The home economics cooking classroom was far more spacious and bright than the Service Club room, with the faint, sweet aroma of flour and sugar still lingering in the air.
The stainless steel workstations gleamed, polished to a shine, and all manner of cooking utensils were arranged in perfect order.
Yuigahama Yui stood somewhat awkwardly beside the workstation, watching as Yukinoshita deftly tied on an apron, her movements fluid and elegant.
Hikigaya leaned against the wall far away, doing his best to minimize his presence, praying that this “baking disaster” would end quickly.
“The basic ingredients and tools here are all quite complete.” Yukinoshita checked the cupboards and refrigerator, confirming the supply of butter, cake flour, sugar, eggs, and other basic ingredients.
“In that case, I will first demonstrate the process of making basic butter cookies.
Yuigahama-san, please watch carefully.”
“Y-Yes!” Yuigahama nodded hurriedly, focusing intently on Yukinoshita.
Hikigaya’s gaze was also drawn over, almost against his will.
He watched as Yukinoshita washed her hands clean, dried them, and then began measuring out the ingredients.
Every step she took was as precise as a textbook, her movements without the slightest excess.
Even the angle of her wrist as she stirred the batter carried a curious sense of rhythm.
The sunlight streamed through the cooking classroom windows, spilling across her focused profile and making her seem, for a moment, as though she were glowing.
He couldn’t help recalling that, a long time ago, he seemed to have seen her wearing that same look of concentration—only the scene was now blurred and indistinct.
When Yukinoshita loaded the evenly mixed batter into a piping bag and began squeezing neat, beautiful shapes onto the baking tray, Yuigahama couldn’t help letting out a small, awed murmur.
“Amazing…”
Yukinoshita offered no response to the praise.
She simply and calmly placed the tray into the preheated oven and set the temperature and timer.
During the wait, a silence—a blend of anticipation and awkwardness—filled the cooking classroom.
When the ding sounded, Yukinoshita put on oven mitts and took out the tray.
The golden cookies gave off a rich, buttery fragrance.
Their shapes were perfect, their color enticing.
“Finished.” Yukinoshita placed the tray on a cooling rack, then picked up a cookie that had cooled slightly and very naturally held it out toward Hikigaya, who was still leaning against the wall.
“Hikigaya-kun, you try it first and judge whether the flavor is suitable.”
“Eh?
Me?” Hikigaya froze, pointing at himself.
Why him?
“You are the only one here with an independent capacity for taste judgment who won’t offer excessive praise simply because I made them.”
Yukinoshita’s tone was matter-of-fact, as if this were the most logical arrangement.
“Yuigahama-san is the client.
She needs to maintain an objective baseline for flavor.”
‘What kind of twisted logic is that…’ Hikigaya complained inwardly, but under Yukinoshita’s brook-no-argument gaze, he shuffled reluctantly over and accepted the cookie, still faintly warm.
Hesitantly, he placed it in his mouth and bit down lightly.
The crisp, crumbly texture instantly spread between his teeth.
The rich aroma of butter, mixed with just the right amount of sweetness, filled his entire mouth.
It was a classic butter cookie.
The taste was pure and perfect.
Exactly the same…
as the flavor he had loved deep in his memory.
He jerked his head up and looked at Yukinoshita.
Could she have…
Almost simultaneously, Yukinoshita seemed to realize something as well, her ice-blue eyes widening slightly.
What she had made, without thinking…
was it butter cookies?
Because…
she knew he liked this flavor?
This realization sent a faint, uncontrollable blush rising on her fair cheeks.
Somewhat awkwardly, she averted her gaze and reached up to straighten her apron strings, which weren’t messy at all.
An indescribably subtle atmosphere instantly permeated the air, as if invisible threads were drawing taut between the two of them.
Hikigaya watched that rare flush on her face, and his heart inexplicably skipped a beat.
“S-So delicious!” Yuigahama Yui’s energetic voice broke the strange silence at just the right moment.
She picked up a cookie and tried it too, a look of delighted surprise and admiration appearing on her face.
“Yukinoshita-san, you’re incredible!
Not only are you great at studying, your cooking is amazing too!
You’re practically perfect!”
Yukinoshita swiftly reined in her emotions and resumed her usual cool and composed demeanor, though a residual warmth still lingered at the tips of her ears.
“This is merely some basic technique.” She turned toward Yuigahama.
“Now then, Yuigahama-san, please follow the steps I just demonstrated and attempt to make them yourself.
I will guide you from the side.”
“Eh?
N-Now?
I…
I probably can’t do it…” A look of trepidation immediately appeared on Yuigahama’s face.
Habitually, she wanted to shrink back.
“If you never try, you never will.” Yukinoshita’s tone was calm yet carried encouragement.
“Let’s begin.”
Under Yukinoshita’s guidance, Yuigahama began her first attempt at baking.
The process, however, could only be described as a disaster.
She fumbled while measuring, nearly dropped eggshells into the bowl while cracking eggs, and made a complete mess of the workstation while stirring the batter.
Though Yukinoshita promptly pointed out issues from the side, Yuigahama’s nervousness and lack of confidence only made her movements more clumsy.
Finally, after an agonizingly long wait, Yuigahama’s tray of “cookies” emerged from the oven.
Looking at the lumps of unidentifiable objects on the tray—each a different shade of color, most with scorched black edges and twisted shapes—the anticipation on Yuigahama’s face instantly crumbled into dejection.
“See…
I told you I couldn’t do it…” Her shoulders drooped, her voice crestfallen.
Yukinoshita stared at that disastrous tray of “results,” silent for a moment.
Then, she once again directed her gaze toward Hikigaya, who was trying to shrink himself into the corner.
“Hikigaya-kun.” Her voice rang out like a final judgment.
Hikigaya felt a chill run down his back.
“Taste test.” Yukinoshita indicated the tray of dark culinary horrors with her eyes, her tone leaving absolutely no room for negotiation.
“W-Wait!
That…
that doesn’t even look edible!” Hikigaya tried to resist.
Just smelling that scorched, burnt odor, he knew things were bad.
“Practice is the sole criterion for testing truth.
Only by experiencing failure firsthand can one better understand the keys to success.” Yukinoshita delivered this irrefutable yet deeply frustrating reasoning with a perfectly straight face.
“Furthermore, not wasting food is a basic virtue.”
Under the dual pressure of Yukinoshita’s calm stare and Yuigahama’s tear-brimmed gaze, Hikigaya wailed inwardly.
In the end, steeling himself as though marching to his death, he cautiously reached out and picked up the one cookie that looked the least “afflicted.”
He closed his eyes and, with the resolve of a warrior severing his own arm, shoved the cookie into his mouth.
The next instant, an indescribably horrific flavor—a mixture of acrid char, bizarre over-sweetness, and possibly pockets of unmixed baking powder—shot straight to the top of his head!
His complexion went through a spectacular range of changes visible to the naked eye, and his stomach churned violently.
“Water…
give me water…” He forced the mouthful of cookie down with immense difficulty, feeling as though his entire taste system had suffered a catastrophic strike.
Watching his reaction, Yuigahama’s eyes immediately reddened, tears welling up within them.
“I knew it…
I really can’t do this at all…
I’m sorry, I wasted the ingredients…
and I made Hikigaya-kun eat something so awful…
I should just give up.
I’ll go buy some ready-made cookies as a thank-you gift instead…” Habitually, she chose the easiest solution—give up, go with the flow, don’t do anything special that she might fail at.
“Yuigahama-san.” Yukinoshita’s voice suddenly grew stern, startling even Hikigaya, who had been about to offer some consolation.
“To say the word ‘give up’ so lightly is a disrespect to yourself, and to those of us who wish to help you.” Yukinoshita looked directly at Yuigahama, her gaze sharp and earnest.
“Failure is not what is frightening.
What is frightening is lacking the courage to even face failure.
The Service Club helps you because we hope you can accomplish what you wish to do through your own efforts—not so that we may allow you to retreat the moment you encounter a setback and resolve the problem with the easiest, most perfunctory method.
If you do that, you will never truly grow.”
A silence fell over the cooking classroom, broken only by Yuigahama’s faint sniffles.
Hikigaya looked at Yukinoshita’s serious expression with some surprise.
He had expected her to persuade Yuigahama in a cooler, more theoretical manner.
He hadn’t imagined she would point out the issue so directly.
After a moment of silence, just as Hikigaya cleared his throat, preparing to say something to ease the atmosphere—or perhaps use his own twisted logic to comfort Yuigahama in a roundabout way—
“S-So cool!” Yuigahama suddenly raised her head, tears still clinging to her lashes, but her eyes sparkling as she looked at Yukinoshita.
“Yukinoshita-san, the way you just spoke was so cool!”
“Eh?” Even Yukinoshita was caught off guard now.
The stern expression on her face instantly froze, as if she had completely failed to anticipate this reaction.
“Even though you’re so pretty, you can still say such stern and reasonable things!” As if she had instantly forgotten her earlier despair, Yuigahama’s face filled with admiration.
“I-I’ll try again!
This time I’ll really study hard!
Please teach me, Yukinoshita-sensei!”
Yukinoshita was thrown off balance by this sudden form of address and surge of enthusiasm.
Her cheeks flushed faintly, and she sighed with a touch of exasperation.
“…I am not a teacher.
Besides, making cookies requires patience and practice, not just enthusiasm.”
“I’ll do my best!” Yuigahama assured her, brimming with motivation.
Seeing Yuigahama reinvigorated, Yukinoshita’s expression softened as well.
“In that case, this time I will guide you through every step, from the very beginning.” So saying, she moved to stand behind Yuigahama and began meticulously instructing her on how to properly measure and mix.
Watching this scene, Hikigaya breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
At least he wouldn’t have to serve as a poison-testing lab mouse anymore.
He felt a bit parched—probably an aftereffect of that “death cookie” from earlier.
“I’ll go buy some drinks,” he said, trying to find an excuse to leave this space thick with the smell of flour and feminine atmosphere.
“Ah, great!
Thank you, Hikigaya-kun!
I’ll have strawberry milk!” Yuigahama immediately said happily.
Hikigaya nodded, making a mental note.
He turned to leave, but his steps hesitated for a moment, as if he were wavering for half a second.
In the end, however, he asked nothing and headed straight for the door.
“Eh?” Watching his back as he left without any hesitation, Yuigahama blinked in confusion and blurted out without thinking, “Hikigaya-kun, aren’t you going to ask what Yukinoshita-san wants to drink?”
Already at the door, Hikigaya answered almost subconsciously, without even turning his head.
“I already know.”
Three simple words.
Like the press of a pause button, they instantly froze the air in the entire cooking classroom.
Hikigaya’s own body went rigid on the spot.
His step forward hung suspended mid-air.
He realized what he had just said, and a buzzing noise exploded in his head.
How did he…
How did it just slip out so naturally?!
He could feel two gazes boring firmly into his back.
He didn’t dare turn around.
He didn’t even dare breathe.
The next second, as if fleeing for his life, he yanked the door open at top speed, and his figure whooshed out of sight beyond it, as though a wild beast were chasing him from behind.
Left behind in the classroom were Yukinoshita, whose cheeks had instantly flushed bright red, and Yuigahama Yui, who blinked her big eyes, looked at Yukinoshita’s crimson face, and seemed to understand something—a look of dawning realization and a hint of teasing amusement slowly spreading across her own face.
The air was now saturated with something far more complex, and even carrying a trace of sweetness—more so than the burnt cookies from just moments ago.
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