Watching the genuinely earnest look on Horikita Suzune's face, Shikime Natsu didn't give her an answer right away.
He simply drummed his fingers lightly against the tabletop in a slow, rhythmic tap — and then, with a quiet laugh, turned the question back on her.
"So then... what are my hobbies?"
"If you want to become my friend, that should be the most basic thing to know, shouldn't it?"
Horikita Suzune blinked, caught off guard.
She clearly hadn't expected him to throw a question like that at her out of nowhere.
A memory flickered through her mind — an earlier one. The first time she had tried to learn anything about Shikime Natsu, Sakura Airi had been there too. She had asked him about his hobbies then, and this insufferable person had told her, with complete serenity, that he only shared that kind of thing with friends.
A perfect deadlock. A closed loop with no entrance.
No hobbies revealed, no friendship. No friendship, no hobbies revealed.
But...
The Horikita Suzune standing here now was not the same girl who had once charged headfirst into walls and called it strategy.
To crack this final, most stubborn target, she had done her homework.
Horikita Suzune drew in a slow, steadying breath, composed herself — and then spoke, her voice carrying quiet conviction.
"Basketball. Reading. Tennis..."
"And singing. Crane games."
She paused for a beat, then met his pale gold eyes directly and added:
"In short... your interests are remarkably wide-ranging."
At that answer, something shifted in Shikime Natsu's expression.
Those pale gold eyes of his brightened, just slightly — a flicker of genuine surprise and appreciation passing through them.
Basketball, reading, tennis — those were interests he had let show on occasion, in plain sight. Anyone paying enough attention could have noted them.
But singing. Crane games. And that final, perfectly accurate summary — "wide-ranging interests"...
That was information that had only come up yesterday. When he had gone out with Hasebe Haruka and Sakura Airi. At the karaoke parlor, when Hasebe Haruka had asked what he was good at — he had answered exactly in those terms.
And yet, in less than a single day...
Those words had already reached Horikita Suzune's ears.
The source was obvious, of course. It could only have been Sakura Airi.
So Horikita Suzune hadn't simply made friends with Sakura Airi and left it at that — she had kept the line open afterward, maintained contact, and gathered intelligence.
"Not bad."
Shikime Natsu gave a small nod, generous with his praise:
"Your intelligence work is quite thorough."
Horikita Suzune didn't let any smugness show at the compliment.
She kept that composed, serious expression of hers firmly in place and pressed forward.
"Then... since I've already named your hobbies."
"Can I now... become your friend?"
Shikime Natsu didn't answer immediately.
He simply narrowed his eyes a fraction and let his gaze travel over her — leisurely, deliberate, carrying an unmistakable note of amusement.
Being looked at like that still made Horikita Suzune deeply uncomfortable. It felt as though every thought she had was being read right off the surface of her face.
This person...
He's definitely scheming something.
Not that it mattered.
Even if Shikime Natsu did come up with some new way to make things difficult for her, she had no choice but to take it. She was the one asking for something here. And time was running out.
So Horikita Suzune didn't back down.
She straightened her back and met his gaze head-on — those clear, ruby-red eyes of hers unwavering, refusing to yield an inch.
The two of them held the stare across the quiet of the room.
For most girls, being watched by Shikime Natsu like that would have been enough to make them look away, flustered, hearts beating out of rhythm.
Horikita Suzune didn't so much as flinch.
A moment passed.
Shikime Natsu was the first to break the stare.
A satisfied smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he spoke:
"In that case... let's add one small final trial."
He gestured toward the kitchen nearby:
"If you wouldn't mind, Horikita — could you prepare dinner for tonight?"
Hearing that request, Horikita Suzune's brow knitted immediately.
She stared at him, a thread of unmistakable suspicion and bewilderment in her eyes.
Cooking?
If she'd never tasted Shikime Natsu's cooking before — if he'd simply said "make me a meal and we'll be friends" — she would have agreed without hesitation, and with no small amount of confidence. She did have a solid enough foundation in the kitchen.
But...
Ever since that day when she had eaten food made by Shikime Natsu's own hands, Horikita Suzune was very clear-eyed about one thing: the gap between his culinary ability and hers was not a small one. It was not a gap that could be measured in ordinary terms.
Bringing her amateur efforts in front of a master like that — showing off in the presence of the very person who had set the standard?
Was he asking her to cook for him... so he could use it as an opportunity to humiliate her?
To watch her produce something that barely qualified as edible, then skewer it with that professional, exacting eye of his, and finish the whole thing off with a thorough, devastating critique?
She couldn't help it.
Shikime Natsu's track record had been simply too outrageous, too consistently unpleasant for her not to read the worst into every little thing he did. Even a simple request from him triggered an automatic suspicion — that he was, inevitably, looking for a new way to embarrass her.
That was what happened when someone built a reputation like his. Bias set in and never quite let go.
Seeing that conflicted, guarded look written all over her face, Shikime Natsu raised an eyebrow and put on an expression of exaggerated surprise.
"What's this?"
"You're unwilling?"
"Or is it that even such a small request is beyond what you can manage, for the sake of becoming friends?"
Horikita Suzune pressed her lips together and pushed back, her voice cool:
"I simply see no reason for it."
"Your cooking is far better than mine."
"If you want some kind of heartfelt home-cooked meal... you have girlfriends for that, don't you?"
She put a deliberate emphasis on the word girlfriends — as if to remind Shikime Natsu of his current circumstances.
She was aware, after all. Kamuro Masumi and Sakura Airi — those were the two he was with now. If he wanted the experience of a girlfriend cooking for him, they were the obvious, natural first choice.
Not her — someone who was, at this point, still nothing more than a peripheral figure in his world.
Hearing that, Shikime Natsu couldn't hold back a quiet laugh.
He shook his head, looking at her with the patient, indulgent expression one might reserve for a child who didn't quite understand how the world worked yet.
"Horikita, your worldview is still a little narrow."
"Do you really think... only a girlfriend would cook for a guy?"
"Friends cook for each other too. Sharing a meal you made yourself — that's one of the most natural things friends do."
"Does Horikita Suzune-san really not know something as basic as that?"
Hearing those words, Horikita Suzune went still for a moment.
Is... is that right?
She had been working hard these past weeks to understand what friendship meant — what it looked like in practice. But the finer details, the specific ways people interacted, where the lines were drawn — her understanding of all that was still incomplete, and she knew it.
And everyone defined friendship differently anyway.
Could it be that cooking for a friend of the opposite sex was simply... normal? Just a standard part of what friendship looked like?
If so...
Then the suspicion she'd just voiced had only managed to expose yet another gap in her social education.
Of course, being Horikita Suzune — with that stubborn, never-say-die pride of hers — she was absolutely not going to open her mouth and admit that out loud.
Instead, she averted her eyes from his with all the dignity she could muster and pivoted, her tone going stiff:
"...What do you want to eat?"
Internally, Shikime Natsu was suppressing a laugh.
This one...
She really does believe whatever you tell her.
That quality — the way she was perceptive and sharp in so many things, yet oddly, endearingly guileless in others — was, he had to admit...
Kind of cute.
"Nothing elaborate." Shikime Natsu pointed toward the refrigerator. "Check what ingredients are in there."
"Whatever you're most confident with — just show me your best."
"I'm not picky."
Horikita Suzune gave a small nod.
She said nothing more, turned around, and made her way to the kitchen.
She pulled open the double-door refrigerator.
The shelves inside were remarkably well-stocked — vegetables, meat, seafood, eggs — everything was there, and everything was arranged with meticulous, almost startling neatness.
Once again, Horikita Suzune was struck by the sheer fastidiousness Shikime Natsu brought to every aspect of his daily life.
She scanned the ingredients quickly, mentally sketching out what she could actually make with them.
After settling on a few items she felt reasonably confident about, she lifted them out and laid them on the counter.
Then she turned — and found Shikime Natsu standing not far away, arms folded across his chest, watching her with a completely relaxed, unhurried air.
She had already committed to doing this.
But she still couldn't resist leaving herself at least one out — or, more precisely, laying the groundwork.
"Um..."
She looked at him, her tone coming out just slightly stiff:
"If it doesn't turn out well..."
"Don't blame me."
"I'm not like you. Cooking isn't exactly my strong suit."
Shikime Natsu gave a measured nod, his voice accommodating:
"Of course."
"I said — as long as you made it, that's what matters."
"As for the taste... as long as it's edible, I'm satisfied."
Not exactly a ringing endorsement — but not a discouragement either. That mild, non-committal reassurance was enough to ease Horikita Suzune's nerves, just a fraction.
Her gaze fell on the apron hanging from the hook on the wall.
A deep navy men's apron — plain, no patterns, clean simple lines.
"This apron... may I use it?"
"Of course."
With permission granted, Horikita Suzune slipped a spare hair tie from her wrist and, in one practiced motion, swept that sleek, straight black hair up into a clean, high ponytail.
The movement bared the long, pale line of her neck.
Then she lifted the apron, looped it over her head, and reached behind her to tie the strings at her waist.
It was a men's apron — somewhat large on her frame. But as the ties cinched in at the back, it pulled taut in a way that hadn't been anticipated, tracing the slender line of her waist and the quietly impressive curve of her figure beneath.
Horikita Suzune.jpg
The cold, unapproachable distance she wore like armor in everyday life had, in this moment, quietly stepped aside.
What replaced it was something softer — something domestic. The air of a young woman who belonged in a home.
Shikime Natsu hadn't moved. He stood at the dining table behind her, not far away, watching her back in unhurried silence.
Horikita Suzune drew in a long breath.
She turned on the tap and began washing the vegetables.
For someone who had always demanded perfection of herself — who had never permitted herself to be anything less than exceptional — this moment was quietly nerve-wracking.
Not only because she was doing something she wasn't particularly skilled at.
But because...
There was an examiner standing at her back, watching her every move from start to finish.
And this particular examiner was nothing less than a master-class authority in the very domain being tested.
Even though Shikime Natsu had already promised he wouldn't hold a mediocre result against her — being watched so closely by someone whose skill left hers far behind was a pressure that could not simply be reasoned away.
But Horikita Suzune was, ultimately, Horikita Suzune.
Her mental fortitude and her ability to perform under pressure were formidable. Whatever anxiety ran beneath the surface, her hands stayed steady.
Her movements weren't effortless — but they were competent. Methodical. She made no careless mistakes, cut no fingers, burned nothing.
Before long, the fragrance of a cooked meal drifted through the kitchen.
She plated the dishes with care and carried them to the dining table, setting them in front of Shikime Natsu.
The presentation wasn't as polished or enticing as what he produced. But it was respectable — the kind of meal you'd actually want to sit down and eat.
"It's done."
Horikita Suzune untied the apron and stood to one side, watching him, a trace of carefully concealed apprehension in her eyes.
"Go ahead... taste it."
Shikime Natsu cast a glance over the dishes without a hint of distaste in his expression.
He picked up his chopsticks.
"Then... I'll help myself."
And honestly — Horikita Suzune's cooking was genuinely not bad. It didn't reach the level of the cafeteria's premium sets, but it left the cheap alternatives in the dust by a comfortable margin. Not that Shikime Natsu had any basis for comparison on that last point — he had never once touched the infamous mountain vegetable set, and had no intention of starting now. His stomach deserved better than that.
"Well?"
Horikita Suzune couldn't help herself — the question slipped out.
Shikime Natsu smiled and offered two words:
"Not bad."
Horikita Suzune let out a breath she hadn't quite realized she'd been holding.
It felt like she had scaled something enormous and survived.
Not bad...
Two simple words. But coming from him, in this context — it was the highest mark she could have realistically hoped for.
No criticism was victory.
She kept watching him, her eyes carrying a clear, unspoken anticipation.
The cooking was done. The verdict was in.
So now...
Was he going to say the words she'd been waiting for this whole time?
"Friend — approved."
Or something to that effect.
But.
Shikime Natsu said nothing.
He simply finished the meal in quiet. Then he pulled out a napkin, dabbed the corner of his mouth, and stood up.
Just as Horikita Suzune thought he was about to make his announcement —
He turned and walked toward the kitchen.
"Next..."
His voice drifted back from inside:
"Allow me to prepare something for Horikita-san in return."
"...?"
Horikita Suzune stood frozen in place.
What was this supposed to mean?
Was he unsatisfied with what she'd made — so now he was going to personally cook something "real" and put it beside hers for direct comparison?
Was this what people called a public execution? A way of saying — look, this is what food is supposed to be. What you served me was barely fit for livestock.
Her mind ran with it. That kind of petty, malicious humor was absolutely within Shikime Natsu's wheelhouse.
Shikime Natsu paid no attention to the chaotic spiral of suspicions running through her head.
His hands moved with speed — speed that made her own earlier efforts look leisurely by comparison.
Less than ten minutes.
He walked back out carrying a plate.
On it sat an omurice — immaculate, golden, fragrant enough to pull you across the room. The egg was a perfect, smooth wrap, encasing a mound of well-seasoned rice, crowned with a streak of vivid red tomato sauce that gleamed under the light.
Just the smell alone was enough to make you hungry.
He set the omurice down in the spot where Horikita Suzune had been sitting.
"This is... the meal I've prepared for Horikita Suzune."
"Go on. Eat."
Horikita Suzune stared at the flawless omurice in front of her.
For a moment, her mind drifted — pulled involuntarily back to the very first time she had eaten food made by Shikime Natsu's hands.
That time...
The experience of losing control of her own reactions, as though some strange, irresistible force had commandeered her body and made it respond with pleasure against her will — the sheer humiliation of it still made her stomach drop whenever she thought about it.
She knew his cooking was extraordinary. She accepted that.
But she was genuinely frightened of making that same expression again.
"What's the matter — you think there's something wrong with my cooking?"
Shikime Natsu looked at her, a faint smile in his eyes.
"No, it's not that..."
Horikita Suzune looked from him to the omurice, and back again.
Since he'd put it like that — if she refused to eat, he might just decide not to acknowledge her. Everything she'd done today would amount to nothing.
That thought settled it.
Horikita Suzune steeled herself, picked up the spoon, scooped a bite of omurice, and brought it to her lips.
The moment it touched her tongue —
The flavors hit all at once — soft and silky, warm and rich, the sweet and the savory and a bright note of acidity all weaving together in a single, seamless bloom across her palate.
And it was...
Extremely good.
A dish good enough to make a person genuinely, simply happy. And — crucially — without any of that mortifying, involuntary response she had dreaded. It was just wonderful food.
Shikime Natsu watched her finish, and then asked:
"Well?"
Did he really need to ask?
Horikita Suzune set down the spoon. Against every stubborn instinct she possessed, she gave an honest answer:
"...It was acceptable."
That was the last stand of her pride.
Shikime Natsu didn't bother calling out the obvious deflection.
He looked at her, and a warm, easy smile settled onto his face.
"Since you've finished eating..."
"You may leave, Horikita-san."
"...Huh?"
Horikita Suzune's mind went blank.
What?
She had cooked. She had eaten. She had done everything asked of her.
And now he was just... dismissing her? Without saying a single word about the outcome?
What about her friend certification?
She hadn't gotten that yet!
Just as she was about to demand an explanation —
Shikime Natsu's voice came again.
This time, the teasing note in it had receded. What replaced it was something quieter and more genuine.
"That meal I made — consider it a return gift. From a friend."
After all, he had strung Horikita Suzune along for long enough. And she had reacted far better than he'd expected throughout all of it — a marked improvement from where she'd started. It wouldn't be right to keep pushing.
Hearing those words, Horikita Suzune stared at him with an expression of pure, undisguised disbelief.
Several long seconds passed.
When she finally found her voice:
"You mean..."
"You're serious? You're actually being serious right now?"
Shikime Natsu gave a light shrug, his manner entirely unbothered:
"Of course."
"If you think I'm joking and you'd like me to take it back..."
"I can, if you prefer."
"No! Absolutely not!"
Horikita Suzune practically shouted it before she'd even finished thinking.
She shot to her feet, both hands slamming onto the table, her eyes fixed on him with a fierce, unyielding intensity.
"You said it. You cannot — will not — take it back. Not ever!"
You've already acknowledged it!
There is no taking it back!
[CG 59: Friends (Horikita Suzune)]
[You finally did it!]
[Congratulations! Host has obtained Item Card: Friend Card (When used, regardless of what the target currently thinks of you, they will consider the Host a friend for twenty-four hours. Usable once per week.)]
Shikime Natsu smiled, and let the teasing end there.
...
A few minutes later.
Horikita Suzune changed back into her school uniform.
When she stepped out through the door of Shikime Natsu's dormitory room —
Her face still held the same cool, composed mask she always wore. She made every effort to keep it that way.
But.
The footsteps that had always carried a certain tightly-wound tension had, in this moment, become something else entirely. Light. Unguarded. Almost springy.
Even...
Even the little breeze that followed in her wake seemed to hum with something joyful.
She had done it.
Finally... she had actually done it.
Shikime Natsu watched that light, uncharacteristically buoyant figure until it disappeared at the far end of the corridor.
____
👻🔥Walnut-chan ;)🔥👻
🔥 New history: Re:Zero: Wrath Route Yandere Emilia Watches the Projection
✅ Jump 40 chapters ahead of the public release!
✅ Get access to special perks and news!
Help smash these goals:
🎯 100 Powerstones = +1 Bonus Chapter (for everyone)
👻 P - Walnut-chan