No Feeding the Kitsune

Akio plopped himself down in his desk as the bell chimed for homeroom. He found no traces of insulting marks, no tampering of his supplies, nor did he worry any longer about people shooting the occasional stink eye at him.

A week had passed since he had torn down Tanimura’s lies, and it seemed like things were becoming more normal.

The sliding door crashed open with a force that shook the entire classroom.

“Akio-kuuuuun! I forgot to give you your bento!”

All eyes turned to a beaming Misaki. If it weren’t for the cute delivery, neatly wrapped in a cloth and proudly waved in the air, they would have started inching under their desks for protection. The student body had heard of her sudden transformation, but not everyone was convinced that it wasn’t an act.

That ‘they’ weren’t an act.

A few stragglers that backed Tanimura tried to stir up some trouble by poking holes in their relationship. One hid in the bushes to capture candid photos of the two ‘faking’ it. He got a fork to the butt that left him unable to sit for the rest of the week.

However, few could find reasons to doubt Misaki’s persistent attempts at finding time with Akio. While her half-baked personality as a ‘proper’ girlfriend was as shallow as a man writing romance for the first time, her enthusiasm came through, nonetheless.

She raced over to plop a bento on his desk, a heavy clunk of her slamming it down too hard echoing. The room bounced from the sheer force of an unnaturally strong girl that knew not to slow down with proper form.

Giving a wave goodbye, she raced out of the classroom again, clipping the door on her way out. The door was ripped from its supports and bounced down the hallway, falling flat in front of the next classroom. He felt sorry for the school janitor as that would be the third time this week it would need fixing.

It wasn’t until lunchtime did he open up his bento to an all-too-familiar ‘surprise’.

Akio had gotten used to these homemade lunches, ever since he told her that he bought from the konbini every morning. He had no right to complain when he was literally handed free food, except…

He opened the lid of his bento to find the food pulverized to one side of the container, like it had gone through a centrifuge. Misaki’s brute force made it tough to do things delicately, particularly when she was excited. Akio could easily imagine the food turning into mush around the container as she raced to his classroom to deliver it.

He poked the pickled vegetables that had imbedded themselves in the rolled tamagoyaki. Rice had spilled over and coated them like a half-hearted snow day, a similar disappointment as a lack of school cancellation over it.

Akio grabbed one of the tamagoyaki/pickle hybrids and sampled it. At least, the strange visual was the most peculiar thing about it. Misaki’s cooking wasn’t bad, about what the typical schoolgirl could be expected of. He had initially prepared a list of colorful overreactions, in preparation for a disaster. Yet, Misaki’s cooking had avoided the standard trope of a fighter with no practical life skills. He quickly hid the barf bags and packets of condiments to avoid her teasing him. The last thing she needed to believe was him ‘wanting’ such a girlfriend.

In fact, it was somehow rather tasty despite the weird texture. He didn’t know whether to be impressed by that fact, or whether he should be worried that crazy deliveries had numbed his taste buds through brute force. Maybe he felt obligated since Misaki was technically his girlfriend.

“You’re making me jealous over here.”

Akio jumped at the sudden statement, obviously directed at him like a vuvuzela to the ear. He turned to see a cheeky grin, thin eyes, and head lazily propped atop folded arms. A male classmate had pulled up a chair and plopped himself backwards on it, attention fully at him.

The first instinct Akio had was to slam the lid on his bento and hide the evidence. From what, he wasn’t sure yet, but caution had always been his driving force.

“What do you want from me, err?”

“Kikuchi’s the name. Kikuchi Tsunemori. Of course, with a mug like this, you can shorten it to ‘Kitsune’. Fits me to a ‘T’ anyways.”

One look and Akio knew he was trouble. Anyone that could fit his personality into a nickname often sounded off the alarms.

“Wily like a fox. Already warning me of it isn’t going to make me any less guarded against you. Not with how the school’s been-”

“Yeah, yeah, Wada memes had their heyday and people got their laughs at shitting on you. But that’s not what I’m here for. What I see is an ongoing scoop.” Kitsune pulled out his phone and readied the creepy typing hands. “Journalism’s the game. School news is where I make my mark. And the printing press is mighty electrified to know all about the infamous Yankee Slayer.”

“Yankee what?” The phone was shoved right before his mouth like a microphone asking for confessions.

“How’d you do it? Big, bad, Misaki Haibara~~ Falling in love to a simple man~~ A man who’s at his lowest lows~~”

“I’m gonna punch you.”

“Ah, points for straight-up violence. Maybe, that’s her type…”

“You don’t know anything about her.”

Kitsune’s face popped right into front of Akio, uncomfortably close. His thin eyes examined his expression, as if knowing what he would do next. Frozen by this, Kitsune acted first instead.

“Of course, I don’t. No one does. She’s as cold as ice to everyone. Everyone but you.”

“Ha ha, lucky me.”

“Lucky enough to warrant the entire attention of the school.”

Damn. Akio had really hoped the bullying had calmed down from his own merit. Apparently, he hadn’t flattened Tanimura’s face far enough for people to leave him alone. Monstrous strength like Misaki was sure to keep things in check. He mentally noted to work on his right hook.

Kitsune slapped him on the back. It really seemed like he had no sense of distance. Akio grabbed him by the wrist and tried an intimidating look.

“So, what about you, Kitsune? Trying to chisel your way into Misaki’s path? I wouldn’t recommend it. I nearly died a few times in the process.”

“Death hardly scares me. I am a firm believer of isekai reincarnation after death. Even better if it’s tragic and unwarranted. Just think, I’d be using my OP powers to pen down some sweet lines, bringing my creations to life! At least, that’s what I hope my powers would be.”

Akio could only stare at that bold proclamation and wince. He was one of those types of people…

“Death aside, I see a juicy story right before me. I’ll write it all down, and it’ll become ‘good anime’. So hit me with how you got down! Oh, but keep it suitable for the young’uns. Can’t have the discipline committee crack down on the hot and heavy snu snu-ing.”

“I-”

Akio clamped his mouth shut. Denial was a very loud affirmation, liable for wild ideas to overshadow the truth. It was better for him to suck it up and spill before worst things could be fantasized and embellished.

“Fine! I nearly killed her. She tried to kill me back. We kissed and made up. There was a mutual misunderstanding, and we worked it out. Now, I guess we sorta ‘get’ each other?”

Kitsune tapped at his phone, eyeing Akio with a vacant expression like ‘That’s it?’ The slits on his face finally cracked open, revealing his eyes. They pierced him like the spotlight of a detective’s interrogation.

“That doesn’t explain the dramatic shift in personality of the legendary yankee of Yokohama. People don’t just change overnight.”

“They do if struck in the head with a bat.”

“Damn, that’s hardcore. I’m impressed. Must be some violent sex. Nearly killing each other in the process, I see-”

“Wasn’t me that did it!”

“So it was a threesome, a gang up? My my, the more I dig…”

Akio was getting a headache talking. He should have known better than to get strung along, only for his extraterrestrial words to spark a fetish. Standing up, he decided that eating lunch anywhere but here was a better option.

“Woah, hold on there, Slayer. I get it, you’ve been burned before because people can’t take a joke. I run my mouth at those people too. But tell me this, does it seem like I’m being serious?”

Akio froze, unsure what to even say. His mind was a pendulum swinging back and forth between the extremes. Kitsune cracked a smile.

“There’s the right look. Too bothersome to pinpoint either way, right? You gotta take advantage of that. Leave them guessing, so that they can’t push their thoughts all one way. But I’ll leave you to enjoy your smashed yankee cuisine. Hit me up if you have more juicy deets. Warp the gossip to your liking before it warps you instead.”

With a pat on the shoulder, Kitsune’s gaze darted to the hallway before he dashed off, as if he sniffed another scoop. The last statement hung onto him like heavy arms slowly squeezing the-

“Woah! Misaki! When the hell did you appear!?” Akio jumped but Misaki’s firm grip kept him grounded. Instead, the bento in his hands flew into the air.

He felt a demonic aura rise as he was hoisted into the air, his vision launched toward the floating lunch spinning midair. With no other reflex but to grab it, he somehow snapped the lid back on top before they both landed with a thud several meters away.

“Enjoy your lunch, Akio-kun.” Misaki kissed him on the top of the head before letting go, fluttering out of the room, all fairy-like.

Akio flopped into the nearest chair, gently setting down his lunch before continuing to eat. His legs were too jelly to go anywhere else for the moment.

It no longer mattered that his eggs tasted like pickle, nor did the mess of a conglomeration it had become. Even the thought of bad gossip held no taste on his tongue.

He was numb to all that while pondering how he would survive a relationship with Misaki instead.