My apartment, usually a haven (albeit a chaotic one), now feels like a pressure cooker set to explode. The "impromptu" dinner party is underway, and the atmosphere is thick with enough passive aggression to choke a rhinoceros.
The guest list: Me (the hostage/main course). Rina (the simmering volcano disguised as a cheerful hostess). Haruka (the coolly analytical predator enjoying the chaos). Aiwa (the surprisingly resilient prey trying desperately to act normal). And, because the universe hates me, Kenji invited himself, claiming he was providing "essential comedic relief and impartial observation." Miki and Hana wisely claimed prior engagements involving "urgent lint removal" and "existential dread," respectively.
The initial phase is the cooking. Rina, in her element, immediately takes charge of the kitchen, determined to prove her superior domestic skills. "Do not worry, everyone!" she chirps, tying on a frilly apron that does absolutely nothing to lessen her menacing aura. "I will handle everything! Onii-chan loves my cooking!"
Haruka, however, is not one to be sidelined. "How quaint, Hinamata," she says, smoothly entering the kitchen and inspecting the ingredients Rina has laid out. "Simple home cooking. Adorable." She opens the refrigerator. "Ah, you have truffle oil. Excellent. Perhaps I can whip up a quick, sophisticated appetizer while you handle the… peasant food."
Thus begins the Great Kitchen Showdown. Rina starts furiously chopping vegetables with alarming speed and precision, occasionally glancing sideways at Haruka. Haruka, with effortless grace, begins preparing some kind of fancy mushroom crostini, using techniques that clearly require years of culinary training (or at least watching a lot of cooking shows). They are not just cooking; they are engaged in culinary warfare, each trying to out-chop, out-saute, and generally out-chef the other. The air fills with the sounds of sizzling garlic and simmering resentment.
Aiwa and I are relegated to the living room, ostensibly setting the table, but mostly just trying to stay out of the blast radius. Kenji is "helping" by providing a running commentary on the cooking battle, complete with imaginary betting odds.
"Ooh, Rina-chan goes for the aggressive dice! Bold move! But Haruka-sama counters with a delicate chiffonade! The technique is flawless! Who will win the battle for Rui's stomach?!"
"Kenji, please shut up before they both stab you with a paring knife," I mutter.
Aiwa is trying her best to act normal, making polite conversation, but her eyes keep darting nervously towards the kitchen, like a gazelle watching two lionesses fight over who gets to eat the nearby tourist (me).
Finally, dinner is served. It is a bizarre, bipolar meal. Rina's curry is delicious, homey, and comforting. Haruka's truffle mushroom crostini are sophisticated, elegant, and taste vaguely of condescension. We eat in a tense silence, punctuated only by Kenji's loud chewing and Rina and Haruka subtly trying to praise their own dish while damning the other's with faint praise.
"This curry is… certainly very… yellow," Haruka comments politely.
"Your toast is… remarkably crisp," Rina replies with equal insincerity.
The conversation inevitably turns towards the elephant in the room: Aiwa's secret identity and her connection to me.
"So, Matsuki-san," Haruka begins, casually swirling her water glass. "You mentioned LUNA is your cousin?" (Testing the lie).
Aiwa freezes, caught off guard. "Uh… y-yes," she stammers, reverting back to shy Aiwa mode under pressure.
"Fascinating," Haruka continues smoothly. "You must share so many wonderful cosplay secrets. Does she help you with your… 'hobby'?"
"She is just Rina's classmate, Ito," Rina interjects sharply, clearly annoyed by Haruka's interrogation tactics (and possibly by the fact that Haruka is getting more information than she is). "Leave her alone."
"I am merely making polite conversation," Haruka replies innocently.
The meal devolves into a complex, multi-layered interrogation disguised as polite dinner chat. Rina tries to assert her dominance by reminiscing about my childhood ("Remember that time Onii-chan fell out of a tree and I heroically patched him up?"). Haruka counters by discussing sophisticated topics she knows Rina knows nothing about ("Rui-kun, have you read Sartre's latest critique of postmodernism?"). Aiwa just tries to survive, offering small, noncommittal answers and occasionally shooting me panicked looks. Kenji keeps trying to steer the conversation back to the possibility of a harem ending ("Think about it! Efficiency! Shared resources! Group discounts!").
I just focus on eating, shoveling food into my mouth as fast as possible, hoping that if I finish quickly, I can fake a sudden bout of narcolepsy and escape to my room.
The tension is unbearable. The air is thick with unspoken accusations, simmering jealousies, and Kenji's terrible ideas. This is not a dinner party. This is a diplomatic summit on the brink of collapse. And the main course is my sanity.