fox on the run | miya osamu

fanclub exclusives

The couple spends the rest of the afternoon watching a couple of cartoons with Daiji, keeping the little boy entertained. As the ending song of Yokai Watch play on the screen, Osamu leans forward, then looks at the side. "Oh, Chuunchun, the kid's alseep already," he gives her a notice.

"Oh?" she mumbles, looking at the boy. "Well, it was supposed to be his nap time earlier," she comments before getting the remote to turn off the television.

"I'll need to carry him," she sighs, then stands up, facing the child.

"I can do that for ya," he offers, standing up as well.

"It's fine, I did this a lot before with Sumi-chan," she rejects him.

"I gotta make up for the flowers at least, Chuunchun," he insists.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep, I'm sure."

"Okay, can you take him to my room?" she asks.

"No problem."

Osamu lifts the boy from the couch and he carries him, princess-style. "He's a lil heavy for a kid, do ya cook for him too?"

"No, he doesn't like my cooking," she sighs.

He begins walking to the staircase and Suiren follows him from behind, making sure Daiji doesn't get disturbed. Spotting her room   is easy since her door signboard has her name on it.

She turns the knob for him and they make their way in her room. It's plain and boring, unlike the cutesy type of place he expected her to have. Maybe he doesn't know her all that much yet.

"There," she whispers while pointing at the bed. Osamu crouched and gently let go of the small boy in his arms, careful enough not to wake him up.

"Thank you," she adds in a mumble.

"Yer welcome," he replies and his eyes wander around the plain-colored walls of her mediocre room.

Nothing too surprising, just a bunch of bookshelves here and there, and a messy pile of stuffed toys nearby, and merchandise with his name on it. Oh, merchandise with my name on it? He repeats to himself.

An Osamu Miya fan, an Osamu Miya headband, and an Osamu iya keychain.

He couldn't believe his eyes while she's just standing right beside him, quite confused.

"Huh? What is it?" asks Suiren, who also looks at where he was staring.

"Oh, your fanclub was selling merchandise. So I wanted to buy some. I only had 5,000 yen that day so-"

"Wait, is that strange?" she interrupts herself with a sudden inquiry, "I'm sorry, this must be weird."

"No, it's not weird," he corrects her.

"Oh? Then I'm glad it isn't," she sighs in relief. But what's even stranger is the fact she wasn't flustered at all. She still has her usual poker face on, still difficult to read.

"Well, we should go down before we disturb Daiji," she tells him.

"Yeah, of course."

The two head downstairs then back to the living room.

"Well, wanna watch TV?" asks Osamu. They sit down next to each other just like earlier, but it's more spacious now.

"Yes, there might be something interesting," she answers. Sharing the same thoughts, Osamu grabs the TV remote and switches it on.

He presses the channel buttons and begins browsing different shows. "Tell me if you like something," he says.

"Okay, okay," she mutters, but all Suiren could stare at is him and his gorgeous side profile. She recalls his question when she firsr confessed which was, "Can I kiss you?" and a couple of their moments for some unknown reason.

"Yer not even looking, Chuunchun," he half-jokingly scolds, then he looks at her as well, pausing at a random movie channel.

Suiren gulps and moves closer to him, and she feels her heart race. Nervous, she tightly grips on the ends of her shorts and she notices her palms get misty.

Is this what I think it is? he asks himself. He doesn't know if he can trust his feeling about this.

Her head tilts for a bit and she leans in to close the distance between them. However, seeing him that close sends Suiren's mind to a haywire. Every detail of his face, miniscule or not, becomes so apparent to her. The crease of his eyelids, the subtle redness of his cheeks, and everything else. It freezes her on the spot.

And Osamu isn't any different either, except that now, unlike Suiren, he's the one tempted to make the next move. Fully knowing her hesitation for skinship and, well, in men in general, he thinks twice, thrice, and a couple more times.

His overthinking suddenly comes to an end as she blurts out her thoughts. "I'm, I'm sorry," she cries out. His entire life, Osamu has never felt more disappointed and annoyed with someone other than his twin.