she flatly refused me. "According to your physical fitness report, high-intensity mixing may cause your heart rate to exceed safe thresholds. Leave it to me."
After saying that, she poured the eggs, breadcrumbs, and that pile of "onion mush" into the meat filling.
Then, she looked at the bowl of meat filling, her gaze once again becoming sharp.
"Phase two: target mixing. Tactical objective: achieve homogeneous fusion of all materials. Execution plan: high-frequency centrifugal stirring."
"Wait! What do you mean by centrifugal?!"
She ignored my outcry.
I watched as she extended both hands and, at an incredible speed, began to frantically stir the bowl of meat filling.
Her arms moved so fast they left afterimages. The entire stainless steel bowl violently shook, emitting a "buzzing" roar, like a helicopter about to take off.
"My... my goodness!"
"What is that? An electric mixer?"
"Her hands! How is she doing that with her hands!"
All the students in the cooking classroom stopped what they were doing and stared at our direction as if looking at monsters.
"Warning! Target substance viscosity too high, resistance increasing! Engine... no, arm power boosting to 80%!"
"Stop! Stop it now, Rin!" I shouted in terror. "If you keep stirring like that, the bowl will fly away!"
At that moment, tragedy struck.
Because the stirring speed was simply too fast, a fist-sized lump of meat filling, under the effect of centrifugal force, suddenly flew out of the bowl, traced a perfect parabolic arc, and precisely...
Splattered onto the home economics teacher's face.
The world fell silent.
The smile on the teacher's face completely disappeared.
She silently, without saying a word, wiped off the meat filling that still carried the warmth of Rin's palm from her face, and looked at us.
Rin and I, along with the entire class, held our breath.
"Kurosawa, Ayashiro..." The teacher's voice was frighteningly calm. "After school, come to my office."
That afternoon, Rin and I stood side by side in the home economics teacher's office, receiving a lecture that lasted a full hour.
The content was nothing more than "cooking is not combat," "you must have reverence for ingredients," "teamwork is important," and things like that.
Throughout it all, Rin stood perfectly straight, like a soldier at attention, occasionally nodding to indicate she was "recording" the message.
As for me, I just wanted to find a crack in the ground to disappear into.
On the way home, the setting sun stretched our shadows long.
"Sorry," Rin suddenly spoke, her voice carrying a hint of guilt. "Today's mission... failed."
"That wasn't a mission, okay?!" I retorted irritably. "That was just a normal cooking class!"
"But my goal was to make you a normal lunch." She said, "In the end, I not only messed it up, but also caused you trouble."
Looking at her beautiful face full of "reflection," the bit of anger in my heart inexplicably dissipated.
After all, she was just... too serious, that's all.
Using her own "combat theory" to seriously approach something she knew nothing about.
"...It wasn't completely without gain." I sighed and said.
"Hm?" She looked at me puzzled.
"At least we've proven," I looked at her, holding back my laughter, "that your arm is stronger than any brand of electric mixer. If our class ever needs to make meatballs or something, we'll definitely be the ace."
Rin was stunned for a moment, and then, a hint of amusement appeared again in those deep eyes of hers.
Very faint, but very real.
"Received. 'Arm mixing function' has been recorded in personal skills archive."
Hearing her still perfectly serious response, I finally couldn't help but laugh.
Perhaps, the first step of the "protective companionship" mission is to teach my "human weapon" friend—
Life is not a battle.
At least, not in the kitchen.
