Lunch bells at Seika High were a symphony of chaos: trays clattering, laughter ricocheting off lockers, and the faint sizzle of cafeteria mystery meat wafting like a siren's call. Kai Tanaka claimed his usual corner table in the quad, unpacking his bento with the precision of a bomb defusal—rice balls first, tamagoyaki sliced neat, pickled veggies in a tidy pile. Mom's handiwork: simple, nourishing, a quiet anchor in the storm of scandals past.
Sora plopped down opposite, slamming his own box open like a treasure chest. "Behold: Mom's revenge edition. Extra wasabi—'for your sinuses, dear.' " He popped a seaweed-wrapped bite, eyes watering instantly. "Anyway, art club's buzzing about that new mural sketch. Aiko's got you as the brooding hero. Flattered?"
Kai shrugged, mid-chopstick stab. "Hero? Nah. Just the guy who asks too many questions." The Mori embers had cooled to ash—trials dragging, but Seika breathed easier, lockers un-haunted, bikes unchained. Emiko's texts: sparse, teasing. Swapped lunches? Everyday riddles await.
Yumi slid in next, her bento a minimalist affair: onigiri trio, miso soup thermos steaming. "Rivalries brewing—lit club's poaching our props for their 'Phantom' play. Drama turf war." She unwrapped an onigiri, then froze. "Wait. This... smells like curry?"
Aiko arrived last, tray balanced precariously, her box swapped for a foil-wrapped monstrosity. "What the—? Tuna melt? I'm allergic! And whose is this?" She sniffed, recoiling. "No, wait—chocolate cake? Mystery meatloaf? Guys, check yours."
Panic rippled. Sora's was a kale salad abomination—"Health nut invasion!" Yumi's curry turned out to be spicy mapo tofu—"Lit club's vegan flex?" Kai's own bento: tamagoyaki gone, replaced with... a single mochi, stamped with a heart, and a folded note tucked inside: Sweet like you. Lunch swap secret. —?
The quad table devolved into a swap-fest: boxes passed, contents inspected under collective scrutiny. "This is war," Aiko declared, waving a suspicious takoyaki skewer. "Club rivalries? Or mass prank? My almond butter sandwich is now seaweed salad—seaweed allergy."
Kai unfolded his note fully, the heart doodle wobbly but earnest. Meet after school? Roof. Don't tell the detective squad. Your smile's my favorite plot twist. —H H? Haruka from lit club? Or Hiro from math? Crush confession via cuisine chaos?
Sora snatched it, whistling. "Ooh, Kai's got a secret admirer! Bento bard—poetic. But the swaps? Coordinated. Someone hit the lockers during break."
Yumi nodded, repacking her "curry" bomb. "Access: anyone with eyes. But the notes? Mine's got one too: Spice up your stories? Coffee run? —L L for...?"
"Light novel club," Aiko pieced, eyes narrowing. "They're the quiet schemers. Last week, they 'borrowed' our easels for a book signing mock-up. Revenge via fridge raid?"
Kai's mind ticked—details: His mochi, fresh, no crumbs; note's ink, gel pen, lefty slant (Haruka?). Swaps targeted: art/lit overlap kids, allergy teases subtle. Not malice—mischief with motive. "Not raid. Switch-a-roo. Labels swapped on the communal fridge in the home ec room? Quick grab during break."
Sora groaned. "Fridge heist? I'm in—post-lunch stakeout."
The home ec room was a pastel purgatory: ovens humming empty, counters wiped to gleam. The communal fridge—club-shared for "potluck prep"—squatted by the door, stocked with labeled bentos: Aiko - Art, No Nuts; Yumi - Lit, Vegan Opt; Sora - Soccer, Meat Only. But Kai spotted the sleight: labels peeled, reapplied crooked—faint adhesive residue, fresh.
"Amateurs," he murmured, snapping photos. A stray hair on the fridge handle: long, dyed pink—light novel club's signature flair. "Hana. Their prez. Motive: prop war escalation?"
Aiko crossed arms. "And my allergy? Mean girl move."
But Kai paused—his note's warmth clashed. "Not all. Personal touches: my mochi, your spice note. Mix: prank frame, crush core."
Sora's eyes lit. "Crush conundrum! We tail Hana—after school roof redirect?"
Yumi smirked. "Or bait. Reply notes: 'Intrigued. Roof at 4. Bring takoyaki peace offering.' See who bites."
Bait set. Afternoon classes dragged—English conjugating crushes, gym dodging dodgeballs like dodged confessions. By 3:55, the group split: Sora and Aiko "club duties," Yumi lookout by stairs, Kai solo to the roof. Wind whipped the chain-link fence, city sprawl hazy below. He leaned on the ledge, mochi in hand—props for the plot.
Footsteps scuffed gravel—door creaked. Not Hana. Haruka from lit: glasses slipping, cheeks flushed, a spare bento clutched like a bouquet. "K-Kai? The note... you came?"
He blinked, heart skipping. Haruka: quiet reader, always borrowing his mystery mangas. The swaps? Her chaos. "The lunch switch? Your idea?"
She nodded, fidgeting. "Yeah. Dumb, right? Light novel club's pushing a 'rom-com arc' event—swaps to 'spark stories.' I... volunteered for yours. The mochi—your fave, from the festival chat. Note was... me. Not club." Eyes down, voice small. "Crush confession via carbs. Lame?"
Kai's grin broke free, tension uncoiling. "Lame? Genius. Details: the heart, the roof. But the allergy swaps? Hana's twist?"
Haruka winced. "Half. She rigged the labels for drama—'enemies to lovers' trope. I fixed yours. Sorry—peace mochi?"
He offered one back. "Truce. And... yeah. Coffee sometime? Non-swapped."
Her smile bloomed, shy-sunrise. "Deal."
Door banged—Yumi bursting in, Sora and Aiko tumbling behind. "Busted! Or... cute?"
Haruka yelped, but laughed, red as the sunset. "Group date? Lit-art collab?"
Aiko high-fived. "Mural meets manga. But Hana—busted for the nuts?"
Yumi's phone pinged—LINE alert: Hana confesses: Prank for plot inspo. Takoyaki treaty?
Resolution: bentos reclaimed, club mash-up born. Roof confetti: laughs, not notes.
Downstairs, Sora nudged Kai. "Detective scores. Next: whose locker has love letters?"
Emiko's text: Sweet solve. Rumor: missing club trophy? Or let crushes simmer?
Kai pocketed his phone, Haruka's number glowing new. Everyday: bentos, beats, and budding beats.
End of Chapter 13
(Next chapter tease: A pilfered soccer trophy from the club cabinet sparks a "rivalry revenge" hunt, but uncovers a heartfelt gesture from an underdog player—testing the team's bonds and Kai's knack for spotting the soft spot in suspicion.)