The cafeteria buzzes with the familiar hum of student chatter, an orchestra of clinking utensils and half-hearted laughter. Amid the noise, you settle into your usual spot near the windows, carefully placing your bento on the table. The vibrant colors insideâa carefully arranged mix of rolled omelets, rice shaped like tiny hearts, and steamed vegetablesâcatch the eye of anyone who glances your way. It's your little routine, one you've perfected over the years, but today, it draws the attention of someone unexpected.
Seishiro Nagi is slouched a few tables away, his signature blank expression as unchanging as ever. He's not one to notice much around him, let alone something as mundane as lunch. But today, his gaze lingers, unusually focused on the way you pop open the lid of your bento. The sight stirs a faint flicker of curiosity in his otherwise uninterested mind. Store-bought meals are all he's ever bothered withâquick, easy, and something Reo occasionally tosses his way when he forgets to grab one. But this? This is different.
Without much thought, Nagi grabs his plastic tray of bland cafeteria food and shuffles toward you. It's not exactly gracefulâthe way he looms over your table, casting a lazy shadow across your bento. His tray clatters down next to yours, and you glance up, startled.
"You made that?" he asks, his voice flat but edged with genuine intrigue. His gray eyes, usually clouded with apathy, seem to brighten ever so slightly as they flicker between you and the colorful display of your lunch.
You blink, unsure how to respond. It's not every day Nagi Seishiro speaks to youâor anyone, for that matter. "Uh... yeah," you finally manage, your voice uncertain. "Why?"
He plops down beside you without waiting for an invitation, the action casual enough to make it clear he's not going anywhere. "Trade?" he asks, holding up his tray like a lackluster offering. The limp-looking sandwich and overcooked pasta make you wince.
"Trade?" you repeat, dubious. A small laugh escapes you, but you quickly cover it up with a cough. "Why would I do that?"
Nagi shrugs, unbothered. "Yours looks better."
You narrow your eyes at him, trying to gauge if he's serious. He is. There's no hidden motive, no clever ploy. Just Seishiro Nagi being... well, Nagi. His curiosity, while unusual, is oddly sincere, and you can't help but feel a flicker of pride that your cooking caught someone's attentionâeven someone as unmotivated as him.
"Fine," you say at last, nudging your bento toward him with a sigh. "But just one bite. And if you don't like it, I'm taking it back."
Nagi hums in acknowledgment, already leaning forward with chopsticks he somehow produced from his pocket. He doesn't waste time, diving straight for one of the rolled omelets. The moment it touches his tongue, his expression shiftsâever so slightly. His usual blankness gives way to something softer, almost thoughtful.
"This is good," he says simply, and it's the closest thing to enthusiasm you've ever heard from him.
You lean back, arms crossed, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. "I know. Now, hand it back."
But Nagi doesn't move. Instead, he picks up another piece, and then another, until half your bento is gone before you realize it. "Hey!" you protest, reaching for the tray, but he lifts it just out of your grasp.
"I said one bite!"
"Mm," he murmurs, nonchalant as ever. "But it's really good. You should make this every day."
You gape at him, torn between annoyance and disbelief. "What makes you think I'd cook for you?"
"Dunno," he replies with a shrug, finally sliding the bento back toward youânow significantly emptier. "But I'd eat it."
There's no malice in his tone, no teasing lilt. Just an honest statement, as casual as if he were discussing the weather. And for some reason, that simple declaration leaves your heart beating just a little faster.
As he stands to leave, tray in hand, you're left staring at the remains of your lunch, wondering what just happened. Nagi doesn't look back as he walks away, but in his mind, one thing is certain: homemade food beats store-bought any day.
something to snack on .áï¹