Archive of Our Own ^beta

Souma slid open the door to the school's kitchen to cook his meal for the day. He announced his arrival, as was proper, though usually unnecessary because the facility was near always empty-

"You don't have to '-dono' me," Izumi scoffed and turned back to his cutting board. "What are you, some corpse they dug up from the warrior era?" 

"My apologies, Sena-dono." Souma, apparently not recognizing this as an insult, bowed even lower so that he was almost unseen behind the counter. Izumi rolled his eyes. "If you are currently using the kitchen, I may find another place to prepare my meal."

Izumi sighed. At least he was asking, unlike some people who just barged in. Hey, Sena, what're you cooking? That for me? Looks good, can I have a taste? Too late! Ugh. "I don't care, do whatever. I'll be finished soon enough, anyway."

Souma's face brightened with such genuine gratitude that Izumi felt like he'd rescued his cat from a burning building rather than granted him shared use of a public facility. "My greatest thanks, Sena-dono! I will do my best to not become a deterrence to your own tasks!" He hummed a tune to himself as he took an apron from the hook and tied it around his waist before rounding the counter where the other stood. 

Izumi has to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes again. This school was full of weirdos.

He'd seen Akatsuki's performances and the quiet, powerful grace of the purple-haired second year (though, why was he the only one who performed with a sword, he'd wonder when he could bring himself to care.) Compared to his presence onstage, though, this kid was chattier than he'd expected. But the outdated formality fit him somehow; an old soul in a young man's body. He'd sometimes hear Kao-kun whining about being bullied at his club activities, though he didn't see what was so bad about this-

"Is that a fucking sword?"

Souma looked up from the cabinet he was shuffling around in. He glanced down at his belt loop where there was, indeed, a fucking sword. 

"...Yes?"

"You're in school!" Izumi yelled as he dropped his knife to point at it. "Why do you HAVE that?!"

Souma's brow furrowed as he stood back up. "I do not understand the question. It is... my sword." He lowered a hand to it protectively. "And I would appreciate you not directing vulgar language towards it, Sena-dono."

Izumi gaped, as only one could do when presented with a sword-wielding schoolboy, idol academy be damned. (When did 'idol' become secret code for 'weirdo,' anyway? Did God only give musical talent in a package with major personality flaws?)

"So, what? Are you going to... COOK with that?" He tried to imagine the other boy cleaning and slicing his fish with the weapon. It was unsettlingly easy. 

Souma looked so offended that Izumi thought he might actually be struck down at that moment and be left to bleed out on a dirty linoleum floor.

That had to be one of the worst ways to go. There's no way to make linoleum glamorous. 

"I am shocked you would even suggest such a thing, Sena-dono!" he shouted as his fingers grasped for the handle. "This sword is to cut down those who threaten my lord and my comrades, and to take my own life when such an honorable death becomes necessary!" 

Izumi was pretty sure he just entered a period drama or a fever dream. This kitchen really needed A/C. "Your... Your lord? Who the hell is your lord?" He looked at the other incredulously. "When would seppuku be necessary, do you know what year it is?"

Souma stepped forward and began to pull the sword from its sheath with fervor, making the other reasonably panic. "My lord is...!"

Izumi had stumbled back a few steps, ready to call for a teacher or someone actually helpful, before the other boy hesitated with a troubled look. 

"My lord... is..."

Souma stared at the ceiling thoughtfully. Izumi stared at Souma fearfully.

"...Hasumi-dono, I suppose?"

Izumi looked at the sword, now glinting under the fluorescent lights. 

"...Okay. Well," he started, cautiously walking forward. He put a hand over Souma's, slowly pushing the weapon back in its holder and safely away from him.

"I'll... make sure not to get in his way. Or, like, talk to him. Ever again."

He stepped far back and hesitantly picked up his knife to continue chopping his vegetables, looking over at the other warily. He never did answer the seppuku thing, but frankly, Izumi wasn't sure he was ready for that answer either. Being... himself, harsh words came readily and flowed without much filter. If he accidentally insulted Hasumi, or the kid himself, one of them might actually die. At this rate, he'd have to avoid snide remarks about the brand of rice he was cooking, or else he might find a police interview in his future. 

Souma blinked and looked down to see his sword snugly back in its sheath on his belt. Accepting this state of affairs, he slowly turned back to the bowls he'd set out before. His cheer quickly returned as he set about with preparations, measuring out ingredients. "Oh... that is not necessary, Sena-dono. Hasumi-dono may seem a harsh man, but truly he is quite compassionate! He even speaks fondly of you, you see!"

Of course it was the apparent lack of compassion rather than the sword in his face that'll keep him from being besties with Hasumi. Izumi wrinkled his nose. "Of me? Why would he be talking about ME?"

Souma smiled brightly. "Oh, he praises you, certainly!"

He adopted a stern expression to emulate one certain student council vice president. He must have been practicing; Izumi could practically see the glasses on his face.

"That Eichi, he's back in the hospital again, of course. Itsuki's partner had a cold he just HAD to take care of, Morisawa sprained his everything running down the stairs this morning, and Isara told me that disgra- Hakaze was seen downtown flirting with girls. At least Sena has the good sense to come to class!"

Izumi blinked as Souma beamed at his own monologue. So Hasumi was praising him for... doing what he was supposed to.

Although, honestly, it's more than he'd ever expected from him. Not like they ever really talked or anything, beyond the shared exasperation over whatever 3-A shenanigan he couldn't control.

"Uh... Thanks."

"Certainly!" Souma happily returned to preparing his meal, leaving the other in silence. 

Izumi Sena is not one to forsake a comfortable silence, or even an uncomfortable one, so long as he didn't have to talk to anyone he didn't need to. But receiving praise so one-sidedly (even such... mediocre praise,) made him feel rather awkward, so he started grasping at the straws he had. 

"Naru-kun and Kuma-kun... They're not in your class, so I guess I don't hear much about you."

Great start.

Souma had politely turned to face him, but just looked confused. Izumi struggled onward.

"...But, Naru-kun once said he was super jealous of your hair. It's in really good condition."

To be honest, he'd wonder sometimes himself. With so much hair it just seemed a hassle to manage, but the second year's locks were always shiny and healthy.

He glanced at the other boy, who had looked down and gone quiet. God, did he make it worse? Maybe he was self-conscious about being girly, or something? (Though of course, self-care is gender neutral, Izumi thought affirmatively.) It was probably just a genetic thing, a guy swinging a sword around didn't really seem the type to care about...

"My hair, you say?" Souma smiled, lightly running a hand down the ponytail that lay on his chest. The soft expression he adopted took Izumi by surprise. "Of course, I take the utmost care so I may be proud of it. After proper conditioning, I brush horse oil into it every day."

Well, he shouldn't have expected a guy like that to be using anything from the corner drugstore. 

"Horse oil, huh...?" Izumi responded, genuinely curious. He fingered a flipped lock of his own hair thoughtfully. "I'll use hair masks sometimes, but mostly just wax. My stylists were always putting different gunk in mine, don't think they ever considered digging around a barnyard-"

He froze.

That one just slipped out.

Oh, good lord, he's going to be killed over a nonchalant comment about farm animals.

Souma looked at him for a short while. "That is..."

Death by sword, in a school kitchen, alone- wait, what if the kid committed seppuku after to atone for his crimes? He didn't want to die in a murder-suicide with some random guy. People would assume all sorts of things! God, he's going to die in a school kitchen and-

"Yes, I suppose you're right!" Souma laughed heartily, hands on his hips. "It is not something that would occur to many, but a special secret, of sorts!"

He smiled at him. "Ah, a secret we now share, yes?"

Izumi felt his knees weaken in a flood of something that was a mix between relief and... endearment?

Which was disgusting. He just met this kid. 

"...Right," he replied, feeling the start of a smile quirk on his lips. "Yeah. Our secret." 

He'd just tell Naru-kun it was horse shit instead. 

---

Izumi looked over at the rather complicated dish Souma was putting together. It felt like they hadn't been working long, mostly cooking in silence, though Izumi couldn't kick his habit of grumbling complaints aloud, which fortunately garnered some laughter from the other boy (and the occasional gentle reprimand to not insult the ingredients.)

He glanced back at his own, now complete, relatively simple bentos- one for himself and one for Yuu-kun, who'd probably be nowhere to be found, so in turn for Ou-sama.

"...You cook a lot?" he asked, wondering if the other boy was whipping together gourmet masterpieces in this school kitchen every day. 

"Well, a balanced meal is necessary to maintain one's strength and stamina," Souma said, beaming as he arranged pieces of meat and vegetables on top of his rice. "And if it may be delicious, then all the better...!"

He looked down at the completed dish with satisfaction, wiping at the extra sauce that had dribbled off the side.

"...This is what I thought when I first began such practice. But, as I endeavored to try different dishes, I began to realize the art of cooking itself... It is truly enjoyable! Learning new recipes, deepening my understanding of our history through traditional dishes, and even recently exploring other cultures!"

Souma turned and smiled at Izumi, who was watching with a slight curiosity. How can he be so...

"Is it not the same for you, Sena-dono?"

Izumi startled. From the way he was waxing poetic, he figured he might as well have blended into the wallpaper. Taken aback, he turned to finish packing up. 

"I... I'm not really in the business of 'exploring,' or whatever, it's just convenient to be able to cook for yourself, you know...?"

Snapping the lid onto his last bento and sliding it into his bag, Izumi headed towards the exit, but paused in the doorway. He raised his hand in a half wave. 

"I'll... see you around, I guess."

Souma smiled back at him. He really is pretty, Izumi thought, when you can't see that sword of his. 

"Of course. I would be pleased to share a kitchen with you many times more, Sena-dono."