The Little Things
Because it's the little things that make one fall in love.
5. That Time He Taught Her How to Cook
30 April 2015
Odaiba High was one of those schools that was built in a big, old building. Most of the rooms were decently covered with plaster and pale paint, but there were still some which were in obvious need of renovation. Despite that, the school was properly equipped with rather luxurious facilities, such as a swimming pool, a large cafeteria, and a spacious library.
In that very library, a beautiful girl was tiptoeing her way to the reading corner, her arms carrying a thick book and a smaller, much thinner notebook. She'd occasionally bump into the corner of a bookshelf and rubbed her sore body to relieve the pain while hissing as quietly as possible.
(The girl was Tachikawa Mimi.)
Upon reaching the rows of tables and chairs, she exhaled in relief. At the corner of her eyes, she spotted a student with spiky blonde hair. His head laid atop his arms, which was folded on top of the table. Some books were haphazardly scattered around him, seemingly opened at random pages.
Mimi stepped closer until she was beside him. She bent her body down to check if the boy was who she thought he was.
(She was right.)
(It was Ishida Yamato.)
Small, slow breaths of air escaped his slightly ajar lips. His eyes were tightly closed. Mimi stayed put on her spot, looking at his long eyelashes, prominent nose, sculpted face—she couldn't help but admire the way he looked when he's asleep.
(Because when awake, he's just too much of a sass-ball to be admired.)
Absentmindedly, her hand reached out to caress his hair away from his face. The ticklish sensation woke him up, his clear blue eyes fluttering open. She quickly tore her hand away from his face before he noticed it was ever there in the first place, silently swearing at both her carelessness and the possibility of an awkward predicament incited by said carelessness.
"Mimi? Is that you?" Yamato asked, rubbing one of his eyes, not fully alert.
She stood straight swiftly, her wandering hand hid behind her back. "Y-yeah! It's me. Mimi." She bit her tongue to stop her stutter.
He yawned and stretched his arms, getting the kinks out of his system. "What're you doing here?"
Mimi quietly set the books she was holding on the table, plopping down on the seat right beside Yamato. "I'm just trying to... study," she mumbled the last word, as if trying to hide it. Unfortunately for her, he heard it.
(He and his impeccable hearing.)
"Studying what?"
"Eh... You know... Modern Japanese...?"
Yamato eyed the thick book she laid down. It read Japanese Modern Dictionary.
"You need help with your Japanese? You're speaking it fine, though," he propped his face on his hand, trying to read the small print of the notebook partially concealed under the dictionary.
"Why would you say that? You wouldn't know my test sco—hey, what are you doing?" she seethed when he swiped her notebook from its hiding place.
"Aerate... Parboiling... Tempering," he read the words written in the pink book out loud. "Why would you need to know these terms?" he questioned, an eyebrow raised.
She snatched her book away from his pestering hands. "None of your—!"
SSH!
She jolted slightly from the menacing hiss and turned her attention back to Yamato. "None of your business!" she tried to yell as quietly as possible.
"If I didn't know any better," he began, "I'd guess that you've been reading some books on cooking and are confused with the terminology used, but I guess I knew better," he flipped through more pages, eyes strolling from right to left. "Or maybe I know just enough?" he glanced back at her, aware that his guess was spot on.
Mimi scrunched the hem of her skirt, her cheeks showing a shade of soft pink.
(One, because she didn't want anyone to know she was having trouble understand Japanese; two, because he was right; and three, because he was just so cocky about being right.)
(Like she said, he couldn't be admired when he's awake.)
"You...!" she started when she noticed the content of the books he had strategically spread around his perimeter. English words abound. She used this chance to turn the situation around. "What about you, huh? What are you doing?"
"Studying," he evaded her tactic casually. She grumbled at this and blew a strand of light brown hair away from her face.
"So... My guess was right?" he grinned.
'Why does he have to be such a tease?' she complained inwardly. After a few seconds, she sighed in resignation. "Yes... Your guess was right."
Yamato chuckled. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know. I didn't know what they mean when I started, too."
"You know what these words mean?" Mimi's face visibly gleamed, excited at the prospect of not having to search each individual word from the dictionary.
"Yeah," he said nonchalantly, flipping a page from the English book in front of him, taking a few seconds to read and write things down. "My dad doesn't cook very well, so I've been the one doing the cooking for both of us since I was little," he slipped a bit of his personal information. "Lately, I've been wanting to cook something different, so I started reading a few recipe books."
She wondered how he knew what to cook before reading the recipe books. As if reading her mind, he answered: "When I was a kid, I used to watch those morning cooking shows to get new recipes."
"Hee..." she pondered; she always watched those cooking shows but for some reason was never able to process more information than how delicious the food looked by the end. "Can you teach me what they mean?" she asked unabashedly.
"What what mean?"
"The words."
"Not right now, I'm studying."
"I'll tutor you for it."
"You're going to tutor me?" Yamato asked, his expression incredulous. "I'm a grade above you, you know."
Mimi snorted. "You're really doubting my English, Yamato? My English?" she taunted. Yamato saw her point.
(But he still didn't want to be taught by a junior.)
"Come on..." she coaxed. "I just need you to tell me what these words mean and I'll be giving you a private lesson for free! Most guys would die for that," she exaggerated. "Just look—give me that," she jerked one of his books away. "The main point of this paragraph is how global warming is destroying the environment and how there are some people who still debate that claim," she pointed to a long paragraph after taking a few seconds to skim it.
"I don't need help understanding English, Mimi," he scowled and took his book back.
"Then why do you have so many books here?" she threw her arms at his scattered books, still in disbelief that he would throw such a great opportunity of being tutored by Tachikawa Mimi.
SSH!
Mimi rolled her eyes and mocked whoever shushed her.
"Please, Yamato? It would really help me. Please please please please please—"
"Alright, alright!" He finally cracked. "Just keep quiet. I don't want to be thrown out of this library," he warned. "Let me see the book again."
"Yay!" she whispered in joy, handing over the requested note. He wrote short sentences beside the complicated culinary terms before giving it back to Mimi. "Hm? What does this mean? I don't get it..." she tilted her head in confusion.
"That's the definition of the term. If you want me to be more precise, I have to have context," he answered simply, focusing back on his English task.
"Yamato~" she whined.
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his tall nose. "Okay, how about this, you show me the recipe book you got those words from and I'll help you understand what they mean."
"They're at home."
"Bring them tomorrow, then."
Mimi stuck her lips out. "Fine. I'll bring them tomorrow." She kicked her legs in the air, making sure not to hit the table. "Okay, your turn. Gimme," she nudged his body away from the white notebook he used to write his notes. A paragraph, written in neat, small handwriting, was scribbled on the middle of the page in English. Mimi scrunched her face as she spotted a mistake, then two, and then a few more. Yamato shifted uncomfortably in his seat as she examined his writing, not at all assured by her constantly evolving expression.
"Yes, yes, I get it, my English isn't very good," he grumbled and massaged his neck in embarrassment, his gaze pointed directly opposite of where Mimi was sitting.
"Wha—that's not what I thought!" Mimi defended herself. "I mean, sure, there're some things that you can improve on, but it's not, like, totally hopeless." She picked up her pink-inked pen and scribbled a few notes on his notebook, occasionally making long, overly dramatic strokes. Her pink tongue slowly stuck out the corner of her lips, her eyebrows knitted in concentration.
"There ya' go~" she handed him back his notebook. Yamato groaned at the sight of his used-to-be pristine notebook filled with pink loops and scratches, but was grateful for her help nonetheless.
"Alright, bring me all of the other work you need correcting tomorrow. I gotta go now!" she stood up and gingerly picked up her notebook.
"You just got here," he noted drily.
She waved off his concern with her delicate hand. "My purpose for being here is gone, Yamato~" she sang. "Might as well spend the day doing more important things, don't you think? See ya!" she saluted him and skipped away while humming a tune.
Yamato sighed at her reasoning and turned his eyes back at the table, when he saw a big book titled Japanese Modern Dictionary laying to his side. His mouth twitched in annoyance.
"Mimi, return your damn book yourself!" he called out to her, slamming his hands on the table.
"I say, young man. Do you not know how to be quiet?" the librarian had managed to walk all the way from her desk at the corner of the library to Yamato's table, quietly but creepily towering over him.
Yamato gulped, giving her an awkward smile, inwardly cursing Mimi for her mischief.
"Dammit, Mimi..."
1 May 2015
"Excuse me! I'm looking for Yamato Ishida. Is he here?" Mimi peeked into the third-year's classroom. To her delight, the class was almost empty (her decision of visiting during lunch break was so strategic—being the center of attention when one had business to do was too much of a hassle).
"He's over there," a petite girl with glasses pointed at the teenager seated at the furthest row, near the windows. He seemed to be scribbling on his notebook in a rather passionate manner.
"Thanks!" Mimi smiled at the girl before making her way over to the blond, three books held firmly in her arms. "Yamato! Here are the books you requested~" she unceremoniously dropped the books onto his desk.
Yamato fell back in surprise, managing to catch himself before falling over completely. "It's you," he grumbled.
Mimi was confused. "Why so sour?"
He was silent for a few seconds. "I was thrown out of the library yesterday," he scowled, propping his head on his arm.
"You got kicked out?" she guffawed, her high-pitched laughter ringing throughout the room. Yamato got even grumpier and turned away from the brunette.
"It was your fault, you know."
"Aww, don't be like that, Yamato," she cooed, mirth still obvious on her face. "You know I didn't mean to get you kicked out." She tried to catch his attention by moving to the front of his face. "I'm sorry~"
He stayed silent, his expression still showing irritation.
"You're not gonna forgive me?" she tilted her head and put on her best puppy dog face. No one could resist that face.
Not even Yamato.
After a while, he gave a long, exhausted sigh. "Alright, you're forgiven, Mimi," he said reluctantly. Mimi beamed in response.
(She taught herself that technique when she saw Takeru successfully pulling one on Yamato. She always knew this would be useful.)
(It's like an unlimited get out of jail card!)
"I got those words from here," she pushed her books into his line of sight.
Yamato furrowed his eyebrows, seemingly recalling a recent memory from the back of his head.
"Didn't you buy this some time ago? I remember seeing the cover of this book before," he started flipping through the book about traditional Japanese cuisine, his eyes quickly gliding over the text.
"Haha, no, you must've remembered it from some other place," she kept her hands folded behind her, the tip of her right foot lightly tapping the floor.
"No, my memory's pretty solid. I remember seeing this book. I remember seeing you with this book. At the café was it? When it rained?" he glanced at her and noticed her averting her gaze from his.
"N-no… I told you you're wrong already. You're so stubborn…" her voice was getting smaller, her lips jutting out more prominently. At that moment, he couldn't help but to compare her puckered lips to those of a fish or a chicken from an animal show he watched last night.
(The image of Mimi's face with a chicken's beak and a catfish's mustache popped into his head and he couldn't stop himself from laughing.)
(He tried, though—covered his mouth and everything.)
Mimi asked him what was wrong and he told her.
She got huffy.
He apologized between laughs.
It still took him a few moments to settle down.
"Okay, okay, I'm good now, I'm good," Yamato half-snickered, his arm still holding his stomach from his fits of laughter. "Where were we again?"
"…my book. You've never seen it before," Mimi grumbled.
"Yes, I have. At the café," he insisted.
"Fine, fine! You win! Yes, these are the books you saw at the café," she threw her arms, finally giving up.
"You're only reading them now?"
She nodded, still disgruntled.
"Didn't you buy these a few months back?"
"I… I've been busy," she muttered, rocking on her tiptoes. Pink warmed her cheeks, a good indication that she was either embarrassed or lying.
(In this case, it was the latter.)
"Let me guess, you had 'more important things' to do than to read the books you spent your whole allowance on?"
Mimi kept her eyes glued to the windowsill and hummed a tune instead of answering his question.
Yamato rubbed his temple, having (somewhat) expected that response. "Anyway, these recipes are too complicated for a beginner like you. You should probably start with something simpler if you seriously want to try cooking."
She returned her attention back to him. "Simpler? These are the only recipe books I have; my parents never bought any."
At that moment, Yamato understood why she had such a unique palette.
(Having natto as one's favourite food is quite uncommon, after all, even for a Japanese person.)
He took a moment to consider his options. "Well, I can give you some easier recipes—so easy even you can't mess up."
Mimi threw daggers at him, regretting having told him her shenanigans during Home Economics.
"I don't have it with me though. You'll have to get them tomorrow." He shoved her recipe books to the side of his table.
"Tomorrow?"
He nodded. "Despite how convenient it would be, I don't have my recipes all the time, Tachikawa," the sarcasm was strongly laced in his tone.
"Get to the point, Ishida."
"They're at home."
"Oh, that's alright, I can just come by your house tomorrow," she dismissed his concern. "Just text me what your address is—you have my number, right?"
"Eh… Yeah, I do." He was pleasantly surprised at how willing she was to drop by his house to take the recipes. (One would normally expect Tachikawa Mimi to insist on having the recipes delivered to her on a silver—nay, rose gold—platter.)
"Great!" she clasped her hands in joy. "I'll see you, then—hold on, are those your practice paragraphs?" she examined the notebook he was passionately jotting on prior to her visit.
"Yes."
"Are these your assignments?"
"Um… No?"
"Do you need this book for your classes?"
"No…? Mimi where are you going with this—"
"Double great!" In one fluid motion, she nicked the notebook from under Yamato's arms and into hers. "I'll get these done tomorrow in return for your recipes," she mentally took 15 minutes off of binge-watching her current favourite show as she picked up her 'apparently-too-difficult' recipe books. "Ciao!"
With a small wave of her hand, she was gone.
2 May 2015
DING DONG
The doorbell of Ishida's household rang, waking the currently sole occupant of the flat from his afternoon nap taken peacefully on the living room sofa.
DING DONG
DING DONG
DING DONG
The occupant grumbled and turned over to his side, hoping that the person at the door was just another salesman whose persistence would be deterred after a few minutes of disregard. He slipped his arm under his head and used it as a make-shift pillow. After the following minutes of silence, he drifted back to sleep, relieved that the salesman had finally gone away.
ring ring ring ring ring
His cellphone rang. It vibrated on the coffee table, an arm's reach from where he was sleeping. He groaned and answered the call without bothering to check who it was.
"Hello?" Yamato said groggily, eyelids still shut.
"Yamato? Where are you? I'm right in front of your house right now and if you're anywhere else but home you need to get your butt here, pronto."
"Mimi? Is that you?" he half mumbled his sentence, still reluctant to open his eyes.
"Of course it's me. Who else would you save under my name?" she huffed. "Don't tell me you didn't even save my number on your phone Ishida I swear—"
"Ssh…" he hissed sluggishly. "The walls are pretty thin… My neighbours might hear you…" Little by little, his hand released its grip on his phone, leaving it to balance itself on his ear. He let his now free arm dangle from the couch.
"Yamato? Hello? Are you there—wait are you asleep?!" she screeched upon hearing soft, slow breaths from her cell phone. She flinched in surprise when she heard her own voice resonate in a smaller volume from the other side of the door and concluded that he was, indeed, in his house. For whatever reason, he just refused to open the door for her.
(The nerve.)
BAM BAM BAM
"Ishida Yamato?! I know you're there open this door right now!" she demanded, banging her fist on the front door. She didn't bother to end her phone call to him—if anything, she was sure it would help wake him up.
BAM BAM BAM
"After I came all the way to your house how dare you not open the door for me—"
click
blam
Yamato managed to open the door, pull Mimi inside his flat, and shut his door close in a single move.
"Mimi…" he grunted as he laid his back against the door. He held her against him, her back on his front, his hand placed firmly on her mouth to prevent her from making any sound. If it weren't for the preceding sequence of actions, the position they were in would have been considered compromising. "Have you spared some thought that maybe my Dad's home, too?" he asked, his lips close enough to touch her ear. Irritation seemed to block his mind from the fact that her body was pressed against his.
She mumbled something in return, crossing her arms.
"What was that?"
Her hand reached to rip his away from her mouth. "If he had been home, I wouldn't have had to wait outside for five minutes waiting for your butt to open the door," she retorted.
(Irritation seemed to be blocking her awareness of their 'compromising position', too.)
"…Touché." He let go of her and shoved his hands into his pants' pockets. She spun around and gave him a look that said "see what you get for trying to be sassy with me?"
"Were you sleeping, Yamato? Was I seriously ignored for a snooze?"
He shrugged and walked over to the living room. "Don't take it to heart. I do it to everyone."
She rolled her eyes and followed suit, her ruffled skirt bouncing with every step she took.
"Tea?" he offered.
"Hot, please." She took his offer for tea as a sign of reconciliation.
"Okay," he proceeded to switch the stove on and set the kettle atop one of the burners. She flopped down on the spot where he previously napped and settled her (for some reason, much bigger than usual) bag beside her. She observed the room, taking note of the simple interior and lack of family photos gracing the walls and tabletops.
"Here you go," he set down a sky blue mug in front of her. "Wait a second, I'll go get the recipes."
She nodded and took a sip of her tea. It was too bitter for her tongue (has he never heard of sugar?), but she downed it anyway.
(Yelling at the front door of a friend is quite taxing on one's throat, after all.)
Yamato came back carrying papers and took a seat adjacent to Mimi. "I'm only giving you five."
"Why?" she took the papers from him and shuffled through them.
"You have to learn how to walk before you learn to run, Mimi," he replied nonchalantly and turned the TV on, flipping the remote to find the music channel.
"Oh, good thing I came prepared then," she chirped.
"What do you mean?"
Mimi opened her bag and showed its inside to Yamato, who didn't seem too impressed at the chaotic arrangement of her bag. She thought her showing the content of her handbag was self-explanatory.
"…What are those?"
"You can't tell?" she peeked inside her bag, assuming, from his confusion, that some sort of plastic had covered the things she had stuffed into it. She was right.
"Whoops." She promptly pulled out a big plastic bag with the name of a popular grocery store printed on the sides. "So, I'm not like, the best at cooking right…"
"Obviously."
She threw him a glare. "…So. I was thinking that a hands-on learning experience would be better!" she took a potato out of the plastic, showcasing her intent of coming over. "It'd be so much easier if you just teach me!"
Yamato's shoulders visibly dropped, his face lackadaisical.
"What's up with that reaction?" she protested. "Come on, Yamato! I promise I'll teach you English after this. I swear on my life. Look, I even brought your books!"
He sighed and turned off the TV. He knew there was nothing to be done when she's that determined. Their time together in the Digital World had proven that if she wanted something, she would find one way or another to get it (unless it was something impossible—like going home). Besides, being privately tutored by a beautiful girl didn't sound too bad.
(Even though she was his junior.)
(And the best friend of his ex.)
"Alright, fine," he cracked his fingers. "Let's get to it," he smiled lazily at her who, in turn, stood up with fervor and balled her fists in determination. Mimi ripped her plastic bag open on the kitchen counter and let the insides roll over in various direction, not bothering to stop or catch them. Yamato's full brows rose, slowly but surely, his ocean eyes following one of the bigger potatoes coming to a stop in front of her stomach.
"What are these." It was a statement, not a question.
"Ingredients."
"You only have potatoes, a loaf of bread, marmalade, chocolates, and flour."
Muddled, she repeated her answer.
"Mimi. You only have potatoes, a loaf of bread, marmalade, chocolates, and flour." He rested his hands on the edge of the counter, leaning towards her. Her honey eyes held no comprehension of his concern.
"What the hell are you planning to make with potato, a loaf of bread, marmalade, chocolates, and flour?"
"Oh! Well, I wasn't so sure that you'd be up to it, so I thought I should just, you know. Cover all the bases in case you do agree," she jokingly nudged him with her elbow. "I bet there's so many things that you can make with this!" Despite the joyous tone, her reply was completely serious.
He's ashamed to admit that he was looking forward to a decent answer.
They (he) decided to cook stew. They (again, he) thought that there was still usefulness in the potato, so might as well use it.
At first, he left her for the TV after telling her which step of the recipe she needed to follow. It was quite simple, really. Cut the potatoes and put them into a pot of boiling water. So, it was reasonably expected that he would be surprised upon finding the potatoes sliced into thin strips in the pot.
"What? You never specified how they're meant to be cut," was her defense. "It's not like they're inedible now or anything," she commented, stirring the pot using a wooden spoon. He was quite certain by now that she's never had a normal meal in her life—really, who slices potatoes when making stews anyway? Even a kindergartner would know that the potatoes are meant to be cut into big chunks.
(He really should stop having high expectations when it comes to Mimi and cooking.)
It goes without saying that he stopped leaving her to her own devices and started hovering around her like a hawk would its prey. Mimi would occasionally huff when he got too controlling of her actions ("There's literally no difference between a pinch and a teaspoon of sugar, Yamato." "It makes all the difference—wait what kind of teaspoon have you been using all your life?"). After all, there's no harm in experimenting a little, right?
(Wrong.)
After following the recipe to a T (due to Yamato's very strict supervision in not letting her deviate—sorry, experiment—with the recipe), something looking like stew started to form in the pot. The brown, viscous liquid would make a sloshing sound every time Mimi mix it around.
"Alright... What's next," she mused out loud, counting down the number of steps left to do.
"Bring it to a boil," Yamato answered while scrubbing a plate clean, placing it back to the emptier part of the sink before starting with the next dish. "And come help me." She nodded and walked over to his side to rinse the scrubbed plates.
"Thanks, Yamato."
"Hm?"
"Thank you. For helping me with this... cooking thing. If you weren't here I'd probably screw up the dish twenty times over."
He chuckled at the image. "Nah, I don't mind. I mean, it's obviously not the best thing to do on a Saturday afternoon," he said sarcastically, his eyes glinting with mischief, "but I digress." She gave him a light bump on his arm and giggled.
"I never knew you were such a charmer."
"And whose fault is it that you're only paying attention to me now?"
"Let me guess, mine?" She smiled before returning her thought back to a wooden cutting tray she previously used to slice the vegetables. He gazed at her, momentarily pausing his activity. Silence enveloped the room.
Her expression said that her statement was nothing more than her response in their banter, but they both knew that there was some truth to the topic at hand. They were never really conscious of each other. That's not to say that they didn't care for one another—their relationship was one where they silently understood and supported each other's point of view whenever an argument arose in their group. Strange, really, considering that this year was the most that they've talked since... well, since ever.
Yamato picked up some foam forming at the empty corner of the sink and dabbed it on the tip of Mimi's nose.
"Glad you're finally aware of what you've been missing, Tachikawa," he teased.
Mimi dropped the cutting board in shock. "Gross!" she wiped the froth off with the back of her hand and rubbed it on his cheek in retaliation. "Har-har! Look who's gross now, Ishida!" she taunted, propping her hands on her hip.
Amused and challenged, he scooped a handful of foam from the sink. Mimi took a step back in disgust and raised both hands in the air. "N-no, Yamato, no. No. You wouldn't dare—no! Eep!" she squealed as he pulled her arm and pat the foam square on her cheek. She widened her eyes in horror as she felt her drops of water streaking down her cheek.
"It's still you," he gave a small, impish grin. He lightly pressed his hand to her cheek to spread the coverage of the foam, satisfied at his little victory.
"Yamatoooo!"
The stew boiled a few minutes after the fiasco. Both wiping their face with a paper towel (she had gotten even with him again), Mimi and Yamato shook hands to signify truce for the greater good.
That is, the stew.
Mimi scampered off excitedly to the stove after tossing the paper towel in the direction of the rubbish bin to taste test her stew. She took a bit with the wooden spoon and dipped her finger in the small pool before putting her finger in her mouth to taste.
"Wow, I actually made something delicious!" Mimi said in amazement, genuinely surprised at the product. "Pssh—I mean, my food is always good, but—"
"Did you, now?" Yamato cut her short, standing beside her after properly throwing his and her paper towel in the bin (to his dismay, she missed her shot). He scrutinized the dish, still somewhat irked by the thin peels of potato almost floating on the substance. "I'll be the judge of that. Let me try some."
Mimi rolled her eyes at his doubt of her cooking, her pink lips forming a scowl. Without thinking, she dipped her finger in the remaining stew on the spoon and offered said finger to him.
"Here."
Yamato fell silent, unable to decipher the girl's intention. A light blush started to creep on his cheeks when he realized where the situation might lead to.
"Um, Mimi... Am I supposed to...?" he asked apprehensively, trying to keep his composure.
Almost immediately, Mimi realized what she was doing—and more importantly, implying—and drew her hand back to her chest, shades of red coloring her face. Seeing her reaction, Yamato felt a tinge of relief from having a correct guess of her intention (or lack, thereof).
"H-here you go!" Mimi handed the spoon over to him, keeping her face hidden from his gaze. "It's really good—I, I actually—I need to go to the bathroom!" She scurried off without looking back.
"Hn," Yamato replied, taking a sip from the utensil. He stuck his tongue against the ceiling of his mouth, taking in the full taste of the stew while he tried to calm down and get his mind off the gutter.
It was delicious.
(He actually had no problem if she wanted him to taste the stew from her finger.)
(He might actually prefer it.)
A/N: So, hello again! The reason it took me so long to finish this chapter is because I was drawing the cover for this story! A more detailed picture of it could be found on my tumblr: still-salty-kingdom, if you want to have a closer look :)
On another note, if I ever write something steamy in this story (not lemon/lime, just… more detailed encounters) should I put a warning upfront? I feel like I would ruin the surprise though, haha. What do you guys think?
Soojinah: Thank you so much for the compliment! I'm very glad you liked the parentheses parts, I was experimenting with a new writing style and wasn't sure that people would like it, so your review really relieved me :)
Taishou: Thank you so much! Please keep on reading this story ^^
starrymilk: Hi again! As always, thank you so much for your review :) I've actually thought that Mimi would be too used to catcalls and, despite her girly personality, will not back down if confronted directly (she'd be much too annoyed, haha). And it's my headcanon that Yamato isn't the white-knight that swoops in the moment he thinks someone might be in trouble, but would observe the situation before acting. I actually haven't watched Tri because my friend who has watched it told me that they didn't talk to one another yet again… So disappointed but so happy at the same time (because their character designs are on point). :D
Reniel Moza: Thank you so much! I hope you like this chapter as well ^^
Of course, I am very grateful if you leave a review—it keeps me going and it motivates me to update faster ^^ Until next time!