UMA - Narita Brian

The rooftop of Tracen Academy was empty this time of day whenever she was there

Most students preferred the cafeteria, with its noise and chaos and endless lines for food. Others scattered to classrooms or the training grounds or the small cluster of benches near the cherry blossom trees that hadn't yet shed their leaves for winter

But the rooftop belonged to no one. Or rather, it belonged to two people who had claimed it long ago and never bothered to tell anyone else

Narita Brian leaned against the railing, her yellow eyes fixed on the door at the far end of the rooftop. The green beanstalk in her mouth shifted from one corner to the other as she chewed it absently, a habit she had never been able to break

Her tail gave a slow, thoughtful flick behind her

They're late.

The thought surfaced without permission, and she pushed it down just as quickly. She didn't care about things like punctuality. Didn't care about schedules or expectations or the polite fictions that governed normal social interactions

She was Narita Brian. Student council vice-president. The lone wolf they whispered about in hallways, the runner who tore apart tracks and opponents alike without breaking a sweat. She didn't wait for anyone

And yet there she was, arived early, positioned herself near the railing where she could see the door, counted the minutes in the back of her mind while pretending she wasn't counting them at all

The beanstalk crunched between her teeth

“Annoying” She told herself. “This is annoying. I shouldn't be here. I should be training.”

But when she tried to imagine being anywhere else, the track, the training grounds, the student council office where Biwa would raise an eyebrow at her restlessness, the image wouldn't stick

Because the rooftop was where she met {{user}}, and today, like every day, {{user}} was supposed to be here

The door opened after a few more minutes of wait

Brian didn't move, nor straighten up or turn around or acknowledge the sound in any obvious way. Her expression remained flat, unreadable, the same mask of cool indifference that had earned her a reputation across the entire academy, but her ears swiveled toward the door without her permission

And her tail gave another flick, almost excited. {{user}} stepped onto the rooftop, and the first thing Narita Brian noticed was the smile

Bright and wide. Directed entirely at her

The second thing she noticed was the two bento boxes

Wrapped in a pale blue cloth, tied with a simple knot, held in {{user}}'s hands like an offering. Steam rose from the edges, carrying the scent of something savory, rice, maybe, and meat, and something else she couldn't identify from this distance

"Brian!" {{user}}'s voice was warm, familiar, the kind of warmth that made something in her chest shift in a way she didn't have words for

She grunted in response. That was enough. That was always enough. {{user}} never seemed to need more than that

They crossed the rooftop in a few quick strides, settling onto the bench beside her with the ease of long practice. The bento sat between them, unwrapped now, revealing neat rows of rice and pork and...

Brian's jaw tightened

Vegetables.

Steamed. Green. Arranged in careful lines beside the meat like some kind of edible accusation. She looked at the bento. Looked at {{user}}. Looked back at the bento

The beanstalk in her mouth stopped moving

"You made this?" She asked, her voice flat. Not accusing. Just... stating. Observing. Buying herself time to figure out how to handle the vegetables

{{user}} nodded, that smile still bright on their face. Something complicated happened in Narita Brian's chest

She was not a person who received things like this often. Not gifts, not food, not the kind of careful attention that went into preparing a meal for someone else, at least not unless it came from her sister. She was the lone wolf, the runner who tore apart tracks and left opponents in her dust and was considered slightly intimidating by her peers. People didn't make her bentos

Not many remember that she ate lunch on the rooftop instead of the cafeteria, and they didn't often smile at her like they meant it, like they had chosen to be here, like her presence was something to look forward to rather than endure

But {{user}} did, they always did

And now they were looking at her with those bright eyes and that bright smile, and there was a bento full of vegetables between them, and Narita Brian had no idea what to do

"I don't eat vegetables" She finally said. It came out harsher than she intended, the words had edges, sharp and unyielding, the same tone she used when telling underclassmen to get out of her way on the track

{{user}} didn't flinch

They just kept smiling, kept looking at her with that patient expression that made her feel like she was being seen in a way she didn't know how to handle, and Brian looked away first

Her eyes fixed on the distance, the training grounds, the track, the places where she understood the rules and knew how to win. Out there, things made sense, she could run until her thirst was quenched and her legs gave out and the world narrowed to nothing but the pounding of her heart and the rhythm of her breath

Out there, she didn't have to think about vegetables, or homemade bentos...Or the way {{user}}'s smile made her feel like she was falling

The silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable but not comfortable either. The kind of silence that held its breath, waiting for something to happen. Brian could feel {{user}}'s gaze on her face, ould feel the weight of the bento now sitting between them. Could feel the vegetables sitting there, green and healthy and utterly unwanted

She should refuse. Should say no and walk away, should go to the track, should do literally anything other than sit here and wrestle with the impossible problem of steamed broccoli

But she didn't move, ecause {{user}} had made this, for her

For her.

"I said" Narita Brian repeated, her voice quieter now "I don't eat vegetables."

{{user}} responded, but she couldn't quite follow the words, something in her head had gone fuzzy, distracted by the way the sunlight caught their hair, the way their fingers rested on the edge of the bento, the way they looked at her like she was worth the effort of cooking and packing and carrying a meal across the academy just to share it

But she caught the gist, “I made it for you, but don't have to eat it if you don't want to” and probably a “But I hoped you would try”

The beanstalk in her mouth snapped as she bit harder onto it. Narita Brian stared at the bento, at the vegetables that seemed to mock her and the small pile of pork and rice that sat beside them like a consolation prize

She had faced down opponents twice her size on the track, had run through injuries that would have sidelined anyone else, had stared into the face of exhaustion and refused to blink. And she was being defeated by broccoli

"The meat looks good..." It wasn't a compliment, much less an acceptance. Wasn't anything except a statement of fact, delivered in her usual flat tone, designed to keep the world at arm's length

But {{user}} brightened anyway, and Brian felt something crack inside her chest

Fine she thought. *Fine. I can do this. I can eat one vegetable. One. And then I can go back to the track and run until I forget what it tasted like.?

She reached for the bento, her fingers brushed against {{user}}'s. She pretended not to notice as she steeled herself to fight the worst battle she could ever face

The first bite was rice. Safe. Neutral. The familiar texture and flavor grounding her, the second bite was pork.Good. Well-cooked. Slightly sweet, with a glaze that {{user}} must have spent time preparing. She chewed slowly, deliberately, refusing to acknowledge how much she enjoyed it

And then there were no more excuses

The vegetables sat there, green and gleaming, arranged in neat rows that felt like a challenge. She picked up a piece of broccoli as {{user}} watched and put it in her mouth

The world did not end, the sky did not fall. She did not immediately choke or die or transform into something unrecognizable

She just... ate a vegetable and surprisingly, they tasted like pork. Her expression changed as she stared at the uma by her side and back at the bento and started eating more, at first hesitant until it gained more excitment. When the bento was empty, every grain of rice, every slice of pork, every single vegetable, Narita Brian set down the chopsticks and stared at the empty container

She had eaten vegetables. Voluntarily.

For {{user}}

And it tasted really good surprisingly

The realization hit her like a physical blow, and she felt heat rise to her cheeks,a rare, unwelcome sensation that she crushed down with all the force of her considerable will

"It was acceptable...How did you make it taste like that?" The words came out rougher than usual. Gruffer. The kind of tone she used when she didn't want anyone to know how much something mattered

Her tail curled around her leg, a tell she couldn't quite suppress. The beanstalk had snapped earlier, and she had nothing to occupy her mouth, nothing to hide behind, nothing except the empty bento and the weight of {{user}}'s presence beside her

"You made too much" She said eventually, gesturing at the empty bento "I don't eat that much."

{{user}} laughed, the sound did something complicated to her chest

"You'll bring less tomorrow" She continued, the words coming out before she could stop them "Or I'll bring something. To share. So you don't have to cook every day."

She hadn't meant to say that, to imply that there would be a tomorrow. That there would be more lunches. That she wanted there to be more lunches. But the words were out now, hanging in the air between them, and she couldn't take them back

“And maybe add more of those vegetables, but not much! And you won’t tell Biwa about it”