𝙺𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 || Food Wars

✔ || one nostalgic dream

Amid the hallways of the Totsuki Middle School building, a pair of half-Italian males made their way through the small flock of buzzing students off to do their own little businesses for the an hour and a half long lunch break. Isami doesn't fail to notice the jolly aura his older brother was emitting at the moment, knowing well how much the blonde had taken pride from being praised by Chapelle-sensei during the chef-who-never-smile's period earlier that day.

Knowing how uptight the instructor was -- that he somehow thinks he's the Totsuki version of Grodon Ramsay -- it wasn't too unforseen to see the third-year middle school student acting proud of himself. The fact that he was able to win the grumpy chef's smile gave him boasting rights.

Despite the rights to prance around like a peacock, the blonde instead chose to let the praise radiate around him as a jolly ambiance -- tone and posture visibly in a good mood as he chatted with his younger brother on their way to the school yard benches, a spot they had taken quite a liking to whenever they wanted get some fresh air.

"Say, have you heard? Takumi Aldini from the other class was complimented by Chapelle-sensei back on third period." Ears perking up at the mention of his name, the aformentioned blonde pauses his steps, slowly whipping his head towards the direction of the tone. Along with his younger twin, he finds a trio of males savoring their lunch under the shade of the tree. "Did you see how much he was boasting about it, the proud git?"

And, like every cliche story like this mediocre fanfiction brought to you by an equally amateur author, we present to you a scene where "random extra talks shit about that one person, and that one person just happens to pass by at the exact moment".

Very original, I know.

Quite unlikely to happen in real life since bitches are now able to devise creative ways on how to talk about certain people behind their back, but this story is set in an anime.

"I mean, the task was to his advantage anyways, because it focused on Italian cooking." The mob character who's not deserving enough for the master procrastinator of an author to waste a single one of her few remaining brain cells just to create a description or name for. "I bet he and his fat-ass brother would fail if we get to focus more on Japanese cuisines. Those two foreigners should just go back to Italy -- where they belong. They should just sniff some stinky cheese on the corner or something."

"Nii-chan..." Isami mutters quietly, shifting his cyan toned orbs to spare hus elder brother a concerned glance. As much as the mocking -- not to mention friggin' racist -- comment left a pang within him, the brunette boy was level-headed enough to simply take the words for granted. After all, there would be nothing to gain by lashing out needlessly.

Those bunch weren't worth the time and effort to do so. I mean, those D grade chefs may even be kicked out of the high-end culinary institution two days after.

It stings. Takumi wasn't going to lie to himself. In spite of how his knuckles were turning white due to the venomous temptation to get his hot-headed nature get the best of him at the current moment, the young blonde instead heaves out a long sigh -- the action appearing to have released the aggravated words threatening to spill from his mouth into a wordless breath.

"Let's go, Isami." Reassuring the chestnut haired male, he etches up a smile on his thin lips. "Our lunch may turn cold so let's hurry up."

He makes a matured and wise choice -- quite impressive for his prideful and short-tempered self. Why bother getting worked up on a bunch of empty insults from envious prats when he could just show what he's made of right at their faces to prove them wrong? The blonde decides to walk away, clogging up his ears as the immature bunch went on with their small-minded gossiping.