Thirty seconds left.
Mayaka returns her gaze to the pie cooling on her counter. Desserts have never been her forte, but she’s pretty confident this time – she’s pinned all her hopes on her mother’s undefeated apple pie recipe, after all. She wastes no time in frosting the crust, biting her lip in frustration when her hands shake. Why is she acting like an amateur now? Her nerves can take a backseat. She’s got this.
Beside her, Fukube is already drying his hands with a tablecloth, a smug smile beaming on his face. His cake is much more elaborate than what she’s plating: five layers tall, chocolate and vanilla alternating between tiers. The cherries and rainbow sprinkles make it look much too gaudy for her tastes, but Mayaka cannot truly fault him, because one thing that Fukube never forgets is to inject his personality into his cooking. He really cooks from his heart, which is what makes him such an irritatingly worthy rival.
oh my god anon this would be so screwed up how could we even begin to think about this it’s just SO INTRIGUING YEAHHH
"Can I sit here?"
Tsuruko doesn’t look up. She doesn’t need to because she recognises him even though this is the first time he’s approached her. She nods vaguely, refusing to take her eyes off the pages of her book.
He pulls out the chair and takes a seat opposite her, placing his cup of takeaway coffee next to her mug on the table. The cafe is especially crowded today, so he can’t take his usual seat the front counter - in the middle of all the people, and yet with his back turned to every single one of them. She thinks that it reflects his eccentricities, but catches herself before she gets too carried away. What does she know about this man? She doesn’t even know his name. She only knows that he’s always sitting around here on the weekends, waiting for someone to come and pick him up. When he’s alone, he looks bored and uninspired, staring out shop’s window like all his questions will never have answers. But the moment a friend steps into the coffeeshop, he substitutes a pleasant facade for them like it’s his expertise.
Tsuruko hates people like him.
This is all Mamura’s fault.
Inukai never thought that such a sentence could exist. Mamura is a peace-loving guy, after all. He keeps to himself and avoids causing trouble for others because he hates it when others do that to him. In their five years of friendship, Inukai can’t remember a time he was ever angry at Mamura.
But because Suzume had asked Mamura to join the class with her, and Mamura had been too self-conscious to go with just her, he’d dragged Inukai along. Inukai hadn’t had any reason to decline the offer - waltzing had sounded like a neat new skill to add to his barren repetoire of talents outside of braiding his younger sister’s hair and memorising pi up to the twentieth decimal.
Yui is almost done marking her first stack of test papers when someone strikes a conversation at the desk just next to hers.
"C’mon, Daichi! It won’t last for long. When’s the last time you had a drink? When’s the last time you went to a mixer?" Ikejiri asks with a coaxing tone. "I bet you haven’t even gone to one before!” he adds, his voice brimming with accusation.
Despite the Physic teacher’s wheedling, Sawamura doesn’t budge from his position - bent over, red pen in hand, sizing up the several piles of ungraded History homework he has to plough through.
You wouldn’t have guessed based on his teaching subject, but Sawamura was also in charge of the boy’s volleyball team. He spends most of his afternoons outside the office, whipping at the team with the rumoured diligence of a professional coach. Work accumulates constantly for him. Yui realises that it’s been a long time since she’s been able to even see the cleared surface of his desk. He never changes, and stays back late to make up for it every Friday. Yui had only found out about this last week, when she had to do some overtime too.
You can refer to my MAL! But, off the top of my head, I’ve read: Fruits Basket, Strobe Edge, Hirunaka no Ryuusei (kinda), Tonari no Kaibutsu-kun, Kimi ni Todoke.
note: i wrote a shizume thing, so here’s a mazume thing to make it even, but these will really be the only things i’m writing for the pairs because i am not confident of portraying these ships well!!
She wakes up to the sound of the third alarm clock ringing and breakfast cooking in the kitchen. Suzume tries to sink deeper into her mattress, knocking the clock off the bedside stand with the back of her hand. It lands with a thunk on the floor in a familiar fashion to the two before it. And then, right on cue, she feels someone rip the toasty blanket off her and unleash the window blinds so that the sun hits her squarely in the face.
Mamura is merciless.
On Monday, he wakes up an hour earlier than usual, packs his briefcase, and takes the long walk to school. It’s one of many aimless routines to get him accustomed to the beginning of the week. After school, when he’s done with draggy meetings and confused students asking questions after class and marking homework he’d procrastinated on the week before, Shishio makes his way home to his little apartment. It’s a quiet development - boring is the best way to put it, but peace and quiet is the kind of thing that he needs to get used to now that he’s no longer a teenager.
cress/skyla club!au + pearl/sapphire living across the hall!au, i think your dog likes my dog!au, basically all the pearl/sapphire AUs!!
A baseball bat was handed to her.
Natsume held it loosely with both her hands. It was much heavier than the one she always used at Micchan’s batting center. This bat was designed for the players of a proper, competitive team - the Syoyo baseball team. The fact that she was holding onto a bat that belonged to Sasayan’s teammate wasn’t supposed to disturb her this much.
"… What am I supposed to do with this?"
Sasayan, who had been digging around the equipment in the gym’s storage room, looked over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes, pressing his lips together. Exhausted as he was, he managed to summon up an incredulous look just for her. It was strange that Natsume found this annoyed expression, of all things, heartening. It reminded her that despite all that had happened in the last few hours, not everything had changed, and not everything had been lost.