More Than a Married Couple, Not Lovers: If - Shiori Sakurazaka's Unrequited Love
Jirou Yakuin has one goal: earn an A Rank in the school's Marriage Training program and use his partner-swap privilege to reunite with his childhood friend, Shiori Sakurazaka—the girl he's loved for years but never confessed to. There's just one problem. His partner is Akari Watanabe, the class's flashiest gyaru, and the closer they get to A Rank, the less certain Jirou becomes that Shiori is really the one he wants.
But Shiori has a secret of her own. The quiet, gentle girl everyone adores has
More Than a Married Couple, Not Lovers: If - Shiori Sakurazaka's Unrequited Love - Flour Dish Showdown! The Shadow Lurking in the Kitchen and the Temperature of Fingertips
Cooking Practice Room A after school smelled different than usual.
Oil, soy sauce, and a faint burnt note. The low hum of the ventilation fan echoed through the empty classroom. Outside the window it was already evening, the sky beginning to stain orange.
Yakuin Jirou stood frozen in front of the sink.
In his hand was a knife. More precisely, the handle of a knife. He didn't know how to hold it, so he was just gripping it for now.
"...What are you doing?"
A exasperated voice flew at him from beside.
He turned to find Akari—pink hair tied back in a single bundle—standing with her hands on her hips. She wore a white apron. Her usual flashy nails were still there, but the moment she put on an apron she suddenly gave off a "home economics textbook" vibe. Well, she was still a gyaru, though.
"Even the way you hold a knife is dangerous. That's not how you hold it for cutting sashimi, and it's not how you hold it for cutting vegetables either—it's just a weird grip."
"...I know that."
He set the knife down on the cutting board.
He knew. He knew, but he couldn't do it. He'd barely ever cooked before. Back home his mother had done everything, and since he'd started living alone it had been convenience store bento and cup noodles. The only time he used a knife was to peel fruit.
" Here, you hold it like this. Pinch the base of the handle between your thumb and index finger."
Akari picked up her own knife and demonstrated.
Her movements were efficient, without waste. Her pink nails moved together with the silver blade. Just that alone made her look like someone who knew what she was doing.
"...Got it."
He re-gripped the knife, imitating what he'd seen.
" No, no. Further forward. Near the blade. Right, pinch there with your thumb and index finger, and wrap the rest of your fingers around the handle."
Akari placed her hand over his.
His body jerked with a start.
"...Ah."
Akari's hand was small and warm. The hard feel of her nails pressed against the back of his fingers.
Her fingers moved his, one by one, into the correct position.
" Here. Index finger here. Thumb here. Don't use too much force. You don't move the knife—you let the weight of the knife do the cutting."
Akari's voice was right next to his ear.
Her breath hit the nape of his neck.
His heart made a strange sound.
Not a cute thump-thump or ba-dump. Something heavier, duller. Like someone pounding on a wall from inside his body.
" ...Understand?"
Akari peered into his face.
Her big brown eyes were right there.
" ...Understood."
His voice cracked.
Akari blinked at him for a moment, then burst out laughing.
" What's with that face? Did you eat something weird?"
"...Shut up."
He looked away from her.
His ears were hot.
The surveillance camera.
In the corner of the ceiling, a red light blinked on and off.
This classroom had a surveillance camera too. As part of the marriage practicum, every pair that used the cooking practice room was recorded. Which meant that right now—Akari taking his hand and teaching him—was all being saved to the school's servers.
...He wanted it erased.
" Listen, you move the knife straight down. Don't saw back and forth. That makes the cut messy."
Akari let go of his hand and turned back to her own cutting board.
" Watch. First, the onion. Peel it, cut it in half, then lay it flat and slice it thin from the edge."
Akari's hands moved.
Chop, chop, chop.
With a steady, light rhythm. The onion became thin half-moon slices. Far from making her cry, it was almost pleasant to watch—that's how skilled she was.
"...You can actually cook."
" Huh? What, are you just noticing? I can do all kinds of housework. Don't judge by appearances."
Akari puffed out her chest.
"No, but you always just buy convenience store bento."
" That's because it's easy. It's not that I can't cook. ...Though I don't really want to hear that from you. You failed at pouring hot water into cup noodles the other day."
"...That was just because I got the amount of water wrong."
" Ahaha, don't make excuses. Your face back then was seriously hilarious. You were staring at the cup noodles like the world had ended."
Akari laughed.
Her eyes curved into crescent moons, and her pink hair swayed.
...So this is how she laughs.
At school she laughed differently—that sparkling laugh when she was messing around with her friends. But this laugh was closer to her real self.
" So, what are we making today?"
He decided to change the subject.
" Bento. The end-of-month evaluation has thirty points for housework, right? I want to raise our cooking score. Last time our evaluation took a pretty big hit on the housework section."
Akari took ingredients out of the fridge.
Eggs, sausages, spinach, cherry tomatoes, and frozen karaage.
" Today it's tamagoyaki, sausages, spinach with sesame dressing, and cherry tomatoes. Plus just heating up the frozen karaage. With this, both the look and the nutrition are perfect, right?"
"...Have you ever made a bento before?"
" I have. In middle school, in home ec. And sometimes I copied what my mom made for me."
"Huh."
That was unexpected.
Akari saying something so domestic.
" Alright, let's start. Jirou, you crack the eggs first. In the bowl. Don't crack them on the cutting board."
"...I know that."
He picked up an egg.
He tapped the shell against the bowl.
Crack.
...It didn't break.
Again.
Crack.
...Still didn't break.
" You're not using enough force. Harder. Here, like this."
Akari took the egg from his hand and tapped it against the rim of the bowl.
A crisp little sound.
Her fingers split the shell open.
The contents slid cleanly into the bowl.
" ...See, like this. Got it?"
Akari looked up at him.
Because of the height difference, her face naturally came close.
"...Got it."
He picked up a new egg.
This time, harder than before, he tapped it against the rim of the bowl.
Crack.
...It broke.
The shell fell into the bowl.
" Ah—shell got in."
"...Shut up. That one was, well, a success."
" How was that a success? There's shell in it. Here, get it out."
Akari held out a pair of cooking chopsticks.
He tried to pick out the shell with them.
...He couldn't get it.
The shell slipped and slid through the egg white, escaping him.
" Ahh, come on, this is frustrating! Give it here."
Akari snatched the chopsticks from his hand.
And neatly plucked out the shell.
" See, got it. ...Jirou, you're really clumsy."
"...Sorry about that."
He sighed.
" Well, everyone's like this at first. It's fine. With practice, you'll get better."
Akari offered him a follow-up.
...That's the thing.
That unexpectedly kind side of her was a problem.
He'd always thought he was bad with gyarus.
But living together with Akari, every time he saw this side of her, his feeling of being bad with gyarus grew a little more... confusing.
" Next, tamagoyaki! I'll do it, so Jirou, you cut the sausages."
"Do sausages even need cutting? Just put them in whole."
" Huh? Octopus sausages, obviously! The most classic of bento classics!"
Akari said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"...Octopus."
" Yeah. Octopus. You cut a cross into the tip of the sausage. Then when you grill it, the legs open up and it becomes an octopus. You didn't know?"
"...I know. I've just never done it."
" Then try it. It's easy. Here, knife—use the grip from before."
He re-gripped the knife.
The grip Akari had taught him.
He cut a cross into the tip of the sausage.
...He cut too deep.
The sausage split halfway.
" Ahaha! What is this! It's not an octopus, it's just a split sausage! Way too deep!"
Akari burst out laughing.
"...Shut up. I'll do it right next time."
He picked up another sausage.
This time, shallow.
...Too shallow.
Just a scored sausage.
" Too shallow! What is that, like a scratch! More, straight to the middle!"
"...This is hard."
" Here, watch. Like this—use just the tip of the knife, and poke, poke, poke, poke. Four light stabs."
Akari demonstrated.
Her movements, again, had no hesitation.
" There, done. When you grill this, the octopus legs open up. Jirou, you try too."
He copied her, cutting into the sausage with the tip of the knife.
Poke, poke, poke, poke.
...Done.
This time, well, it looked about right.
" Oh, nice. See, you can do it when you try."
Akari peered at his sausage.
"...Yeah."
He was a little happy.
Happy that Akari had praised him.
...No, it wasn't that he was happy because Akari praised him.
He was just happy that he'd gotten a little better at cooking.
" Alright, let's grill! Heat up the pan."
Akari turned on the stove.
The smell of oil spread through the classroom.
A sizzle.
Akari rolled the tamagoyaki.
In the pan, the yellow egg spun round and round.
The movement of her wrist was efficient and beautiful.
" For tamagoyaki, you pour the egg mixture in several batches. Then while it's still half-cooked, you roll it from the far side toward you—like this. Repeat that and you get a fluffy tamagoyaki."
Akari explained as she made the tamagoyaki.
"...That's amazing."
The words slipped out.
" Huh? What is?"
"No, just—your skill. It's nice to watch."
" ...H-hey, don't say stuff like that out of nowhere. It throws me off."
Akari spoke quickly, looking embarrassed.
"...I just praised you."
" S-shut up. Come on, Jirou, grill the sausages too. There's another pan."
He lined up the sausages in the other pan.
Sizzle, sizzle.
The oil popped.
"Hot—"
" What are you freaking out about? Low heat is fine. They'll burn, so roll them around."
Akari rolled his sausages with the cooking chopsticks.
"...Thanks."
" Don't mention it. Look, the legs are opening. They're becoming octopuses, right?"
The cuts in the sausages opened wide, looking like legs.
"...They really are."
" Right? Cute, right? Putting these in a bento lifts your mood. ...Oh, that's right."
As if she'd thought of something, Akari took another sausage out of the fridge.
" Let's put this in Jirou's bento."
She was doing something to the sausage with the knife.
"...What are you doing?"
" Just wait. ...Done. Here."
Akari showed him the sausage on the cutting board.
Fine cuts had been made into the surface of the sausage.
When grilled, it would apparently become a face.
" When you grill this, it becomes a face. I cut the eyes and mouth. ...Even someone with as little presence as you will stand out in a bento box with this, right?"
Akari smiled mischievously.
"...None of your business."
That's what he said.
But he could feel his mouth loosening.
None of her business.
But somehow, it made him happy.
She'd gone out of her way to carve a face into a sausage for him.
That feeling made him happy.
" Come on, let's grill it. Jirou's face sausage."
"...Don't call it a face sausage."
" Ahaha, Jirou's face sausage. Jirou's face sausage."
Akari repeated it like a song.
"...Shut up."
But he was laughing too.
Their laughter echoed through the cooking practice room.
The red light of the surveillance camera blinked on and off.
The bento was finished.
Tamagoyaki, octopus sausages, spinach with sesame dressing, cherry tomatoes, frozen karaage.
And the face sausage Akari had made.
" Ta-da! How's that? Pretty good, right?"
Akari held up the bento box.
"...Well, it looks good, I guess."
" Looks? I guarantee the taste too. I made it, after all."
Akari puffed out her chest.
"...You only made the tamagoyaki, the spinach, and the face sausage."
" That's plenty! The karaage is frozen, and the cherry tomatoes I just washed and put in."
"...Yeah, I guess."
He peered into the bento box.
The colors were certainly beautiful.
Yellow, red, green, brown.
There was a warmth to it that convenience store bento didn't have—something handmade.
" Alright, let's write the life diary. Today's entry."
Akari pulled an A5 notebook from her apron pocket.
"Marriage Practicum
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