Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: The Recipe for Trouble

The rest of the school day passed in a blur mostly because I was half-expecting Aiko to pop out of my locker or turn my math textbook into a sandwich. She didn't, but her smug grin haunted me every time I zoned out during class. That, and Yuna's tiny smile from lunch kept replaying in my head. I mean, it was just lunch, right? No big deal. So why was I still thinking about it?By the time kendo practice ended, I was sweaty, sore, and starving again. I trudged home, my bamboo shinai clacking against my shoulder. The sunset painted the sky orange, and for a moment, I almost forgot about the whole "spirit bound to me" thing. Then I opened my apartment door and found Aiko floating upside-down in my living room, juggling three apples from my fridge."Yo, Haruto!" she chirped, catching all three apples in one hand. "Took you long enough. Ready for task two?"I dropped my bag and groaned. "Can I at least shower first? Or eat? You cleaned out my snacks last night."She flipped right-side-up, landing on my couch with a dramatic flounce. "Fine, mortal. Shower, eat, whatever. But don't think you can dodge me. The pact waits for no one!" She tossed an apple at me, which I barely caught.As I heated up some leftover rice and scarfed it down, I eyed her warily. "So, what's this task? And don't say 'fight a demon' or 'climb a mountain.' I'm not built for that."Aiko leaned forward, her red eyes glinting like she was about to drop a bombshell. "Task two: you gotta cook a dish from scratch and share it with someone who needs it. And no, instant ramen doesn't count. It's gotta be real food, made with, like, effort and stuff."I blinked. "Cook? Me? The guy who burns toast?""Yup!" She clapped her hands, clearly enjoying my panic. "The Pact of Sustenance isn't just about eating—it's about giving, too. Find someone who's hungry, physically or, like, emotionally or whatever. Make them something awesome. Easy-peasy.""Easy for you," I muttered. My cooking skills were limited to microwaving stuff and praying it didn't explode. And who was I supposed to feed? My kendo buddies were always stuffing their faces, and Yuna… well, I wasn't about to show up at her house with a badly made omelet. That'd be social suicide."Figure it out, nerd," Aiko said, stretching like a cat. "I'll be around, keeping an eye on you. Oh, and don't mess this up. The pact's magic gets cranky if you half-ass it.""Cranky how?" I asked, but she just winked and vanished in a puff of glittery smoke. "Great. Super helpful."The next day was Saturday, which meant no school but also no excuses. I woke up early—okay, 10 a.m., but that's early for me—and stared at my kitchen like it was a final boss. My fridge had eggs, some wilted green onions, and half a bell pepper. My pantry had rice, soy sauce, and a dusty bag of flour. "This is hopeless," I sighed, slumping onto the counter.Then I remembered my mom's old recipe book, tucked away in a drawer. She'd been a great cook before her job started sending her on business trips all the time. I pulled out the worn notebook, flipping through pages of her neat handwriting. One recipe caught my eye: oyakodon, a chicken and egg rice bowl. It looked simple enough—chicken, onions, eggs, and a sauce. Plus, it was comfort food. Maybe it'd work for this "someone who needs it" thing.I grabbed my wallet (which cried harder than ever) and headed to the local market. The place was a maze of stalls, packed with old ladies haggling over fish and vendors shouting about their "fresh-as-the-morning" veggies. I bought chicken, a decent onion, and some mirin, feeling like a real adult until I tripped over a crate of daikon and nearly faceplanted.As I lugged my groceries home, I kept thinking: Who needs this? My neighbors were mostly grumpy old folks who'd probably throw my oyakodon back at me. My kendo captain, Kenji, was always stressed, but he'd laugh if I showed up with a home-cooked meal. Then it hit me: Old Man Hiroshi.Hiroshi was this ancient guy who ran a tiny bookstore near my apartment. He was always alone, hunched over his counter, surrounded by stacks of used novels. I'd gone in a few times for manga, and he'd given me free candy once, saying I reminded him of his grandson. Rumor was, his family never visited anymore. If anyone needed a meal—and maybe some company—it was him."Perfect," I said, psyching myself up. "I'll cook, bring it to Hiroshi, and nail this task. Aiko'll be impressed, and I'll be one step closer to freedom."Famous last words.Cooking was a disaster. First, I cut my finger slicing the onion, which made me cry more than the onion itself. Then I burned the chicken because I got distracted by a text from Kenji about kendo practice. By the time I got the sauce simmering, my kitchen looked like a war zone, and I was pretty sure I'd invented a new kind of smoke detector torture.But somehow, I pulled it off. The oyakodon wasn't pretty—lumpy rice, unevenly cooked egg, and a sauce that was more "salty puddle" than "savory glaze"—but it smelled okay. I packed it into a bento box, threw on a clean hoodie, and headed to Hiroshi's bookstore, praying Aiko wasn't secretly filming this for some cosmic prank show.The bell above the bookstore door jingled as I stepped inside. The place smelled like old paper and dust, with shelves so crammed they seemed ready to collapse. Hiroshi was at the counter, reading a yellowed novel. He looked up, his wrinkled face creasing into a smile. "Haruto, my boy! Looking for more of that idol manga?""Uh, not today," I said, suddenly nervous. I held out the bento like it was a bomb. "I, um, made some food. Thought you might like it? It's oyakodon."His bushy eyebrows shot up. "You cooked? For me?" He chuckled, but there was something soft in his eyes. "Well, I'll be. Haven't had a home-cooked meal in ages. Come, sit."I perched on a wobbly stool as he opened the bento. My heart pounded. What if it tasted like garbage? What if he keeled over from food poisoning? But Hiroshi took a bite, chewed slowly, and nodded. "Not bad, lad. Needs more mirin, but it's got heart."I exhaled, relief flooding me. "Thanks. I'm not exactly a chef."He laughed, a raspy sound. "Doesn't matter. It's the thought that counts. Reminds me of when my wife used to cook for me." He paused, his smile fading. "Been a long time since anyone thought of me like this."My chest tightened. "Well, I figured you're always here, so… yeah." Lame, Haruto. Real smooth.We chatted as he ate, mostly about books and how nobody bought paperbacks anymore. He told me about his grandson, who'd moved to Tokyo and never called. I didn't know what to say, so I just listened. When he finished, he patted my hand. "You're a good kid, Haruto. Come back anytime."As I left, the sun was setting, and I felt… good. Like I'd done something that mattered. Then Aiko appeared, leaning against a lamppost and clapping slowly. "Wow, didn't think you had it in you. Task two: cleared."I jumped. "Stop doing that! And yeah, I nailed it. Hiroshi liked it.""Liked it? He loved it," she said, smirking. "You're getting the hang of this pact thing. One more task, and I'm free. You ready for the big finale?""Hit me," I said, feeling cocky.Her grin turned downright evil. "Task three: you gotta host a feast. Invite at least three people, cook everything yourself, and make it a night they'll never forget. Oh, and it's gotta happen by tomorrow night."My jaw dropped. "A feast? By tomorrow? Are you insane?""Nope, just doing my job." She patted my shoulder. "Better start planning, chef. And watch out—the pact's magic might throw in a surprise or two."Before I could argue, she vanished again, leaving me staring at the empty street. A feast. Three people. By tomorrow. I was so screwed.The next morning, I was a man on a mission. I dragged myself to the market again, armed with a list of dishes I could maybe, possibly, not screw up: katsu curry, miso soup, and a shaky attempt at mochi for dessert. My wallet was officially dead, but I figured it was worth it to finish this pact and get Aiko out of my life.Back home, I started prepping, which was like juggling flaming torches while riding a unicycle. I burned one batch of rice, undercooked the chicken katsu, and got mochi dough stuck in my hair. By afternoon, I was a mess, but the food was… edible? Maybe?Now for the guest list. I texted Kenji, who agreed to come if there was free food. I invited my kendo clubmate Ryo, who'd eat anything, even my disasters. But the third person? My mind kept circling back to Yuna. We'd only had lunch once, but she'd smiled, and that felt like a win. Plus, Aiko said this had to be unforgettable, and Yuna seemed like she could use a night out.I took a deep breath and sent her a text: Hey, Yuna, I'm having a dinner thing tonight at my place. Wanna come? It's just me, Kenji, and Ryo. No pressure.To my shock, she replied almost instantly: Sure. What time?I stared at my phone, heart racing. "She's coming. Holy crap, she's coming."Aiko materialized on my counter, kicking her legs. "Ooh, inviting your crush? Bold move.""She's not my crush!" I yelped, face burning. "And get off my counter, I'm cooking!""Whatever you say, lover boy." She hopped down, sniffing the curry. "Not bad. But you're gonna need more than decent food to pull this off. The pact's magic is stirring, and it loves a good twist.""Twist? What twist?" I demanded, but she just cackled and vanished. I had a bad feeling about this.By 7 p.m., my apartment was as ready as it'd ever be. The table was set with mismatched plates, the curry was simmering, and the mochi was… mochi-shaped, at least. Kenji and Ryo showed up first, already arguing about some video game. Then the doorbell rang, and there was Yuna, holding a small box."Um, I brought cookies," she said, pushing up her glasses. "I baked them."I nearly melted. "That's awesome. Come in!"The night started great. Kenji and Ryo devoured the katsu curry, Yuna liked the miso soup, and we all laughed when Ryo got mochi stuck to his face. Yuna even joined in, teasing Kenji about his terrible chopstick skills. For a moment, I thought I'd nailed it.Then the lights flickered. A cold wind swept through the room, even though the windows were closed. Aiko appeared, floating above the table, visible to everyone. "Nice party, Haruto! But the pact's got one last surprise."Kenji dropped his spoon. "Who's that?"Yuna's eyes widened. "Is that… a spirit?"Before I could explain, the salt circle I'd drawn two nights ago glowed under the floorboards. A crack split the air, and a second spirit emerged—a tall, shadowy figure in a chef's hat, wielding a giant ladle. Its voice boomed: "WHO DARES RIVAL MY CULINARY DOMAIN?"Aiko groaned. "Oh, great. It's Chef Grimgut. Haruto, you cooked so much, you accidentally summoned my old boss. He's kinda… territorial.""Territorial?!" I shouted as Grimgut swung his ladle, sending a wave of glowing soup at us. Yuna dove under the table, Kenji grabbed a broom like it was a sword, and Ryo just kept eating."Fix this, Aiko!" I yelled, dodging a flying dumpling."Only you can!" she shot back. "Beat him in a cook-off, or we're all toast!"