All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

Izumi Kotomi glanced at Aimi, reached out, and ruffled her hair, asserting her authority as the older sister. ”Look at you. It’s fine to joke around sometimes, but did you really have to shout so loud just now? If I hadn’t explained fast enough, Mom would’ve been going on about this whole ’girlfriend’ thing for ages.”

”Hmph! You came back too late, and dinner was getting cold,” Aimi huffed, puffing her cheeks in displeasure.

”I was just a bit later than usual; it’s not that big of a deal, right? And even if the food’s cold, I can just heat it up in the microwave.” Kotomi smiled helplessly.

Recently, Aimi had been paying extra attention to when Kotomi came home, getting upset if she was even a little late.

Could it be that after Megumi Kato’s visit, Aimi was feeling a sense of crisis? Kotomi wondered silently to herself.

Aimi looked down, nervously fiddling with the edge of her shorts, and murmured, ”But… but I made one of the dishes myself for you tonight.”

Though her voice was quiet, Kotomi still heard her loud and clear. She exclaimed in surprise, ”You… you made dinner for me?!”

”I only made one dish for you! Don’t make such a big deal out of it,” Aimi pouted, her face reddening. ”I just learned how to make it, and I wasn’t sure if it would taste good, so I wanted you to try it first.”

”So basically, I’m your guinea pig, huh?” Kotomi teased, playfully poking fun at her.

”Geez, Onee-chan!” Aimi’s face flushed even redder, almost like a ripe apple.

”Alright, alright, I’ll stop teasing. Let me see what you made!” Kotomi, having won this round, decided to leave it at that. Even though Aimi often acted unruly at home, especially toward her older sister, Kotomi knew that deep down, Aimi was actually quite shy.

They headed to the kitchen, where Kotomi sat down and first tried a bite of the rice.

Despite Aimi’s earlier complaints about the food getting cold, the rice was still hot—clearly, that had just been her venting.

Their father, Izumi Kaneyoshi, had to stay late at work that evening, so their mother, Akina, had only made enough dinner for the three of them.

The meal consisted of stir-fried green peppers with pork, miso soup with tofu, tamagoyaki (Japanese rolled omelet), and rice.

”This tamagoyaki… is this the dish you made for me?” Kotomi pointed with her chopsticks at the plate of tamagoyaki in front of her.

Aimi looked surprised and stared at Kotomi in disbelief. ”How did you know, sis? I didn’t even give you a hint. Did Mom tell you beforehand?”

”Nope.”

”Then how did you figure it out? I didn’t tell you which dish I made.”

”Because…” Kotomi smiled mischievously. ”Mom’s tamagoyaki would never turn out this… loose.”

She playfully tapped the plate with her chopsticks.

To call it tamagoyaki was a stretch—it looked more like a pile of scrambled eggs.

There was another thing Kotomi didn’t have the heart to mention: If it weren’t for the vague resemblance to tamagoyaki’s typical shape, she might’ve thought it was just a regular plate of scrambled eggs.

Hearing Kotomi’s explanation, Aimi, though she had expected it, still turned even redder, embarrassed by her culinary attempt. ”Ugh… I didn’t think rolling the eggs would be so tricky! It looked so easy in the video, but when I tried it myself, I almost ruined the whole thing.”

Well, you did kind of ruin it, Kotomi thought silently.

”Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it with practice,” Kotomi encouraged, trying to be supportive. If Aimi was genuinely interested in cooking, it was better to cheer her on.

Besides, if Aimi mastered cooking, Kotomi wouldn’t have to bother cooking when their parents weren’t home. Aimi could handle it!

Perfect plan!

”Come on, Onee-chan! Try it!” Aimi urged eagerly, clearly anxious to see if Kotomi liked her cooking.

Aimi had learned how to make tamagoyaki because it was one of Kotomi’s favorite dishes.

After all, there’s a saying: The way to someone’s heart is through their stomach.

Aimi had come across this phrase online and thought it was so true.

That’s why she’d made it her mission to become an amazing cook, believing that if she could conquer Kotomi’s taste buds, Kotomi would never be able to leave her side!

No matter how many girls showed up around Kotomi, Aimi wouldn’t need to worry!

She was confident that even if she had to compete with Megumi Kato, she’d have a 1000% chance of winning!

With this plan in mind, Aimi chuckled to herself, feeling like a little genius.

Her chuckle, which sounded like the laugh of a villainess from an anime, sent a shiver down Kotomi’s spine as she ate.

—Did Aimi put something weird in my food?!

Under Aimi’s expectant gaze, Kotomi took a bite of the… scrambled eggs—no, tamagoyaki.

”Well, chan? How does it taste?” Aimi asked, trying to suppress her excitement as she waited for Kotomi’s feedback.

Kotomi chewed thoughtfully before swallowing.

The only thing she could think to say was: So salty!

How much salt did she put in this?!

In comparison, the tamagoyaki Megumi’s mother had made was perfect—just the right balance of sweet and salty, like it had been made especially for Kotomi’s taste. Just thinking about the tamagoyaki she’d had at Megumi’s house made Kotomi’s mouth water; she definitely wanted to have it again.

As Kotomi ate Aimi’s tamagoyaki, her mind wandered back to Megumi’s perfect version.

”Onee-chan, don’t just keep eating! Tell me what you think! Is there anything I should fix?” Aimi pressed, eager for feedback.

”It’s… decent. Keep at it,” Kotomi replied vaguely.

But Aimi wasn’t satisfied with that. She grabbed Kotomi by the shoulders and shook her, like a child throwing a tantrum. ”Geez! Onee-chan, give me a proper review!”

”Alright, alright! Stop shaking me—I’m getting dizzy!”

Once Aimi let go, Kotomi thought for a moment before offering a more detailed critique: ”If I were judging this as scrambled eggs, I’d say it’s pretty well done. But it’s just a bit too salty.”

Aimi’s expression fell.

”I wasn’t making scrambled eggs… I was trying to make tamagoyaki. Is it really that salty?”

While she was a little disappointed, Aimi remembered that her sister wasn’t the type to be overly picky about food. Still, maybe she had gone overboard with the salt?

”Didn’t you taste it while you were cooking?”

”Not even a bite.”

Why are you saying that so proudly?

”Here, try it for yourself,” Kotomi said, offering Aimi a bite.

Aimi hesitantly took a taste, only to immediately toss down the chopsticks and rush over to the water cooler, gulping down a huge cup of water.

”Ugh… It’s way too salty!”

”Didn’t the tutorial you watched mention how much salt to use?”

”It said to use a pinch… like half a teaspoon.”

Aimi pouted in disappointment, feeling like she had let her sister down with her first attempt at cooking.

How was she ever going to make Kotomi’s stomach fall in love with her cooking now?!