Work Text:
Mixing Dough and Hearts
The oven hissed open with a small puff of black smoke, and Maki pulled out the tray with a grimace. In front of her lay nothing but a charred mess, once meant to be a perfect Christmas cake.
The kitchen was small but functional: a tiny oven, a few burners, neatly arranged shelves with basic ingredients, and utensils scattered about. Every surface bore the marks of her battle with the rebellious dough—flour on her hands, a few drops of chocolate splattered across the counter, tiny fragments of the now-burnt cake strewn here and there.
Maki huffed, shaking her head, and lifted the burnt tray with firm, precise movements. With a sharp motion, she tossed the dough into the bin, which already held the remnants of previous attempts, forming a small pile of culinary failures.
She bent down to tidy the utensils, rifling through bags of flour and sugar. The tip of the wooden spoon slipped through her fingers, but she caught it just in time, banging it against the table’s edge with a sharp click. The sound echoed in the quiet kitchen, almost like a small cry of defiance against the obstinate cake.
She hated this situation. Part of her wanted to give up entirely, but when her eyes fell on her bag, she noticed a pair of gloves peeking out.
Her cheeks warmed and a tight knot formed in her stomach.
Stupid Yuta.
Him, and his stupid, sweet, unnecessary gift.
🍰🎀🍰🎀🍰
It was a cold, crisp afternoon, the winter air biting. In the nearly deserted school courtyard, Maki was training with her spear: her swift movements sliced through the air with ruthless precision, the sharp sound of the shaft striking the ground breaking the silence.
“Hey…”
Yuta’s hesitant voice cut through her rhythm. Maki spun around, breath slightly quickened, a bead of sweat sliding down her temple. She saw him approaching, hands hidden behind his back, that nervous look that seemed to apologize just for his presence.
“Are you here to train?” she asked, brushing her hand across her forehead.
He stepped closer cautiously, as if crossing into forbidden territory. “Actually…” he took a deep breath, shrugging slightly.
Maki fixed him with a narrow-eyed stare. “What’s wrong?”
That’s when Yuta pulled out a small package, wrapped in simple, slightly crumpled paper. He held it out toward her, half-smiling, unsure.
“It’s… for you.”
Maki glanced at it suspiciously. “What is it?”
“A gift… I guess?”
“Why would you give me a gift?” Her voice was sharp, but a flicker of curiosity passed through her eyes.
Yuta scratched the back of his neck, cheeks flushed. “Because… it’s your birthday.”
Maki blinked, caught off guard. “My…?”
“January 20th.” He said it more confidently this time, a small smile tugging at his lips.
For a few moments, Maki didn’t know how to respond. The gesture had stunned her, leaving her almost rigid. Finally, she lowered her gaze, gripping the spear tighter. “If you know that, then you also know that I don’t…”
“…celebrate it,” Yuta finished, lowering his gaze slightly. “The others told me. But… I still wanted to give you something.”
A suspended silence hung between them, broken only by the rustle of wind through the trees. Maki set the spear on the bench and grabbed the package with a brusque, almost annoyed gesture, as if to hide her embarrassment. She unwrapped it slowly, carefully, revealing a pair of dark green leather gloves, sturdy yet surprisingly soft to the touch. She turned them over in her hands, noting immediately how practical they were: solid enough to protect her hands, yet light enough not to hinder her movements.
Yuta watched her closely, a trace of anxiety in his eyes. He couldn’t read her expression. Her hands were now intertwined in front of her, nervous.
“I hope you like them,” he said at last, voice timid. He shrugged slightly. “You always train without protection and… you risk hurting your hands. I thought these might help.” He paused, searching for the right words. “They’re practical. And you don’t like useless gifts, right?”
Maki turned her gaze away, hiding the blush creeping up her cheeks.
“If… if you don’t like the color, I can change them!” Yuta added quickly. “I wasn’t sure what your favorite was and—”
“I don’t have one.” She cut him off sharply, clutching the gloves tighter, unwilling to let them go.
“But… they’re not bad.”
A fleeting, almost imperceptible smile crossed her lips. Yuta noticed immediately, and his heart lightened a little.
“Happy birthday, Maki.”
🍰🎀🍰🎀🍰
She shouldn’t have cared. There was no time to waste on such nonsense.
And yet, here she was, locked in the kitchen since morning, struggling with dough that had nothing sweet about it.
Every failed attempt made a little hope evaporate along with the smoke rising from the oven.
Making that cursed dessert was proving more complicated than dealing with a special-grade curse.
The kitchen had become a battlefield: flour scattered everywhere, bowls stacked like abandoned weapons, the trash overflowing with burnt, shapeless failures. Maki ran a hand through her hair, furious, unable to understand how a mere spoon could give her more trouble than a curse ever could.
And yet, she knew exactly why she’d gotten herself into this trap. She wanted to deny it, to pretend it was just a passing whim. But the truth burned under her skin, insistent and annoying, like a wound that refused to heal.
All it took was thinking of that idiot with his uncertain smile and the package clumsily hidden behind his back, and her hand would immediately drift toward the bowl to start over.
She glared at the bowl, warlike, the spoon clenched in her hands like a spear.
“You’re the one not whipping properly,” she muttered through gritted teeth, stirring with force. The dough stubbornly remained lumpy, challenging her with every stroke. “Typical… as if he didn’t already make my life complicated enough.”
She plunged the spoon into the soft batter with frustration, as if trying to stab it. A cloud of flour rose from the edge of the bowl, covering half the table and dusting her jacket.
“Stupid Yuta,” she murmured to herself, cheeks flushed. “With his cute gifts… making you want to return the favor… but come on, it shouldn’t be this hard, right?!”
She continued stirring, huffing and making small gestures of frustration as if the dough could actually listen. A particularly stubborn lump made her sigh loudly.
It was at that moment the door slid open quietly. Maki spun around, surprised. Inumaki was there, leaning against the doorframe, still and calm as if nothing could disturb him.
“What are you looking at?!” she snapped, letting the spoon drop with a metallic thud.
Toge stepped forward slowly, unhurried. Maki immediately tried to cover up the disaster: she shrugged, gripping the spoon as if everything were under control.
“There’s nothing to see,” she said loudly, sharply. “I just… decided to make myself breakfast.”
Inumaki remained silent, his gaze fixed. Then, with measured gestures, he pointed at the bowl. “Salmon.”
Maki pressed her lips together, running a hand through flour-dusted hair.
“Huh? I’m not cooking for anyone… and even if I were, it’s none of your business.”
Her gaze hardened, but a shadow of nervousness betrayed her embarrassment.
“Can you leave now? I need to be alone.”
Inumaki scrutinized her for a moment, then calmly stepped forward, pointing at the bowl again. “Takana.”
Maki frowned. “Oh, right… because you’re the dessert expert?”
He nodded slightly and, without a word, took the spoon in his hands, calmly showing her how to sift the flour to remove lumps.
Maki huffed, rolled her eyes, and muttered something under her breath, but she didn’t protest further: too proud to admit she needed help, yet, deep down, surprisingly grateful for the silent guidance. ~
There was something reassuring about the way Toge stood there, beside her, not invading her space but ready to step in if necessary.
Silent and measured, he lent a hand, showing a few tricks to speed up the process. He even offered to finish the desserts for her, but she firmly refused.
By now, it had become personal: no one could replace her in this battle against the rebellious dough. And after all, it wouldn’t have been the same if someone else had made these sweets.
They had to be her hands delivering them to Yuta, with all the awkward determination the gesture demanded.
After one final attempt, the dough finally took shape. The desserts came out better than she’d expected: small kurisumasu kēki, decorated with powdered sugar and thin slices of dried fruit, filling the kitchen with the scent of vanilla and warm butter.
They weren’t perfect, but they were enough.
Maki stared at them, incredulous. She couldn’t believe she had managed without running to a bakery. For a moment, a sense of accomplishment tightened her stomach, mixed with a lingering irritation at nearly giving up.
But, unexpectedly, that small triumph seemed even sweeter thanks to Toge, patient and silent beside her, like a friend who understood the value of simple gestures.
“Not bad,” she murmured, shrugging slightly. A small, betraying smile escaped her lips, and Toge, noticing it, gave a thumbs-up in approval.
Then the door burst open with a sharp bang. Panda entered, eyes wide at the chaos.
“What… the hell happened here?!” he exclaimed, looking from side to side at flour, spoons, and scattered bowls. Then he focused on the two of them, especially Maki, and burst out laughing.
“How did you get like this?! You look like an exploded marshmallow!”
Only then did Maki notice her state: flour everywhere, hair a mess, jacket dusted white. A mix of embarrassment and anger knotted her stomach.
She had spent hours wrestling with rebellious dough and hostile utensils, all for a frivolous gesture. And now Panda, with his ridiculous comments, piled on.
She spun around, eyes blazing.
“You stupid Panda!” she growled, pointing a finger at him.
He opened his mouth to reply, but his attention was immediately caught by the tray on the table. His eyes lit up with greed.
“Hey! You made desserts?! Can I try them?”
Maki planted herself in front of the tray, hands on her hips.
“Don’t you dare touch them!” she snapped, cheeks still red from effort and embarrassment.
“Come on, just one!”
“You’d devour them all with that mouth of yours!” she shot back, but he ignored her and stepped forward.
Maki braced herself to defend her creations with determination, ready for anything. But Toge moved slowly, eyes fixed on Panda.
“Tuna, soba…”
Silence.
Panda froze, confused.
“What do you mean they’re inspecting the dorms?!” he shouted, and without hesitation, ran off. “I need to hide my collection right now!”
Maki and Toge watched him disappear, and finally she could breathe a sigh of relief. The desserts were safe.
“I can’t believe he still collects those stupid ducks,” Maki said, shaking her head.
Toge nodded in agreement, and both couldn’t help but think of Panda and his almost pathological obsession with rubber ducks.
He collected every kind imaginable: the ridiculous—like a tiny bathtub Godzilla—and the elaborate, inspired by cult films or limited editions.
The collection had grown so much that even the principal had advised him to calm down, but Panda, of course, hadn’t listened. Instead, he had simply found a way around the rules, buying online under another name.
Maki then turned to her friend, a trace of satisfaction slipping through her small smile.
“…Thanks.”
Toge didn’t reply, ever impassive, but his lips curved into a faint smile.
Meanwhile, Maki leaned over the tray. The scent of vanilla and butter filled her chest with a warm sense of responsibility: now she had to deliver them to Yuta.
The thought of the minutes to come made her heart race, cursing the mess she was about to get herself into.
🍰🎀🍰🎀🍰
After packing the desserts, she had quickly returned to her room for a shower, since she had gotten messy everywhere during the preparation—flour on her clothes, cream tangled in her hair.
As she dried her still-damp hair, her gaze fell on the carefully placed box on the table. Inside, the desserts.
Inevitably, the reasons she had made them came flooding back.
The memory surfaced vividly.
A month ago, she and Yuta had been sent to a small town just outside Tokyo for a mission: a series of minor curses had concentrated near an old Shinto shrine, causing disturbances among the residents.
After resolving the problem with surprising ease, they found themselves with a few hours of free time before heading back.
It was Yuta who suggested a walk through town, dragging her along streets adorned with golden lights and paper lanterns swaying gently in the wind.
The air was crisp and carried the scents of caramelized sugar, roasted chestnuts, and steaming hot chocolate sold in paper cups. Crowds moved together, families and couples laughing beneath the festive lights.
“Where did you say this place was?” Maki asked, trying to keep up with his brisk pace and avoid bumping into passersby.
“It was somewhere around here…” Yuta glanced around, eyes constantly moving, as if searching for something. “Or at least I think so.”
Maki eyed him skeptically. “You’re not telling me we came here for nothing, right?”
“Huh?! No, no!” he exclaimed, raising his hands with an embarrassed smile. “It’s just… it’s been a while, but I’m sure the stall is still here. Give me a minute.”
She huffed and crossed her arms but didn’t press him further.
Yuta, slightly alarmed, scanned the area more carefully until he spotted it: a stall decorated with red and white garlands, tiny twinkling lights framing the wooden roof. On the counter were Christmas cakes adorned with cream and strawberries, some with little sugar figurines of Santa Claus or reindeer.
Yuta’s face lit up. “Found it! This way, Maki!”
She didn’t respond; she had been distracted, watching a couple laughing in front of a brightly lit carousel. Without thinking, Yuta took her hand to pull her along into the line that had already formed in front of the stall.
“I’ve heard they make the best kurisumasu kēki here. I’ve always wanted to try them… and maybe we could get some for the others too. What do you think?”
When he didn’t get an answer, he turned to her—and only then realized he was still holding her hand.
Maki looked at him silently, expression serious, slightly confused, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. It took only a moment for Yuta to realize what he was doing.
“S-sorry!” He let go abruptly, panic clear in his voice. “I-I didn’t… I didn’t mean to! I got distracted and—”
But she interrupted him with a light tap on the head. “Stop freaking out. It’s fine.” She looked away, the blush still on her cheeks.
Yuta froze, then smiled softly, trying to return to reality. But even though the initial panic had passed, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her.
“The next one!” called the man behind the counter.
At that, Yuta snapped back to the reason they were there.
“Hello! Do you still have your kurisumasu kēki?”
“Oh I’m sorry, young man,” the vendor nodded. But then his tone turned apologetic. “I’m afraid we’re already sold out today.”
“W-what?” Yuta’s mouth fell open.
“Yes, there’s been a lot of demand. You know… it’s Christmas.”
The boy’s smile vanished, replaced by a disappointed expression. “Oh… I see.”
“But if you’re from around here, you could come back in a few days!” the man suggested.
Yuta gave a weak smile, shaking his head. “Actually, I’m not from here, but… thanks anyway.”
Maki, a few steps behind, watched the scene. She immediately noticed Yuta’s downcast expression, the disappointment he tried but failed to hide.
And in that moment, she made an unconscious decision: if he couldn’t get them himself, then she would.
🍰🎀🍰🎀🍰
It was already evening, and an unusual calm had settled over the institute’s corridors. Most of the students were already retreating to their dormitories, and the day’s bustle had faded, leaving a muffled silence broken only by the wind rustling through the snow-covered trees.
In his room, Yuta lay on his bed with a book in hand, as he often did before falling asleep. The warm light from the bedside lamp illuminated the page, creating a small, quiet refuge around him.
That’s when he heard a soft knock.
At first, he thought he’d imagined it, but the sound came again, insistent. He looked up, puzzled, his heart already a little faster.
Maybe it was Gojo. Or Panda, finally remembering that borrowed book.
But when he opened the door, his breath caught for a moment.
“M-Maki?” he stammered.
She was there, impassive as always, yet different. Under her arm, she carried a box covered with a cloth. Her hair fell loosely over her shoulders, and in the dimly lit corridor, she seemed wrapped in her own silence, as if holding something back.
“Let me in,” she said simply.
She didn’t wait for an answer; she made her way in with a decisive step.
Yuta froze on the threshold for a few seconds, his heartbeat irregular. Maki had never come to see him alone.
“Close the door.”
“Y-Yes!”
He closed it a bit too quickly, the thud echoing through the room.
Maki glanced around, her eyes quickly scanning the details of the room. There was no disdain on her face, only restrained, almost awkward curiosity.
“You have a lot of books…” she commented, raising an eyebrow. “Do you organize them… by color?”
“Well, yes. I like to see them like this,” Yuta replied, a little defensively.
He expected a sharp remark, but she only gave him a skeptical look. Then she fell silent, as if she were more nervous than anticipated.
“Did something happen?” he ventured, stepping a little closer. “You usually don’t…”
“Come here,” she interrupted, setting the box on the table.
With a quick gesture, she removed the cloth, and immediately a warm, sweet scent filled the room. The little desserts gleamed under the lamp light, inviting, with that homemade look that made you want to taste them right away.
He stared at them, mesmerized, his eyes lighting up. “Wow… where did you get these?”
Maki blushed slightly, hesitating, clenching her fists for a moment. “…I made them myself.”
Yuta looked up at her, surprised. For a moment, he got lost in Maki’s delicate gesture as she brushed a strand of hair from her face, trying to avert her gaze. The blush on her cheeks, the barely noticeable tremble of her hands… everything about her spoke without words.
“Really?”
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Maki replied, trying to seem indifferent, though her voice wavered slightly. “Is it that hard to imagine me cooking?”
Yuta scratched his head, lips pressed into an awkward smile. “N-No! It’s just… I didn’t expect it. But I have to admit… wow, they look amazing.”
She huffed, crossing her arms to hide her embarrassment. “They’re for you.”
“For me? All of them?” he asked incredulously, and the smile that spread across his face betrayed his surprise and happiness.
Maki’s heart raced. She felt as if she’d just exposed herself, and for a second, she feared she’d made a mistake. Her fingers clenched nervously against her arms, a thousand thoughts assailing her.
But Yuta’s voice brought her back to reality.
“Oh, I see. It’s for the birthday thing.”
A weak, slightly regretful smile appeared on his face. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to… I gave you a gift because I wanted to, not because I expected something in return.”
Maki stiffened. She knew him too well.
The dessert wasn’t just a small gesture to return the birthday gift; it meant much more, but saying it aloud… would have been too much.
She’d done it for him too, of course, because she knew he would enjoy it, because imagining his reaction gave her a strange, almost guilty warmth.
She had never been good with words, not like this. To say everything aloud would have been… too much. But she knew that if she didn’t come up with some excuse, he might misunderstand—and maybe even refuse.
A shiver ran down her spine.
She couldn’t let all that work go to waste.
Her mind clung to anything—then she saw it: the first slow snowflakes drifting beyond the window.
“Actually… it’s a Christmas gift,” she blurted out, handing him the box, her cheeks slightly red.
Yuta blinked, surprised, but a joyful smile spread across his face. “But… didn’t we already celebrate Christmas together?”
Maki hesitated for a moment, surprised.
Damn, she had completely forgotten.
She now remembered that ridiculous day: the gift exchange had been organized by Gojo, who had sneakily slipped a plush sushi character wearing sunglasses and a Santa hat into everyone’s boxes, shouting, “I am the true Christmas spirit!”
But it was too late to back out now. She had to keep going.
With a sigh, she raised a hand to silence him. “Well… this is another gift. More personal. Period.”
“Okay.”
“But… if you don’t want it…” she started to take back the box, biting her lip in embarrassment.
“N-No, wait! I’ll happily accept them,” he stopped her, with a smile warmer than the lamp. “Especially since you made them yourself.”
Those words took her breath away. She adjusted her glasses to hide it, pretending indifference, while inside, a confused warmth spread through her.
Yuta carefully picked up one of the desserts, as if holding something far more precious than a simple snack.
Maki forced herself to stay composed, arms crossed and gaze averted, but every fiber of her body was tense. She watched him out of the corner of her eye—how he brought the bite to his mouth, chewed slowly, taking all the time in the world to savor it.
The silence in the room became almost unbearable.
For a moment, Maki’s heart raced, and one question hammered in her mind: What if it tastes awful?
She was ready to cover it with a sarcastic comment, to laugh at herself before he could. But when Yuta slowly nodded, with an almost serious expression, a spark of hope ignited.
“Mh…” he murmured, as if evaluating a dish at a restaurant. Then he looked up and gave a small smile. “Wow… they’re… really strong.”
The tension Maki had held in check exploded at once. She pressed her lips together and stared at him more fiercely than necessary.
“They’re a bit hard, right?”
“N-No, not really…” Yuta hastened to answer, though his smile trembled slightly.
His words lost credibility when he visibly struggled to swallow the bite. He choked, coughed, and patted his chest as if to clear it.
Maki’s eyes went wide, her face red. “I can’t believe it! Spit it out right now!” she gave him sharp pats on the back.
But stubborn and kind as he was, Yuta finally swallowed it all. Then he slumped into the chair, panting.
Maki watched him, embarrassed and worried, her heart pounding.
“What’s wrong with you?!” she snapped, fists clenched. “I told you to spit it out, you idiot. You could have gotten hurt!”
Yuta, still bent over, looked at her with a fragile but sincere smile. “Don’t worry… it’s just a bit heavy. But the taste isn’t… bad.”
Maki stayed still, her cheeks burning—not just from embarrassment. For a moment, the room was filled only by the soft crackle of the heater and the warm breath condensing in the cold air.
“Maybe, but the last thing I want is to risk killing someone with stupid desserts.”
With a sharp gesture, she took the bitten piece from him and returned it to the others, quickly covering them with the cloth. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, full of frustration.
“I knew it…” she murmured.
It had been a simple task: make a decent dessert. That’s all.
Yet she hadn’t managed it, not even with Inumaki’s help. And now, to top it all off, she had almost choked Yuta. With a gift, no less. Ridiculous.
“Maki, I’m fine. Really.”
Yuta’s voice was calm, but his eyes showed genuine concern. He stood up from the chair and took a hesitant step toward her.
“You don’t need to take them away. I imagine you worked hard on them…”
“Yes, but you shouldn’t eat them just out of pity,” she interrupted, eyes sharp. “What kind of gift risks choking someone?”
Yuta tried to smile, awkwardly. “A gift… with a small side effect?”
He attempted to lighten the mood, but the frost in Maki’s gaze silenced him instantly.
“I’ll think of something else,” she declared.
“B-But you don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do.” Her voice brooked no argument. She stared him straight in the eyes, proud and stubborn. “This is a matter of principle. Tell me, what gift would you want?”
Yuta widened his eyes, caught off guard. His hands fidgeted nervously, his face flushing.
“Well… I…”
His words dissolved into an embarrassed mumble, too low for her to hear.
Maki’s patience began to crack. “Are you going to tell me or not?!”
“I-I don’t know!” he burst out, his desperate tone splitting the silence.
She stared at him, incredulous. “You can’t not know. There must be something.”
Yuta lowered his gaze, blushing to his ears. “Actually… I’m fine like this. For now.”
Maki ran a hand over her forehead, exasperated. Could it really be that complicated?
Then he, almost choking from embarrassment, added, “…And the fact that you worked so hard for me… I like it.”
He looked up timidly, but with a sincerity that struck her straight in the stomach.
“Gifts don’t have to be material, you know? They can… be symbolic.”
Those words hit her like a sudden jolt.
Symbolic…
Maybe it was his awkward way of speaking. Maybe that disarming sincerity, or the quiet closeness of the room. Maybe it was all of it together.
In that moment, the idea felt natural. Inevitable.
With a short, decisive breath, she closed the distance. She cupped his chin and lifted it slightly. Without hesitation, she kissed him on the lips.
Yuta froze, eyes wide with surprise. He didn’t react immediately, overwhelmed by the unexpected gesture—but he didn’t stop her.
And that was enough for her.
The kiss was quick but intense, as if all that Maki couldn’t express in words was contained in that single gesture.
Perhaps this was her way: not to speak, but to act. Not to explain, but to let him understand.
Then she pulled back slightly, face flushed.
“This… is my Christmas gift.”
Yuta stayed frozen, red and flustered, unable to hide his astonishment.
“Oh… o-okay,” he stammered, voice trembling.
He didn’t even know how to react: this was his first kiss. With Maki.
And despite the embarrassment and surprise, he liked it. A lot.
A strange silence fell between them. Both confused, flustered. Maki looked away, as if beginning to realize what she had just done.
And Yuta noticed it: small gestures, imperceptible to anyone else, but clear to him, now used to observing her more and more.
For a moment, he feared that if he didn’t act, Maki might really regret it. That this awkward, heavy silence could follow them even outside this room: during training, during afternoons spent together.
And the last thing he wanted was to lose the chance to be near her.
“If you want…” he began, voice slightly trembling.
Maki looked at him, surprised.
“…I can… give you my extra Christmas gift too?”
A shy smile appeared on her lips.
She said nothing. She didn’t move, only nodded slightly.
Yuta gathered courage. He lifted a hand to her face, caressing her cheek with an almost reverent delicacy.
He felt mortally embarrassed for what he was doing, but at the same time… how much he had wanted it.
He leaned slowly toward her. At first hesitant, he barely brushed his lips against hers, then went further, eyes squeezed shut, letting himself go.
This kiss was longer, and even more beautiful than the first.
It began as a whisper, light and uncertain. Yuta felt Maki’s lips, soft and trembling, and her heartbeat accelerate. She hesitated for a moment, then responded, sliding the kiss into a more decisive, more intense gesture, without losing the initial delicacy.
Yuta’s hands glided over Maki’s face, tracing every curve, his thumb stroking her cheek, almost to hold her.
She placed her hands on his chest, seeking contact, and for a moment they felt suspended, as if time had stopped, immersed only in warmth and closeness.
When they parted, it was with some regret.
“The gift for Shōgatsu is still missing…” Maki murmured, breath barely brushing his lips.
Yuta smiled, catching the subtle invitation, and without another word, kissed her again.
By now, they had lost count of the “gifts” they were exchanging. Each kiss grew a little more confident, a little deeper, as if they were learning to know each other in an entirely new way.
“There’s also Tanabata…” Yuta murmured between kisses, voice panting. “…and Valentine’s… and—”
“Yuta.”
Her firm tone silenced him instantly. But the look in her eyes left no doubt: it wasn’t a scolding. It was a silent invitation to stop talking.
He swallowed but couldn’t resist. He kissed her again, this time with a determination he hadn’t even realized he possessed.
Maki pressed herself as close as possible, hands sliding around his neck while playing with his hair. Yuta, trembling and happy, let his fingers glide over her hips, drawing her to him.
Those kisses held the meaning of their gift: attention, affection, and the joy of simply being there, together, needing nothing else.
🍰🎀🍰🎀🍰
The next morning, Panda, Inumaki, and Yuta were already running across the campus courtyard, their footsteps kicking up little puffs of dust. Maki arrived at a slower pace, carrying the box of sweets from the previous day. She set it carefully on a bench, and Panda was the first to stop.
“What’s going on now?” he asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity.
She let out a slight huff, a bit annoyed, lifting the cloth with a decisive gesture. “Didn’t you want to try them? Well, here they are.”
Under the morning light, the pastries, still neatly arranged and fragrant, looked just as inviting as the night before. Panda’s eyes widened in excitement, while Inumaki raised an eyebrow, slightly puzzled.
Maki blushed faintly, crossing her arms. “I wanted to share them. Is that a problem?”
Inumaki kept watching, doubtful. But that brief moment was interrupted by Panda’s loud cough. “Whoa… is this for weightlifting or what?!”
Inumaki, a little offended, muttered something under his breath, while Panda turned to Maki, eyes wide. “Eh?! Why did you get Inumaki to help? Remember that time he swapped sugar for pink salt for the hot baths?! It took me two days to recover!”
The boy stiffened and, in retaliation, grabbed a slice of sweet to try and feed it to Panda, who was desperately backing away.
“No way! I’m not eating that stuff!” he yelled, crumbs flying around him.
Meanwhile, Yuta approached Maki cautiously, his heart hammering in his chest. Both blushed and lowered their gazes.
“G-good morning…” he murmured, nervously scratching the back of his neck.
“G-good morning,” Maki replied, her voice slightly trembling as she focused on the box.
A heavy silence settled for a few seconds, broken only by Panda’s yelling as he tried to escape Inumaki.
Yuta’s eyes fell on a detail that made him smile shyly. “Ah… the gloves…” he said softly, pointing at Maki’s wrists.
Maki stiffened slightly. “Hm?”
“You’re wearing them,” he continued, a hint of warmth on his cheeks. “They’re… the ones I gave you.”
She adjusted her wrists casually, trying to seem indifferent. “Yeah. What’s so unusual about that? It’s winter; you need them.”
Yuta lowered his gaze, heart racing. “It’s just… it makes me happy to see you wearing them. That’s all.”
For a moment, Maki seemed about to say something, but she simply crossed her arms, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Don’t get any ideas. I wouldn’t wear anything I didn’t like.”
Yuta chuckled softly, scratching his cheek. “Then… I guess it’s the right gift.”
Maki glanced at him from the corner of her eye, a fleeting smile escaping, quick as lightning.
Panda, having stopped arguing with Inumaki, noticed them and squinted suspiciously.
“…Hey. Wait a second.”
The two turned instantly, embarrassed. “W-what?” they stammered almost in unison.
Panda pointed at them with an accusing finger.
“What’s happening here?”
Yuta was the first to react. “I-in what sense?”
Inumaki was about to pounce on Panda, but he stopped him with a paw, thinking. Those looks, Maki’s sudden kindness, the smiles… suddenly everything made sense.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! YOU’RE NOT TELLING ME—”
Maki cut him off by shoving the entire tray of sweets into his mouth.
“Mind your own business!” she said, leaving him to groan among the crumbs.
Without turning back, she gave Yuta a small nod to follow her.
“Training. Now,” she ordered, firm but light in tone, as she walked away.
Yuta nodded quickly and followed, leaving Panda and Inumaki still lost in the chaos of the sweets.
Once they were far enough from prying eyes, he couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Maki… I… uh…” he inhaled, feeling a sudden warmth squeeze his chest, heart pounding too fast, as if he couldn’t breathe.
The snow was falling gently around them, soft and silent, reminding him of the previous night, those stolen kisses in her room.
Since that evening, however, they hadn’t spoken. All that confidence from before seemed to have vanished. Yuta felt his heart race as he looked at her, unsure how to act.
Should he talk about it?
Give her time?
Or was he the one who needed to make the first move?
Every time he opened his mouth, the words seemed to vanish before they came out, panic rising inside him like an invisible tide.
“I-I wanted to say that… you’re… really—”
She looked at him from the side, one eyebrow arched, seeming almost too calm. But Yuta could swear there was a slight tremor in her hand, which she tried to hide.
“If you’re about to say ‘special,’ I’ll make you eat those sweets one by one.”
“—Okay, I won’t say it!” he laughed nervously, blushing up to his ears. His stomach was twisting, and every word felt like it was bouncing in his throat.
He felt his hands almost sweaty, and every time Maki brushed his arm, a shiver ran from the top of his head down to his toes.
“It’s going to snow again,” he whispered, trying to distract himself by watching the flakes dance in the air.
Maki looked up at the sky, stifling a smile, fingers tightening slightly around her scarf. “Yeah.”
He stole a quick glance at her, heart trembling. “I think… the snow has become a little more special… since yesterday.”
“Mm… maybe,” Maki said, lowering her gaze and playing absentmindedly with her scarf, a slight tremor running through her hands.
For a moment, they walked in silence, side by side, keenly aware of every tiny gesture. Their hands brushed lightly, and Yuta swallowed, feeling more flustered than ever.
“Can I—?”
“You want to—?”
They spoke at the same time and then burst out laughing.
They paused for a moment, eyes meeting, tentative but sincere smiles, cheeks slightly flushed. Their hands brushed again, this time more knowingly, and Yuta felt a warm certainty: this simple gesture, like those kisses, carried everything they couldn’t put into words.
They walked side by side, unhurried, enjoying the silent companionship, while the rest of the world could wait.