The Heroes are Dumbheads but Fun I Guess

Shibuya Couldn't Care Less, Goodbye

He'd wrapped their guest's mac and cheese in celophane that had quickly become gauzy and grey what with the steam of being freshly cooked.

And it was probably indescribably, disgustingly cold once dinner was over with.

Which was when either of them would have anything more to do with work, Shibuya had decided.

Once the last of his rice was gone all that was left for his chopsticks was one last katsudon cutlet.

Takeda had clunked onto the table by five and currently groaned in despai as his stomach made several gurgling, disparaged noises.

"Oh well, I tried to find milk in the fridge but the closest we had was some boba in the fridge," he replied.

"I get iiiit," Taki bemoaned.

"Good, by the way, I hid the milk carton in the vegetable drawer. I'm going to my room now."

"WHYYYY?" Takeda exclaimed in adamant despair. "Do you hate me?"

"To be honest," Shibuya wondered, "yes. A little more each day."

"I've learned my lesson, I promise. Groceries, never forget your grocery list again."

"And?"

"And the cute reminders that tell me so and that you love me," he said.

"I never wrote those," he lied flawlessly.

For a moment Takeda was silent as he finally propped himself back up to his chair.

"Didn't you?"

"I dunno did I?"

"Shio."

"What else?"

"Uhh never let my company mess with what you put on the fridge."

And with that Shibuya nodded.

Turning off the faucet he grabbed a glass and the milk and filled it to the brim.

Taking the mac and cheese on the counter.

His brother, would be able to get the milk from the dining counter behind him once he was able.

____________________________

It took Takeda six seconds too long to realize what damning thing Shibuya had said.

Namely, "my room."

Where he did his homework, expected quiet, and where Takeda had grabbed an appropriately heavy and bulky pair of earphones with exactly for the sound-cancelling feature.

So, he'd looked around frantically standing up even with the terrible ache of spicy Katsudon.

But didn't hear any complaints or another demoralizing lecture from his sweet little brother.

Had he not noticed?

Shibuya could very well be taking a break...

Oh yes, he would go to the Glass Room first so the prisoner could eat.

Why his brother felt that necessary, he genuinely had no idea. However such niceties or some could say cruelty of a last meal was ultimately a moot point. His brother did as he was told, unless it was stupid, and namely never did let necessary components go free.

_____________________________

Entering the glass room, he first called the hero, well, by his title. Since Shibuya didn't know, nor cared to know said hero's name.

No wait.

The answer was he didn't care to remember it. That was the one.

And he'd come otherwise prepared. First with his schoolbag still full of his schoolbooks and some extra cookbooks, a finger-sized bottle of mace, and his phone which had unfortunately been almost dead. Which had meant no blaring music until twelve at night even if he had his headphones.