Chapter 11: Moe Moe Kyun
Jaaaahhhhhh—
With the door between my eight-tatami room and the hallway left open, I sat watching Yuki Ohira as she worked in the kitchen.
She was wearing a maid outfit.
“I’ll go change first.”
After we’d finished shopping, she’d walked right past my apartment door, tossed that line over her shoulder, and returned to Room 503. A few minutes later, she came back.
In a maid uniform.
I couldn’t help thinking it was a lot of trouble just to change clothes, but then I remembered her saying earlier that it was something she could wear legally. Apparently she really did love maid outfits.
At that point, it wasn’t just a hobby anymore. It showed a certain conviction. A strong core.
Then again, maybe that was exactly why she was capable of being student council president.
The maid standing in my kitchen moved with impressive efficiency. She’d said omurice was one of her specialties, and it showed.
She cracked eggs one-handed. The way she whisked them in a bowl with cooking chopsticks spoke of countless hours spent cooking.
Since I didn’t own a rice cooker, she used the microwave rice we’d bought earlier, tossing it into the IH-compatible frying pan we’d just purchased. She added ketchup and shook the pan with practiced ease.
The rich aroma of chicken rice drifted from the kitchen and reached me in the room beyond, making my stomach demand food immediately.
Still, the whole thing felt strangely surreal.
Until yesterday, nobody had ever stood in that kitchen. The IH stove had never been used even once.
And yet today, a maid was cooking there.
Maybe it was because she looked so happy doing it, but even the kitchen itself seemed more pleased being used by a silver-haired beauty than by a guy like me.
“It’s done.”
The omurice was finished before I knew it.
She carried it into the now-clean room.
On top of the kotatsu table—which only a short while ago had been buried under garbage—she placed a restaurant-quality omurice, fluffy and creamy, the kind that practically melted at the sight of it.
This is what a kotatsu table is supposed to look like.
The smell alone convinced me it would be delicious.
My whole body was screaming at me to hurry up and eat the maid’s omurice.
“Then let’s dig—”
“Wait.”
Just as I was about to clap my hands together like an eager elementary school kid and say Itadakimasu, she stopped me.
I looked up at her, probably with the expression of a dog whose dinner had just been snatched away.
“Morigami-kun. Do you have any special requests?”
“Requests?”
Completely lost, I stared blankly at her.
Then, like a certain blue robotic cat pulling a gadget from nowhere, she produced a bottle of ketchup.
“Omurice made by a maid should have a drawing on it. That’s the classic, right?”
“I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere before.”
I’d never been to a maid café, but I had heard that maids drew pictures on omurice. Whether I’d learned it from TV or the internet, I couldn’t remember.
Still, I was oddly impressed to discover it was a real thing.
“A special service. Normally, having a popular girl like me draw something would cost quite a lot, but today I’ll do it for free.”
“Seriously? That’s pretty generous.”
“Well, I am your personal maid, after all.”
The way she emphasized personal maid made it sound like she was reluctantly tolerating the arrangement.
“Still, if you suddenly ask me what picture I want, I have no idea.”
“Anything is fine. If you don’t have a preference, I’ll choose for you.”
“Then surprise me.”
“Very well. I’ll draw something boys love.”
Yuki squeezed ketchup onto the omurice and began drawing with the ease of someone who’d done it countless times before.
I wondered if customers at her café often requested artwork from her.
The image gradually took shape.
“Hmph.”
Once she finished, she wiped imaginary sweat from her forehead.
“A masterpiece.”
“Oh! That’s amazing!”
“Right?”
She puffed out her chest proudly.
I applauded.
Then immediately ruined the moment.
“But it’s completely not what I expected!”
“Huh? I drew it really well, didn’t I? It’s a Super Famicom.”
“You did draw it well. Like, ridiculously well. The controller’s especially impressive. But…”
“But?”
“Wrong generation.”
“Don’t boys like Nintendo?”
“Are you the type who calls every game console a Nintendo?”
“More importantly, Morigami-kun… are you really going to do a moe moe kyun for this?”
“You’re the one who drew it! I know I told you to pick whatever you wanted, but nobody gets moe over a Super Famicom.”
The moment the words left my mouth, another question occurred to me.
“Wait. What’s a moe moe kyun, anyway?”
“Oh? Your first time?”
She straightened proudly.
“Then allow me the honor of teaching you.”
“I’m all ears.”
She cleared her throat and began her explanation.
“I’ll say, ‘Become delicious, become delicious.’ Then you make a heart shape with your hands and thrust it forward while saying, ‘Moe moe kyun.’“
“Got it.”
“All right, here we go.”
Yuki began the incantation.
“Become delicious, become delicious~”
“Moe moe kyun!“
We said it together.
Silence followed.
Steam drifted from the omurice, carrying with it an irresistibly appetizing scent.
“Okay~♡ It’s delicious now~♪”
“Hell yeah!”
“Morigami-kun, you’re surprisingly enthusiastic. You gave that your all.”
“Stuff like this only works if you commit completely. Anyway… itadakimasu.”
I scooped up a spoonful of Super-Famicom-decorated omurice and took a bite.
“…This is insanely good.”
No wonder she’d called it her specialty.
It was unbelievably delicious.
Maybe it tasted this good because of her cooking skills.
Or maybe…
Just maybe…
It was because we’d gone all-out on the moe moe kyun. After all, if you’re going to do something that ridiculous, you might as well give it one hundred percent.
