disclaimer: i don't own kimi ni todoke
title: the difference between onigiri and love
summary: one was easy to give; the other wasn't
dedication: 6th seat for yelling at everyone to set the frickin' boat. like please, don't put your oar in the air when you ain't rowing common sense folks
notes: how is rowing not a word? oh wait nvm the red line disappeared pheww im pooped i have crew every day but sunday and swimming every day but thursday and a test/presentation/project in every class except physical ed (thank god i'm tired af) and ... actually even art, i have to finish painting the final project shit shit like what hell week is this can I even sound fluent? di i jus capitalize an i? ? i must be outta it. anyways enjoy~ i just finished the second half, the first, longer half was finished a few months ago and on tumblr so yuppppp
.
.
.
When she didn't know what to say, it was easy to hand him a plate of onigiri, his favorite kind, as apology. And even though her cooking skills were shit, she'd practically grown up in a ramen restaurant. Not that she made the ramen, or anything, but she did know how to make onigiri because her mom did all the time. She loved to watch her mom shape the rice, so after Ryu's mom couldn't do it for him, she did it instead. Ryu's mom was -
- done rambling. No, Ryu's mom wasn't done rambling, Ryu's mom was dead. What she meant was that she was done rambling. By now, she'd all but forgotten the initial point she wanted to make. This always happened to her.
There was a knock at the front door and her feet literally commanded her with sneaky little voices to get up and walk there; to open the door and see him was probably the scariest thing she'd ever done, and before she did she knew what she was going to do. And so did he, that tricky little - he knew exactly what he'd been getting out of this, didn't he.
He looked pretty hungry too, face all red from running around in the snow of all things to run around in, and stomach making little growls. Ryu would never say anything about it, and it drove her crazy, so she just made the onigiri. Chizuru went to go get the rice balls from the fridge, and it took her awhile to realize that he was following her, the creep.
"No, you stay out," she ordered him. "I get the food because I made the food." So what if she was irrational sometimes. Ryu just shrugged. He was so passive, all the time. She couldn't stand him. He didn't budge, and she gave up. As she handed it to him, she did a little sweep of his running-exhausted state. Hurrying back, she picked up a handful of hawthorn candies and stuck them in his pocket. His eyebrow raised questioningly. "You look tired," muttered Chizuru.
Ryu smiled like it was the easiest thing in the world, mumbled a quick "thank you" then backed out the door. She knew he hadn't left. And like she often did, she joined him out at the doorstep.
"So, training for baseball, huh?"
He nodded, not unkindly. That was one thing about him. He was slow to anger and had the most patience with her out of the world. She wasn't sure she had that patience with herself, even.
"I guess that means you're coming over more, now."
Again, his head bobbed up and down, then shrugged to one side.
"A'right." Chizuru stood up and dusted her hands. The onigiri were long gone - it still astounded her how fast he could eat despite his slow and lazy movements. "Let me get that plate, and then run off to your home, 'kay?"
"G'night," Ryu replied.
Without asking, she took the plate and put it in the sink, discarding the soiled saran wrap. By the time she headed back out to check the drifting snow - and him - he was already long gone, fresh tracks still stark against the white wonderland.
.
.
.
finally finished hohoh
