Monday arrived with the smell of spring in the air — warm sunshine, faint breeze, and the distant hum of cicadas even though summer hadn't officially begun.
Haruto Tanaka sat at his desk, flipping through his math notes while his classmates chatted loudly around him. It was an ordinary day. Ordinary, that is, until he noticed a small, pink lunchbox sitting neatly on his desk.
He frowned. "What's this?"
"Surprise!"
A familiar voice chirped from behind him. Aoi Nakamura leaned over his shoulder, her grin as bright as the morning sun.
"You made me lunch?" he asked, confused but oddly touched.
"Yup! Well, kinda. I made extra, and I thought you might like some. You always help me with homework, so this is my official 'thank-you bento!'" She puffed her chest proudly.
Haruto eyed the box with mild suspicion. "Last time you said that, you almost set your oven on fire."
"That was one time!" she protested, pouting. "This time I didn't even use the oven! It's all safe and edible. Promise."
He sighed, defeated. "Fine."
Aoi clapped her hands in delight. "Yay! Let's eat together then!"
---
They moved to their usual corner of the courtyard — a quiet spot under a tree where the sunlight filtered through the leaves like glittering rain.
Haruto opened the lunchbox carefully. Inside were neatly arranged rice balls, a few tamagoyaki slices (slightly uneven but golden), and… a piece of sausage shaped like a little octopus.
He blinked. "You made it cute."
"Of course!" Aoi grinned. "I saw it in a cooking video. You like it?"
He looked down at the octopus sausage, its tiny eyes made from seaweed dots. "It's… cheerful."
"Cheerful?" she giggled. "That's not a word people usually use to describe food."
He shrugged lightly. "Fits your style."
Aoi tilted her head. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you somehow make even food look happy," he said before realizing how that sounded.
Her eyes widened a little — then softened. "That's probably the nicest thing anyone's said to me this week."
Haruto immediately looked away, ears pink. "I didn't mean it like that."
She laughed, the sound light and melodic. "You always say things like that, but I think you mean them more than you realize."
He picked up a rice ball to distract himself. "You talk too much."
"And you don't talk enough," she replied playfully, poking his arm with her chopsticks.
They ate quietly after that, the kind of silence that wasn't awkward but comfortable — the kind that made time feel slower and softer.
When he finished, Haruto closed the lid. "It was good," he said sincerely.
Aoi's face lit up. "Really?"
"Yeah. The rice was a little salty, but…" He paused, smiling faintly. "It felt homemade. In a good way."
Aoi's smile grew brighter. "Then I'll keep making them! Every Monday! Consider it a deal."
"A deal?"
"Yup! You help me study, and I'll bring lunch. Fair trade, right?"
He opened his mouth to object — to say it wasn't necessary, that she didn't have to go through the trouble. But the way she looked at him, eyes shining with genuine excitement, made him stop.
"…Alright," he said quietly. "It's a deal."
Aoi beamed and raised her hand for a high-five. "Then it's settled!"
He hesitated, then met her hand with a soft clap.
---
As they packed up, Aoi glanced up at the sky. "Hey, Tanaka-kun?"
"Yeah?"
"Next time, I'll make your favorite food."
He blinked. "How would you know what that is?"
"I'll find out," she said with a mischievous grin. "I'm good at observing."
He couldn't help it — he laughed. A soft, genuine laugh that caught even him by surprise.
Aoi smiled at the sound. "There it is again. You're smiling more often now."
He looked down, embarrassed. "Maybe you're just too observant."
"Or maybe," she said with a wink, "I'm just good at making you happy."
For a moment, Haruto didn't know what to say. The sunlight danced in her hair, the wind carried the scent of her lemon cookies, and somewhere in his chest, something warm unfurled quietly.
He'd never admit it aloud, but maybe — just maybe — Aoi Nakamura was right.