Food Wars x Reader

Shinomiya Kojirō x Reader

(I... have a problem. A Food Wars problem.)

The rain gives a pitter-patter to the ground at my feet. It crashes down, the pavement and sidewalks and buildings enveloped in the luster of the water. The sky gives a large rumble.

I can barely feel my fingers, and my nose is following suit. The rain is chilly, tearing apart my vessel and letting my soul emerge. Finally, I feel something.

The hair on the back of my neck is standing from the feel of the electricity in the air, while the rest is plastered downward from the persistence of the sky's shower.

Rain is beautiful. The sky, though gray, opens up and spills it's secrets. The shimmer of the water as it bounces and pools. It's the reason we're alive.

"Hey," an expletive joins the greeting. "Standing in the rain again?"

I know that voice. A smile slips onto my face as I look at him.

Shinomiya Kojirō. My boyfriend, if you could call him that.

"Yeah," I sigh. It's getting a little chilly as the sun sets.

"My place tonight?" He offers. "It'll give you a chance to warm up from this obsession you have."

I nod, already feeling better as he wraps an arm around me and leads me to his home.

It's not that he isn't my boyfriend. We do couple things together and genuinely care about one another, it's just that we both get busy, or too overwhelmed. And when that happens, the other backs up a little, and we take a break. As an introvert, it's a lifesaver.

His other hand holds mine, complaining about it being freezing. I only laugh, placing my other hand on his neck with an evil grin. He stops, pulling me close to him. Raindrops drip from his hair and face, a smug smile on his lips.

"You pluviophile," he pokes fun. "I don't know how you stand in the rain like that."

My hands reach around his neck, and his wrap around my waist. The rain kisses our skin as he pulls me into a kiss.

Kojirō's lips are warm and soft, and his hair is soaked when I run my hands through it.

He pulls away, leaving me breathless.

"Even your lips are cold," he rests his forehead on mine. "I'm making you tea when we get to my apartment."

"Awe, you care about me," I kiss his cheek.

"Keep talking and it'll just be boiled water." He grabs my hand, and the two of us walk home, the patter of the rain as our company.