lunaris | akaashi keiji

𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚒𝚋𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚜

"What are you doing, child?"

Your ears perked up at the sound of your grandmother's voice calling out from the entryway to the kitchen, sparing her a toothy grin. "Good morning, oba-san. You have any requests for breakfast?"

She stared at you pensively, as if not quite believing her eyes as you stood before the stove, a golden omelette sizzling on the pan with an aromatic flourish. Well, you did make use of a few spices to encourage more flavor. Hmm, will he think it's too much? He didn't seem like the type to particularly mind—

"There's still some leftover miso and karaage in the fridge. I'll have that instead," she decided, toeing the short distance to the refrigerator as she glanced at your work over your shoulder. "It has been a while since you've prepared a bento. Did Itsumi miss your cooking?"

"Ah," you began, heat flushing your face as you trapped your foot in between the opening just before your grandmother could close the fridge. "No. It's for someone else."

Her lips twitched into a knowing smile while you retrieved a few hotdogs from the freezer. "Is it a boy?"

The suggestiveness in her tone does nothing to ease the redness that coated your face, and you have to avert your eyes just to quell the embarrassment blooming in your chest like sakura leaves in the spring. But...so what if it was a boy? It was only Akaashi, the true owner of the heart that's beating inside your chest. Frankly, making a bento was hardly a fair exchange for him letting you live so normally like this for so long...

As your grandmother heated up her leftovers, you quietly sliced the hotdogs so that they could somewhat resemble an octopus—just like the most generic bento any high school girl could think of giving to their crushes. Wait, no. You didn't have a crush on Akaashi. Yeah, it was the sense of indebtedness that's driving you to make sure the omelette is extra fluffy, the rice soft and sticky, and—oh, he could use some fried fish, too. You did spot a bag of mackerel in the freezer when you checked earlier. Hmm, did you have enough time to make some onigiri?

So engrossed in your own handiwork, you were completely oblivious with the way your grandmother watched you from the corner of her eye. You took the truth surprisingly well after that fateful evening after the lunar festival. She'd initially assumed your well-being would only go further downhill once the eclipse had passed, but the unusually chirpy mood you were in gave her quite the surprise.

"Oba-san, do we still have soy sauce?" you wondered aloud as you inspected the cupboards with a pout.

"Second cabinet to the left, child." The elder pulled her lips into a warm grin, wondering why she was ever worried about someone as independent as her granddaughter in the first place.

———༺♥༻———

Akaashi's mouth hung slightly agape as navy blue eyes traced every refined detail on the bento on his lap. You grinned cheekily as you occupied the spot next to him on the rooftop. While you could have just invited him over to your usual lunch table, it felt...inappropriate to let others see the food you'd made for him specifically.

"This is looks even better than my human mother's bento," he breathed, snapping the chopsticks you've brought in two as he poked each side dish with careful curiosity.

"Calling her your human mother is weird," you pointed out, munching on one of the onigiris you managed to put together without running late. "I can't vouch for the taste though. A mother's cooking is in an entirely different realm, and I am yet to achieve it."

"That so?" he humored you, lips spreading into a sly smile.

He tore off a piece of omelette with the chopsticks, stuffing it into his mouth without much preamble. At first, his face harbored no evident reaction you could draw conclusions from but when he began scarfing down some rice and taking a bite from the fried fish, you felt a swell of childlike pride pulsating in your chest. However, as Akaashi continued to slurp and eat like he hasn't had a decent meal for days, the sight triggered a memory in the back of your head without meaning to.