Ding dong… ding dong…!
"Alright, that's it for this period. Students, eat your bentos before the next class."
The once-quiet classroom immediately filled with the rustle of opening boxes and chatting voices. Akira smiled faintly as the teacher left, then glanced down at the bento box inside his bag—the one his mom had handed him that morning.
His hand reached toward it… and stopped.
He remembered what his mom said.
"Just take it, no questions."
But something was off about that exchange. He retracted his hand calmly and looked over at Shouko, who was still chatting with Takagi Sana nearby. She hadn't noticed. Perfect.
"Shouko," he called, interrupting casually, "Mom overslept this morning, so no bento. I'll run to the convenience store and grab some rice balls. You go ahead and eat first."
He stood up and turned to leave before she could react—
"Wait, Akira."
"Hm?" He paused, turning back to her. "What's up? Want me to bring you something too?"
"Come here," Shouko whispered, glancing around. Only Takagi-san was paying them any attention. She leaned toward her friend, whispering, "Takagi-san, why don't you go warm up your bento first?"
Takagi Sana blinked, then smirked knowingly. She had a good guess already.
"Mm-hmm." She nodded, taking her bento out and leaving them alone.
Akira walked back slowly and squatted in front of Shouko's desk. "What's with the mystery?"
She leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. "I asked Auntie not to prepare your bento last night. I… made one for you myself this morning."
Akira blinked, stunned—not an act. His eyes widened in genuine surprise as she pulled a bento box from her bag and handed it to him, her hands trembling just slightly.
Her efforts for the past ten days had been leading to this very moment. And in that look on his face… she saw what she'd hoped for: a mix of shock, gratitude, and something warmer.
Akira smiled, recovering from the surprise. "You really made this?"
"Mhm." Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of pride and anxiety.
He returned to his seat, placed the bento carefully on the desk, and opened it.
Inside was an honest, lovingly made lunch: slightly uneven shapes, a tiny cartoon flag, a fried pork cutlet, some vegetables, and hand-molded rice balls. All a little clumsy… but made with care.
"Akira," she whispered, noticing he was staring a little too long. "Taste it. Is it okay?"
He snapped out of it and smiled at her, picked up a piece of the pork cutlet with his chopsticks, and took a bite.
Then… he closed the lid.
Shouko's face tensed. "Is something wrong…? Did I do something bad?"
Akira quickly waved his hand. "No, no! I just… want to warm it up first. Cold food doesn't taste right. I want to enjoy it properly."
The saltiness hit him in the next moment.
A little strong… a lot strong.
Still, he forced down the bite and smiled warmly. "It's delicious! Honestly, it tastes just like something Mom would make. Give it a little more time, and I think your cooking could surpass hers."
"…Really?" Shouko looked at him with a mix of hope and skepticism.
"Really. If it were bad, and I lied, you'd keep making it like this forever, and I'd suffer. So I'm being honest, for my own survival."
Her brows relaxed, and she smiled. "Well, maybe I'll only cook for my future husband then."
Akira muttered under his breath, "That's still me…"
He forgot—Shouko could read lips.
She didn't respond. Instead, she twisted his arm lightly.
"Ow—okay, okay," he laughed.
"Oh, where's your bento then?" he asked.
"This one's from Grandma," she replied, taking out her own cute pink bento box. "I'm not fast enough to make two… yet."
"Got it. Then let's go heat them up?"
"Mm-hmm."
As they walked toward the break room, Shouko asked, "Um… I forgot to taste-test this morning. Can I try a bite or two after we heat it?"
Akira shook his head, grinning. "Nope. This is your first homemade bento for me. That makes it sacred. I'm eating all of it."
Shouko pouted, but the warmth in her eyes betrayed her delight. The corners of her lips never left that small, happy curve.
Back in the classroom, they sat with Takagi Sana again. Akira even pulled over the quiet Nishikata Naoto, figuring four people at the table would feel a little less awkward than three.
After the meal, Shouko and Takagi Sana walked together to the restroom. Along the way, Shouko looked unsure, glancing over now and then.
"Takagi-san," she finally spoke, "I feel a little guilty…"
"Hm? About what?"
"That fried pork chop. I… might've added too much salt."
Takagi blinked. "Well, Miyamura-kun seemed to like it, didn't he? He ate it all."
Shouko still looked concerned.
Takagi sighed. "Okay. Be honest—how much salt did you add?"
"Umm…" Shouko looked up in thought. "At first I added just one spoon, like you said, but… I was worried it'd be bland. So I added a bit more. Then… I thought I'd added too much, so I rinsed it with water, but it seemed flavorless… so I added two more spoons…"
Takagi stared at her, stunned. "So—three spoons total?!"
"Y-yeah… I thought that'd balance it…"
Takagi Sana massaged her forehead. She's so silly… and kind of adorable.
Still, Takagi reminded herself: she should've known Shouko needed more guidance. She was still learning—and had only been doing this for a week and a half, mostly during dinner.
Still, Akira hadn't complained once.
That guy really must have saved the world in a past life.
Or maybe… maybe he was just in love.
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