As the bell tolled at the end of gym class, it finally signaled the end of P.E. and the start of snack time in Sakura High. Unlike the full duration of lunch, snack time only lasted half the amount of time that lunch did. Although a bit unconventional for a Japanese high school, the point of its implementation was to revitalize, reinvigorate students, providing them with the much-needed energy boost to improve performance and sustain concentration. Often, students do this by eating snacks, sweet or savory, that were available in the cafeteria.
As the period started from late morning to early noon, most students would opt for either light fried savory snacks—such as Korokke (potato croquettes), Takoyaki (octopus balls), or Karaage (Japanese-style fried chicken)—or some easy-to-consume Japanese sweet treats—such as daifuku (sweet mochi with red bean filling), melon pan, or Dorayaki (sweet pancakes with different kinds of filling).
Some students, however, did decide to eat their heavy lunch meals during this period, if they were even capable of finishing it in such a short amount of time. Although it wasn't technically forbidden for students to eat their lunches during this period, you'd certainly be getting weird looks from people—probably either full of bewilderment or irrational assumptions about how gluttonous you seem. Well, some people did still go to the cafeteria after eating their home-prepared meals to order another bento set or to eat even heavier meals, so perhaps that assumption isn't completely baseless.
Now dressed in their standard uniforms, Ayanokouji made his way to the cafeteria alongside Ohta and Tanaka, his pace brisk but steady.
If I walk just a bit faster, I might be able to snag one of the mango mochis left on the counter before it sells out… Ayanokouji silently prayed, despite being a full fledged atheist, that fate would not deny him his prize.
Mochi was a daily staple in the school's snack rotation, loved for its chewy texture, portability, and sheer versatility. Whether it was filled with red bean paste or something more modern like chocolate mousse or caramel cream, it was convenient, cheap, and surprisingly filling despite its small size. The cafeteria tended to rotate flavors every day with today's offerings being mango mochi and strawberry mochi, both tucked in with real fruit inside the soft rice casing.
Ayanokouji had tried the strawberry-flavored one before. It was good, but nothing special. The strawberry they used inside could be better, but considering the price and the lack of availability of fresh strawberries, he couldn't complain. But, today was special. Today, the cafeteria was offering a limited edition mango mochi for the first time, and judging by how fast the news had spread throughout the school grapevine, the supply would most definitely be gone at any moment's notice considering the high demand for it. It was a rare opportunity, which is why Ayanokouji tried to make an effort to arrive at the cafeteria as quickly as he could.
Keyword: Tried, but alas, sometimes fate had other plans.
If only we hadn't left the locker room so late… Ayanokouji sighed internally, casting a brief, pointed glance toward Tanaka, who trudged behind him with as much sense of urgency as the number of girls who could ever like Shimura—nonexistent.
He was the reason they were behind on schedule, the reason they had to walk more hurriedly than usual just to have a chance at beating the other students to the snack counter. And it had all been because of something completely avoidable.
***
As gym class came to an end, the coach ended the session early and gave them 5 minutes to change back into their school uniforms before snack time. Predictably, the locker room became a chaotic flurry of chatter and movement. The tangy, onion-like stench of sweat hung in the air—amplified by those who'd simply forgotten, or neglected to apply deodorant or perfume to their bodies. The chorus of boys laughing, teasing, bantering with one another, and talking over each other echoed loudly off the tilted walls. Metal lockers slammed open and shut. Fabric rustled and whipped as jackets were flung off shoulders or shorts were swapped out for the usual dark green trousers.
Ayanokouji, ever methodical as he was, quietly folded his gym uniform with mechanical precision. He then placed it neatly into the designated laundry bag provided by the school located near his locker. These bags were collected weekly and returned, freshly cleaned and pressed—one of the many subtle perks of being a Sakura High student. It wasn't technically a service given out for free though, since it was almost certainly included in their total tuition fees. Still, it was quite kind and considerate of the school since it helped spare students and their families of extra laundry at home, which many were grateful for since it helped save money on electrical and water bills.
As Ayanokouji closed his locker with a quiet clack, he was mentally preparing to bolt towards the cafeteria with a calm urgency that only Ayanokouji could emit, hoping the mango mochi he had been looking forward to eating the entire day hadn't run out of stock yet. His steps were light, precise, almost catlike—as if he were an impatient toddler ready to sprint out of his house to desperately chase an ice cream truck jingling down the block.
But then, just as he reached the exit, he came to a halt.
His gaze drifted lazily to the center of the locker room, and there it was—a scene so painfully Tanaka-esque, so absurdly on-brand for a man who had mastered the art of a thousand naps. It was a scene straight out of a strangely comedic anime, Ayanokouji didn't know whether to sigh, scoff, or shake his head at Tanaka.
Standing near the middle of the room was Ohta, who was trying to help Tanaka take off his shirt. Now, this wouldn't be abnormal in any way—Ohta had garnered a reputation for basically being Tanaka's caretaker during school hours, if it wasn't for the fact he looked like a tired father trying to wrangle a noodle-limbed toddler into a jacket they didn't want to wear. Except, imagine the exact opposite.
Ohta was hopelessly trying to pull Tanaka out of his red track jacket, gripping both sleeves firmly but with resigned hands.
How does one turn something as simple and easy as taking off a jacket into a difficult two-person job?
Ayanokouji observed them from the sidelines for a bit, before rubbing his temples as he realized the reason behind Tanaka's struggles.
What was the problem, you may ask? Tanaka had completely forgotten—actually, no. For someone of his lazy royalty, he had probably felt too sluggish to unzip the front of his jacket.
Instead of removing the jacket normally by unzipping it completely like any other normal person would, Tanaka had yanked it halfway over his head as he now stood there—arms dangling above his shoulders, torso exposed, and the jacket tangled awkwardly around his ears. Ayanokouji took this opportunity to observe his body for a couple of seconds.
Skinny, though not to a concerning or unhealthy degree. No signs of defined or toned musculature. No scars of blemishes. Just a plain, unremarkable body—one you'd exactly expect from someone as sedentary as Tanaka. Ayanokouji quietly analyzed Tanka's exposed stomach and chest, taking mental notes with the detached objectivity of a scientist inspecting a new species.
"Ayanokouji!" Ohta called out, waving a hand to get his attention. "Mind giving me a hand here?"
Ayanokouji paused at the doorway, weighing two possible courses of action.
Option one: Step forward and assist Ohta in un-stucking the very much stuck Tanaka. If he were to do this, his chances of securing the prized mango mochi would drop dramatically. Not only would he have to wait for Tanaka to finish folding his clothes after—a task that could very well take until their graduation—but he'd also have to stick around to wait for him to finish donning his school uniform. Realistically, there were no direct benefits for him in helping… unless he could guilt trip Tanaka into compensating him by covering the cost of his snacks, especially if the mango mochi ended up being sold out. He could then invoke the memory of nearly getting knocked out by Tanaka's airborne racket earlier in gym class. That guilt had to be lingering somewhere, right?
…What am I thinking? I'm reverting back into my White Room persona. This isn't how high school life should be.
Option two: Pretend not to hear them, walk straight out of the door, and head to the cafeteria solo. This would increase his chances of getting the mango mochi—not a guarantee, but every slim chance he could get was essential. Still, with how in-demand it was, there could already be a long line forming by now and it could be gone by the time he finally arrived at the counter. And bailing on both of them now? That would likely demote his status from "friend" to "acquaintance" in both their eyes. Not that he cared much for their true opinions of him—but unnecessary conflict was something he had wanted to actively avoid. High school life was a lot easier and enjoyable when you weren't making enemies out of people you were going to see every day for the next three years.
So with a reluctant sigh and the resignation of a man who had accepted the cruelty of fate, Ayanokouji trudged forward, going with option one.
Maybe if I fold his clothes for him, we can shave off a few precious seconds and still make it in time… he hypothesized, now standing in front of Tanaka with his usual unreadable expression.
***
And that leaves us where we are now. As the view of the cafeteria came into place, such ordinary scenery flilled Ayanokouji's view.
The cafeteria was buzzing with life; a midday hum of motion and chatter swirled around the open space like some sort of invisible current. The sharp screech of metal chair legs dragging against the colorful hexagonal-tiled floor reverberated faintly beneath the soft murmur of everyday conversation. A mixture of laughter, soft greetings, and the occasional exclamation from excited students layered over one another—like a delicate stack of French crepes, layered not with cream, but with melodies of positive emotions and youthful energy.
The scent of fresh batter, fried karaage, and warm melon bread drifted from the direction of the counter they were heading towards, mingling with the crisp undertone of orange-scented cleaning spray still lingering in the air from this morning's wipe-down. The soft rustle of trees made way for fresh air—lending a touch of nature to the otherwise artificial architecture, as patches of warm sunlight filtered through the beams above and dappled the white plastic tables.
"Since I worked so hard in P.E., I'm hungrier than usual…" Tanaka complained as his stomach began to growl.
You call sleeping in gym class working hard…? Ohta thought, amused.
As if continuing Ohta's inner thoughts, Ayanokouji responded silently, You exercised more muscles and wasted more energy taking off that jacket than actually participating in badminton.
Then again, for someone like Tanaka—who most likely spent his free time on the weekends bedridden not because he was sick, but because he could not muster up the courage to escape the comforting envelope of his bed—this was probably the closest thing he would ever do to exercise. And honestly, Ayanokouji could relate to his sentiment.
Even though Ohta had done most of the work in their match against Katou and Shimura, Ayanokouji had still worked up a mild appetite. It was his first time in a while doing any semi-serious physical activity, so he figured he might as well eat a little more than he usually would—maybe something savory with a sweet treat on the side, plus a cool drink to help rehydrate.
As they waited in line, Ayanokouji found himself idly wondering why he rarely ever spotted Katou or Shimura in the cafeteria. Though they were all part of the same friend group, it was clear each one of them gravitated towards a certain person more. As for Ayanokouji, he didn't necessarily have a favorite—he valued everyone equally—but if he were to examine the past few months, he probably spent more time with Ohta and Tanaka. Katou and Shimura's extroverted energy tended to overwhelm him at times, making him feel like a misfit in their duo dynamic.
Not that he ever felt ostracized or unbidden—if anything, both Katou and Shimura had welcomed him warmly into their circle. It's just, for Ayanokouji, it took him more mental bandwidth to keep up with their social pace and energy. Ayanokouji, more often than not, valued low-maintenance friendships that didn't demand a constant amount of upkeep. And while Ayanokouji didn't find hanging out with Katou and Shimura to be an unpleasant or exhausting experience, they were still new variables to his life. He still needed time to adjust.
Before he could sink further into his thoughts, they finally reached the front of the line.
"Good afternoon, boys! How may I help you?" the lady behind the counter beamed with a smile worthy of a five-star rating on any customer service survey.
Hm… Ayanokouji stroked his chin, scanning his options. Strawberry custard danish—interesting. Haven't tried that one out yet. Melon bread… I already had that yesterday. Loaded hamburg steak sandwich… might be a bit too filling for lunch.
He glanced toward the fried foods section. He wasn't really in the mood for tempura vegetables. He settled on a small serving of karaage popcorn chicken for something savory, and picked the danish for his dessert since he wanted to try something new. Then, finally, his eyes drifted to the mochi section—only to find… nothing.
Sigh… Ayanokouji let out an audible sigh, unable to mask his disappointment. Guess I won't be able to eat mango mochi after all…
Oh well. He could probably ask Matsuo iif he could make some later. They did have some leftover mango slices from yesterday, and a couple more stored in the fridge.
The sight of the usually unshakable Ayanokouji looking visibly dejected surprised both Tanaka and Ohta. Ohta followed his gaze and spotted the empty mochi trays. Before he could offer words of consolation, Tanaka tapped him on the shoulder.
"I've decided."
"Me too," Ohta nodded.
"Can you pay for me? I'll pay you back later," Tanaka said plainly, his voice dry as ever.
"Sure," Ohta replied, pulling out his phone to scan the QR code. "Ayanokouji, you can let me pay for your items as well."
Ayanokouji blinked, snapping out his internal sulking at the sound of Ohta's voice. "Oh, alright… but I don't have any money in my digital account currently. Is it fine if I pay you in yen?"
"Yeah, sure." Ohta gave a thumbs-up. "I don't mind."
"Alright. Thanks, Ohta." Ayanokouji said with a small nod.
---
"Here you go, boys!" the lady exclaimed as she finished packing all their items into plastic bags. "One loaded Hamburg Steak sandwich on French bread, one strawberry custard danish with a caramel muffin and mango mochi, and one more bag with a second strawberry custard danish paired with karaage popcorn!" she displayed all three bags proudly, like a chef presenting her signature dishes to three judges in a cooking show.
Ayanokouji raised an eyebrow—so Ohta and Tanaka must've snatched the last piece while he was still busy deciding what to order. Although they had the right to grab one themselves—this wasn't feudal Japan anymore, people regardless of social and economic status could eat similar foods—he still couldn't help feeling like whatever extraterrestrial being that watched over them had wronged him. It was, after all, partially because of them he wasn't able to get one. But he sighed internally. Complaining about it now would just be childish—like crying over spilled milk—or in this case, stolen mochi.
The three of them simultaneously reached out and grabbed the bags that belonged to them.
"Huh?! I got all three wrong?!" The lunch lady slightly opened her mouth agape, looking shocked.
She had expected the sleepy black-haired boy to go for the modest pairing of karaage popcorn and a danish. The composed, deadpan boy had been eyeing the mochi with such intensity in his eyes, surely he would've chosen the all-sweets bag. And the tall, ponytailed boy? Surely the hearty Hamburg Steak sandwich belonged to someone of his build.
I guess you really can't judge a book by its cover…
Once they left the counter, the trio quickly looked around, eyes darting between tables and benches in search of a vacant space to eat in. The cafeteria's indoor section was completely full—packed with students chatting, laughing, and eating away their meals. Despite the high-spirited energy in the space, there was an undeniable calmness to it all—the kind of rhythym that came with familiarity and routine. Some students lounged at the benches near the greenery, a girl had her head lying on her arms, seemingly complaining about a botched exam she may have fumbled; others clustered into tight-knit groups around tables, unwrapping onigiri and cracking open cans of sodas.
With no other choice, the boys made their way toward the outdoor area of the cafeteria. Technically, they could've returned to the classroom if they wanted the comfort of air conditioning or a more well-lit, livelier environment, but considering they had just come from an exhausting gym class, it seemed too troublesome. A little sunlight and quiet sounded nice.
As they stepped out of the indoor cafeteria, the trio instinctively shut their eyes briefly, their pupils assaulted by the midday sunlight. Unlike the gentle rays of the morning, the noon sun bore down with intense brilliance, its unforgiving brightness bouncing off the concrete and glinting from window panes. The humidity had noticeably spiked since gym class, wrapping around their bodies like an invisible, thick blanket, making the sweat on their foreheads and backs bead at an alarming rate.
However, occasional gusts of wind sliced through the overwhelming heat, sweeping across their uniforms and offering them fleeting moments of relief and coolness. The soft rustle of grass underneath their shoes and the serene view of puffy, slow moving, but oddly shaped clouds—one of them funnily resembling a banana—added a whimsical touch to the ambiance, making the outdoor area feel less like a toned down version of a hot spring and more like a scenic escape from the chaos and ebullience inside.
After pacing around for a while, the three of them finally settled under the wide shade of a tree. Its leaf canopy filtered the sunlight into scattered fragments of little rays, keeping them protected from the brunt of the sun. The tree had also given them something to lean against—a much-needed reprieve after today's gym class. Sitting perfectly straight while eating might've looked good in terms of etiquette, but it's not like they were attending a fancy dinner they had to impress an honored guest. Their muscles were already starting to stiffen, and none of them were eager to cramp up in the middle of their meals.
Ayanokouji opened his plastic bag and began unwrapping his food, swiftly reading over the printed labels on each package. The strawberry custard danish contained approximately just under three hundred calories—two hundred seventy-ish, give or take. Made with custard cream, sugar, egg yolk, and slices of fresh strawberries. Although it wasn't quite as authentic as an award-winning Michelin-star bakery, he figured it was the best he was going to get from the cafeteria. Whether it was hand-prepared by the people behind the counter or outsourced from a local supplier, it still looked appealing enough. The karaage popcorn on the other hand, was exactly what the name implied—small, bite-sized, lightly-seasoned fried chicken meant to satisfy without leaving one bloated or sluggish afterwards.
Ayanokouji sure is taking a long time reading the labels… Ohta internally remarked. Is he self-conscious about his weight?
Truth be told, Ohta didn't really know Ayanokouji that well. Sure, they shared a common fondness for sweet food, and while Ayanokouji wasn't exactly amazing academically, his grades were consistently respectable. He was introverted, yet dependable as a classmate. That much he knew.
But beyond that? Most of what he knew about him felt surface-level. Ayanokouji just seemed like a quiet and chill guy who always kept to himself, and Ohta didn't want to overstep his boundaries and risk making him uncomfortable. He'll let Ayanokouji get comfortable on his own and open doors when he feels like it.
Still… I wouldn't have expected someone like you to have such girlish worries, Ayanokouji…
Maybe, just like with Tanaka, he'd need to start paying attention to Ayanokouji more. If the guy was on some kind of strict diet, then maybe today was his cheat day—but he was worried about overindulging and ruining all the progress he'd made. Ohta made a mental note to start checking the cafeteria's upcoming menu items more frequently for both their sakes.
"Ohta, you sure love your sweets," Tanaka remarked, watching as Ohta pulled the two desserts from his bag.
"Yeah, these two are new this month. I have to try them."
"But you don't really look like the type to eat strawberry danishes, so the cafeteria lady looked surprised."
Tanaka stifled a quiet laugh, recalling the stunned look on the lunch lady's face when Ohta grabbed the plastic bag that was intended for him.
"You don't look like the 'loaded' type either," Ohta retorted, glancing at Tanaka's food. "But you could say the same thing about Ayanokouji."
"What about my food choices?" Ayanokouji tilted his head slightly.
"Well, it's just that…" Tanaka squinted at him. "I thought you'd sort of be similar to me, you know? That you'd eat whatever's easiest to chew—not really caring about how it tastes as long as you didn't leave with an empty stomach."
If people thought Tanaka was dull and emotionless, then they clearly hadn't met Ayanokouji. While he wasn't as gloomy as some rumors claimed, there was something a bit unsettling about how emotionally muted he looked—like a robot operating under a simulation, fully aware that it was all just an experiment. Even Tanaka, who prided himself on being the poster boy for listlessness, could still show glimmers of emotion: boredom, joy, frustration. But Ayanokouji? You'd have thought he was a cursed living statue.
"I kind of agree with Tanaka." Ohta nodded. "Today was probably the most emotion I've seen come out of you."
"Well, almost getting your head split open by a hurled metal racket is bound to shake anyone up."
"...I said I was sorry…"
"It was just sarcasm. Accidents happen. I'm self-aware enough to not hold a grudge against you since you didn't try to kill me on purpose… I think."
You think? Does that mean you think I'd kill you outside of gym class then? Tanaka thought, unable to ignore Ayanokouji's backhanded remark.
"While Tanaka's right about the gym incident, I was more or less talking about how disappointed you were about—ah, wait a second." Ohta suddenly reached into his plastic bag and pulled out the coveted mango mochi. "Here, for you," he said, handing the small tray toward him.
Ayanokouji blinked, surprised. His eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion.
Was this… a food trap? Some kind of loyalty test? Maybe a joke? His gaze sharpened.
"Don't look at me with such scrutinizing eyes…" Ohta sighed,nlooking mildly bothered. "Since I go to the cafeteria to eat sweets pretty much every day, I've basically become the lunch ladies' unofficial taste tester for anything new they're planning to roll out. They gave me that mochi earlier during checkout to get my opinion. Though, judging by how fast it sold out, clearly my input wasn't necessary."
"So… you want my opinion on how the mochi tastes?"
"No? Not really. I just noticed you looked bummed out when you saw the tray of mochi was empty, so I'm giving mine to you. I was mainly after the strawberry custard danish anyway," he began unwrapping his own food casually.
"...Ohta, if you were a girl, I would have fallen head over heels for you already," Ayanokouji blurted out without hesitation.
"..."
Then, as if Tanaka felt personally threatened by Ayanokouji's sarcastic confession—like a jealous girlfriend—he suddenly wrapped both arms tightly around Ohta's right arm.
"Just so you know, I called dibs first…"
"Get a grip on reality, both of you," Ohta sighed and gently pushed Tanaka away. "Is the heat really messing with your brains that much?"
"Going back to what Ohta said—" Ayanokouji smoothly pivoted the conversation back on track, "I guess I'm 50/50. I mean, while I do have certain types of food I prefer over others, I'm not really a picky eater. I'll eat whatever food is served to me on the table. That doesn't mean I'll always like it, but I won't go out of my way to make a big fuss about something just because something doesn't suit my taste buds."
"I see…" Ohta glanced down at his food with an air of thoughtfulness. "That's certainly a mature way of thinking. Quite admirable of you."
Ayanokouji gave a modest shrug and finally opened the wrapper of his strawberry custard danish. He lifted it to his mouth as he took a bite.
The texture of the pastry was soft and buttery, flaking ever so slightly against his teeth before melting into a custard-rich center. The sweetness from the custard cream was balanced out by the slight tartness from the ripe strawberries embedded in the dough. The freshly sliced strawberry on top also gave it a hint of sourness, but not so much that it made him wince, but rather helped maintain the variety of flavor without one overwhelming the other. This felt like a proper reward after gym class.
Seeing Ayanokouji eat, both Tanaka and Ohta took it as their cue to dig in.
"By the way, Tanaka," Ohta said between bites, wiping a bit of cream from the corner of his mouth, "I read somewhere that you shouldn't make a habit of resting your chin against your hand. It can lead to temporomandibular joint disorder or nasolabial folds. And..."
As Ohta carried on with his explanation of the health concerns, Ayanokouji's eyes subtly drifted towards the boy on his right.
Unsurprisingly,, he wasn't listening.
But it didn't feel like he was ignoring him on purpose; rather, it genuinely seemed like his mind had drifted elsewhere. His fingers hovered near the corner of his mouth—not out of absentminded disinterest, but almost like… he was in pain.
Is he wiping away some sauce from the sandwich…? No, that can't be. Ayanokouji mentally crossed off that possibility. I didn't see any stains or smudges on his face before Tanaka placed his fingers there.
More tellingly, Tanaka had taken one bite—but not a second.
The sandwich rested limp in his other hand. For someone with a naturally small appetite who preferred eas-to-digest foodt, this alone might not have revealed much. But Ayanokouji was observant, and noticed the subtle tension in his jaw, a barely-there tightness around the lips that betrayed discomfort.
He ran through three of the most likely probabilities:
1. Tanaka was more sensitive to taste than he let on and had found the sandwich repulsive—but that didn't completely make sense. If he hated it that much, he would've just spat it out already, or would have already offered his food to me or Ohta in exchange for something else in return.
2. An allergic reaction? This wasn't far-fetched to consider. But there were no visible signs of a typical allergic reaction such as itchy rashes, swelling, or signs of his body shutting down. No wheezing or panic in his eyes. Unlikely, but still should be considered.
3. Most likely… Ayanokouji narrowed his eyes—the sharp edges of the French bread that sandwiched the Hamburg steak meat had probably scraped or pierced the inner gums of Tanaka's mouth. That would explain the way his fingers hovered, not wiping, but shielding. The pain must have caught him off guard.
"...Tanaka?" Ohta, having just finished his lengthy explanation, turned towards his friend, noticing the uncharacteristic lack of response. Although Tanaka still wore the same blank, listless expression, a small but unmistakable trickle of blood escaped the corner of his mouth.
H-He spat up blood?! Ohta's eyes widened instantly, a whirlwind of surprise, horror, and rising concern evident on his face.
Ayanokouji, in contrast, remained cool as a cucumber. While he had already suspected a minor injury inside Tanaka's mouth, he hadn't anticipated the sight of blood. His speculation operated under the assumption that Tanaka had suffered a mouth ulcer or mild scrape at worst—nothing a glass of water and time couldn't fix. But seeing crimson leaking from Tanaka's lips? It made him reconsider the severity of the situation. Perhaps he had misjudged the damage done by the French bread, or it was something much more concerning entirely…
"Hey, Tanaka! Are you okay?!" Ohta cried out, his voice laced with panic as he placed both hands firmly on Tanaka's shoulders and gave him a light shake. "Hang in there! Did you work too hard in P.E.?!"
Tanaka didn't flinch or show any hint of alarm on his face. He continued to stare at the ground, unbothered by the blood or the commotion. Then, in a flat and unimpressed tone, he finally replied.
"A piece of French bread stabbed the inside of my mouth."
Ohta's panic dulled slightly as he realized Tanaka wasn't in any real danger. He eased the grip on Tanaka's shoulders, though his hands remained there, a gesture of lingering concern and reassurance.
Ah, so I was right after all. Ayanokouji thought, internally nodding with a quiet sense of smug vindication. One point to me.
"And now that I think about it, I wasn't all that hungry anyway. It was just my imagination," Tanaka added, the faintest trace of annoyance creeping into his otherwise emotionless voice.
Ayanokouji's eyes drifted towards the sandwich. The corner Tanaka had bitten into was definitely jagged, hardened enough just to act as a miniature blade. But considering the moisture from saliva, it should've softened enough to render the sharpness completely dull.
Maybe Tanaka had barely chewed the sandwich at all, or had gotten ahead of himself. Perhaps he had attempted to swallow it whole by letting it rest in his mouth. A ridiculous thought, yes… especially when we're talking about a full-grown adult here, not some baby who couldn't eat solid foods. But, this was Tanaka we were talking about—a saying Ayanokouji had been all too familiar with from the moment he stepped into this school.
"I'll eat the rest for you. Don't force yourself," Ohta offered, reaching over to take the already eaten sandwich from Tanaka's hand and biting into it without hesitation.
Ayanokouji looked at Ohta quietly.
He probably didn't want Tanaka to bear the guilt of wasting food Ohta had already bought for him. Selfless as always, Ohta. Truly, a rare kind of guy.
---
Author's Note
Good day my fellow readers! As always, thank you for reading chapter 4! I hope you enjoyed today's chapter!
Just to clarify:
***, means flashback
---, means either a fast forward or the ending of the chapter. Just thought y'all should know that.
Anyway, thank you for your support and any sort of praise, criticism, and feedback is greatly appreciated! I'll see you in the next chappie! ( ∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩)
EvilNeuori, out.
Word Count: 5427 Words.