"Kuroba-kun, that face is a little dramatic. Are you really that happy?"
"Of course I am! This is the first successful deal of my life!"
More precisely, the first successful deal of this life.
"Pfft… Your first deal in life is a semester's worth of lunch… hahaha! Kuroba-kun, you really are something else."
Watching him punch the air with joy like he'd just won a championship, Anri Hitomi burst into laughter, holding her stomach as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
Haah… How long has it been since I laughed like this?
Smiling had always been a mask for Anri — a tool for negotiation. After all, no one wants to strike someone who's smiling. A well-timed smile could ward off all kinds of hostility.
Her mother had taught her: you must always keep a pleasant expression — for etiquette, and for advantage.
To make sure no one ever caught her fake-smiling, Anri had trained herself to perfection: her posture, her gestures, even the curve of her lips were calculated. Every move, every word, was designed to guide the emotions of those around her.
That's why, to her, social interaction was mentally draining. Every conversation took effort, left her tired in both mind and body.
But now, for the first time, she realized — laughing just because something was funny, just because she was happy, felt amazing.
Like someone had opened a valve and flushed out all the stuffiness that had been clogging her chest for so long.
This is bad… really bad.
It's your fault, Kuroba-kun. Now that I know I can laugh like this, what if I can't go back to my usual practiced smile?
You owe me!
Since you've already said, "You don't have to force yourself to say things to make me happy," then I don't need to worry about your feelings anymore, right?
Maybe in front of you… I can finally take off this mask. Finally relax.
Just thinking about Kuroba Akira joining the Literature Club filled her with anticipation.
If the days to come were even half as fun as today, maybe school wouldn't be just another one of Mother's assigned duties.
Anri wiped a tear from the corner of her eye with her thumb — the same thumb she'd used to wipe away Akira's tears earlier. Then she pressed that thumb against her soft lips and gave it a quick lick with the tip of her rosy tongue.
Kuroba watched, suddenly feeling a kind of strange, inexplicable heat. Her expression was so pure, yet the gesture held a subtle, mature allure far beyond her years.
But then, the comment that came after completely shattered the mood.
"Tastes salty."
"…Isn't that just common knowledge? There's no way someone with your grades doesn't know tears are salty."
"I just wanted to try. Is that not allowed?"
Was she… pouting?
"Fine, fine, Class Rep. You can do whatever you want."
"I wonder whose tears are saltier — yours or mine."
"How the heck would you even tell? And even if you could tell, what's the point of comparing that...?"
"To test our compatibility, of course. From a scientific standpoint, water flows from lower to higher concentrations. So the less salty tears would naturally gravitate toward the saltier ones. That's the semi-permeable membrane of the heart."
"…Brilliant theory. Clearly, this is how humanity will achieve oneness."
O brave girl, go forth and turn the entire human race into orange juice. You are the new messiah of the Evangelion age.
"Hm… tears aren't enough, huh? Then let's compare sweat next."
As she said this, the class rep leaned in closer — her face nearing his at a dangerous pace. It was already close enough to kiss.
A sudden rush of embarrassment made Akira instinctively pull back. Even though he was technically fifteen too, the thought of being kissed by a high school girl made his older-soul self panic.
But behind him was the vending machine — nowhere left to retreat.
"Uh, wait, Class Rep… This is a little…"
He didn't mind messing around with words, but actual physical contact was crossing a line.
Just as he shut his eyes nervously — he felt a touch on his face. Not soft, dewy skin, but dry, smooth fabric.
He opened his eyes and saw the class rep wiping his sweat with a handkerchief, wearing a mischievous grin.
"What, did you think I was going to lick you?"
"…There was a moment I really did."
For a split second, he'd even had a famous anime line pop into his head: "This is… the taste of a liar!"
"I'm not that kind of girl, you know. But thanks to you, Kuroba-kun, today was full of firsts for me."
"That kind of phrasing is super misleading! You're definitely messing with me!"
"Heehee. But your reactions are so fun to watch, Kuroba-kun."
She laughed again, full of genuine amusement, before neatly folding the handkerchief and slipping it back into her pocket.
…Wait. That was the same handkerchief she used to wrap her panties earlier, wasn't it?
Akira was beginning to suspect her earlier "gift" had been a bluff.
After all, she did have [Acting Lv1] in her proficiencies.
She was probably just toying with an innocent boy. Yep — the class rep definitely belonged to the "mischievous JK" category.
"Well then, I should head home and start preparing your lunch for tomorrow, Kuroba-kun."
"Got it. I'm heading back too. Which way are you going?"
"I need to go lock the library and return the key to the faculty office."
"Oh."
"If you walk me there, I'll buy you a drink. Deal?"
"Please allow me to escort you."
Ah, at long last — his efforts had paid off. Drink acquired!
If anything, this had been Akira's original goal. Everything else had been unexpected bonus loot.
So what did we learn today, boys and girls?
Don't be a simp — be the guy who eats for free!
On the walk over, the class rep asked another question.
"Kuroba-kun, is there anything you especially like to eat? Or any foods you dislike or can't eat? I'd like to know, if possible."
"You even take requests?"
"Well, I'm making these bentos for you. I want you to enjoy them."
"Hmm… I'm not a picky eater, so anything's fine. But I am pretty sensitive to fishy smells. I can eat it, but I don't really like stuff like pickled kombu."
Japan was crazy about seafood, but in his previous life Akira had lived inland — he'd barely eaten fish. Even now, six months after transmigrating, he still hadn't gotten used to the taste.
"Fishy smells… kombu… Got it. I'll remember."
Anri carefully etched his preferences into her memory.
That meant she couldn't use kombu dashi or katsuobushi flakes when making miso soup. But without them, the flavor would be lacking… How could she make up for it…?
She was already lost in thought, calculating flavor profiles.
She could just make something else. But miso soup was one of her best dishes… She wanted him to try it.
She'd never had the urge to cook for someone before. Maybe it was because this was the first time she'd ever made food for a guy?
Not even her father had tasted her home cooking.
She wanted to do it well. She wanted him to praise her.
Cooking had always been her escape from reality — she never expected there'd come a day she'd look forward to it.
"And as for portion size… Kuroba-kun, you're a boy and still growing, so I'll make a bit more, if that's all right?"
"Totally fine. I'll eat everything you make — won't leave a single grain of rice."
"Hehe. That's a bit much…"
But if you do, I'll be really happy.
So I'll make sure to fill your stomach till it's nice and full.