"No way in hell" a voice called out into the gym.
A blue streak sprinted across the gym and out the doorway like he the devil on his heels. The cause for such a response? A pink haired manager holding a mysterious brown bag.
Practice had just finished, but the day in general had seemed very long. A rip had appeared in his bag, instilling an everlasting paranoia that a snack had or would fall out. Keeping such constant watch for a boy who barely took note of his classmates' names was exhausting.
Bag safely contained in his lap, he rested against the bleachers closing his eyes. This didn't stop him from noticing when a certain manager plopped on the floor beside him upset.
Murasakibura eyes flew open and stared blankly at the female beside him before resuming his previous position, satisfied she wasn't a threat to his goods.
He wasn't sure why she had come over to him: but it didn't matter too much .
"Murasakibara-San?"
"Eh?"
"Can you do me a favor?"
He opened his eyes glancing lazily at the girl prompting her to continue .
Hesitating slightly she pulled out a container from the bag and handed over the package.
"Senpai told us the best way to show someone you care for them is a home cooked meal. But Aomine won't taste test any of my food anymore. I just want to make food that-"
Murasakibara proceeded to tune out the manager. Still he couldn't find it in himself to deny her request for help in such a pursuit for such a Nobel goal. He began to view the girl in a better light.
He opened the unsuspecting container only for his eyes to bulge.
Is this food?
Cloudy looking gas floated from the dish. He wasn't sure what exactly this was, but what he could tell one thing, it was definitely burnt. A crunchy greenish brownish layer lay on top of a soggy white substance . Mixed in between lay pops of purple chunks as well as smaller burnt vegetables.
"Instead of a seaweed roll, I made a seaweed sandwich with rice, plum, and mixed vegetables." She exclaimed.
Murasakibara knew that his stomach was more durable than most. The ability to eat junk food as consistent as he could was no joke. His teeth were in top condition.
But this was something completely different.
Can I really eat this?
He cautiously tilted the container to the side and watched how the rice splattered itself against the side violently. Almost as if it wanted to put itself out of its own misery .
Murasakibara picked up the utensils. He had never felt this level of danger before. Alarms were ringing in his head. Still he had never met a dish he couldn't handle, and it was free.
Will this really cause me harm?
"STOP!" someone shouted.
It was the same boy from earlier.
"Aomine-kun! I still need someone to give an opinion" she scowled
"I gave an opinion. It's trash." .
The girl stood up and placed her hands on her hips, as she turned to face the intruder. "You didn't even try it" she argued.
"I didn't have to, it's a waste."
Aomine looked over at Murasakibara with an uncharacteristic seriousness.
"Look, I don't know you. But no one deserves to go through whatever is in that container. I've tasted Satsuki's cooking before and you just don't want to go through that." He warned.
Murasakibara had been given enough deterrents. He firmly closed the dish and handed back the container. These two were trouble.
Atsushi promptly got up and started walking away, which neither of the childhood friends managed to give too much attention or thought to.
He didn't expect their paths to converge as quickly as it would.