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Taka wasn’t eating lunch that day.
He knew that it was unhealthy not to. And frankly, he was more than a little irritated at the disruption to his usual routine. He ate the same lunch every day; rice balls, sometimes with soup if he had the time. He would prepare this in the morning before school, either in the student kitchen if he had slept in the dorms, or in the tiny apartment he shared with his father on the outskirts of town. By lunchtime, they were often still warm and soft and, most importantly, gave him plenty of energy for the rest of the day.
Taka had stayed with his father the night before.
They didn’t have any rice.
It was a familiar pattern from his childhood that he was starting to forget. Perhaps because he had been spending time away since he recently started at Hope’s Peak, or perhaps it was because his father was getting worse at hiding it. Their cupboards were growing emptier. A few days ago, the light in Taka’s bedroom wouldn’t turn on, and he was forced to complete his school work using a flashlight he’d once been given as a gift.
His father returned home from work, and went right to bed. When he woke up, he was gone again.
Money was tight.
Which was always the case, Taka knew. His father most likely had some loan repayment to make that came earlier than he had anticipated. He can’t have planned to be short this month or else he would have prepared. He would have put aside more of his salary, started stocking up the house with food while he still could.
Not that Taka was bitter. He was just hungry.
He sat in the cafeteria alone, pen in hand, and glaring down at his geometry work like it had done him a personal disservice. Most of his classmates were on a table behind him, chattering and laughing amongst themselves as they ate. With the exception of himself, who despite Makoto’s invitation chose not to join them, and Fujisaki, who appeared to be engrossed with something on their laptop. It was strange of them not to join the group. Even Togami was sitting between Asahina and Hiro, though he did look more than a little irked by it. He ate a forkful of red meat stiffly. Taka practically drooled.
He quickly turned his head, chastising himself for staring and coveting his classmates’ possessions. That kind of behavior was unbecoming, especially for a student who was supposed to be the Ultimate Moral Compass… how far from his status could he possibly fall, this early into the semester? He’d only held the title for a matter of weeks!
Taka’s stomach growled, and he curled his lip in irritation, pressing a hand to his side. He snuck a glance at Fujisaki, but they hadn’t looked up from their computer. Thank God. Taka must have felt the rumble more than he heard it. How embarrassing…
He turned away from Fujisaki, looked back down at his geometry, and then noticed the rice ball beside him on the table.
It was unseasoned and a little shoddily shaped, but it was a rice ball nonetheless, still covered in plastic wrap to keep it from crumbling.
Taka blinked, confused. He placed his pen down, replacing the lid carefully, before reaching towards it. He picked it up gingerly, as if this was some carefully laid trap and he was about to be accosted and disciplined for touching something that wasn’t his. The rice was still hot, and felt heavy in his palm. It was larger than the ones he cooked. The ball wasn’t packed tight enough. It would likely collapse in on itself the moment he bit into it.
Which he wasn’t going to do, of course, because this didn’t belong to him! One of the others must have misplaced it, is all! Or dropped it from their bag on the way to their table. Taka just didn’t notice it until now because he was so engrossed in his geometry work! It was careless of him to be so unobservant. Otherwise he could have returned it to them immediately.
Taka’s eyes scanned over each of his classmates, trying to gauge who it may belong to, but it was no good. Half the class had made rice balls for lunch. He could narrow it down based on the type of rice, the shaping of the ball, any fillings they may or may not have used, but… it was far more simple if he just asked, wasn’t it?
“Excuse me, Chihiro?” He turned in his seat to face Fujisaki, who perked up and looked away from their laptop with a smile.
“Hey Taka! Did you need some help with your homework?” Their lips twisted a little as they blushed. “I-I’m sorry, I haven’t even made a start on it yet.”
“No, thank you! But I appreciate the offer,” Taka tried to smile politely, but it probably came out stiff and forced. They had only been at this school for a matter of weeks; admittedly, he was still getting used to socializing with his class as if they were more than just peers, but his friends. Everybody else seemed to have bonded already. He was quickly falling behind. “Ah, I wanted to ask you if you know who this rice ball belongs to?” He continued, before he could dwell on that dull ache of loneliness that smoldered in his chest. He was used to ignoring it by now. “I think somebody dropped it on my table.”
“Oh.” Fujisaki shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting towards their classmates. “Um, well, I don’t think anybody dropped it, Taka. Mondo left it there a minute ago.”
Mondo…?
“You mean Owada?” The name left a vaguely sour taste in his mouth.
It wasn’t that Taka disliked Owada, not at all. He didn’t even know the boy well enough to say that he disliked him. He did, however, dislike his constant dismissal of any rule that he felt need not apply to him. Taka had written out more warnings and detention slips than he could count for Owada alone. Running in the halls, tardy with no permission slip, dress code violation, destruction of school property, physical assault of another student, verbal assault of a member of staff–!
Taka didn’t consider himself an impatient person, but in Owada’s case, the boy had become seemingly obsessed with pushing his buttons since the beginning of the semester, and it was growing increasingly annoying. No, more than annoying – it was infuriating! And not only because of the act of breaking the rules in the first place, but because Owada was making a point of wasting Taka’s valuable time disciplining him when he has many essential responsibilities to attend to! And more importantly, Taka knew that every person has the capacity to succeed in life if they are only willing to put in the hours. He knew Owada was capable of that too. So why did he act as if he didn’t even care? Perhaps he truly didn’t. Taka couldn’t even imagine that.
“You were thinking so hard about your homework you didn’t even notice him put it there,” Fujisaki kept talking, nodding their head towards where Owada was sat, his feet up on the table as Kuwata seemed to be launching into some inane story. Something he said made him laugh. “He just got up, put the onigiri next to you, and sat back down again.”
“Why on earth would he do that?” Taka wondered out loud.
Fujisaki shrugged. “Maybe he wanted to share his lunch with you. He gives me and Leon his food all the time.” They sighed as their soft smile grew into a beam. “He’s so cool, isn’t he?”
Taka narrowed his eyes, stood abruptly from his seat and marched over to where Owada was still gossiping. He clenched his left hand into a fist, careful not to squash the rice ball that was in his right. “Owada!”
He looked up at the call of his name. Taka thrust the rice ball under his nose. “You shouldn’t share your lunch with your classmates! It’s unsanitary, not to mention potentially unsafe, as I highly doubt you’re aware of everybody’s dietary requirements or potential food allergies. And get your feet off the table! People are eating!”
The stern words made Kuwata snort, while Owada just stared up at Taka, brows drawn into a dark scowl. He didn’t move his feet. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”
Taka huffed, and shoved the rice ball into his hands with far more force than necessary. “Why did you leave this on my table?”
“You what?” Kuwata arched a brow at Owada, whose own only furrowed deeper. “Are you guys friends or something?”
“No, we’re not!” Owada barked at him, turning his thunderous expression back to Taka. “Dude, it’s food! Just fuckin’ take it!”
“I didn’t ask you for it!” Taka retorted, just as loud. Some of their classmates appeared to be taking an interest in their conversation. “And I don’t appreciate being pitied!”
“I ain’t pityin’ nobody, you goddamn idiot! You’re the one who didn’t bring any fuckin’ lunch!”
Taka felt himself flush red. From anger or embarrassment, he didn't know. “Perhaps I didn’t want any!”
“You’re obviously starving!” Owada bared his teeth, leaning forward menacingly in his seat and growling like a wildcat about to pounce. “You’re sluggish as shit, ya keep grabbing ya stomach… I don’t give a crap about your pride, or whatever! A man’s gotta eat, for Christ’s sake!”
“Are you trying to humiliate me!?” Taka hissed. He knew that his eyes were tearful. He couldn’t help it.
Suddenly, for some unknown reason, Owada seemed to soften. His gaze flickered to his lap, then Taka’s chest, before they settled on nothing in particular. He stared straight past him, avoiding his eyes. “I’m not.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “I just want ya to take the damn rice ball. I don’t want it.”
Taka swallowed, puffing out his chest. “Well, I don’t want it either.”
Owada studied his face for a moment, and Taka only lifted his chin in bold defiance under the scrutiny, face fixed in a scowl. He knew it was a lie, and not a good one. But he wasn’t going to admit it. To do so would be to lose. To put Owada into a position of power.
People… did terrible things with power.
He couldn’t trust Owada not to.
Eventually, he relented with a mighty eye roll and bellowed over Taka’s shoulder. “Yo, Chi!”
Taka watched as Fujisaki blinked awkwardly, having been watching their exchange with interest, and they let out an ‘eep’ as Owada threw the rice ball in their direction, catching it against their chest. “That’s for you,” Owada said gruffly, shrugging on his coat as he stood. “The rest are up for grabs as well.” He threw his backpack over his shoulder, locking eyes with Taka once more. They were a stormy purple, like a thunderous sky above a raging, crashing sea in a storm, swallowed by wide, dark pupils. He had long eyelashes for a man. They brushed his cheek when he snarled. “I’m not hungry anyways.”
Those words hung heavy in the air as Owada sauntered off, leaving behind a small container with four rice balls still left inside. One was half-eaten. Taka took a breath. “Wait.”
Owada turned on his heel, drawing to a stop.
He swallowed. “You have rice on your cheek. Find a sink where you can wash your face.”
Taka watched in fascination as Owada almost laughed, before scowling once more and wiping his face roughly on his sleeve. “Asshole.”
Then he shoved open the double doors, and he was gone.
The group nervously returned to their conversations as Taka simply stood there motionless, his eyes resting on where Owada had last been standing. Well, that was… rude! Extremely rude! Taka had only been trying to help him! Would Owada have rather he let him walk around all day with food on his face like an oversized, pompadoured toddler!? What a crude, unhygienic, patronizing, frustrating boy!
“Um…” Fujisaki’s small voice piped up right beside him, and Taka watched as they returned the lid onto Owada’s container, their feet lifting slightly off the floor when they snapped it into place. “I’m gonna, uh, take these.”
“Aw, what?” Kuwata groaned after them as they retreated to their table. “You’re gonna take them all for yourself? No fair.” He sucked his teeth, before glancing up at where Taka was still seething. “Yo, Hall Monitor. Next time take the damn food, yeah? Mondo was trying to be nice.”
Taka scoffed. “And why would he do that?”
“Don’t ask me.” Kuwata shrugged his shoulders in one fluid movement. “I dunno why he does half the shit he does. But he wasn’t trying to piss you off. You know he’s way less subtle when he wants to mess with you.”
That… was true. And Fujisaki did say that Owada often shared his lunch with themselves or with Kuwata.
Yes, obviously, because they were friends with him.
Owada was certainly not his friend.
Relenting, Taka sighed and walked back to his table where his geometry homework still sat, uncompleted. He went to sit to work on just that, when he noticed his schoolbag was open. He would never be so careless as to leave it in that state, not only open but unattended too! What if something important fell out? What if it was taken!?
Taka moved forward with a tut, ready to refasten the temperamental clasp on the thing. Then he looked inside. And looked at Fujisaki.
They only smiled.
Taka swallowed, and continued with his work.
It wasn’t until later, in the privacy of a bathroom cubicle, that he opened his bag again. It was a little paranoid and petty to the point of lunacy, but Taka couldn’t help it. He couldn’t risk being spotted by someone like Kuwata, or heaven forbid, Owada himself.
Opening the container with unsteady fingers, Taka tore the plastic wrap off the nearest rice ball, and ate half in one bite.
As expected, it immediately fell to pieces, and he had to cup his hands together in order to eat it with some semblance of dignity. The rice was unseasoned, which made it dry, and the filling inside, some kind of meat with a creamy sauce, was not exactly to Taka’s taste. He wolfed it down anyway, every last bit, and the sheer relief he felt at the weight of food in his stomach could have made him sob with gratitude.
It was only a few times as he was eating that he remembered who cooked these, which made him chew slower.
To say Owada was rough around the edges was an understatement. From that short interaction alone, Taka could tell he had a filthy mouth, and a temper to match, with his feet up on a cafeteria table no less doing nothing to assuage Taka’s previous judgements about his hygiene, not to mention his attitudes towards public morals. It was enough to make him twitch with anger as he ate.
And yet he was still eating.
How the hell was Taka supposed to reconcile these two images in his head? The image of Owada silently offering him lunch, doing it subtly so as not to attract attention, he was realizing now, yet then baring his teeth and snarling like a hound. The same boy who so gently looked away when he saw Taka’s embarrassment, softening his tone as he spoke as if he would be broken by his volume, then not five minutes later looked over his shoulder and called him a… that.
Taka swallowed his last mouthful, brushing any loose grains of rice from his uniform, and clenched his fists against his knees.
Mondo Owada, huh… what a… what…
Taka thought of his eyes.
His fists clenched tighter.
What an asshole.