Hachiman's Point of View
August was looming on the horizon, just as it had last year. I spent a moment reminiscing about the menu I'd served back then—shrimp salad, ginger pork… simple, hearty fare. But this year felt different. This wasn't just a reward; it was a rallying cry for the battles ahead. I wanted something with more weight.
Since Rice was heading to France, French cuisine seemed like the obvious choice. The problem? Seasoning. Authentic French cooking is a symphony of sauces and spices, and high-quality ingredients aren't exactly budget-friendly. It's one of the world's three great cuisines for a reason—it's expensive. Still, I managed to map out a rough plan.
"Decision made," I muttered. "Time to hit the shops. I need to get some practice runs in before the actual event."
[Twenty Minutes Later]
"Ducks are a staple in France, but… nothing. Figures," I sighed, scanning the poultry section. "Chicken it is. And no escargot either? Talk about stumbling at the starting gate."
I checked my list. Most of the essentials were accounted for, but I still needed a few more items. I turned the corner of the aisle, only to be met by a sight that sent a chill down my spine.
"AAAAGH! TRAINER-SAN?!"
"Sp-Spe-chan?!"
I froze. Of all the people I didn't want to run into right now, she was at the top of the list.
"Trainer-san! Are you shopping? Are those ingredients?! What are you buying?!" Special Week was practically vibrating with excitement, her eyes locked onto my basket like a heat-seeking missile.
"...Yeah. What of it?" I asked, trying to sound as uninteresting as possible.
"What are you making?!"
"...It's a secret."
"Ehhh?! Then let me be your taste-tes—"
"Denied."
"But I didn't even finish the sentence!"
"I knew where it was going. I'm only cooking for the three girls under my charge. No exceptions."
Silence Suzuka stepped up, her expression thoughtful. "If I recall, you made something last year as well, didn't you? Is it the same menu?"
"No. Repeating yourself is boring. This is going to be something entirely different."
"Hey, Suzuka, Spe! Did you find the—oh, Hikigaya. You're here too." Trainer Okino approached, followed by a very familiar, very regal-looking horse girl.
"T-Trainer-san?!" Mejiro McQueen gasped, her eyes widening as she spotted my groceries.
Great. Encounter number two.
"Just picking up some supplies," I said. "And you? Looks like a team outing."
"Yeah," Okino said. "We're planning a big hot-pot dinner for the team."
I turned back to Special Week. "You hear that? Your own trainer is literally planning a feast for you, and yet you're here trying to scavenge my test batches? Have some loyalty."
"B-But your cooking always looks so delicious!" Spe protested. "I saw how happy Rice-san and the others were when they ate it!"
"Precisely!" McQueen added, stepping forward with alarming intensity. "And tell me, Trainer-san… do you have any plans for dessert? Something… sweet, perhaps?"
"I wonder," I said, my voice as flat as a week-old soda. "My memory is a bit fuzzy on that point."
"Do not play coy with me!"
"Alright, settle down," Okino sighed. "Hikigaya is in the middle of shopping. Don't be a nuisance."
Suddenly, a hand draped over my shoulder. "That's right, you guys! Hachi and I are busy planning the world's largest fried cutlet! Right, Hachi?"
I didn't even have to look to know it was Gold Ship. I leaned into the madness. "Right. Right after we finish making udon noodles out of agar-jelly."
"Ha! See? He gets it!" Gold Ship barked. "Then it's on to the Ginseng Hamburgers!"
"Naturally," I replied. "Followed by the minced chicken bowls made entirely out of watermelon rinds. We've got a busy schedule, so if you'll excuse us."
…Wait, what was I saying? Gold Ship's proximity was clearly rotting my brain. I took the opportunity to make a break for it while they were still processing the nonsense.
[The Kitchen – Late Night]
"Alright, let's see what we can do…"
The kitchen was quiet. Whatever I made now would only end up in my own stomach, so the stakes were low, but if anyone caught me, I'd have to bribe them into silence. I started with a classic: a refined Pot-au-feu, a nod to last year but with a more sophisticated profile.
Hours passed.
"Whew… that should do it." I wiped my brow. The techniques were different from my usual repertoire—lots of fine-tuning, lots of patience. I looked at the spread. I might have overproduced.
"My, my. If you have extra, perhaps you'd care to share?"
I jumped, nearly dropping a ladle. Standing in the doorway was a figure draped in elegance.
"Ramonu? I didn't think you were at the summer camp."
"I arrived a bit late," she said, her voice like silk. "But more importantly… are you offering?"
I narrowed my eyes. "On one condition. I'm serving a version of this on August 1st. If you want a plate, you keep your mouth shut until then. Deal?"
"Oh? You're making this for your team?"
"These are just prototypes," I said, gesturing to the pots. "I can't exactly serve a dish I haven't mastered yet. It wouldn't be fair to them."
Ramonu watched me for a long moment, a strange glimmer in her eyes. "...You are quite devoted, aren't you?"
"Is that what you call it?"
"Yes. To some, such devotion might look beautiful; to others, it might look hideous. But… to me, you look quite beautiful, Onii-sama."
"Drop the 'Big Brother' act," I muttered, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "It doesn't suit you. Just tell me—do we have a deal or not?"
She chuckled, a low, melodic sound. "Very well. Since it is a request from you, I shall keep your secret."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Ramonu was unpredictable—unlike her sister, Ardan, she wasn't someone I could easily read. But her next words eased my mind.
"Don't worry. I'll keep my word. If I didn't, I'd have to answer to Ardan. She's quite fond of you, you know. And if Grandmother found out I'd bullied you… well, I'd rather avoid that lecture."
That made sense. The Mejiro family hierarchy was nothing to scoff at.
"Fine. Take a seat. I'll plate it for you."
"Thank you."
What followed was the quietest meal of my life. I watched her eat—every movement was precise, graceful, and utterly dignified. I'd thought it before, but looking at her now, it was hard to believe she was younger than me.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it was heavy. Between the steam of the Pot-au-feu and the gaze of the eldest Mejiro sister, I realized this summer camp was going to be a lot more complicated than I'd anticipated.
(And seriously, Ramonu—don't you dare tell a soul!)
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