Chapter 8 – The Subtle Art of Dough Kneading

Akihabara's Electric Town had long been hailed as a haven for all things otaku.

Its iconic ACG billboard screens, oversized anime posters, flyer-distributing cat-eared maids in white socks, and the endless stream of pedestrians painted the perfect portrait of modern commercial buzz.

Although local culture emphasized a sort of unspoken "don't bother others, don't get bothered" code, striking up conversations on the street—especially with bored, pretty young women—wasn't exactly rare. It was just nature doing its thing: the instinct to chase beauty and pass on better genes. Of course, in some species where everyone looks the same, males had to build nests to impress—like buying a house in human terms.

So it was no surprise that in this packed shopping district, even the most introverted types headed for maid cafés didn't escape the occasional flirtation.

Sakura Ayane happened to witness more than one such attempt—not as the target, but as a bystander.

First came a Shibuya-style bad girl in heavy makeup, who left in a huff after being ignored. Then a young maid handing out flyers tried to make her pitch. Finally, a stylish older woman with designer shades and a luxury handbag whispered something to the boy that clearly made him hesitate.

And that's when Sakura Ayane swooped in to save the day.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," she said apologetically, though her tone hinted at something more.

"It's fine. Wasn't that long." Yin Ze casually tossed a perfumed business card into the trash—he'd made a solemn vow that morning to stick to his principles, and backing out now would just be shameful.

The girl didn't mind. Making friends required a little generosity, after all.

"So, have you decided what to do next?" Sakura Ayane asked, adjusting her tone with practiced ease. "I'm good with anything. There's that new movie *Deadly Code*—big budget, star-studded cast. We could check out an exhibit at the Red Hall. Arcades work too, just not pachinko, absolutely not. Or maybe you wanted to try out a maid café and order that heart-shaped omelet rice? I don't mind tagging along to broaden my horizons."

"You're way too playful," Yin Ze teased.

"Pfft, and what's *your* idea then?"

"Heh. I say we score a free meal."

"...Huh?"

Twenty minutes later, Sakura Ayane was standing at the doorway, staring silently at Matsuoka Yoshitsugu, who held a steaming bowl of minced pork.

"You're here! Come in, come in!" Matsuoka stepped aside enthusiastically.

"Already started wrapping?" Yin Ze asked as he stepped in.

"Not yet—just chopping meat and marinating it."

"Takizawa and the others here already? Long time no see! Wow, Sakura-chan, you're still as cute as ever\~"

The tiny, dimly lit apartment was alive with activity. Dough sat on the coffee table, half-kneaded. The rhythmic chopping from the kitchen echoed nonstop. Everyone from their new hire welcome party was present. After answering the door, Matsuoka headed back to the kitchen. Iwazawa Toshiki, the host, poured oolong tea for everyone, and Yoshimura Haruka waved with flour-covered hands.

Yin Ze changed into house slippers. Behind him, Sakura Ayane followed nervously, tugging at his sleeve to whisper, "You didn't tell me there'd be this many people!"

"They're just coworkers. No booze today—just good vibes, cooking and eating together," Yin Ze said proudly. "And I'll even show off my cooking skills."

"You can cook?" she asked skeptically.

"Hah! I've mastered the sacred kneading technique known as 'White Serpent Spiral Refinement'—a secret Eastern culinary art!"

"When exactly did you learn this?"

"Just now. I made it up."

"..."

Once seated, the usually lively Sakura transformed into her polite, public persona, making stiff small talk like a proper schoolgirl.

"Boys have stronger arms—kneading duty's yours," Yoshimura Haruka said, happily backing off.

"Leave it to me!" Yin Ze rolled up his sleeves, revealing soft, pale forearms. He launched a Chinese food docuseries on his phone for inspiration and mimicked the master chef's every knead and slap.

To be fair, it did look kind of legit—at least at first. Sakura raised her brows in surprise, but when she realized the dough hadn't actually changed, her expression flattened.

Still, his flour-sprinkling technique was getting rather elegant.

"This is it?" she deadpanned.

"You don't understand—I've infused every inch of this dough with my inner strength. It has transcended!" Yin Ze said dramatically.

A few more minutes passed, and sweat began to bead on his forehead.

"...Takizawa-kun might be a bit out of shape," the girls observed, exchanging concerned looks.

Yin Ze remained unfazed. Deep inside, though, he felt cold.

Too much late-night bingeing, too many retro dramas on the toilet, music blasting on crowded trains and studio breaks—maybe he'd finally overdone it.

"Let me take over," Haruka offered kindly.

Yin Ze clutched the dough like a kid refusing to give up his toy, but in the end, the elegant older woman gently pried his fingers open.

...She's got some grip, Yin Ze thought, eyeing the red imprints on his wrist. Like a pro diplomat's handshake. Who knew Haruka-san, the refined and bookish office lady, was hiding that kind of strength?

Her kneading technique was far more efficient—steady and powerful, yet relaxed enough to make small talk.

"Sakura-chan, do you cook at home?" she asked.

"Eh, me?" Sakura blinked, then looked away. "Sometimes. Especially when Mom's not around."

"When was this? Also 'just now'?" Yin Ze butted in.

Before he could finish, he got a light stomp on the foot.

"That's great. I was pretty lazy at your age," Haruka said kindly. "Didn't get into cooking until I moved out on my own."

"But you're so good at it."

"Kneading dough isn't that hard. It's kind of fun, actually. Want to try?"

"I think I'll pass," Sakura declined, waving her hands quickly.

"Come on, don't hide your skills—show us some home-cooked flair," Yin Ze said with a sly grin.

"M-My cooking doesn't include... this." Sakura lifted her chin.

"This is it?" Yin Ze echoed her earlier jab.

"W-Watch me, then!" she snapped, blushing as she marched off to wash her hands.

Mimicking the techniques she'd just seen, Sakura launched into her own grand kneading combo.

Yin Ze and Haruka silently watched from the sidelines.

"Well? Better than you, huh?" she boasted.

"Excellent technique," Yin Ze praised.

"Heh."

"With hands like that, even doomed chickens, ducks, and fish would die peacefully, comforted by your masterful massage. Even this dough has accepted its fate. I'd call this a ritual of peace. Do you pray for every meal, Sakura-chan? You're so gentle."

"Very refined touch," Haruka nodded.

Sakura, expressionless, began kneading with increasing aggression.

"What are you doing? That looks like a face." Yin Ze's artistic eye caught on.

"Hmm… Yeah. No idea which scumbag this is supposed to be." She smiled and smacked the dough hard.

"Feels like you're implying something."

"No clue what you mean. Just kneading dough here."

Yin Ze quietly tore off a chunk and began shaping a face.

"What are you doing?! Don't steal my dough!" Sakura cried, like a kid who just lost her playdough.

"Haruka-san! Tear me off a piece—I need to make short hair!" Yin Ze clutched his dough protectively.

"Ahh! Who are you trying to model?!"

By the time Iwazawa and Matsuoka came out with bowls of seasoned meat, they didn't find a neat stack of dumpling wrappers.

Instead, on the cutting board were two three-dimensional dough busts.

The male one looked... distorted. The female one, on the other hand, was surprisingly well-proportioned. Haruka giggled behind her hand while Takizawa slumped in defeat and Sakura stood triumphant.

It seemed some kind of silent battle had just ended.

"Well? Isn't mine cute?" Sakura Ayane asked smugly.

"Cute enough to charm nine out of ten," Yin Ze said with a smile, rubbing his waist.

"And the tenth?" she pressed.

"His name was A-Wei. He's no longer with us."

"So... the dumpling wrappers?" Matsuoka, ever the pragmatic one, got to the heart of the matter.

"No worries. I had a Plan B," Iwazawa declared confidently. "We've got a whole pack of factory-made wrappers in the fridge."

"And these?"

"Noodle dough."