9. Taking the Initiative to Make Contact

This home economics class was teaching how to make pizza.

The students, two boys and two girls, were split into groups of four to work separately.

Each group had its own cooking station.

Kiyomizu Matsudaira and Nagasawa Murakami, the class president and the eighth-oldest in their class, were grouped together.

Perhaps things were a bit awkward after what happened at noon, as the eighth-oldest kept avoiding Kiyomizu Matsudaira, refusing even to meet his eyes.

The two boys were tasked with helping out, while the main steps of making the pizza were handled by the two girls.

Kiyomizu Matsudaira’s job was to cut the ingredients—green pepper rings, tomatoes, onions, garlic, and the like.

As he sliced, his gaze kept drifting to the group beside them.

Suzune Sakura was in the neighboring group.

It had to be said that she truly had the qualities of a “green tea” beauty: her figure was far more shapely than most girls, her legs long and perfectly proportioned.

The same school uniform looked simply more fashionable on her.

Kiyomizu Matsudaira was a person who, once he decided on something, would see it through seriously. Since he wanted to overcome his shyness and experience a rose-tinted youth, he wouldn’t just fantasize about it in his mind.

Now, as he sliced green peppers, he was turning over in his mind how to invite her out on a date this weekend.

“Murakami, do you have a girlfriend?” the class president, Mizuko Mizuhara, suddenly asked.

“Huh? Me?” Nagasawa Murakami was a bit surprised, not expecting the class president to take the initiative with such a question.

He was good-looking and came from a well-off family, but he didn’t have great luck with girls in the class.

Every class had a few rowdy fools, and he was one of them, always making a ruckus.

No matter the topic, once he joined in, the conversation would inevitably become crude and vulgar, so very few girls wanted to interact with him openly.

Especially the class president—a well-bred, quiet, and smart young lady from a good family—who usually avoided him whenever possible.

“Mm-hmm~” Mizuko Mizuhara nodded shyly.

Nagase Murakami felt a ripple in his heart and suddenly grew self-conscious, quickly shaking his head. “No, not yet...”

“Really? Not yet?” the class president looked surprised, subconsciously taking half a step back. “I thought for sure you’d have one by now...”

“Fleeting love isn’t what I seek. I’ve been waiting for the right girl...” Nagasawa Murakami put on a deep expression, letting out an awkward, bubbling sigh. “She should be a lady from a distinguished family, someone who can bring me a love that is elegant and uniquely tender.”

“I didn’t expect you to be that kind of person. I must have misjudged you before,” the class president said with an apologetic smile.

“It’s all right.”

Nagasawa Murakami smiled back, a subtle look passing between them as if all was understood without need for words.

The class president’s cheeks were slightly flushed. Hands clasped behind her back, she dared not look at him—instead, her gaze rested on Kiyomizu Matsudaira, who was washing green peppers.

‘Here it comes!’

‘She definitely likes me!’

‘Springtime is coming for me, Nagasawa Murakami!’

Then—

“What about you, Matsudaira? Do you have a girlfriend?” The class president’s voice was as faint as a mosquito’s.

“Me?”

Kiyomizu Matsudaira turned his head and saw the class president’s cheeks blushing, her expression shy and demure.

His best friend looked as if he’d just swallowed something foul.

And the eighth-oldest, who was kneading dough, perked up her ears to eavesdrop.

Thinking it over, he guessed the class president was too embarrassed to ask him directly, so she’d started with his best friend.

“Not yet,” Kiyomizu Matsudaira replied with a shake of his head.

“Really?” The class president’s face lit up with joy, all her girlish reserve forgotten as she hurriedly asked, “Then are you planning on finding a girlfriend?”

This scene made Nagasawa Murakami’s heart ache.

President, when I said no just now, that wasn’t the look on your face...

“I’ll leave it to fate,” Kiyomizu Matsudaira placed the washed ingredients on the chopping board. “To me, falling in love is like seeing a ghost—it’s all about destiny. When the time comes, everything falls into place...”

“I never knew you had such a humorous side...” The class president looked thrilled.

Even if he were just playing with mud, you’d probably praise him for his childlike innocence, Nagasawa Murakami silently grumbled.

“Matsudaira, this weekend—” The class president began in a low voice.

At that moment, the sound of a stainless steel mixing bowl hitting the floor rang out from the next group, startling everyone in the classroom.

The bowl rolled two times on the ground and ended up at Kiyomizu Matsudaira’s feet.

He bent down to pick it up, and as he straightened, he heard Suzune Sakura’s sharp voice.

“Hey, what’s going on?! Didn’t you say you could cook? Why are you so clumsy?! I’m telling you, if you mess up this assignment, you’ll answer to me!”

“I—I’m really sorry, Sakura...”

Faced with the scolding of a blonde, ponytailed gyaru and the attention of the whole class, the boy blushed furiously, mortified.

“What’s happening with your group?” the teacher at the podium looked over.

“This person can’t cook at all. He lied to us during group selection, teacher, please let us swap him out!” Suzune Sakura showed no mercy, requesting a replacement in front of everyone.

“Does anyone want to switch groups?” The teacher could only try to mediate.

“I’ll do it.”

The response was calm, gentle, and effortlessly pleasant.

Everyone in the class turned to look, their eyes wide—many let out a surprised “Eh?”

Including Suzune Sakura.

Even she knew that someone as pure as Kiyomizu Matsudaira was not from her world of muddy waters.

So when he stepped over, his handsome yet aloof face drawing near, she felt as if it were all unreal.

Seeing someone volunteer to help, the teacher also breathed a sigh of relief and said, “All right, you two groups, please coordinate.”

Kiyomizu Matsudaira picked up the stainless steel bowl and walked over to the neighboring group.

The class president furrowed her brow, unable to understand why he would take the initiative to approach a “bad girl.”

Akizuki Yanae, meanwhile, seemed thoughtful.

...If anyone in the world understood Akiyo best, she would certainly be among the top three—perhaps even rivaling his mother and sister.

The boy who had just been scolded now wore a look of relief, as if rescued, and fled over to the other group.

With the teams reshuffled, order returned to the class.

Students wielded their utensils as the sounds of chopping filled the room, occasionally interspersed with a few words of discussion.

“You haven’t even started mixing the flour yet,” Kiyomizu Matsudaira remarked, observing the spotless cooking station.

“That guy said he could do it, but he was just bragging,” Suzune Sakura replied impatiently.

“I’ll take care of it,” said Kiyomizu Matsudaira, getting to work.

“Thank you so much,” Suzune Sakura flashed a charming smile.

Kiyomizu Matsudaira cracked an egg, added a bit of self-rising flour, some milk, and more flour, kneading the dough in the stainless steel bowl.

The other two group members got busy—one sliced bell peppers, the other onions.

Suzune Sakura did nothing, arms folded, hips leaning against the counter, watching Kiyomizu Matsudaira knead the dough with great interest.

Looking closely, he truly lived up to his name—his temperament was as pure and natural as clear water, and his looks would make most women feel a fondness at first sight.

“Do you cook a lot?” Suzune Sakura asked curiously.

“I learned to cook when I was very young,” Kiyomizu Matsudaira replied as he kneaded the dough, his expression unchanged. “My mother was busy with her company, so I took care of my little sister. I guess it helped me develop decent cooking skills.”

Suzune Sakura gave a soft laugh, her manicured fingertips resting lightly on her alluring lips, her voice unconsciously coquettish. “I wish I could taste the model student’s cooking right now...”

“Really?” Kiyomizu Matsudaira turned to look at her, his eyes as clear as a mountain spring.

“Of course it’s true,” Suzune Sakura nodded happily. “Handsome, top-ranked, and from a good family—you’re the talk of the girls every day. Anyone who could win you over would have real bragging rights.”

She wasn’t exaggerating.

Kiyomizu Matsudaira had all the advantages, and his aloof personality only made him harder to pursue. Any girl who managed to win him over would have a story to boast about for a lifetime.