Ookami-san Wa Taberaretai ★ Proven & Instant

Her tail gave a single, traitorous wag. Then another.

“I brought nikujaga ,” he said softly, kneeling beside her. “Beef and potatoes. Simmered for four hours.” Ookami-san wa Taberaretai

“So,” he said, pulling a small bento box from his backpack, “I made too much lunch. Ginger pork with a honey-soy glaze, tamagoyaki, and pickled daikon. It’s not subpar.” Her tail gave a single, traitorous wag

He cooked for her properly after that. Not just leftovers, but real meals: katsu curry with a soft-boiled egg, nabeyaki udon in a clay pot he hauled up the mountain, even mochi she could roast over a fire. She ate with her hands, tore into meat with those impressive fangs, and sometimes—just sometimes—let out a low, rumbling sound that might have been a purr. “Beef and potatoes

He set the box on a flat stone and stepped back. The wind carried the scent of caramelized meat and sesame oil. Ookami-san’s ears swiveled forward. Her nose twitched. Her tail, betraying her utterly, began to wag.

“Fine,” she growled, snatching the ladle from his hand. “But I’m in charge of the meat.”

“Takeda-sensei,” the principal said weakly, “is that… a wolf?”