"Hmph~" Akane let out a soft huff, crossing her arms over her chest. "If you hate it that much, just don't eat it~~"
Yasushi stared in fascination. The baseball team's legendary "ice-beauty" manager was now puffing her cheeks like some sulky little monster right in front of his bro. Satoru… you absolute legend.
"How many portions did you make?" Satoru asked calmly, sounding genuinely curious about the practical side of things.
"Two, obviously. One for each of us…" Akane answered, her tone carrying a playful edge of accusation.
"And you're planning to finish both?" Satoru raised an eyebrow, feigning concern.
"Do I look like a pig to you?" Akane shot back, her irritation now a touch more real.
Satoru sighed as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "Fine. To prevent food waste, I'll take one." He said it like he was graciously doing her a huge favor.
"Yes, yes~" Akane didn't argue further. The earlier pout vanished instantly as she ceremoniously handed him the bento box—now unwrapped from its cloth—with both hands. "Thank you, my lord, for lightening my burden. Please enjoy your meal~~" Her voice dripped with exaggerated sweetness.
"No need to be so formal," Satoru muttered faintly. He picked up his chopsticks—an onigiri and some karaage. Simple, warm, unmistakably homemade. He took a slow bite, chewing thoughtfully as the flavors spread across his tongue.
"Yes, my lord is truly wise. Waste is a sin," Akane giggled, the sound high and silly, before digging into her own portion.
Yasushi watched his bro's cheeks puff out like a chipmunk's and thought: This guy actually believes in ghosts, what a hopeless old man.
"Slow down, you'll choke like last time," Akane warned, pushing a milk carton out of the way. "Oh, and give me back yesterday's box—I'll wash it."
"It's already washed," Satoru replied evenly. "I'll bring it to class later."
"Okay," Akane said. Then, after a pause: "…Is it good?"
"It's… average," Satoru answered after an intentionally dramatic pause, making the verdict sound far harsher than it actually was. "Barely edible."
As the two of them slipped into their usual domestic banter, Yasushi quietly reflected: I really should be underneath them, not on top. That cow-pat hair of hers is now shining like a giant light bulb—way too bright for my poor eyes.
Being just a friend was painfully hard!
"Eat?" Satoru suddenly turned to Yas Bulletinushi, holding out a piece of karaage.
Don't notice me now! Yasushi inwardly panicked. Should he ask Akane first? The bento was clearly made for Satoru… EQ, Yasushi, EQ. Stay cool.
"…It's bad?" Yasushi forced a wry laugh, trying to play it off casually.
"Not at all," Akane said with a small, knowing smile—she'd seen right through his hesitation. "Go ahead and try my cooking~~ He always says it's terrible anyway~~"
"I never said terrible. I said average," Satoru corrected with a tiny frown, stubbornly defending his critique.
Chase the boy a little, Akane thought as she watched them. Their bro-relationship isn't too close, but it's not distant either. It's just… perfectly them.
Being the generous (and slightly calculating) person she was, Akane didn't mind sharing at all. Plus, this "cow-pat head" had gotten her up to the rooftop—he was basically her guardian angel today. Maximum favoritism unlocked.
"Then… can I have another piece of karaage?" Yasushi asked cautiously, eyes shining with hope.
"Eat your onigiri first," Satoru grumbled, but a second later he flicked another piece over with faint amusement. How dare this guy try to steal two!
Yasushi caught it reverently, took a small bite, and then—froze.
Touched → overwhelming sadness.
Touched: this was the first bento he'd ever received from a girl his age.
Sadness: it came from his bro's… girl… friend(?) This bittersweet feeling was killing him.
Yasushi! When will you ever stand tall?! When will a girl make a bento for you with all her heart?! This is so unfair!!
The Light Music Club was his only hope!
"Aibo! You have to teach me seriously after this!" Yasushi suddenly declared, eyes blazing with desperate determination.
"Oh, sure," Satoru nodded calmly, already mentally prepared.
Akane blinked at them in surprise. "Eh… you play guitar?"
Yasushi's invisible tail nearly shot into orbit, ready to brag, but he caught himself: No, I'm the wingman here. He swallowed his pride, gave a humble nod, and let his expression speak for itself.
"I'm decent, I guess… but compared to bro, I'm not even a sliver," Yasushi said sincerely, pure admiration in his voice.
"Zero times infinity is still zero," Satoru ruthlessly declared, smirking. "You're a zero."
Yet Akane's eyes sparkled like stars, genuine excitement lighting up her face. "Really? I want to hear…"
"Don't interrupt my lesson," Satoru warned, though there was no real bite in his voice—his eyes stayed warm.
"Bro, play for Nanao-san! She has no idea—not only does he play guitar, he sings too! Last time it was insanely good!" Yasushi gave an enthusiastic double thumbs-up, practically vibrating.
"Really?!" Akane's eyes went wide, as if an entire new universe had just opened before her. "I wanna hear, I wanna hear!"
She'd always seen Satoru as the scary guy who dominated fights, but now she pictured him with a deep, sensitive, artistic soul. Unable to hold back, she started begging like an excited puppy—chest bouncing slightly with every eager lean forward, the ultimate cute attack.
"…You really want to?" Satoru asked softly, a little thrown by how earnest she sounded.
"I do," Akane insisted, voice gentle but firm.
Satoru let out a quiet, genuine laugh—one of those rare, warm ones that felt like sunshine. "Then you'll get what you want."
"Wuu…" Akane puffed up her cheeks again, pretending to sulk, but it was clear she was barely containing her happy anticipation.
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