Chapter Text
“Get out.” Osamu grumbled at his twin brother.
An hour ago half of the Black Jackals had marched into Onigiri Miya and demanded to be fed - about ten minutes before his usual closing time. And knowing all of his twin's tells Osamu was sure it had been his idea.
“Please just one more!” Atsumu pleaded.
“No!” He crossed his arms. “Now pay up and take Bokuto with you!”
And yet - on his way out he held a take out container with two of his favorite onigiri in his hand. Osamu sighed and finally turned the sign at the door. Now he only had to clean the kitchen and prep some of the fillings for tomorrow.
Nearly another hour later he was finally able to go up to his apartment. Everything he wanted at this point was to lie down on his couch with a cold Kirin in his hand and eat some of the fatty tuna balls he hit from Atsumu.
It was nearly midnight on a Friday night and all he wanted was a quiet end to his day. More like he craved it.
However his new neighbour seemed to have other plans. She started to move in a few days ago but he hasn't met her yet, but already heard way too much. Like right now there was the bass of some kind of rock music carried through to his apartment.
And when she started to hammer against their shared wall, he decided to flee onto his little balcony in hopes that it would be a little quieter there.
Unfortunately all that this accomplished was that he could hear the music clearer. The song playing was in a foreign language and it took him far too long to realize that it was English - despite all of Ginjima’s best efforts during tutoring in highschool. When the song changed again it seemed eerily familiar. He was pretty sure Suna had shown it to him before.
Despite the noises he settled down on his chair. The summer heat surrounded him and pressing the beer bottle to his neck cooled him down a little. He closed his eyes and tried to embrace the moment despite it not being what he wanted.
A quiet night was what he deserved. After all, he really has earned it. After years of trying and all too many setbacks, lots of fights with Atsumu - which ended in the challenge about living a better life - and finally succeeding, his little shop had started getting traction - so much so that he had to hire a second chef.
Osamu hated to admit it but maybe - just maybe Atsumu helped out by posting about Onigiri Miya on his official pro-athlete account. Sometimes there still were some fans hanging out at the store in hopes to meet with Atsumu. Which was one of the reasons he and his friends only showed up close to closing time.
So yes, he had earned a break - he really has. Especially tonight. And if Mrs. Nakamura would still be his neighbour; he would most likely had one right now.
The charming little woman had run the record store next to his restaurant and like him she lived over her establishment. He was not sure if it was the proximity or her persistence to always slip him some homemade sweets; however over the years a solid friendship had formed between him and the widow. She wasn’t really that old - only a few years older than his own mother - so he was shocked when she told him about her plans to retire. She wanted to move to the countryside to live with her daughter and grandchild. And seeing her beaming smile he was truly happy for her.
“My niece agreed to take over the store. She just finished her studies abroad and will be new to the area.” Mrs. Nakamura had smiled and patted his arm. “She is about your age and always so polite when we talk on the phone. I think the two of you would get along great. So be nice to her, yeah?”
Osamu, tired from the many times she had tried to set him up with the daughter of one of her friends, had smiled politely. “We have been over this…”
“I know, I know ‘no dating for Mr. Miya’. All I’m asking is that she won’t be all alone.” She patted his arm again.
“Alright, I’ll invite her over for some onigiri.”
And he had meant it back then, but when the sound of an electric drill mixed with the music, he was not as sure about his promise anymore. It wasn't that he disliked her music - Suna had made him listen to much worse over the years. However, she could have at least warned him about the other noises.
A few minutes later the sound of the drill as well as the music cut off and he sighed. Silence at last. At least for a moment. Then the music started again. This time the music was much softer.
The song started with a simple acoustic guitar. It was quickly joined by drums and another eclectic guitar. And when a male voice started to sing, so did his new neighbour:
“My friend and me
Looking through her red box of memories
Faded I’m sure
But love seems to stick in her veins you know”
Osamu was only sure about two words out of the lyrics - somewhere in the far distance he could practically hear Ginjima cry. Friend and Love . Neither of which had played a big part of his life in the past few years. The first he regretted, but the second one had been by choice. He had deliberately decided to focus all of his attention on building his dreams. But now when they seemed to be in reach, he wondered if it was enough to live the happier life. Thankfully Atsumu was doing much worse with his lovelife. Last he checked he had been dumped by the two girls he had been seeing simultaneously. Apparently he thought both knew he was seeing other people. The two very bright drinks spilled on his white button up was clear indication that the women thought differently.
“Yes, there’s love if you want it
Don’t sound like no sonnet, my lord.”
She had a nice voice, Osamu thought. Surely bringing over some onigiri later that week wouldn’t be all that bad.
~~~~
However his new neighbour beat him to the courtesy visit. It was Thursday evening right before closing time. Osamu was testing out some new recipes as the bells at the door chingled announcing a new customer at Onigiri Miya.
“Welcome!” Osamu shouted over his shoulder. “Please, sit down. I’ll be there shortly.”
The woman hummed and made her way to the counter. She hopped on a chair and instantly started drumming on the bar top. Osamu tried not to roll his eyes. How he hated impatient customers.
“So you are Osamu? Wait or is it Miya?”, the woman asked. Her voice was kind of raspy - like she smoked a lot.
He looked up. “I’m sorry?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I nearly forgot my manners.” The woman smiled. “I’m Alice, your new neighbour. My aunt asked me to introduce myself to you, so here I am.”
Osamu turned to really look at her. She had her dark hair pinned up and her eyes were circled with heavy black eyeliner, which made him think of a snake. No, rather a fox. She wore a shirt from a band he had never heard of and black baggy jeans.
She seemed tired but her smile was genuine. “So?”
He hummed as he turned back to finish his onigiri.
“Is it Miya or Osamu?”
“Miya.” He mumbled and washed his hands. “And what is your other name? It’s not Nakamura like your aunt’s?”
“It is not, but please just call me Alice. I’m used to going by my given name.” She shrugged and sped up the rhythm of her tapping. “Or if it is easier for you, you may call me Arisu.”
“Or I could use your family name like I use for everyone else?”
It took her a beat too long to answer. He raised an eyebrow and she sighed. “I really rather you don’t. For reasons that are inappropriate to tell someone during the first meeting.”
He shook his head slightly. “Alright, Arisu then. What can I get ya?”
“Sorry? Oh, of course. Do you have fries?”
“Excuse me?” He turned back to her and stared in disbelief. “I’m going to pretend that you did not just say that.”
She pressed her lips into a fine line. “Sorry, it’s just - I’ve lived in Europe for most of my life and I am not used to so much fish and sea food.” As she said this her nose wrinkled up a little.
He blinked. And then blinked again. “You know there are other onigiri without fish.”
She shrugged again. “I’m not a big fan of Japanese cuisine, what’s the big deal?”
“I should really kick you out.” Osamu mumbled. Then he added louder: “I can fry you some karaage, if you’d like that?”
“Sure. Karaage is fine.” By the way she was smirking, he was sure she heard his first statement.
He huffed trying to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from twitching up a little. The odd thing was that she vaguely reminded him of someone. “Have you visited your aunt in the last few years by any chance?”
“I don’t think I have been to Japan for over ten years now.” Her fingers started the drumming again. “Why are you asking?”
“Just wondered if we met before. Seems unlikely though.” Osamu said while putting the karaage in the frying pan.
“Well I am fairly certain that I have never seen or heard of you in my whole life - other than when my aunt told me about this kind and hardworking young man next door. She could have mentioned that he is also very cute too.” She laughed.
Osamu cursed silently at the endless matchmaking efforts of the older woman in his life. “Which sauce do you want with your karaage?"
“Got Ketchup?"
The sigh he let out spoke of heartbreak. “I could offer you kewpie mayo with lemon or teriyaki.”
She bit her lip. “I … I don't know if I'd like either of them?”
He shot her a sharp look over his shoulder. “Try them both then.”
His pride as a chef had him of the verge of kicking her out.
The rhythm of her tapping changed yet again. “Why do I get the feeling I deeply offended you? And maybe your ancestors too.”
“That’s because you kinda have.”
“Want me to kiss it better?”
He rolled his eyes and looked at her. Something about her grin was contagious. He huffed, shook his head and then started to laugh. “You are terrible.”
“Oh, I know. But it is part of my charme, isn’t it?”
After a beat of silence filled only by the sound of the frying chicken he realized that her tapping had stopped. “Hope you don’t mind me asking, but how come you hate traditional Japanese food?”
For a split second her smile seemed to fade before she chuckled again. “The school invested in really good teachers but saved money on the chef. All fish and chips and macarons, but no sushi.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“My father sent me to a private school in the UK,” she shrugged. “And later I was living on my own in London during college. So I mainly ate western cuisine.”
“Rich much?”
“I’m not rich myself but I’d say my father is rather well off. Thank you for asking," she said sweetly.
He blinked before turning back to the pan to turn around the chicken. He only met her ten minutes ago but it seemed like he treaded on thin ice now. “I won’t ask if you don’t want me to.”
When she didn’t answer he thought that she would just leave. But then she spoke again: “My father is a diplomat. And as his precious little girl I had to be not too far out of reach so he could parade me around at official functions.”
“Sounds like a lovely man.” Osamu deadpanned.
Before she could answer her phone started to vibrate. “Sorry, I have to take this call.”
He nodded. “Sure, just know your food will be ready in about a minute.”
When she stepped into the shop again she was still in the line. “I’ll call you soon, darling. Yeah, I love you too. Bye.”
Osamu’s english wasn’t great but this he underwood. Her words made him smirk. So much for matchmaking, he thought to himself. “Your karaage is ready.”
She sat back down at the counter and gingerly picked up a piece of chicken. “Thank you for the meal.”
“Try it,” he ordered her.
She bit off a tiny piece and chewed slowly. “It’s… good.”
“You sound surprised.” He crossed his arms.
“Oh, sorry. Please don’t get me wrong, I like fried chicken as much as everyone else, but even the sauce tastes amazing.” There was a dare in her eyes.
“Alright that’s it!” He leaned onto the counter. “I’ll get you to appreciate our wonderful, rich and complex cuisine. Even if it is the last thing I’ll ever do.”
“Sounds like a threat.”
“Oh it is.”