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Kyoutani didn’t think of himself as a prideful person. He didn’t perform flashy moves, didn’t boast about his accomplishments, and didn’t show off every good aspect of himself at any given moment. Kyoutani was good at volleyball, he thought, because he simply shut his mouth and hit the ball as hard and as fast as he could. There was no thought to it and no need to be recognized for it; the sting of the ball crossing his palm was enough.
But, as Kyoutani stared down at his lunch box, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride bubbling up inside of him. The box was plain and simple, lacking any kind of real design or character. But if you were to open that box and look inside, it wouldn’t matter that Godzilla or an anime character wasn’t gracing the side of it. What was on the inside was the real show, and as Kyoutani lifted the lid on his box, he was ready to be entertained.
“Another homemade lunch, Kyoutani-kun?” Watari strode up to his desk, eyeing the box as any anticipation or excitement quickly drained out of Kyoutani’s face, replaced instead by his trademark scowl. “I’m jealous.” Watari sat in an empty chair beside him, setting a cup of store-bought ramen on the desk.
It had somehow, and sort of against Kyoutani’s will, become a daily ritual for the second-years to have lunch together. Even though they saw each other at practice every day and walked home together every day and could frequently be found outside of school together every day, Kyoutani still had to have lunch with them… Every day. It didn’t matter where he could be on campus; whether he was hiding on the roof or sitting in the locker rooms, Watari and Yahaba always managed to find him.
Kyoutani watched as Watari lifted the lid off of his ramen, blowing off the steam that was slithering up into the air above them. His own lunch felt like a royal feast compared to the little cup. “So,” Watari continued, completely content to fill the void of Kyoutani’s own voice. “What’s your lunch today?”
Without a beat or without words, Kyoutani slid the box towards Watari. This was also part of their daily ritual: admiring the work that went into a Kentaro Kyoutani lunch box. Today, the box was separated into four different sections, each one bearing a different homemade delicacy. Kyoutani didn’t usually stick to any kind of diet or nutritional routine, but he knew to eat healthy when he needed to, and his lunches were often a reflection of that. Rice, protein, vegetables… If it was good for strength, it had probably been in Kyoutani’s lunch at some point.
“Wow!” Watari’s face lit up and Kyoutani felt just a little bit amused by the response. “Looking good as always, Kyoutani-kun.” After marveling at the little lunch box, Watari turned around to scan the classroom. “Do you know where Yahaba is?”
What name could bring up more of a mix of confusion, admiration, and fuzzy fillings that Kyoutani had to immediately push deep down? Yahaba was usually the first one to show up to lunch, and was usually the first one to make jokes at Kyoutani’s lunches. He shifted his eyes towards the door, and as if on cue, a particularly frazzled-looking Yahaba came in.
“Ah! There you are.” Watari waved as Yahaba slumped into the seat beside him. Kyoutani nodded in his setter’s general direction, instead deciding that his lunch looked much more appealing. Making eye contact with Yahaba often made Kyoutani more nervous than trying out a new recipe for the first time.
“Sorry, sorry.” Yahaba stretched out, and it was only then that Kyoutani realized that Yahaba didn’t have any kind of a lunch with him, homemade or store-bought. “Today has been the worst day! I left my lunch at home.” Yahaba was animated on the court, often using facial expressions and various arm flails to signify something good or bad happening. He was the same way when telling a story; arms always in motion, face always twisted to match whatever mood he was in. “And then I couldn’t find my wallet in my bag, so I had to go everywhere looking for it. It ended up being in my gym locker.” He sighed loudly. “By the time I made it to the cafeteria, they were sold out of everything.”
“Yikes,” Watari replied as he broke his chopsticks in half. “I’d offer you some of this, but ramen is kind of hard to share with two people.”
“It’s alright.” Yahaba leaned on his desk, resting his head in his arms. “I’ll probably just grab something from the vending machines before practice.”
Kyoutani’s eyes were creeping between his lunch box and Yahaba. This wouldn’t be the first time they had shared something, Kyoutani had to remind himself; the two would often split the cost of a double popsicle stick after a grueling practice, or they (meaning Yahaba) would convince Watari to throw in for a round of pork buns. It wasn’t like it was special or anything. They were teammates. That’s what Kyoutani had been telling himself; teammates did this all the time. But lunch… Specifically, a lunch that Kyoutani had made with his own two hands. This wasn’t a convenience store popsicle. This was lunch. And that was Yahaba.
Yahaba and Watari were too busy discussing some television show or a new music group to notice that Kyoutani had quietly gotten up from his own seat and had moved closer to Yahaba. They almost didn’t notice him slide the lunch box onto Yahaba’s desk, until it bumped him on the elbow.
Yahaba stopped mid-sentence, staring down at the box in front of him. “Your… Lunch box?” He stared back up at Kyoutani, and he felt fuzzy feelings and pride colliding together in the pit of his stomach.
“Take it.” It was a little gruff and maybe a little threatening, but both Yahaba and Watari broke out into smiles.
“The chef is giving me a personal tasting?” Yahaba teased, laughing a little bit. “I don’t want to eat your whole lunch.”
“It’s fine…” Kyoutani gritted out, irritation now fizzling with the already dangerous emotional mix in his stomach.
“No. You need to eat more than I do.” Yahaba sat up, crossing his arms over his chest and attempting to look like he was a caring captain. “You’re bigger than me, or whatever, so that means you need to eat more food.”
Kyoutani rolled his eyes, blowing air out between his teeth. This wasn’t working like he had wanted it to. Yahaba was supposed to take it and be enthralled and compliment the cooking. But instead, they were bickering about something that didn’t really matter. Another daily ritual.
“I have an idea,” Watari stepped in, ready to save the day as he usually did. “Let’s share.”
This was another new concept to Kyoutani. He didn’t have pride, and he didn’t share. He either gave or took; it was rare that there was an in-between. “Here,” Watari continued, handing a pair of chopsticks to Yahaba. “They gave me an extra pair today. Lucky, right?” He smiled.
Yahaba sat with the pair of chopsticks in his hand, looking a lot like Kyoutani; they both looked like children who had been left in a large grocery store, not knowing what to do or who to go to. They were watching each other, Yahaba’s eyes dead-set on Kyoutani’s. Sharing a lunch…! His stomach was going to explode.
“Is this okay, Kyoutani-kun?” Watari looked like he already wanted to dig in, and after a moment, Yahaba snapped his chopsticks and was looking equally as eager. Kyoutani watched his teammates stare down his lunch as if it was a beacon of light or a chance ball in a tough game. It was almost as if they were taking pride for the work that Kyoutani had put into making his lunch. They cared about it; even Yahaba looked pleased by it.
“…Do whatever you want.” It was almost a growl, but it was enough to set Watari and Yahaba off, as they both uttered a quick ‘thanks for the meal’ and began poking at the food. Yahaba joked in between bites; Watari planned this because he was always eyeing Kyoutani-kun’s lunches, right? And Watari laughed as he stole a piece of chicken away from Yahaba. Kyoutani picked at whatever they weren’t fighting over.
“I always thought it looked good,” Yahaba mused. “But it really tastes good, too. Kyoutani-kun’s lunches are the real deal.” The compliment itched Kyoutani’s skin and bounced in his head. If he was blushing, neither Watari or Yahaba said anything. The three simply sat around Kyoutani’s lunch box, chattering and enjoying the food. Kyoutani let his pride show, just a bit, and wondered if this was going to be added to the list of daily rituals.