How to Melt the Ice Queen’s Heart

Chapter 3-1

“Is this where you decided to put the brooch? It really brings out its color,” Fuyuka complimented. It was Saturday, the day after the sports festival. Fuyuka had shown up at Asahi’s door right at the specified time they had agreed upon the day before.

When she had walked through the door, it had only taken her a moment to notice the brooch at the entrance. Asahi had figured it would be optimal to leave it in a place where it could be easily seen, so he had placed it above the shoe rack. It was all for naught, however—Fuyuka had no plans of taking it back anytime soon.

“You sure it’s okay if I keep it?” Asahi asked incredulously. “I feel like it’s too valuable for me. Besides, it’s not like I’ll be putting it to good use.”

“I could say the same. That’s why I thought it was best to gift it to you.”

“If you insist...”

“Don’t get any absurd ideas, though—my present has nothing to do with that legend nonsense.”

“Yeah, I get it. Don’t worry about it,” Asahi assured her. He was never the self-centered type who would mistake a generous gesture from a classmate as anything other than a simple act of kindness.

Nevertheless, it seemed that Fuyuka had calmed down about the rumors linked to the brooch. She wasn’t blushing like she had just a day prior, and her tone wasn’t nearly as flustered either.

“Your table is rather messy today,” Fuyuka remarked as she made her way into the living room.

“Sorry, I didn’t have enough time to clean it all up,” he apologized.

“Don’t be. It makes me happy that you’re taking your studies so seriously.”

“If you say so. Looks like all the private lessons are paying off, huh teach?”

“W-Would you please stop calling me that? I’m not nearly as good as you say I am,” she protested in a flustered tone.

“Really? I think you’d make for the perfect tutor.”

“If you keep this up, then I’ll start referring to you as my teacher, as well. Professor Kagami...”

“Okay, point proven. Don’t know what’s worse, though—that or chef Kagami...” he said.

He decided to hold off on teasing her in favor of clearing up the table. As he was collecting his books, a certain title caught Fuyuka’s eye. Unlike the plethora of academic textbooks, this one boasted quite the colorful cover.

“Oh, this isn’t a school textbook. Is it a cookbook, perhaps?” Fuyuka asked. She picked it up and leafed through its contents. Tantalizing recipes sprung into view with each new page.

“Yep. That’s what we’re gonna be using for the cooking lesson today, so I kinda just left it around,” he answered.

Needless to say, there was only one conceivable way of putting a cookbook to use. That didn’t stop Fuyuka from wondering what they were going to do with it, however.

“You’re going to teach me how to cook using this book?”

“That’s the plan. Could you flip to page eight for me?”

“Page eight, page eight... Ah, here it is. The one that has a picture of curry?”

“Yup. You’re going to be making that today.”

There was a pause before she finally blurted out in a dumbfounded tone, “Excuse me?”

“You’re going to be cooking curry today,” Asahi reiterated, figuring that she just hadn’t heard him properly the first time. The only reply he received was the thud of the book slipping through her fingers and bouncing off the floor.

“Me? Make curry...?” she muttered to herself, wide-eyed. She whispered the phrase to herself several more times before she was able to get a grasp on the situation. Once she had finally managed to gain control over her quivering lips, she frantically approached Asahi. Perhaps he had made a mistake after all—her frenzied state was reminiscent of the behavior she displayed yesterday. “Th-This is the first I’m hearing of it!” she protested.

“Makes sense. I did just tell you about it,” he replied.

“Weren’t you supposed to be the one teaching me how to cook?!”

“That was the deal, yeah. But I figured it’s important to see where you stand ability-wise.”

“I see your point, but...”

“No buts. In the kitchen, now. All the ingredients are already set out on the table.”

Although he could admit he was being a tad pushy, he believed it was a necessary evil. After all, there was no point in teaching advanced techniques to a beginner and vice-versa. As her teacher, he felt it was his responsibility to figure out the areas in which she struggled the most in order to provide her with the guidance she needed.

“Are you really going to make me do this?” she protested.

“Yes. You said yourself that you’re not terrible at cooking, right?”

“You’re quite the bully, you know that?”

“Am I? I think I’m a pretty nice guy, personally.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she muttered with a frigid glare.

No matter what her opinions on the matter were, what couldn’t be denied was that Asahi was going easy on her. Sure, he had just put her on the spot without any prior warning, but he was asking her to prepare curry—one of the easiest dishes for a complete beginner to make.

There was also another reason why he had selected that dish in particular. Right before the sports festival, he had seen her at the store buying some of the essential ingredients required to make curry. He deduced that she must have had some experience with preparing it.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about her, though... he thought. He watched as a reluctant Fuyuka made her way into the kitchen. She stared blankly at the ingredients in front of her for a few moments before she picked up a kitchen knife. Her grip looked incredibly shaky and dangerous—so much so that Asahi struggled to stop himself from speaking up.

You’re supposed to wash the vegetables first, he continued his musings. In the end, he was able to keep himself in check. After all, the underlying goal behind this experiment was to assess her true cooking abilities.

Asahi had made up his mind, and so he took a seat near the counter where he could keep track of everything she was doing.

He had qualms about the way she handled the kitchen knife, the general method she followed while cooking the food, and the way she misjudged the time needed to properly boil all the ingredients together, and that was just to name a few mistakes. Her ability—or lack thereof—exceeded even his wildest expectations. Needless to say, his stomach was in knots throughout the whole process, and he had to hold himself back from interfering more than a few times.

The only thing he could take solace in was the fact that she’d followed Asahi’s method of positioning her free hand correctly around the knife. That alone had made the time he’d spent on teaching her the claw grip worthwhile. While her movements were quite awkward, she still managed to successfully curl her left hand in a way that the knife’s blade sliced through the vegetables and nothing else. Unfortunately, however, that was the sole thing she executed correctly.

One hour passed before the curry and rice were finally finished and ready to be served. Suffice to say, it hadn’t been smooth sailing, what with Asahi virtually tearing his hair out at every step of the process. Nevertheless, each of them brought their hands together to say grace before they began eating.

Fuyuka chewed pensively before finally announcing, “This doesn’t taste good.”

“Definitely not the best,” he agreed after having a spoonful of his own. One mouthful alone had been enough for him to taste how watery and under seasoned the curry was. With his second bite, he was able to discern that the unevenly cut vegetables were very undercooked. Overall, it wasn’t a complete failure, though calling it anything other than “mediocre” would be an understatement.

“I fully agree with you, but I never expected you to be so blunt...” she grumbled.

“Maybe I should’ve sugarcoated my words? Or should I have just praised you regardless?”

“No, I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Empty flattery never helps anyone improve, after all.”

“Exactly. That’s why I believe it’s best to give my honest opinion on these occasions,” he explained.

Asahi had a habit of flattering anyone who would provide him with a home-cooked meal—he’d tell them that it was “delicious” as a way of expressing his gratitude. This time was different, of course. He and Fuyuka were working toward improving her culinary skills, so it was necessary that he be frank for her sake.

Having said that, just about anyone could give a harsh critique of someone’s food; Asahi’s role afterward would be the crucial part of this process. He would have to propose suggestions on how to improve her cooking and guide Fuyuka so she could succeed in the future. In order for that to happen, he had to tackle each of her shortcomings individually. Obviously, this wasn’t limited to the sizable heap of issues that were her cooking methods—it also extended to determining the problems with how the final product tasted.

Asahi continued to sample the meal and deliberate on the ways that the curry could be improved upon. When he finally raised his head, he found Fuyuka staring at him with apologetic eyes.

“You don’t have to force yourself to eat it all, you know,” she told him as she looked pointedly at his half-finished plate.

“Hm? What makes you think I’m forcing myself?” he asked.

“You just said that... it wasn’t tasty,” she said. Her usual indifference was replaced by a rather shaky voice and a gloomy expression to match. The fact that her first attempt hadn’t gone to plan likely weighed heavily on her. It was an almost inscrutable change, but Aashi had learned to pick up on her subtle cues as of late.

“You don’t have to cater to my feelings and finish it all,” she continued. “We could order something, or maybe it isn’t too late for you to make something instead. Naturally, I’ll be the one to cover the costs.”

“It’s true. This curry is far from the best,” he stated.

“Then why don’t we—”

“But it’s still a dish you worked hard on making. I can’t just simply throw it away,” he argued. One mustn’t waste food; it was an obvious statement, one that most people were taught at an early age. Still, it needed to be said in order to get the point across to Fuyuka. It wasn’t a case of leaving a dish unfinished because it didn’t suit his tastes or because he was too full. Each meal had its own story and a person who had given it their all to prepare it. Asahi couldn’t possibly make light of their efforts by throwing it away, especially when the person who had cooked it was standing right in front of him.

“Let me give you my first piece of advice,” he said. He paused to clear his throat, then continued. “Cooking isn’t all about how good it tastes in the end. It’s about how much love you put into it.”