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¥13,000 to ¥6500, now that's what he calls a deal. He thinks this might be the best thing he's ever gotten in his life, easily the top one.
When seeing it by the display window for the first time, he had to make a double-take—a very uncharacteristic one at that. Fifty-five percent off for a yogurt maker? If he believed in an afterlife, he'd think this was heaven-sent.
So, why is it that what he was so sure of is now the object of his disdain?
If he could return it, he would.
One tub of homemade yogurt is in his fridge, and a yogurt machine on his counter. Naturally, you'd think the one in the fridge to be a product of the latter. You're wrong.
Yogurt from the machine can never compare to what he's received from Suzune.
"Sleep on it." Suzune pushes the tub of yogurt into his arms before he could even say anything.
She had emailed him prior to coming to his dorm, something about him helping out again. He didn't want to at all; his help wouldn't have made a difference. They'd lose anyway—plus the loss the class was to receive was a needed one.
He just didn't take into account how she'd have a tub of homemade yogurt in her arsenal.
Monday; 10:49
"Can you not?" He says, looking out of the window to his left—refusing to face her.
And even though he can't see her face, he can still hear that smile on her lips, "Not what?"
He turns to look at her, "That." He deadpans, gesturing to the container of creamy yogurt in her left hand and a spoon in her right. There's still some left on her lips, and he knows it's deliberate—she's too good for a messy mouth.
She shrugs, continuing to eat, "It's good, y'know, vanilla flavored—real vanilla, none of that synthetic flavoring." She holds it out towards him, offering.
But it's not just the yogurt she's offering, and so he declines with a simple no, and she pulls it away.
He still has that tub at home; he can hold out.
Tuesday; 8:24
His tub is half empty, but she seems to have plenty of yogurt, though. Seeing that she just finished giving out small containers of yogurt to every single one of their classmates, telling them it was for the upcoming exam and that she knows just how hard they'll work and try their best for good marks, to which he calls bullshit, by the way.
But when she got to him? It was suddenly a. "Oh, Ayanokouji-san, I'm sorry, but I must have miscalculated how much I packed, there's nothing left."
(Oh, the injustice.)
There was even a note of sorry in her voice, and he knows she'd be a great politician—she's got the tongue for it.
But he's a liar, too. "It's fine."
He will hold out.
Wednesday; 12:38
He knew Suzune wouldn't tire out from this little thing she had going on against him anytime soon, but he still couldn't help being irked and commenting on it.
"You don't even like yogurt." Despite sitting right across from her, Ayanokouji doesn't spare her and her homemade yogurt a look, instead focusing on his not-so-appetizing cafeteria-made yogurt—it doesn't hold a candle to hers.
There's a smile on her lips when she replies, "I do," before taking the spoon to her mouth.
"Not by this much," he deadpans.
"Mhm," she shrugs, "but you do."
In hindsight, he shouldn’t have engaged with her because now he’s only more irked than earlier.
Thursday; 16:07
"It's pretty hot today."
It is, 35 degrees Celsius hot to be exact.
"You probably want something cold."
He doesn't; the thought hasn't even crossed his mind before her.
"Maybe something like yogurt."
Maybe he does want something like that.
Friday; 16:28
How come, when it came to him, suddenly the vending machine had issues?
"When are you going to stop this?" A soft thump, then a clank of aluminum, and he has his drink.
She doesn't look up from her drink when she retorts, "When are you going to take me up on my offer?"
A sharp snap followed by a hiss can be heard as Ayanokouji opened up his canned soda, leaving Suzune without an answer; she takes no offense from his silence. "You'll change your mind."
Saturday; 14:18
The tub is empty.
And she's nowhere to be found.
Sunday; 12:32
"Have you thought about it?" Suzune asked the next day over lunch. He could've easily pretended not to have heard her, especially with the overlapping voices of students in the cafeteria. But he isn't the type to miss things, even in the loudest of rooms, and she knows that.
Taking a bite from the premium menu fish dish—her treat—he waits until he's swallowed to answer, "I have."
Another bite. This time not from him but from her, she's holding back, biting her tongue in lieu of impatience from his nondescript answer. "And?" She finally lets out.
She needs the class to win, and he needs her to make another batch—guess, he couldn't hold out after all. "And I think, it'd be beneficial for the class to win."
She pulls out a small plastic tupperware from her bag, placing it on the table before pushing it towards him.
On it is a sticky note with her neat handwriting: Thought so.
How she came to be with the information of his affinity for yogurt, he does not know, but what he does know is that he's fine with a hundred favors in return for her yogurt.