Volume 1 - CH 3.4

Shimizu-san’s Bentō 4

Since I took the initiative to talk to him, I wanted to at least know the reason for his sigh.

“Well, I forgot something today.”

“What did you forget? “

“My wallet. Thanks to that, I couldn’t buy lunch. I was wondering what I should do.”

Indeed, looking at Hondō’s desk, there is no bread, which he usually eats during lunch break. But if that’s the only problem, the solution is simple.

“If it’s just a matter of money, why don’t you borrow some from Matsuoka? He can at least lend you some money for lunch.”

Matsuoka should be the first person Hondō would turn to in this situation.

“That’s true. Toshiya would have lent me the money if he was around, but he’s away during the lunch break because there is a soccer club meeting today. I wish I could have realized that I had forgotten my wallet before Toshiya left.”

I looked around the classroom, and Matsuoka was nowhere to be seen.

“Well, there’s nothing I can do about it, I guess I won’t have lunch today. I’m sorry for worrying you, Shimizu-san.”

“I’m not worried about you.”

“That’s good then.”

The conversation was interrupted. As a high school boy, Hondō probably had a big appetite, and it must be tough for him to skip lunch. I thought about it while looking at my own desk, and there were two bento boxes there. Yes, that’s right, I have two Bentō today. This is an unexpected opportunity for me.

“Hey, Hondō.”

What’s wrong? “

Hondō turned his gaze again towards me. Without making eye contact, I placed a Bentō on Hondō’s desk.

“Shimizu-san, what is this bento for?”

“…take it.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, I’m giving you this Bentō.”

Hondō seemed to want to ask why.

“I appreciate it, but then you won’t have a Bentō.”

“I have another one for me.”

I pointed at the other Bentō on my desk.

“Ah, that’s true. Then, whose Bentō is this?”

“It doesn’t matter whose it is… Look, I’m only giving you this because I want to repay you for taking care of me during cooking class. Besides, I can’t finish two bentos by myself, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

A question mark floats over Hondō’s head. I guess he doesn’t understand why I have two Bentō. I can’t tell him that I brought a failed handmade Bentō that I wanted to give you.

“If there is one for Shimizu-san, then okay. Thank you very much, I’ll gladly accept it.”

“Yes.”

Hondō did not seem completely convinced, but when he saw that I had another one, he decided to take the Bentō.

Then I realized. Who made the Bentō that I gave Hondō?

Both the Bentō I made and the Bentō my mother made for me were the same shape and color, and without looking inside, I could not tell which Bentō it was. Therefore, I couldn’t determine which bento I gave to Hondō.

While I was panicking, I saw Hondō was about to open the Bentō.

“I don’t see other people’s Bentō very often, so this is exciting.”

He casually checks the contents of the Bentō from the side. The Bentō I gave Hondō was definitely the one I had made.

(…it’s all over now.)

I thought I heard my heart snap. My blackened mass dishes were now perfectly in Hondō’s sight.

I was tempted to take the Bentō away from Hondō immediately, but my remaining speck of rationality held me back. It wouldn’t be appropriate to give it to him and then immediately take it back.

“Can I try it immediately, Shimizu-san? “

Hondō called out to me, unaware of my internal struggle. Even now, I want to ask him to swap Bentō, but at the same time, I also want him to eat my cooking. Two factions are fighting in my brain.

” …yes. “

In the end, I decided to let him eat the Bentō I made.

“Thank you. Then, Itadakimasu.”

Hondō picked up his chopsticks, undaunted by the disastrous black color of the dishes. After a few moments of deliberation, he reached for the black tamagoyaki that I had been making every day for the past week and brought it into his mouth.

I looked at Hondō’s face but I did not see any significant change. That’s strange, because this is one of the most dreadful dishes that could steal my family member’s smile.

As I was staring at him, Hondō turned his head toward me, perhaps sensing my gaze.

“What’s wrong? Did you want to try this Bentō too? “

I wondered if Hondō thought I was a person who liked to eat.

“No, I was just wondering what dish you would start with.”

“Indeed, people said that how someone starts eating their bentō can show their personality. I kind of started with the tamagoyaki first.”

To my astonishment, Hondō seemed to recognize the blackened mass as a tamagoyaki before eating it.

“I’ve never had tamagoyaki made by someone other than my family, but this tamagoyaki has an interesting flavor.”

“You say it’s interesting, is that what you think of that food? “

Well, I guess it’s better than being told it’s bad, or he forced himself to tell me it’s good.

“I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have? It was a tamagoyaki with a taste I’d never had before, so I didn’t know how to describe it.

” …it’s fine.”

“I’ll let you know if I can think of another way to describe it.”

With that, Hondō resumed eating. As I ate the bentō my mother had prepared for me, I glanced sideways to check on Hondō.

The next dish Hondō chose was ginger pork, another dish I have been trying every morning for the past week. Although there are other dishes in his bentō that I feel turned out better, why did he prioritize eating the ones that I thought I didn’t do particularly well?

(At least eat the other dishes until I’m mentally prepared…)