I Wish Koga Would Realize She's My Mama
"You put in far too much butter. We can't throw it out, so we'll just have to make a little more."
"O-okay..."
"Tateyama! What are you putting in there?"
"Huh? Watapachi. The popping candy."
"Excuse me?! Why would you put that in there?!"
"Wouldn't it taste better this way? You're right in the middle of all that sweetness, and then—bam! It pops..."
"Obviously not! Aaah... you already put it in. ...You're taking responsibility and eating that one, Tateyama."
"C'mon. We've gotta all share. We're bound by fate, yeah?"
"I don't want to! I never signed up for a bond of fate like that!"
The cooking classroom was pure noise. I kept my hands moving, working as hard as I could to whip up a meringue.
Beside me, Miyauchi and Tateyama were going at each other....
No. Tateyama was the only one making trouble, entirely one-sided, but Miyauchi didn't look as if she truly hated it, so it was probably fine.
There was a reason I was still at it now, at an hour when every class was over and I ought to have been heading home. To explain, I had to go back five days.
Both had been unbelievably good. Miyauchi's homemade cookies had a soft, tender texture, and Tateyama's chocolate carried a strong fragrance that climbed all the way up into my nose when I swallowed.
This was the single biggest worry I had these days.
Tateyama's, of course, had been expensive chocolate from a store, so paying her back in kind ought to be enough. But Miyauchi's cookies—Miyauchi had made those herself. I had eaten cookies with that much care poured into them. Was it really all right to solve the whole thing with money?
If anyone heard me thinking this, they might ask whether I wasn't making it far too complicated. To me, though, it was a problem that mattered.
So mean....
Koga was my mama. I wished she would realize that at a time like this she was supposed to go all out and help me. Of course, I didn't have the courage to say that to her face, so the most I could do was write a note in her Misscode memo.
Miyauchi's homemade cookies had been genuinely, truly delicious. And I, who knew nothing whatsoever about pastry, was going to make cookies myself and offer them as a gift? No matter how generously I looked at it, the only future I could picture was disaster.
It did sound plausible. Miyauchi was kind, so if I asked her for help for a reason like that, she might even be happy about it.
Picturing the corner of Koga's mouth curling up, I was flooded with regret for having said something I didn't need to say. It already seemed too late.
Trying to change the subject naturally appeared to have failed. So, for the time being, I added two more notes to Koga's Misscode memo.
The next day, asking Miyauchi at school was easy.
No. It wasn't actually easy, but I was still able to get the words out quickly enough. Miyauchi always arrived at school right after I did, so all I had to do was ask the moment she got there.
"M-Mi-Miyauchi. I want to r-return the favor from Valentine's Day.... I'm not c-confident with pastry... would you be able to help me?"
"...Ah. O-of course! If it's something I can help with, I'd be glad to, anytime!"
My plan was perfect. Aside from the one variable I had failed to account for.
"Count me in too, Kayano! Miyauchi!"
There were days, lately, when Tateyama started showing up to school early. Today was one of them. So she seemed to have heard me asking Miyauchi.
"I don't mind.... Is it all right with you, Kayano?"
Honestly, even the thought of being alone with Miyauchi after school was already a little much for me. This wasn't like simply being together because we were in the same class. We would be meeting separately, on purpose, with a definite goal. And now Tateyama was joining on top of that. I didn't need to imagine it to know that my shoddy shut-in, certified-loser communication disorder of a brain would never survive.
Miyauchi seemed to have caught on, because she was looking at me.
"I-I'm fine too..."
But refusing was also impossible for me. Because that was exactly what the communication disorder did.
"Then what should we make? Is there anything either of you wants to eat?"
"I'm good with anything!"
"I-I'm making it as a g-gift for Miyauchi, so whatever Miyauchi wants..."
"Hmm.... Anything is fine with me, too...."
After a long bout of indecision, we settled on macarons.
And so, on White Day itself. Miyauchi had asked the teacher, and as a result we were allowed to use the cooking classroom.
"Then shall we start with the cream that goes between the macarons?"
What we were making came to two flavors: chocolate and strawberry. When you thought of a macaron, it had to be chocolate and strawberry. I liked cheese flavor too, personally, but the ingredients we could get together on the spot were limited, so wanting something didn't mean we could make all of it.
"First, Tateyama, you'll add white couverture to the fresh cream, and Kayano, you'll add the dark chocolate..."
"L-like this...?"
"Ah, yes! And I brought baking rum from home, so please use this."
It was decided that I would make the chocolate macarons, Tateyama the strawberry ones, and Miyauchi would help us from behind. Before I knew it, the clock pointed to six. We had come into the cooking classroom at three-fifty, which meant we had been in there for more than two hours.
"Haaah.... I'm wiped..."
Macarons, it turned out, were cookies that took much longer to make than I had thought. I never imagined that just letting the shells dry would take over thirty minutes.
Ding!
"Ah, looks like they're done."
At the sound of the alarm, all three of us stood and went to the oven. Miyauchi slowly drew the tray out, and lined up on it were the coques—the shells of the macarons we had made.
And the state of those shells....
"They're cracked."
"M-mine too..."
Except for Miyauchi's, every one of them was cracked a little. So this was what more than two hours had bought us. I had already heard from Miyauchi that macarons were difficult cookies and that this could happen, but facing it for real, the disappointment sat heavy anyway.
"They're finished."
"Haa. Finally over..."
"G-good work, both of you."
Once the shells had cooled, we sandwiched them with the cream we had made at the start, and with that our macarons were complete.
"Here."
"Th-thank you..."
We each handed out one of what we had made and took a moment to taste. Unlike Tateyama and me, who had each made a single batter, Miyauchi had made both. And her macarons were—needless to say—perfect. Perfect to the point that they tasted just like the macarons I sometimes bought.
Mine felt a little harder than the ones Miyauchi had made. Not so bad I couldn't eat them, but slightly off. Tateyama's came to two in the end. One of them felt similar to the chocolate macaron I had made. The other was the one with Watapachi mixed into the cream.
"...It's better than I expected?"
"Right? Told you it'd be good."
Just as Miyauchi said, it was better than I had thought. How to put it—the little pops bursting toward the back of the mouth kept a flavor that was otherwise far too sweet in check. It was definitely the sort of taste that could get addictive.
"You both worked hard today."
"C'mon. Miyauchi's the one who worked the hardest, helping us. Thanks."
After we had cleaned the cooking classroom until it was spotless, we left the school. The macarons that remained would be split up and taken home.
"Then I'm this way."
"I'm this way."
"U-um...!"
"Hm?"
Just before we parted in front of the school gate, I quietly called Miyauchi and Tateyama back.
"I-I wanted to give you these..."
What I held out with those words was my own macaron, packaged separately earlier, and the cookies I had gone out and bought on my own the day before.
"Oh. Is this...?"
"Ah, y-yes. Cookies from the company that made the ch-chocolate you gave me, Tateyama...."
"Y-you're giving one to me, too?"
"Yes. I wanted to say th-thank you, truly, for Valentine's Day...."
Simply handing over expensive cookies as a White Day return felt somehow unfair to Miyauchi, who had given me homemade ones. But I didn't trust my own skill enough to make them myself, and there was no way the macarons I had managed to produce were worth more than the chocolate Tateyama had given me. So the conclusion I had reached was simple. Do both.
"Th-then I'll be going...!"
Once I had pressed them into their hands, I fled the spot as fast as I could.
...What if they took it badly?
We weren't even close. Classmates who had probably only given me obligation chocolate on Valentine's Day, out of courtesy—and if I answered too seriously, and it only made things awkward....
"Uuu..."
Fretting over worries like that, I made it home.
"Kayano."
...Koga was standing in front of my house.
"You said you'd give me one. The macaron."
She had actually come. Good thing I had packaged one separately, just in case....