Notes 1: Inspired by petaldancing's headcanon that the Classics Club will defend their Wild Fire champion title each year. She probably had an epic battle arc in mind, but I wanted to write some HoutarouSatoshi BROTP and talk about fried rice.

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changing the flavour of the conversation

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Houtarou wouldn't say that his friends are the type of people to get drunk on power. Winning Wild Fire in their first year was a stroke of luck considering everything that happened, but — maintaining an undefeated streak after winning again in their second year is another story.

He wouldn't blame the whole of Kamiyama High to expect the Classics Club to defend their champion title. He wouldn't blame his friends for acting determined too. Houtarou supposes he simply never considered how far that determination could go.

Don't get him wrong, it's not like he'd be forced into the role. Mayaka would never ask Houtarou to participate. She was in debt to him once (managing to exchange the bag of flour with a small hand mirror within the same day), but there's no way she'd ever want to be in debt to him again. Chitanda isn't the type to force anyone either. She is insistent, but Houtarou's seen her drop whatever's on her mind if it's deemed unimportant. However —

"You want me to cook?"

"Did I stutter, Houtarou?" Satoshi asks back over the phone.

— Houtarou didn't think he'd be roped in until Satoshi fell ill, leaving one spot open.

Feeling the cool press of the plastic receiver against his ear, Houtarou resists the urge to give a point-blank answer. That's more of Mayaka's talent.

"I think your cold is turning into a fever," Houtarou accuses.

"It's not!" Satoshi protests. "It's nothing too serious, just a bit of a cold!"

"I can't join Wild Fire, Satoshi."

"Why not?"

"This is our third year," Houtarou reasons with a sigh.

"Exactly! It's our last year to make memories!"

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Are you talking about our approaching college entrance exams?" Satoshi plays dumb. "I know most of the people in our year have stopped attending club activities to study, but loosen up! Have some fun! Toogaito-senpai was pretty active during his third year!"

I don't want to be compared to that smoker. Houtarou thinks as Satoshi rambles on.

"Imagine if Toogaito-senpai wasn't there to help Chitanda-san! We would have been in a lot of trouble! We probably wouldn't have gotten as popular or sold most of our anthologies!" Satoshi continues, trying to persuade his friend.

"That's —"

The sound of Satoshi blowing his nose interrupts Houtarou. It almost makes him feel sorry for the guy, but not sorry enough to participate. The thought of a cheering crowd hyping up his mediocre cooking skills sends shivers down his spine. His experience during first year is enough, thank you very much!

"I already have a job," Is all Houtarou replies.

"Yes, I understand. Manning the Classics Club's stall is very important; our main goal is to sell the anthologies, but think about the impact we'd get if the Cooking Club broadcasts our entry for the third time in a row!"

When Houtarou doesn't budge, Satoshi blurts out:

"Actually, I already have a recipe in mind: fried rice!"

"Fried rice?" Houtarou echoes. There's a knot in his eyebrows as he tries to get on the same page Satoshi is on.

Houtarou doesn't think he has much experience making that dish. He remembers Tomoe making him a bento box and the contents of his lunch being nasi goreng — a type of fried rice from south-east Asia; mostly popular in Malaysia, Indonesia, Singapore and Brunei — but Houtarou can't possibly cook that.

He hopes no one misunderstands, it tasted good and he enjoyed eating it, but Tomoe's dish seemed too complex for him; comprised of spicy soybeans, fried chicken and a sauce that appeared like yoghurt when he laid his eyes on it.

"Please, Houtarou, do me this favour and make my fried rice recipe for Wild Fire this year!"

Oh. Houtarou thinks. That's when it clicks for him. Fortunately — or maybe unfortunately for Satoshi — the androgynous boy never got his chance to make his special dish, the so-called 'Fukube's Seafood Fried Rice'.

"Are you asking for my help because you want your legacy to live on through the Kanya Festival?" Houtarou asks.

"You could say that," Satoshi blows his nose yet again before saying, "I'll e-mail you the instructions, the steps are easy, you don't even need a lot of ingredients! Just practice a little to get into the groove and boom — you'll be an expert in no time!"

"An expert, huh?" Houtarou mutters as he presses himself against the swivelling chair and does a little spin.

"It'll be fun," Satoshi repeats.

"I suppose," Houtarou replies then asks, "This is really important to you, huh?"

"Very much. Sorry, am I asking too much from you?" Satoshi asks. It sounds like something Chitanda would say. Her earnestness has definitely rubbed off on Satoshi.

"No, I don't mind," Houtarou shrugs.

"That's good to hear, it was never my intention. I just trust you with my recipe, that's all." Came Satoshi's reply, and Houtarou can picture a sunny smile on his friend's face as he says this.

"As you should," Houtarou answers back.

If he was his old self, he'd say that's a lot of expectation to be hanging over one person's head. Maybe even too much for someone like Houtarou. He would probably even reason that he'll only involve himself because there's not much for him to do with Chitanda doing most of the cooking.

But he isn't the same person from two years ago.

"It's not laziness that's holding me back, if that's what you're thinking." Houtarou answers and Satoshi lets out a chuckle at that joke. "It's not that I think you or anyone is wrong for thinking I can handle myself, I'm just worried. It's our last year and we might lose because of me."

"We aren't obsessed about winning. We want you to join us, Houtarou. Our Wild Fire entry name is 'Team Classics Club', and you're part of it."

"That was sappy,"

Taking a moment to pause, the tall brunette looks at his father's apple green apron hanging on a hook in the kitchen. He's never used it, most of the meals he makes are fast and doesn't splash, but he can imagine the fabric wrapped around his waist.

I can't believe I'm considering taking part in this cooking contest. Houtarou mutters in his head.

He stops spinning in his chair.

"If this goes according to plan, the rice needs time to cook," Houtarou says slowly.

"Uh-huh."

"And it also needs to be fresh enough to be served hot."

"Yup," Satoshi says, his tone encouraging as Houtarou pieces things together.

"Since contestants are only allowed to cook rice from scratch, it'll take about an hour."

"Chitanda-san will likely hand wash the rice like she did the last time. She has skill when it comes to cooking techniques."

Houtarou nods. "Who will go first?"

"Mayaka. After her bad luck, she rotated to be the first one to cook."

"Hmm, so I guess Chitanda will stay as the middle person and I'll be last?" There's too much logic being poured into this idea.

"It works, doesn't it? It's a solid plan." Satoshi pushes before asking, "Are you saying you'll join the competition then?" He doesn't even attempt to hide his excitement.

"Well …" Houtarou pauses.

There is some expectation on Houtarou's shoulders, alright, but not all of it. It's a team effort. The Classics Club will certainly provide Houtarou with the strength he needs.

Finally, he answers, "Fried rice is simple enough."

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end

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Notes 2: Google says nasi goreng's origin is from Indonesia. But as a Malaysian, I'll fight you on that. Google doesn't know everything and Uncle Roger is on my side. SEA people will really fight about food.

— 8 November 2020