Heartbeats and Illusions

Perhaps it was the dazzling night sky messing with his senses, or maybe just exhaustion blurring reality, but Natsukawa Kanade found himself asking again, uncertain of what he'd just heard.

"Wait, what did you say?"

"I said yes," Fujiwara Chika replied cheerfully, leaving no room for doubt.

Kanade fell silent for a moment, digesting the confirmation.

Alright then, he thought. Arctic ramen it is. I've never heard of it, but it can't possibly be some sort of culinary nightmare… right?

He decided to trust Chika. No matter how mischievous she could be, she wouldn't intentionally harm him. At least, he hoped so. Still, as he glanced toward the counter and saw the shop owner already preparing the dish, he realized it was too late to second-guess his choice now.

Resigned to his fate, Kanade adjusted his mindset. Perhaps this unfamiliar ramen would surprise him—in a good way. It wasn't like he was actively seeking torment, but there was a tiny glimmer of optimism. Maybe, just maybe, Arctic ramen would be delicious.

The wait wasn't unpleasant. Fujiwara Chika's constant chatter kept him company, her energy as infectious as always. But just as the shop owner brought two steaming bowls of ramen to their table, she abruptly stood up.

"What's wrong?" Kanade asked, puzzled.

"Just getting some ice water," Chika said over her shoulder, waving casually. "President, start eating without me!"

In Japan, it wasn't customary to drink hot water, even in the colder months. Most restaurants provided cold water free of charge, so Chika's errand wasn't unusual. Kanade nodded silently and shifted his attention to the food.

The first bowl caught his eye: Chika's soy sauce pork bone ramen. The arrangement was flawless—tender slices of chashu, vibrant shredded seaweed, a soft-boiled egg, chopped green onions, and a garnish of red ginger. The aroma was intoxicating, filling the small shop with a rich, savory scent.

Then he glanced at his Arctic ramen.

It had all the standard components—noodles, broth, toppings—but the colors were… unsettling. Compared to the warm, golden tones of Chika's bowl, his dish seemed to radiate an ominous red glow, as if it had been dragged straight from the depths of a fiery abyss. The sharp, pungent smell of spices hit his nose like a slap.

"Back!" Chika's cheerful voice broke his reverie as she slid into her seat, placing a cup of ice water in front of him.

Kanade accepted the water with a polite nod and then pushed the soy sauce pork bone ramen toward her.

"Eh? President, are you really planning to eat the Arctic ramen?" Chika asked, her expression a mixture of surprise and amusement.

"Well… what else? Didn't you recommend it to me?"

"Oh no," she giggled, sticking out her tongue in mock embarrassment. "I was just teasing! Actually, I wanted to try it myself."

Kanade blinked, stunned.

"I've always wanted to order it, but I was scared I couldn't finish it. But since you're here, I figured it'd be fine! If it's too much for me, you can eat the rest, right?"

Kanade sighed but didn't argue. "Fine. Let's start eating, then."

He broke his chopsticks, clapped his hands together in the traditional gesture, and picked up a small portion of noodles from the soy sauce pork bone bowl. As he savored the first bite, the rich, flavorful broth and perfectly cooked noodles melted in his mouth.

Delicious.

"Uuugghhh!"

The loud groan shattered his moment of bliss. Kanade turned to see Chika, her cheeks puffed out, eyes wide, and hands covering her mouth as she gestured frantically.

"What's wrong now?" he asked, exasperated.

Chika struggled to respond, her face contorted in distress. It was clear she had taken her first bite of the Arctic ramen.

Kanade sighed, handing her the cup of ice water. "Here. Drink this."

Chika grabbed the cup with both hands, downing the water in desperate gulps. "I'm alive…" she gasped dramatically after a few moments.

The icy relief soothed the fire on her tongue temporarily, but Kanade knew better. The effects wouldn't last long. Sure enough, moments later, Chika's face twisted in agony again.

"Ahhh! My throat burns!" she wailed, clutching at her neck.

"It's not worth it," Kanade said flatly. "Just stop eating it."

"No way! Wasting food is unforgivable!" Chika declared, pounding the table with her tiny fist. "Today, I'll battle the 'Red Devil' ramen to the bitter end!"

Her bravado was unconvincing. Sweat beaded on her forehead, betraying her inner struggle.

Kanade shook his head, letting her fight her doomed battle. He watched as she alternated between slurping noodles, gulping ice water, and making pitiful noises. Her misery was almost comical, but it also tugged at his sense of responsibility.

Finally, with a sigh, Kanade made his decision. Without a word, he slid his untouched soy sauce pork bone ramen toward her and reached for the Arctic ramen instead.

"Here. You eat this."

"Eh? But—"

"No buts," Kanade said firmly. "Just eat it."

Seeing Fujiwara Chika lower her head in silence, Natsukawa Kanade hesitated. Had his tone just now been too harsh? He wasn't sure, but the sight before him quickly dispelled any concerns. Across the table, Fujiwara Chika looked oddly bashful, her face flushed a deep pink. It was hard to tell if it was from the lingering spice or sheer embarrassment over her failed food challenge. Under the restaurant's warm light, the blush appeared particularly vivid, giving her an almost doll-like charm.

"Alright... alright..." she murmured softly, her gaze fixed on her untouched ramen.

Natsukawa Kanade blinked in confusion. He wasn't used to seeing Fujiwara Chika so subdued. While her current state was slightly out of character, at least she was listening to reason now, sparing herself from further self-inflicted agony. That was one problem solved. Unfortunately, it left him facing another: the ominous bowl of "Arctic Ramen" still steaming in front of him.

The dish was a vibrant red, drenched in an unsettling amount of chili oil. It looked more like a molten lava pit than food. He stared at it, conflicted.

It wasn't that Kanade couldn't handle spicy food—he had enjoyed it often in his previous life. He remembered devouring fiery dishes alongside grilled meats, relishing the heat that paired perfectly with a cold drink. But since arriving in Japan, he had adapted to the local palate, which leaned much milder. Years of eating light and simple meals had dulled his tolerance for spiciness.

Now, faced with this culinary monstrosity, he hesitated.

After a long internal pep talk, Kanade finally steeled himself. With a deep breath, he lifted the chopsticks, carefully picked up a small portion of the noodles, and braced for impact as he placed them in his mouth.

"..."

"Well? How is it?!" Fujiwara Chika leaned in eagerly, momentarily forgetting her own discomfort as she watched him with wide, expectant eyes.

"...It's fine," Kanade replied, his brow furrowing slightly.

To his surprise, it wasn't nearly as bad as he had anticipated. The heat was potent but not unbearable, and the bold flavors actually complemented the spiciness. It was intense, yes, but oddly satisfying.

"Eh?!" Fujiwara Chika gaped at him as though he had just walked through fire unscathed. "President, are you some kind of chili superhero?!"

"Chili superhero?" Kanade repeated, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of bizarre title is that?"

"Well, how else do you explain it?" she exclaimed, clearly mystified. "That ramen was like pure molten lava! How are you not dying right now?"

"Maybe I just have a high tolerance," Kanade shrugged nonchalantly, though even he wasn't entirely sure why the spiciness didn't bother him much. Perhaps it was a lingering habit from his past life, or maybe his body had some strange resistance to pain sensations. Either way, he wasn't about to dwell on it.

Fujiwara Chika, however, seemed determined to figure it out.

"Let me try again!" she declared suddenly, grabbing her chopsticks with renewed resolve.

Kanade frowned. "You really don't have to—"

Before he could finish, she had already scooped up another bite of the ramen and popped it into her mouth. The result was immediate. Her face turned bright red, her eyes watered, and she flailed her arms dramatically as the heat overwhelmed her.

"Water! Water!" she croaked, reaching desperately for her glass. After downing several gulps, she slumped back in her chair, defeated yet again. "Nope. Still too spicy," she admitted, her voice hoarse.

Kanade sighed. "You really should've listened to me the first time."

"But it doesn't make sense!" she whined. "How can you eat it so easily while I'm over here dying?"

"Maybe because you're not good with spicy food?" Kanade offered, though he kept the second part of his thought to himself: Or maybe you're just bad at picking battles.

Despite her failure, Fujiwara Chika remained in high spirits, happily munching on the soy sauce pork bone ramen he had ordered for her earlier. Meanwhile, Kanade steadily worked his way through the Arctic Ramen. It wasn't long before they both finished their meals, leaving two empty bowls behind.

"Ahh, that was delicious!" Chika stretched her arms and beamed. "Thanks for the treat, President!"

Her bright smile was infectious, and Kanade found himself smiling back.

"It was good," he admitted, surprised at how much he had enjoyed the experience. Despite Fujiwara's initial antics, he appreciated her effort in introducing him to something new. It wasn't often that someone went out of their way like this for him.

As they stepped out of the restaurant, the cool night air greeted them. They walked side by side, chatting casually about nothing in particular. The streets were quiet, illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights and the distant hum of the city.

Just as they were about to part ways, Kanade hesitated. There was something on his mind—something he couldn't ignore any longer.

"Fujiwara," he called out, his voice softer than usual.

She stopped and turned to face him, tilting her head curiously. "What's up, President?"

Kanade hesitated, struggling to find the right words. He wasn't used to expressing his feelings, especially when it came to moments like this. Finally, after a deep breath, he managed to speak.

"Do you think... I'm not suited to be the student council president?"

Fujiwara's cheerful expression faltered, replaced by a look of quiet surprise. For a moment, the two of them stood in silence, the weight of his question hanging in the air.

Just as Kanade began to regret saying anything, he felt a small hand gently ruffle his hair.

"President," Fujiwara said softly, her voice warm and reassuring, "you always doubt yourself in the strangest ways."

Kanade blinked, startled by her sudden shift in demeanor. There was something maternal about her tone, as though she were scolding a child. It was oddly comforting.

"You're doing fine," she continued. "You just need to have more confidence. Stop second-guessing yourself all the time, and don't be afraid to be a little tougher. That's what makes a good leader."

"Fujiwara..." Kanade's voice wavered slightly, caught off guard by her sincerity.

"And one more thing!" she added, suddenly switching back to her usual playful self. "Don't speak in fragments like that—it's confusing! Just say what you mean all at once, okay?"

Kanade opened his mouth to protest, only to be cut off by her stern gaze.

"Got it?" she demanded.

"Yes, ma'am!" he replied instinctively, saluting in mock seriousness.

Fujiwara burst out laughing, and Kanade couldn't help but join in. As their laughter echoed into the night, he realized something: for the first time in a long while, he didn't feel alone.

Under the gentle glow of the moonlight, their shadows stretched across the pavement, walking side by side into the endless night.