Chapter Text
Narita Brian was, at least in part, disappointed to find Sakura Laurel’s birthday party in full attendance. Past the partitions to the left of the restaurant, the members of the Victory Club sat around a multi-grill table, joined by a not-so-small handful of their friends.
Sakura Bakushin O locked eyes with her first. Brian flinched as she yelled out, “Everyone! Brian is here!”
Laurel stood from her seat and waved her over, beaming amidst the short fanfare.
“Brian! You made it! Thanks for coming.” She sounded genuine, but she didn’t sound surprised. She had clearly expected this outcome, which annoyed Brian. She was never surprised.
Brian wished her a happy birthday, then took the only open seat: at the corner of the table, between Laurel and Manhattan Cafe. What a weird crowd. It was a quiet corner though, which suited Brian just fine. She watched Laurel man the grill nearest them. Laurel deftly served up pieces of meat between chatter. In the short time it took for her to christen Brian’s plate with a finished skirt steak, Brian had already begun salivating.
Laurel watched her eat it. “How is it?”
The char was perfect, the meat rich and juicy. Brian licked her lips. “…Good.”
Laurel grinned, again triumphant in her expectation. “Eat up then!”
Brian did. She devoured everything that came her way, trying—with only small success—to savor each piece.
“You know…”
Manhattan Cafe’s voice was so quiet beneath the din that Brian almost missed it. She peered at Brian sideways through the gap in her bangs. “I think… she seems happier since you arrived.”
Brian didn’t know what to do with that information, or the small roar of pride that accompanied it. She said instead, after a pause, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“It is my second year celebrating with Laurel but… I understand.”
Brian was silent.
Cafe said, “You don’t think I seem like the type to attend a party like this.”
Brian glanced at her again. Cafe’s eye had never left her, intent, knowing, a pale yellow reflection. “…No.”
“Last year… I was having a harder time than usual with my health. I couldn’t keep weight on. Laurel invited me. She said… eating a lot of high quality meat would be good for me.”
“…Well. Did it help?”
“Perhaps. But I think… it was more than the food.”
They both turned to watch Laurel.
“Why doesn’t someone else grill?” Brian asked Cafe.
“We’ve tried. She insists on doing it herself.”
That sounded just like her. Brian clicked her tongue. “It’s a party for her.”
“She is… always happy enough that everyone is here.”
Everyone; an unlikely, illogical sum. Brian supposed that the entire Tracen Academy student body was strange. She had seen it all as part of the student council—against her will. It was simpler to keep her distance off the track. She had long learned to be good at that. Yet here she was, now: wedged into the corner of a table, stuck among them, drawn together by the strangest girl she’s ever met. It wasn’t terrible, this warmth.
Somewhere at the other end of the table, Marvelous Sunday let out a cheer. Mayano Top Gun joined in. Bakushin O and Calstone Light O had begun consuming raw meat straight from the plate as a result of what seemed to be a race to have the fastest meal. Sakura Chiyono O promptly relieved Bakushin O of her grilling duties and the plates in front of her while North Flight mused about the purity of the taste that would nevertheless be elevated and balanced with a little extra time—
Brian felt a breath of laughter escape her. Her shoulders loosened.
“Laurel.”
Laurel turned. She looked so happy. “Yes, Brian?”
“Give me the tongs.”
Laurel waved her free hand, already reaching for the rest of the beef tongue. “Oh, don’t worry about this!”
“Tch.” Brian leaned forward to intercept. She grabbed the tongs. They released from Laurel’s hands more easily than expected. “I’ll do it. Eat. It’s your birthday.”
Laurel’s ever-laughing eyes widened. In them, Brian saw a tiny degree of bright, honest surprise.