Work Text:
One Bite ♡ at a Time
Yuta was heading back toward the dorms, his footsteps echoing against the damp stone after the light afternoon rain. The cool air carried the scent of wet grass and old wood, while the last traces of sunset filtered faintly through the branches of the trees in the inner courtyard. The wrought-iron gate, rusted in places, stood half-open, shadows trembling beyond it.
Right there, near the gate, a delivery man stood awkwardly. He was holding a bulky package, visibly greasy, as if it had just come straight out of a chaotic kitchen. His furrowed brow betrayed his confusion as he glanced around nervously, looking for whoever was meant to receive it.
“Uh… I’m looking for Maki Zen’in? I have an order for her.”
Yuta stepped closer, curious. The smell hit him before he could even read the label—a mix of fried food, meat, and something vaguely sweet.
“Oh, Maki,” he smiled, taking the package from the courier. “I can bring it to her. It’s probably for everyone, right?”
The box was surprisingly heavy. He adjusted it in his arms with some effort and headed toward the back, wrinkling his nose slightly at the intensity of the smell. He could already feel melted butter seeping into his shirt.
In the concrete courtyard used for training, Panda and Maki were sparring.
Maki was fast and precise, her feet sliding confidently across the ground, the tonfa striking with controlled but relentless force. Panda took the hits, defending himself well, but he was clearly under pressure. Nearby, Inumaki sat on a bench with his legs crossed, calm expression on his face as he munched on a rice snack.
Yuta stopped to watch them. He had always been fascinated by Maki’s skill: even sweaty, disheveled, and dressed in training gear, she somehow managed to look confident, focused… strong.
But the moment she spotted him holding the package, Maki’s eyes widened. She sprang away from Panda and strode toward Yuta, her expression edged with impatience.
“Ah, finally!” she said with a crooked smile. “I was afraid it got lost.”
Yuta blinked, surprised.
Without another word, Maki stepped closer and effortlessly pulled the box from his arms. She set it down on the bench next to Inumaki and started opening it.
The smell exploded outward like a punch to the chest, and Yuta instinctively took a step back.
Inside was a burger, a container overflowing with cheese-covered fries, fried chicken wings, a family-sized soda, and—just to be thorough—a box of donuts.
Yuta felt his stomach twist, more from the smell than the sheer amount of food.
“Uh…”
Maki turned toward him, confused. “What?”
He snapped out of it, scratching the back of his neck nervously.
“N-nothing! I was just wondering if you wanted me to bring something for Panda or Inumaki…”
“And why would I?” she shot back, clutching the food like a prize. “This is my lunch.”
There was a second of silence.
Yuta blinked, trying to stay calm. “A-all of that?”
Maki stared at him as if that were the strangest question in the world.
“Yes.”
Inumaki lowered his snack and glanced at Panda, mild surprise on his face. “Shake shake.”
Panda, meanwhile, started laughing softly, his shoulders shaking. “Oh no… here we go.”
Yuta rubbed a hand over his face, anxious. “But that’s a lot!”
Maki’s expression immediately turned suspicious, one eyebrow lifting. “What are you trying to say?”
He took a step back, words tumbling out too fast. “No, no! I don’t mean it’s too much food—it’s just that it’s really greasy, you know?”
Maki narrowed her eyes behind her glasses. “Are you saying… I’m fat?”
Yuta glanced desperately at Panda and Inumaki for help.
Neither of them intervened.
They both knew they were about to witness the most dangerous version of Maki.
“Well?!”
He bit his lip, his voice trembling. “N-no! Absolutely not! I didn’t mean— I just—”
But it was too late. His brain betrayed him.
“I mean, it’s just… all really high in fat.”
“I like it that way,” Maki replied flatly, pulling out the burger and unwrapping it with a decisive motion.
Yuta dropped his gaze, cold sweat forming. Panda was barely holding back laughter behind a paw. Inumaki, for his part, kept watching him with faint concern.
Maki took a huge bite of the burger and chewed. Then she looked up again, meeting Yuta’s mortified stare.
“Could you stop making that face?” she muttered.
“S-sorry!” he said, snapping straight like a board, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. “It’s just that… there’s not even a little bit of vegeta—”
“I don’t like vegetables,” she said confidently. “And they’re not filling.”
Yuta looked almost offended, as if something precious had been insulted. “But they can be! Like… vegetable noodles, spinach dumplings, tofu salads—”
Maki stared at him like he was speaking another language. Inumaki raised an eyebrow, vaguely intrigued.
“And my favorite is cabbage,” Yuta finished brightly. “Stir-fried with oil and salt!”
Silence.
Panda looked at him like he had just confessed a crime. Inumaki murmured another quiet “Shake shake.”
Maki swallowed, then studied him for a moment.
“That sounds disgusting.”
She said it softly, but loud enough for him to hear.
“I swear it’s way better than it sounds!” he insisted.
Maki shrugged. “If you say so… but I could never cook something like that.”
“There’s a fusion restaurant nearby,” Yuta added without thinking, “with a vegetarian menu. It’s amazing. I go there a lot…”
Panda slowly turned toward him, eyes wide.
“Are you asking Maki out?”
Yuta froze. Maki choked on her burger, coughing violently.
“N-no!” he yelped. “That’s not— I mean—!”
“I just can’t picture her in a place like that,” Panda burst out laughing.
Maki shut him up by hurling the soda at his face. It popped open midair and hit him squarely, knocking him backward with a grunt.
“Now you owe me a drink!” she snapped, going back to eating.
Yuta stood there, face burning. Then, without realizing it, a small smile slipped out.
Maki took another bite, shrugging as if nothing had happened. But a quick glance toward Yuta—still standing a few steps away—betrayed a flicker of curiosity.
“So…” she said between bites, “you really don’t like fried food?”
He scratched his neck, embarrassed. “It’s not that I don’t like it… I’ve eaten it before. It’s just…” He grimaced. “When it’s too greasy, it kind of makes me nauseous.”
Panda, still drenched in soda, raised a paw. “Confirmed. He almost threw up once because of kakiage.”
Inumaki nodded gravely. “Tuna mayo.”
Maki slowly turned toward Yuta, eyes narrowing behind her glasses.
“So basically, you think what I eat is gross.”
Yuta went pale. “No no no! I swear that’s not it!” He raised his hands in surrender. “It’s… a personal thing. My stomach just can’t handle it. That’s all. And you— you can eat whatever you want, I mean, you’ve got a great body and—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
An awkward silence fell. Even Panda stopped laughing.
Maki stared at him, puzzled. Inumaki’s gaze flicked between the two of them.
Yuta looked down, mentally cursing himself as heat crept up his ears.
“I-it’s not that I was looking, I mean— yes, but… uhm….it’s… it’s obvious from the way you are that you—”
She stared at him, daring him to continue.
Which sent him into full panic.
“You said it yourself earlier, right? That you eat whatever you want— not that I was thinking about your bod—” He waved his hands helplessly. “Okay. I’m making it worse.”
Maki watched him in silence, then sat back down, her expression neutral—though the corner of her mouth twitched, like she was holding back a smile. She rested the bag of donuts on her knee, stretching her legs out.
“Hm.”
“What?” Yuta asked, voice trembling, cheeks flushed.
“Nothing.”
She shrugged lightly, nibbling distractedly on a donut, as if the whole thing were just a passing thought.
She lifted her hand slowly, a small gesture that seemed to point at everything she couldn’t put into words, and shot him a sideways look—amused, almost teasing.
“I was just thinking you’re really weird.”
Yuta met her sharp gaze, trying to stay calm while his heart pounded. He managed a shy, uncertain smile.
“You think?”
At that moment, Panda crept forward, nose stretching toward an unattended donut.
But Maki smacked his paw with a quick motion, making him retreat with a frustrated grunt.
“That’s not fair! You gave one to Inumaki!” Panda protested.
She smirked. “He’s the group’s diplomat. You’re just a shameless thief.”
Inumaki hummed contentedly as he bit into his donut, shooting Panda an amused look.
Yuta barely held back a laugh, feeling the knot of embarrassment loosen just a little.
He took a step closer, fingers fidgeting with his hoodie as he gathered his courage.
“Anyway… I meant what I said earlier.”
Maki raised an eyebrow. “About what? The cabbage?”
Yuta blushed again. “About the vegetarian restaurant. If you’re not convinced… we… we could go together sometime.”
Maki stopped chewing, surprised. A faint blush touched her cheeks as she looked away.
Panda seized the opportunity, snatching a donut and backing away with a grin. “I was joking, but you really want to risk your life.”
Inumaki gave Yuta a serious nod and a thumbs-up. “Tuna.”
Maki sighed softly, crumpled the remaining paper, and stood up with smooth, deliberate movements, finishing her last donut. She walked toward Yuta, her gaze suddenly intense, almost vulnerable.
She stopped just inches away—far closer than Yuta was prepared for—and he held his breath, heart racing.
She studied him from behind her glasses, eyes gleaming.
“So let me get this straight. You’re asking me to go to a place full of green food… to eat healthy stuff?”
Yuta hesitated. “…Yes?”
She turned to Panda, expression blank.
“You think he’s trying to poison me?”
Panda shrugged. “If he does, it won’t be with food.”
She looked back at Yuta, considering him for a long moment.
“Do they serve normal food?”
“Huh?”
“Burgers. Chicken. Beef.”
Yuta thought for a second, then nodded. “I think so.”
That was enough. Maki smiled, sharp at the corners.
“Fine.”
Yuta stood frozen for a beat, brain short-circuiting. Then he blinked.
“R-really?!”
She stretched like a cat. “Don’t make me repeat it or I’ll change my mind.” She looked at him. “But on one condition.”
“Anything!”
“When we’re there…” she leaned closer, lowering her voice, “you’re eating a hamburger.”
Yuta went pale. “What?! But— reminding?”
“Just one. Don’t panic. One burger, then you can go back to your… boiled cabbage or whatever it is.”
“Stir-fried,” he corrected automatically.
“…Even worse.” She shook her head.
Yuta stared at the ground, torn between horror and embarrassment. Then he looked up again, managing a tiny smile.
“Okay. One.”
“Perfect.” Maki grinned. “I can’t wait to watch you suffer.”
“You sound way too excited about this…”
From the side, Panda let out a low, amused chuckle. “I’d really like to see this scene…”
Inumaki leaned closer, his voice a soft whisper just for Panda. Something indistinct, but his gesture and tone made Panda perk up, eyes glinting with interest.
Yuta stayed there, heart still fluttering, watching her walk away with her usual confident stride.
A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips—caught between disbelief and a strange hope he wasn’t ready to name yet.
🍔 ⋆ 🥬 ⋆ 🍔 ⋆ 🥬 ⋆ 🍔
The restaurant radiated a warm, welcoming atmosphere. Soft lights cast gentle reflections over the dark wooden walls, and the green plants decorating the corners made the space feel intimate and lived-in. The air was filled with delicate scents of spices, stir-fried vegetables, and light broths—an entirely different world from the greasy fried food they had talked about so many times.
As soon as they stepped inside, a blonde girl behind the counter greeted them with a wide, genuine smile.
“Yuta! You’re back again, huh? You’re basically a regular now—Tuesdays are your day.”
Yuta blushed slightly, scratching the back of his neck in a nervous habit as he tried not to show his embarrassment.
“Yeah… I really like this place.”
The waitress studied them for a moment with a knowing look, then added in a playful tone,
“So… table for two? What a surprise!”
Yuta’s heart started beating faster. He took a step forward, trying to look calm even as his throat went dry and his palms grew damp.
“Yes… This is Maki, and—”
She didn’t let him finish.
“Oh, Maki! It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you! Yuta talks about his friends all the time—and especially about you. You’re really cute!”
Maki froze, her heartbeat quickening beneath her light shirt. Behind her glasses, a faint blush crept up her cheeks, tinting her pale skin pink. She tried to keep her composure, tightening her grip on the strap of her bag, her fingers trembling slightly.
Yuta, on the other hand, lowered his gaze, forcing a nervous smile as he felt the subtle weight of attention focused squarely on them.
“A-actually, we—” he tried to say, but the waitress laughed softly, as if to ease the tension.
“You remind me a little of me and my boyfriend back when we were in high school… He’s my husband now, you know?”
That simple, offhand comment hit Yuta like a small punch to the stomach.
For a moment, time seemed to slow as he imagined a bond that strong, that natural.
Worried that Maki might take those words the wrong way, he leaned toward the waitress, his voice coming out a little rushed.
“Are there any tables available?!”
She smiled again, completely unfazed by his panic—if anything, she probably mistook it for first-date nerves. She gestured for them to follow and led them to a table by the window, where the warm glow of sunset brushed softly against the wooden surface.
They walked side by side, both faintly flushed. Yuta stole quick glances at Maki, noticing how she tried to maintain a composed expression, her hands gripping the edge of her skirt. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, each breath feeling more unsteady than the last.
Once they sat down, the waitress stepped away.
“I’ll bring you the menus in just a moment.”
Silence settled between them—thick, heavy, full of things left unsaid. Yuta looked around, taking in the details: the delicate leaves of the plants, the faint clink of a cup interrupted by distant laughter, the soft rustle of the napkin beneath his fingers.
He searched for something to say, but the words slipped away from him.
Maki watched him, her gaze curious, faintly sharp.
She broke the silence, her voice calm.
“So… you talk about me.”
Yuta stiffened, his face immediately flushing deeper as his hands curled into fists on the edge of the table.
“Me… and the others?” she continued, raising an eyebrow as if testing him.
He swallowed hard, then stammered,
“S-sometimes, yeah… I come here alone pretty often. Saeko’s nice—she keeps me company.”
Maki studied him, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips.
Deep down, though, a quiet question surfaced: why did Yuta really come here alone?
Was it just habit… or a way to escape the group for a while, to find a moment of peace away from expectations?
“And what exactly do you tell her?” she asked lightly. “Are you sure you haven’t given away any of my secrets?”
Yuta bit his lower lip, looking at her with pleading eyes.
“Nothing incriminating, I swear!”
Just then, the waitress returned, placing the menus on the table with a smile.
“Here you go, guys. Take your time.”
She left them alone again, and Yuta opened his menu with almost childlike enthusiasm, his eyes lighting up at the variety of dishes.
Maki, meanwhile, stared at hers with open skepticism, her brow slightly furrowed.
“They have a lot of interesting vegetarian options,” Yuta said, pointing at a few items. “Look—this porcini mushroom soup… oh, and the stir-fried tofu noodles!”
Maki let out a quiet sigh, gripping the edge of the menu as if searching for support.
“Why the hell did I agree to this?” she muttered under her breath, her gaze drifting to Yuta, still absorbed in the menu, his hands trembling just a little.
When he looked up and met her eyes, she quickly looked away, as if caught doing something wrong.
She forced herself to focus on the pages again, though the warmth creeping up her cheeks was impossible to ignore.
The waitress returned, notepad in hand, her hair tied in a high ponytail and a friendly expression that instantly put people at ease.
“So, what can I get you two?”
Maki flipped through the menu uncertainly, her fingers tracing the pages with clear reluctance. After a few moments, she looked up—then turned to Yuta.
“I’ll have the vegetarian dish with cabbage. The one you recommended.”
Yuta lit up, visibly relieved, and smiled at her sincerely, his face relaxing.
“Oh, you won’t regret it. It’s really good.”
She studied him for a moment, her expression caught somewhere between doubt and amusement, a faint smile curving her lips.
“I doubt it,” she murmured. Then, more seriously, “But I made a promise. Just like you did.”
Yuta froze, his mind immediately jumping back to that very clear challenge between them. He tried to smile, but it came out awkward, uncertain.
“Ah… right…”
His gaze dropped back to the menu, and for a moment the section with meat seemed to pull at him like a magnet. He swallowed, searching for the “least terrible” option for his stomach.
Suddenly, a finger pointed at something on his menu. Maki leaned forward slightly, her eyes landing on a generously sized hamburger topped with crispy bacon and glossy sauce.
“Why don’t you try this?” she suggested, a mischievous smile and a glint of malice in her eyes, echoing his own earlier words. “You won’t regret it.”
Yuta caught that playful cruelty in her voice—she was clearly enjoying putting him to the test. For him, though, the fun was far less mutual.
He took a deep breath, fully aware that he had agreed to this challenge despite every instinct screaming against it.
“The usual?” Saeko asked gently, curiosity lacing her tone.
Yuta slowly looked up, locking eyes with Maki for a brief, intense moment. Then he closed his eyes, gathering what little courage he had left, and pointed at the burger.
“This time… I’ll try something different.”
Saeko blinked in surprise but nodded, holding back a smile.
“... You sure?”
Maki chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction.
“Oh yes. Yuta’s really looking forward to it. Double bacon, if possible. Might as well go all in.”
Yuta realized this was her revenge for all his comments about healthy food. A tired, resigned smile slipped onto his face as he mentally prepared himself for the ordeal ahead.
🍔 ⋆ 🥬 ⋆ 🍔 ⋆ 🥬 ⋆ 🍔
They ordered their drinks. Saeko collected the menus and was about to walk away when she suddenly stopped, turning toward a coworker with a mischievous grin.
“Aren’t they adorable? It must be their first date!”
Maki flinched, her face flushing a vivid red as she tried to hide her embarrassment behind her glasses.
Yuta, sitting across from her, felt a sudden heat rush to his cheeks and quickly looked away, pretending to focus on his napkin as if he could disappear under the table.
For a few seconds, they sat in silence. The low murmur of the restaurant seemed to fade, leaving them suspended in a private bubble. Yuta rested his hands on the table with a light sigh and noticed Maki watching him, still serious.
He startled, caught off guard.
“I-it’s… it’s not a date!” he blurted out.
She lifted one corner of her mouth in an amused smile.
“Relax. I wasn’t thinking that.”
“Oh.” Yuta felt partly relieved, though a small knot in his stomach betrayed a strange sense of disappointment.
“R-right,” he said, trying to nod convincingly. “It’s just a… normal evening. Right? Just friends.”
Maki raised an eyebrow, studying him closely.
“F-friends sharing a table. Friends talking about… important things! L-like the… menu,” he added, trying to sound convincing, though the embarrassment was clear in his voice.
At that moment, a waiter approached with a basket of fries.
“Here you go—on the house.”
They looked at it curiously. Yuta spotted Saeko at the back of the restaurant giving him a thumbs-up, as if cheering him on. He blushed even harder.
Maki, meanwhile, raised an eyebrow with a faintly amused expression, far more interested in the food she actually liked.
“So,” she said, tilting her head slightly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, “what kind of topics are we supposed to discuss?”
Yuta blushed and glanced at the basket.
“For example… deciding who gets more fries?”
A subtle smile tugged at Maki’s lips.
“A very serious competition, I see.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Yuta said, reaching for a small handful.
Maki watched him for a moment.
“What happened to the health nut from earlier?”
He froze mid-bite, burning with embarrassment.
“W-well… for these, I think I can make an exception. And besides… they’re baked,” he added, trying to justify himself with a hint of seriousness.
Maki rolled her eyes.
“Right.”
Before Yuta could grab another, she slid the basket slightly toward herself.
“So… don’t get your hopes up. Your defeat is already written.”
They exchanged a complicit look.
Yuta felt a pleasant warmth spread through his chest—sweet, unexpected. It felt incredibly nice to be there, just with Maki. Like…
He stopped himself, blushing.
No.
He shouldn’t think about that.
Not that.
Instinctively, he looked at her: the eyes watching him attentively, lips faintly curved in an ironic smile, delicate hands absently playing with the fries.
Every small gesture captivated him.
He couldn’t say it out loud, but he thought it: she was really cute.
Maki seemed to notice his gaze.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked suspiciously.
Yuta jumped, cheeks burning.
“N-nothing!”
She kept studying him, making him even more flustered.
“R-really! It’s nothing!” he stammered. “I was just… just thinking.”
“Thinking about what?”
“That we’re here. Just us,” he said. “You know… I didn’t think I’d actually manage to convince you.”
Maki blushed faintly, a small ironic smile touching her lips.
“If I hadn’t agreed, you’d still be at the training field staring at me like you’d just seen a ghost.”
Yuta couldn’t help but laugh softly. His heart beat a little faster than usual, and for a moment the world around them seemed to slow.
Maki glanced around absentmindedly when she noticed a waiter walking briskly between tables, carrying a steaming dessert to a nearby family. Her eyes, hidden behind her glasses, lit up with a subtle, almost secret interest.
Yuta watched her in silence, catching that tiny shift in her expression that usually slipped past others. After a moment of hesitation, he found the courage to speak.
“You know they have that dessert in dark chocolate, too,” he said softly, trying to sound casual.
Maki turned slowly toward him, surprised.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, curious but still guarded.
Yuta blushed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Well… I mean, I once saw you smile just like that in front of ice cream with that flavor.”
The memory came back clearly: the day Inumaki had brought ice cream for everyone, and Maki had taken almost all the dark chocolate for herself, ignoring the rest.
That rare, spontaneous smile had stuck with him ever since.
A strange feeling washed over him as the memory lingered.
Back in the present, he realized Maki was watching him closely, as if studying him.
He hurried to straighten himself.
“I just thought it might be your favorite.”
She made a face, a faint smile betraying her amusement.
“Looks like you’ve gotten into the habit of watching me eat,” she teased, without malice.
Yuta’s heart pounded, his throat suddenly dry.
“No, no, it’s not like that! I just… noticed, that’s all,” he said, unsure. “But maybe I’m wrong.”
Maki crossed her arms and let out a light breath, almost a sigh.
“I didn’t say that.”
She blushed slightly but tried not to show it.
The small, sincere smile that escaped her made Yuta feel incredibly lucky to see it.
In that moment, that simple confidence brought them closer than words ever could.
“And anyway…” Maki began, then cleared her throat. “The place is not bad. Despite the vegetable smell.” She glanced around conspiratorially, as if afraid someone might hear, and made an amused face. “It has its charm.”
Yuta smiled, this time without hesitation.
“I’m really glad you’re here.”
The words came out warmer and more sincere than he expected, leaving him feeling suddenly exposed.
Maki looked at him from the corner of her eye, adjusting her glasses as if trying to read that smile more clearly.
Yuta felt his cheeks tingle and scratched the back of his neck, flustered. He lowered his gaze, buying himself a few seconds to breathe.
That’s when movement beyond the window caught his attention.
A very familiar silhouette.
Behind a scraggly bush, Panda was attempting—with tragic results—to camouflage himself among the leaves. His snout stuck out between the branches like an oversized cookie crammed into a tea tin.
Beside him, Inumaki clung to his fur, desperately trying to pull him down while covering his face with one hand in a hopeless attempt to make him invisible.
Yuta’s heart leapt. He tried desperately not to draw attention. He knew Maki well: if she saw them, she’d be furious—with them, and probably with him too.
“What the hell…?” he muttered.
Maki followed his gaze, curious.
“What are you looking at?”
“N-nothing! Really, nothing!” he blurted, turning so fast his glass rattled on the table.
She raised an eyebrow.
“That didn’t look like ‘nothing.’”
“It’s just…” Yuta scanned the room, then brightened with a desperate idea. “Birds. Outside. I think they’re… pheasants?”
“Pheasants. In Tokyo,” Maki said flatly.
“Well, maybe not pheasants. Maybe… really big pigeons? With self-esteem?”
“Yuta.”
“F-forget it! I must’ve imagined it!”
A couple of kids laughed at the table behind them, just enough to distract Maki. Yuta glanced back outside—fatal mistake.
Panda had stood up too far, a branch stuck between his ears and a leaf the size of a plate plastered to his face. He looked like the unfortunate star of a school play.
Inumaki lay half-sprawled on the ground, still trying to drag him down, wearing the exhausted look of someone who had lost all hope.
Yuta coughed and shot to his feet.
“Uh—maybe we could change tables? Something more secluded, near the divider. Quieter.”
Maki stared at him like he was an alien.
“We just ordered.”
“Ah—right! Yes, you’re right!” He sat back down awkwardly. “Or maybe we could lower the curtains. If the light outside bothers you. More… private.”
“But it’s evening.”
Then she really looked at him, a subtle smile curling her lips.
“You’re acting weirder than usual.”
“Oh, really?” He laughed nervously, rubbing his neck.
“I’ve never seen you this agitat—”
She stopped.
The waitress’s words came back to her. Yuta’s nervousness. Wanting to change tables. The soft lighting.
Oh no.
What if this really was a date—for him?
Panda had hinted at it before, sure. That Yuta might be interested in her.
But she’d never taken it seriously. She thought he was still letting go of Rika.
That there wasn’t room for anything else.
And yet…
A faint warmth rose to Maki’s cheeks, along with the quickening of her heartbeat.
It was just confusion. Suggestion.
And yet she couldn’t ignore that sweet, unexpected feeling twisting in her stomach.
Meanwhile, Yuta rambled on: about the tablecloth (“Nice, right? Kind of rustic!”), the acoustics (“Great for conversation!”), even the daily menu (“Uh… there’s a dessert called ‘Sugar Storm’”).
A thud and the sharp crack of snapping branches cut him off.
Outside, Panda was tangled in the bush, leaves raining down on him, while Inumaki lay face-down with his hands over his head.
Maki noticed the noise and turned suspiciously.
Yuta didn’t think. He acted.
He leaned toward her, breath unsteady.
“Hey…” he whispered.
Then, almost to distract himself from the tension, he took her hand.
“Did you… get new glasses? They look good on you!”
The words came out awkward and painfully basic. He felt like a complete idiot.
Panic surged through him—he braced for a reprimand, a glare, something.
Instead, Maki said nothing.
A light blush spread past the rim of her glasses, but she didn’t pull away. She seemed almost enchanted, caught in that small, sudden intimacy.
Her fingers tightened slightly around his, answering the timid gesture.
Yuta felt a small jolt run up his arm. He looked up, meeting Maki’s slow, intense gaze.
They stayed like that, motionless, as if the world had faded away.
Everything narrowed down to that simple, precious contact.
Then the cheerful voice of the waitress broke the moment.
“Careful, it’s hot!”
They pulled apart at once, looking away, cheeks still burning. The waitress set the plates down with an amused smile and walked off.
“Enjoy your meal, guys!”
Yuta and Maki exchanged a shy smile, both aware that something between them had changed.
Maki looked down at her plate, eyeing the bright green cabbage suspiciously. She had to admit it didn’t look bad—well seasoned, almost inviting. Still, the idea of eating it made her stomach twist.
She was already in too deep. The challenge had begun, and she would never let Yuta see her falter over something as stupid as vegetables.
“You sure you can handle it?” he asked, noticing the hesitation in her eyes.
Maki shook it off, lifting her eyebrow with determination.
“Are you kidding? It’s just vegetables.”
She grabbed her fork decisively and speared a piece of cabbage. Before bringing it to her mouth, she paused, studying it, a barely perceptible grimace crossing her lips.
She clenched her jaw and took a bite.
The taste surprised her.
It had been years since she’d eaten anything like this, and in her memory it had always been bitter, slimy, unpleasant.
Instead…
It wasn’t bad.
Actually, it was… decent.
Sure, it would never make her top ten alongside burgers and fries—but it wasn’t a culinary crime either.
She chewed slowly, keeping her expression controlled, as if convincing herself she could really finish it.
When she looked up, she met Yuta’s gaze—he was watching her with a soft, almost spellbound smile.
“You’re doing it again,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes.
He snapped out of it, caught red-handed. Blushing, he quickly looked away.
“S-sorry,” he mumbled, hiding behind his plate.
But the hamburger he’d ordered looked far less friendly now. Cheese oozed down the sides, the bun was greasy, and just the smell made his stomach churn.
For a moment, it seemed to move. Almost alive.
“I did my part,” Maki said, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “Now it’s your turn. Come on.”
Yuta stared at the burger, then at her, then back at the burger, searching for an escape.
“It doesn’t bite,” she teased. “That’s your job.”
He sighed, almost ready, when her voice softened into mock innocence.
“Oh—and remember: the loser pays for dinner.”
He stared at her.
“We never agreed to that.”
“We have now,” she shot back, eyes gleaming as she tapped her fingers lightly against the plate.
He looked at the burger like it was a creature from a culinary nightmare. The heavy smell of grease, the meat dripping with sauce, everything defying his already unsettled stomach.
He glanced at Maki, hoping for mercy—but the spark in her eyes made him retreat.
He swallowed, tense as a wire ready to snap. His stomach protested, but the weight of the challenge pressed on his chest. He’d promised not to back out.
He bit in.
The first bite was almost sweet.
Warm, flavorful. For a second, hope flickered.
Then came the second wave.
A flood of grease and sauce filled his mouth, melted cheese sticking to his palate like glue. The burger fell apart in his hands, and something slimy—probably onion—slid down his wrist.
His stomach rebelled.
Yuta froze, muscles taut, eyes wide with despair.
“No… I can’t,” he whispered.
He tried to set the burger down carefully—but moved too fast and bumped into a passing waitress’s tray.
The crash was spectacular.
A bowl of soba flew gracefully through the air before landing squarely in his lap. Lukewarm broth soaked into his jeans. Two skewers slammed into his shoulder—one bounced and lodged itself in his sleeve. A dumpling ricocheted onto his collar, and a napkin landed on his head, completing the tragic masterpiece.
Silence.
Nearby tables turned, faces full of shock and pity.
The waitress looked on the verge of tears.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she babbled, rushing over. “I didn’t see you—I’ll get something to clean this up, it’s my fault, oh my—”
“No, no, it’s okay,” Yuta stammered, face blazing, hands raised helplessly. “I mean… I’m fine. Just… a bit of internal soba.”
A strangled laugh escaped him.
The silence lingered.
Then laughter broke out.
Clear. Genuine. Liberating.
Yuta looked up.
Maki had her head lowered, one hand over her mouth, but it was too late to hide the grin. She was laughing—for real.
Not mockery. Not sarcasm.
A genuine laugh that lit up her face like something new.
A different Maki. Real.
No armor.
Just her—bright, cheeks flushed, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders shaking.
She was beautiful.
For a moment, Yuta forgot about the broth in his lap, the skewer in his sleeve, the rogue dumpling.
The embarrassment melted away, replaced by a quiet calm—as if that ridiculous disaster had become a silent bond between them.
He thought just one thing.
“Well…” he murmured, looking down at his ruined shirt, “it was worth it.”
🍔 ⋆ 🥬 ⋆ 🍔 ⋆ 🥬 ⋆ 🍔
The evening had slipped by slowly, and eventually they stepped out of the restaurant, wrapped in the cool night air.
Yuta ran a hand over his now-stained shirt, shaking his head with an embarrassed smile, as if trying to brush away the memory of the evening’s misfortune.
Maki walked beside him, her hands tucked into her pockets, carrying that calm, controlled air that seemed capable of straightening even the messiest thoughts.
“It was an accident,” she said evenly, as if to lift the weight off the situation entirely.
“An embarrassing accident,” Yuta admitted, lowering his gaze.
“At least they comped your dinner,” Maki added, eyes still on the road ahead.
“Yeah… they were really nice. Even if it didn’t feel fair—technically, it was my fault,” he replied, forcing a nervous smile.
Maki laughed softly, the sound light and warm, and it settled somewhere in his chest.
“I thought you were exaggerating earlier. Turns out you really do have a problem with fried food.”
Yuta let out a deep sigh, trying to chase away the lingering memory of that greasy burger that still made his stomach twist.
“Saeko said next time she’ll seat us in a quieter area,” he added, his tone lighter now—almost as if he were saying it more to himself than to her.
Maki turned to look at him, a spark of challenge in her eyes.
“Next time?”
“Well… yeah.”
“So that means I have to come back too?” she asked, a mischievous smile on her lips, her voice carrying a hint of genuine curiosity.
Yuta’s face immediately flushed, a shy warmth spreading across his cheeks. Without realizing it, he picked up his pace just a little.
“I mean… I wouldn’t mind.”
The words came out awkward, almost stumbling over themselves.
Suddenly, Maki’s calm voice stopped him.
“Yuta.”
He turned toward her and watched as she stepped closer—one step, then another—until she was standing far too close. His heart began to pound in a confused rhythm, a mix of panic and something quieter, deeper.
She raised a hand and gestured toward his cheek.
“You’ve still got… right here.”
Yuta hurriedly rubbed at his face with the back of his hand, clumsy and rushed, but the smear of sauce refused to disappear.
Maki huffed softly, caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement.
Without a word, she pulled a tissue from her pocket and stepped even closer.
With a decisive—almost instinctive—motion, she tilted his chin up with her fingers and gently angled his face toward her. Then she began dabbing at his cheek.
The moment her fingers brushed his skin, the world seemed to narrow, collapsing into that small space between them.
She wasn’t just cleaning him up—her movements were slow, deliberate, as if she were handling something fragile.
Yuta stayed perfectly still, his breath shallow, heat flooding his face, his heart pounding harder with every second.
He watched her, unable to tear his eyes away from hers.
And for just a moment—only one—he let himself believe that all it would take was a slight lean forward.
Just a little…
Everything they had never said hovered there, balanced on the edge of their lips.
“Maki… I—”
The moment shattered.
A burst of noisy chatter nearby made him flinch.
A small group of girls had gathered a short distance away, giggling excitedly.
“I can’t believe this,” Maki muttered, twisting her mouth in irritation.
Yuta followed her gaze.
“Panda and Inumaki,” he whispered, already resigned.
Maki stiffened, letting her hands fall to her sides.
“What are they doing here?” she asked flatly. Too flat.
“Don’t tell me they were spying on us.”
Yuta tried to look just as surprised as she did, but the moment he met her eyes, he knew she’d seen through it.
From the group came an excited voice:
“Wow! That cosplay is amazing!”
The girls swarmed Panda, asking for photos, while Inumaki was mistaken for some kind of alternative idol.
Noticing Maki and Yuta, Panda waved a paw frantically, clearly asking for help.
“Come on. Let’s go,” Maki said curtly, tugging lightly on Yuta’s arm. “They brought this on themselves.”
Yuta followed without protest, still shaken from the interrupted moment.
They walked away together, leaving the restaurant lights and rising chatter behind them.
Without really realizing it, they kept going like that for a long stretch of road, their hands still linked—maybe out of habit, maybe because neither of them truly wanted to let go.
Neither spoke. But the silence wasn’t empty.
It was heavy with unfinished thoughts. With held-back words and choices still suspended in midair.
And within that silence, every step seemed to say: I’m still thinking about it—but I’m here.
That single point of contact was enough to let them both feel it: something was shifting.
Something uncertain, perhaps fragile—but real.
Yuta didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.
His fingers moved slightly, brushing against hers—just a fraction of a second, but it was enough.
And in that small gesture, he allowed himself to believe that maybe… this was enough for now.
That some things don’t need to be rushed.
That some kinds of waiting matter.