Chapter 15: The Gensokyo Food Culture Research Club.
....
Sanae enrolled as a transfer student into Kihara's class, and discovered within the first two days that high school life was considerably less engaging than she'd anticipated.
Classes put her to sleep. Between classes, she had nothing to talk about with the other girls. The conversational topics that flowed naturally after years of interacting with youkai — threat assessments, territorial disputes, the relative merits of different spell card configurations — had essentially no civilian applications.
The things she actually cared about outside of shrine work were tokusatsu and Gunpla. She already knew, without needing to ask, that the overlap between those interests and the average high school girl was approximately zero.
She brought the problem to Kihara.
His answer was immediate. "Start a club. Get Lala and Anna involved, submit the application."
"Will a random club application actually get approved?"
"Put three girls who look like you, Lala, and Anna in front of any approval committee and I genuinely cannot imagine a scenario where it fails. And if it does, make a trip back and have Yukari handle it — she is the board chairperson."
Sanae had one of those moments where something obvious becomes obvious. She clapped her hands together. "That makes complete sense. I'll go apply right now!"
"Wait."
"What?"
"Minimum club membership is four people. Write my name on the application." A pause. "Also — I've already thought of the name. How about Thorny and Thornless?"
"That name makes no sense, and — we haven't even decided on activities yet. Let's figure out the name together with Lala and Anna first."
"Fair enough."
Kihara accepted this with the philosophical equanimity of someone who had known the name was going to be rejected and had submitted it anyway on principle.
Though now that I think about it, he reflected, the target demographic for that name is probably either still in first year or already dropped out. Might not have worked regardless.
Lala came running with Yanami Anna and Sanae in tow shortly after.
"Kihara, the application went through! But the teacher says we need to finalize the name before they'll stamp it officially!"
"Lunch. We'll figure it out while we eat."
"Yes!"
The naming session proceeded with Kihara as the primary creative force and Yanami Anna as the primary quality control mechanism.
"Far East Magic Napping Society of Summer."
"No. Absolutely not. Who names a club after sleeping."
"Outdoor Activities and Camping Club?"
Sanae looked around the group. "Does anyone here actually like camping?"
"Attribute Enthusiasts' Association."
"Meaning unknown."
"Innocent Paradise!"
"That's somehow worse than the last one."
"Rabbit House!"
"We don't sell coffee and we don't have a talking Angora rabbit!"
Kihara wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead and looked at Yanami Anna with genuine admiration. "You keep up with every single reference. Years of training."
"Do not underestimate what twelve years of proximity to you has done to my reflexes." She said it with the quiet pride of someone who had earned a skill the hard way. This was, genuinely, the one arena where being his childhood friend gave her an unambiguous competitive advantage.
"In that case." He folded his hands. "How about the Food Culture Research Club?"
"Guh—"
Direct hit. The weak point, located and struck with precision. Yanami Anna's resistance to any proposal involving food was, by her own admission, structurally compromised. Add Kihara to the food equation — Kihara cooking, specifically, which she would rank with a single word transcendent if pressed, the kind of cooking that made even fried rice feel like an event worth attending — and the outcome was predetermined.
The reason she showed up at his house in all weather was not entirely the childhood friend relationship. A meaningful percentage was the food.
The official name, after Sanae added the prefix: Gensokyo Food Culture Research Club.
Activities: research how to eat well, enjoy well, and make the most of school life.
Of the four of them, only Lala had no cooking experience whatsoever.
She received this information about herself without distress. If anything, what registered on her face was the light of a specific kind of excitement — the kind that preceded invention.
If I can't cook, I can build something that cooks for me. This is a solvable problem.
While the other three cleaned the club room, Lala sat cross-legged in the corner, extracted her transmitter phone, and deployed a collection of materials and components that the phone had no obvious business containing. She began designing.
Even for someone who had been disassembling spacecraft with her bare hands since early childhood, designing a new device from scratch took time. By the time late afternoon light was coming through the windows, she'd only finished the schematics and an initial prototype model in the data terminal.
"So even aliens develop tools through actual iteration," Yanami Anna observed, watching over her shoulder. "I thought it would be like the movies — fingers on a holographic screen, done in thirty seconds."
"That's possible too, but it requires a large laboratory. And I prefer doing it myself." The confidence in Lala's voice was total.
Kihara, who had observed enough of Lala's inventions to have formed opinions about them, added his own contribution: "When the food machine is finished, let me look at it before anyone uses it."
"Mm! Everyone's so excited about it — I'll work as fast as I can, even if I have to stay up—"
A hand-chop landed lightly on her spinning ahoge.
"No staying up. Tired people make mistakes. Work on it here after school. That's enough."
"Okay." She reached up, caught his hand, and pressed it to her head in the gesture of someone who had decided this was where the hand should be. "I won't rush. Trust me."
"I do."
The atmosphere between them shifted into something that Yanami Anna, monitoring from approximately two meters away, classified as requires interruption.
She coughed once into her fist.
"Ahem. School gates are closing.
Conversations can continue at home."
"What does everyone want for dinner?"
"Sanae! I want croquettes!"
"Curry beef!"
Sanae noted both requests and looked at Kihara. "And you?"
"Braised pork belly."
"Understood."
Yanami Anna thought about Sanae's cooking and felt her mouth do something involuntary. She would admit, privately and under duress, that Sanae had her outclassed in the kitchen. The steps were the same. The result was different. It had the quality that people described as the taste of home — some intangible thing that made everything feel like it had been made specifically for you.
Wait.
She stopped walking.
If Sanae is cooking like someone's mother... and Lala and I are the ones eating it... that makes us the—
Kochiya Sanae. A more dangerous opponent than I gave her credit for.
Once Lala's food machine is done, I am making something in that club room in front of Kihara. Something impressive. I will not be outdone on this front.
In the depths of space, some considerable distance from the solar system, a small cruiser was making progress toward Earth.
In the cockpit, a frog-faced alien with bloodshot eyes locked onto his navigation display with the intensity of someone who had been awake for too long and had strong feelings about his destination.
"Lala. You can only be my fiancée — Lacospo-sama's. I will not allow anyone to take you."
The stars streamed past.
He had time.
....
Thank you for reading.