What is "eating"? A mere gerund verb that shows the action of putting (food) into the mouth and chewing and swallowing it, as means of survival? Well, yes. But where's the fun in that? Life is difficult and unpleasant as is, why don't you make your journey in this world more enjoyable with tasty food? Is what second year Inarizaki High student, Miya Osamu, is thinking.
It was another peaceful lunchtime at one of the most prestigious high schools in Japan, and as usual, the lad was with his classmate Suna Rintaro.
"Thanks for the food," Osamu cheers, Suna following suit.
The two had a reserved spot they escaped to whenever the crowd was too much to bear, a secret spot where adequate sunlight shines past through the old tree branches, and where the breeze could get in enough to keep them cool. Fourth floor, after the staircase leading to the rooftop, and a little bit more after the restrooms. It was the best spot one can ever find, perfect for enjoying lunch with their school's track field view.
The two sat cross-legged on the chilly ceramic floor, busy preparing themselves to dig into their long-awaited lunch, that was until a human steps into the field and into their sights. A female student, alone, and with a little tied cloth in hand.
That's gotta be her lunch.
They watch as she sets her lunchbox down on the benches and heads to the sports equipment shed, where basic phys ed equipment were stored, messy most of the time. "what's she doin?" the grey haired student mutters, cheeks filled to the brim with his lunch of choice today: savory-sweet honey ginger pork, warm-fluffy multigrain rice, crunchy pickled vegetables, and fragrant anchovy based miso soup.
And since he had flung a question that none of them knew the answer to, they continued to eat, gazing at the landscape from above. "Did she get punished ta clean the shed or somethin? poor kid." Osamu comments again. "dunno," Suna eventually responds, "just watch over her lunch in case it gets stolen or something." Some moment later, as Osamu downs the last drips of his soup, the girl steps out of the shed, clapping the dust off her hands. She doesn't forget to lock the metal doors back before disappearing for a second time. "She's probably gone to wash her hands or somethin." Osamu chirps again, waiting for her to come back. And she did, wringing her wet hands in the air to get the water droplets off. "I wonder what she's havin."
Osamu never did pay much attention to peers, but Suna who was renowned for his remarkable intel can't seem to recall that face, that dark olive-brown hair. All he knew was that they are in the same year apparently, judging by the color of her name tag. First years get brown words on black name tags, second years white on black, and third years black on white. Besides, who even wears their name tags? Only a select few: the student body president, class representatives, model students, and new students who have yet to learn that they aren't compulsory to the dress code.
"new student?" Osamu hums. Unlike Suna, it was quite easy for him to notice just based on the fact that it's their first time seeing her through their lunch spot, their lunch spot where they eat lunch at, almost every single day. And he would have remembered anyone who brings a bento to school, since you can say it's quite rare. Students would just buy a food coupon and get fed warm toasty meals with rice fresh out of the stoves.
"...hah?"
The boxy tied cloth indeed turned out to be a lunchbox. What took them aback was the things that surfaced together with it the moment she untied the checkered print cloth. By the sides of the classic metal bento box were some other stuff (???) one won't usually find in a lunch box.
Spring has come and the weather has evidently become warmer than before. Most have dropped their pocket warmers and proceeded the day normally. So what was the reason behind the heap of heat packs surrounding her lunch box? Another thing that caught their eyes were the snacks: a piece of ready-to-eat sausage, seaweed chips, a hardboiled (?) egg, and a bottle of furikake.
As if it was the most normal thing ever, she starts to assemble what seems to be her lunch. She pushes the heat packs aside, opening the tin lunch box to reveal it 3/4ths full of rice. Next she cracks open the egg, taking a tasting bite before she sets it in her bento. She then pops open her seaweed chips and sausage, dumping it into her lunchbox too. Last was the furikake, she was generous with it too. Lastly she clasps her hands together, muttering a small thanks to the universe for the food she's blessed with, and starts to dig in.
Suna was quite taken aback, glancing at his pal who looked as ghastly. "damn," was all he could mutter. No, it does not have any implied meaning, all his vocabulary just left his mind and that was all he could say. Osamu on the other hand was feeling a mixture of shock and slight admiration. Shock due to how unbalanced her meal was, and also due to how it actually tempted him since it looked tasty. Chips on rice, and furikake and egg and sausage, why haven't he ever thought of such a disastrous yet tempting combination? While the slight admiration was just because. In his defense, she genuinely thanked for her meal, and her impromptu mixing was spot-on.
The two boys continue to eye her from above, a lone new girl eating her -sorry not sorry, low budget - lunch alone, just what's her problem?
A week had passed since that day, and everyday the two have unconsciously accustomed themselves to eat lunch together, the three of them. Her down on the ground, them by the windows of the fourth floor. Whenever either boy couldn't meet for lunch, the other would eventually find him at their spot. It wasn't a spoken agreement or anything, three days into watching her eat, they just thought they might as well eat at the same time as her, to avoid drooling over her meal, yknow. She had this talent of making her weird meals look tasty, and she wasn't even hogging it down like how Osamu would usually do.
The girl would always show up at lunch break, set her lunch aside, and do whatever business she has in the shed. And she's also taken off her name tag.
The past week her menus have always been simple and cheap: a platter of hard boiled potatoes, eggs, and ready-to-eat sausages; friggin energy bars and a carton of milk; rice and a variety of pickled vegetables; fried rice with little toppings; a variety of convenience store steamed buns and karaage. Today she's just eating convenience store croquettes with a carton of coffee milk.
"yknow everytime i see her eat, it makes me so mad -how can someone eat like that?" Osamu muttered, eyebrows knit together. "at least she's eating well," Suna remarks. "maybe she's saving up her lunch money for something more important. so she finds cheaper alternatives, or she just has an unique palate, you can't shame someone because on that." he continued, plopping a carrot in his mouth before he adds. "at least that's what i think."
Osamu keeps his mouth shut. What Suna said was plausible, he's always been a reasonable guy. But he just hopes she'd treat herself better. It's eating afterall, these things go in your body. To keep you healthy, functioning, warm, and happy. If it's her palate that's abnormal, then he doesn't really know, maybe discover more food and eat a good meal? It's just that the idea of cutting back on food to save money didn't seem right to him. But who is he to have a say on other's matters? He doesnt even have a clue of her predicaments.
He just feels...kinda sad.
"off topic, but why don't we try eatin down there?"
The idea came like a zap Osamu doesnt even know where it came from but he agrees with his own suggestion, it'd be nice.
Before Suna could intercept, he goes on with reasons why they should do it: "i mean, no one goes there at lunch break, so no crowds, pretty much the same as eating here. difference is outside, we get fresh air, it seems breezy out there, and there's her- dunno, that thing just...looks so lonely." he rambled, and you can tell Suna wasnt quite impressed.
"rather than lonely, she looks like she's enjoying her alone-time." the foxy boy remarks. Osamu could only let out complaining protest whines at that.
