I Joined the Sentai Heroes Who Were Beautiful Girls Other Than Me but the Heroines Were All Yanderangers

29: Nightingale and Home Cooking 2

Carrying an amount of luggage that one man could easily handle, I visited the Green Room, which is a bit further away.

I knock on the door with my elbow, and from the other side of the door,

“Yes?”

A cheerful voice says, and the door opens, revealing Nightingale wearing a simple apron adorned with beige and mimosa embroidery.

“I’m sorry for asking you to carry my things. My room is a bit messy.”

“No, no, I’m the one who’s sorry for barging in so suddenly.”

I obviously can’t say, “I’m sorry for kicking you out of your room so suddenly.”

“Ufufu, I’m happy that Sora-kun would come to my place? You’re not intruding at all.”

When she says something so honest and playful, it makes me feel a little emotional. I’ve only seen Nightingale when she’s been emotionally vulnerable, but the Nightingale I see now seems like a gentle older sister you could find anywhere. It’s a harsh way to put it, but in a sense, it’s our fault.

“Well then, excuse me.”

Nightingale’s room has almost the same layout as my room and Himawari’s room. The first thing I notice when I enter is the “smell of a girl’s room,” which is a disgusting thought, even to me. Of course, I don’t say it out loud, and then I see the aroma diffuser that immediately catches my eye and think it’s a good thing I didn’t say it. It smells like some kind of herb, which is embarrassing.

“Welcome. It’s a small place, so please make yourself comfortable… though it’s the same size as everyone else’s room.”

Whether it’s because of her Philantrope Green or her name, Nightingale, she seems to like the color green, and her room is simple and cute, with pale green accents amidst the wooden furniture. The bookshelf is lined with what look like romance novels, the alarm clock is shaped like an apple, and there’s a black cutting board-like plate hanging on the wall that I’ve only ever seen on SNS. It’s the kind of space that feels like a girl living alone.

“Ah, that…”

“What is it?”

“It’s embarrassing, so please don’t look too closely.”

It seems like Nightingale noticed that I was blatantly looking around her room, and her face turned bright red as she looked down.

“II’m sorry!”

I got a little carried away with being in a young girl’s room for the first time in my life. That was rude of me.

“You can sit over there and wait until the food is ready, okay?”

Two gingham placemats are already on the low table with a glass top. One is lime green and the other is light blue. This is…

“Is it okay if I sit here?”

Since I’m the Blue Ranger, I sit down on the light blue one. Taking a closer look, the cushion on the carpet is also a bright sky blue.

“Yes, if you’re bored, you can read a book or something… but it might be a little boring for Sora-kun.”

With that, Nightingale turns her back to me and starts cooking. Maybe it’s because she’s doing housework, but she’s tied her ponytail a little higher than before. Her dark green ponytail sways with her as she moves around the small kitchen, which is somehow endearing .

As the knife goes “ton ton ton,” creating a cheerful sound, I start to feel like I’m actually experiencing the “girlfriend’s home cooking” situation that every guy dreams of. A guy who gets a lot of attention might call it a cliché wish, but I think homemade meals and packed lunches are definitely in the top three of things you want to do when you have a girlfriend. Of course, even though she’s not my girlfriend, I’m excited to be eating a beautiful woman’s home cooking, knowing that she has a favorable and trusting opinion of me.

Ah, if only Nightingale wasn’t a yandere.

“Wait? Yandere and cooking…”

That combination brings back some unpleasant knowledge I gained from the internet a few days ago. I’ve been researching yanderes on the internet for the past few days. Of course, I’ve read about real-life cases, but I’ve also read manga and novels with yandere heroines. What came to mind just now is a situation I’ve seen a lot in those stories.

Yandere heroines in fiction mix their own hair, bodily fluids, or flesh into their cooking. It’s a strange predatory desire to have the person they love eat them, and I’ve read stories about them mixing parts of their own body into cookies or cakes and feeding them to their loved ones. And unbelievably, this is a common theme.

“…Um, Nightingale-san?”

I have a bad feeling, and I cautiously call out to her as she cooks, facing away from me.

“What is it? Are you hungry? I’m sorry, but could you wait a little longer?”

“Ah, yes.”

So far, there’s no suspicious activity. Nightingale trusts me, but she hasn’t shown any romantic interest in me. So it would be wrong to be wary of her acting like a one-sided lover like in the manga. But there’s always a chance of something going wrong.

Unable to shake my anxiety, I stand up with some reluctance and peek over Nightingale’s shoulder at her hands as she cooks.

The salad oil in the frying pan is sizzling, and she’s just started adding the pre-cut vegetables and ground meat. Carrots, onions, bell peppers, and ground pork. It’s okay. The meat looks like pork, and Nightingale’s fingertips are fine.

“Ah, where did I put the grated garlic…”

I muttered a broken soliloquy that was unlike my usual self as I turned around, still holding the wooden spatula.

“Hyah!?”

Our eyes met at close range with Uguisu-san, who had turned to face me.

“S-Sora-san. When did you get here?”

I had startled her by standing behind her without her noticing, even though she had been sitting there quietly waiting. Of course, I couldn’t possibly say, “I came to make sure you wouldn’t tamper with the food.”

“Well, the smell was so delicious that I couldn’t wait any longer.”

I covered it up with a somewhat lame excuse.

“Fufu, sorry to keep you waiting. The smell of grilled meat makes me hungry, doesn’t it?”

It was a bit of a strange excuse considering that I was still stir-frying the ingredients, but Uguisu-san seemed to be happily convinced.

“Is there anything I can help you with? I feel bad just sitting here waiting.”

“I…I apologize?”

Huh? Her voice suddenly sounded gloomy. I don’t think what I just said was anything unnatural for a guest who had been invited. Did I step on a landmine? she doesn’t like outsiders in the kitchen because she’s maybe particular about something , or maybe she doesn’t want me to do anything unnecessary because it would be distracting?

“Then, can you just watch me from over there?”