Chapter Text
Ayano hadn't expected much from Osana after returning her cat.
She'd had the interaction carefully planned out, knowing exactly what she'd say and had anticipated all of Osana's possible responses and her own potential…reactions, depending on whether or not she'd agree to back off her Senpai.
She'd had it all planned, sensible, just like her mother had taught her to be.
Her mother had never taught her about this.
Osana, sat beside her with her shoulder tucked tightly into Ayano's side, just tender enough to make the intent behind it obvious, if Osana's face, tucked down and pink-tinted wasn't enough of an indicator. Her weight was surprisingly comforting like this, just slight enough to apply pressure but not enough to overwhelm, arm shifting slightly as she fiddled with her chopsticks.
They were eating bento together, something Osana had insisted upon after Ayano had helped her, claiming it as a kind of repayment.
Really, Ayano hadn't minded at first—it had started so small, but 100 yen drinks from the soda machine shifted to leftover (if slightly burnt) sweets from home ec, to most recently these small bentos, carefully curated, just like the ones Osana had made for Senpai, back when they were… close.
(Ayano hadn't seen them speak in over a week, now, properly in much longer.)
Typically, Ayano cared very little for lunch. She'd eat, sure, but found little pleasure in it, seeing it more as a requirement to keep functional than anything else.
Something about Osana's bentos, though…
They were terribly intricate little things.
One never quite the same as the last, small little packages of rice and meat and vegetables and sweets, all done up terribly cute—with noodles dyed pink or onigiri shaped into a heart or celery cut into stars and cats and flowers; and before Ayano realised, she'd found herself begin to grow excited (as much as she reasonably could, at least) at the anticipation of what she'd receive, in anticipating Osana's presence.
She was… interesting.
Her reactions, the poorly-concealed excitement at Ayano's response to what she’d prepared, the quick shifts in mood and faux-bravado, her attempts to humour her, engage her.
She was… fun. Cute, even.
That was where a budding problem had begun to sprout, though. She'd been so distracted with Osana, with following the details of her day and her words she'd begun to neglect her Senpai. She'd had a routine, one which had been perfectly curated over weeks to match his own schedule and behaviours, curated to allow herself to trail him and allow herself just enough of his presence to fulfil her for the day, a perfect routine—one which had begun to fracture, all at the fault of Osana.
Initially, it was only during lunch, when Osana would take her to the roof to sit and eat and talk so much she felt her ears may begin to ring (though strangely, it wasn't entirely unpleasant…)—but then she'd begun to seek her out during the in-betweens of class, sandwiching Ayano between Raibaru and herself to wander around the schoolyard, followed by the same after classes had concluded, bringing her along with them (or more increasingly, just Osana) to cafes or the mall or park or, as of last week, Osana's home.
And that was fine. Good, even—those outings, conversations, made her seem, made her feel more like a girl, like the kind that Senpai would like, a normal girl.
But…
She hadn't been thinking of him at all.
She'd hardly even noticed, really, not until she came home with fresh polish on her nails and a new, familiar-looking scrunchie adorning her ponytail and she saw her shrine, woefully neglected and alone in the corner of her room, forgotten much the same as it's object of adoration.
She looked to Osana now leaning almost fully against her, having missed when she shifted their position to one more intimate, her arm wrapping around her own, now, the warm heat of her soothing her own cool skin under the blazer.
"Well? Are you gonna try it?"
Impatience underpinned her words, but her smile, half-hidden as she bit her lip was enough to prove it was only for show, craving her approval while refusing to show such.
Just like she used to with Senpai.
Ayano looked at her, then, at the flush of her cheeks and the playful furrow of her brow, and came to a conclusion, one she'd been almost embarrassed she'd missed earlier. She said nothing for a moment, and Osana tilted her head, recently-bobbed hair shifting in the wind of the rooftop.
It suited her.
"Yes. Thank you, Osana."
She didn't miss Osana's smile as Ayano shifted to eat, beef warm on her tongue.
She could humour this for awhile.
Besides, the food was good.