mitsukisa hairstyles for fun..!
(i was thinking about what hairstyles they could have in their next year, but i don't think any of these would be used haha)
But no matter how much he eats, he still feels the pit of hunger gnawing at him, even as he's full.
Or wait, maybe he's gotten something wrong here.
(mitsuki shirota, mitsukisa, ミツキサ, mitsuki x kisa, post-mitsuki's 3rd affection event, but not entirely relevant, summer break period, Kisa is referred to as he/him for narrative accuracy, mild angst?, 3.2k words)
They say grief is a fickle entity. It does not haunt you in the form of hushed whispers as you fall asleep, no. It's there as you wake in the morning and think that the day will go well, until the sorrow hits you full force, and there's nothing you can do about it but wallow in the pain of it all.
Mitsuki has not lost anyone, or at least, not yet.
But, for some reason, the anxiety that ghosts him like a bad first love seems determined to ruin his mornings the way grief does.
He detests it, obviously.
"Haaah..."
Sitting up in his bed, he groans and agitatedly runs a hand through his hair in a fashion that's uncharacteristically aggressive for him. How could he help it? He feels horrible right now.
'And it's all because of...this.'
"This" being the strange clump of emotions that had begun to fester and form a tumor in his heart. It's a disgusting analogy, sure, but he could think of no better way to describe it as of now.
Kisa's face appears in his mind, causing Mitsuki to grab his blanket and toss it off him violently. The cold morning breeze that engulfs his body makes him shiver, but whatever.
While he's not an early riser, he doesn't particularly like sleeping in either. So Mitsuki decides to get on with his day, thinking that keeping himself busy would make it easier for him to distract himself. If it doesn't work, then...
"..."
He's in the bathroom washing his face. The water runs from the tap, down to his fingers, past his palms, and it splashes like rain droplets as he raises his hands to douse himself awake.
It's cold.
By normal standards, what Univeil's cafeterias offer is quite luxurious. In the sense that the chefs don't hold back when providing their all to creating nutritious meals for hungry young men who pour their energy into training every day, even if the ingredients themselves are more expensive than they should be.
It's too much for Mitsuki, though. Rather than copious amounts of protein and carbohydrates, he's fine with just getting by with the occasional salad and soup for breakfast. Usually, that's the case.
But as Mitsuki stares at the offered spread in front of him, he hesitates.
Today, a traditional Japanese breakfast set is carefully arranged and distributed among the dozen trays that line up on the counter, and it has everything that you'd expect. Rice, miso soup, rolled-up omelettes, grilled salmon, a small bowl of fruit, and pickled vegetables. Along with a cup of tea.
It's beautiful just looking at it, really. The modest array of colours is enough to stimulate the appetite of most. Most, not including Mitsuki, supposedly.
It should've been too much for him.
"..."
Mitsuki—uncharacteristically—picks up a tray without a single complaint, with the entire load balanced on his hands.
He's feeling hungrier than usual.
At this time of the day, there aren't many students about. It's summer break, after all. He's sure a good deal of them would want to sleep in a little more since they don't have any classes for the day. So, he picks a table at the far corner of the cafeteria to eat his breakfast in peace, someplace that wasn't too bright, or too dark.
This way, no one will disturb him. He doesn't have to interact with anyone, nor worry about the noisy ones interrupting his well-deserved solitude. And fewer people means less chatter.
Unfortunately, that also means conversations he doesn't want to hear make their way to his ears against his will.
"Kekekekeke..."
An almost inhuman chuckle softly sounds from the end of the cafeteria furthest away from him. It's from a young group of boys from Quartz's 78th term.
Irritated, Mitsuki picks up his chopsticks, trying to ignore them.
"There we go!"
A student holds up a stream of decorations, colourful flags of all different colours hanging from the wire. It's eye-catching enough that even Mitsuki could notice it.
"I was worried we wouldn't be able to finish it in time before summer training started, but I think it went well! How are things on your end?"
"Ugh...I think it might take a while longer. I still haven't found a good place to book."
"Hey, we only have a few weeks before school starts back up. What are we going to do if we can't get it ready on time?"
"...Use your room?"
"No way, it stinks. At the very least, I'm not letting Tachibana or Otori in there."
Mitsuki picks up a small piece of rolled omelette and puts it into his mouth, chewing slowly. The taste is more than just fine, it's great. The eggs are fluffy, and they melt in the mouth. But for some reason, he doesn't feel his appetite getting better.
'Maybe I'll just try something else first.'
As Mitsuki hovers his chopsticks uncertainly over the dishes in front of him, the conversation continues.
"Well, what about you? Did you get the menu done and ready?"
"Sort-of? I'm just trying to see if I can somehow choose something everyone likes."
"Well, if it's for the party, I guess it'll take a while."
A party. From the looks of it, a secret one at that. Despite everyone's previous hostility, the students of the 78th term have finally found it in themselves to trust and cooperate as classmates, and beyond.
No doubt, it was a change caused by none other than the star trio of Quartz's first years.
"Right? It'd be horrible if we triggered someone's allergies by accident. Ugh! I wish I had asked more about everyone's preferences earlier!"
"Well, Orimaki is easy, at least. He loves meat."
That's simple enough for anyone to figure out. It wasn't difficult to catch the loud-mouth chomping down on beef bowls with gusto during lunch hours.
Mitsuki's chopsticks find their way to the salmon. How much should he take? He's not sure. He pokes at it for a few moments, not really finding the energy in him to pick it up.
"Yeah, sure. That's easy. But I can't help but feel that Otori's the type to turn his nose up at greasy food. So it's not like we can just order from the nearest fast food chain and be done with it."
"I heard that Neji-senpai has profiles containing information about Quartz's students, including their favourite foods. You could try checking in with him."
"Whoa. That sounds scarier than impressive..."
"Well, Otori was the one going around trying to interview pretty much everybody. Nearly succeeded, too."
Despite having eyed the salmon for the past minute, Mitsuki gives up on eating it entirely and goes for the pickled vegetables instead. This, he can eat. Maybe.
"...But I feel like Neji-senpai will end up finding what we're up to if we do so much as approach him for anything."
"T-that's true, he's weird like that. This is supposed to be just for the 78th students, after all. We don't have the budget to include everyone else."
"Uh, actually, I think Tachibana should know. About Otori's favourite food, that is."
Mitsuki puts the pickled vegetables into his mouth, and this time, he swallows them down easily. Having mostly lived off small portions, this alone should have already started giving him a sense of fullness.
It does not. So once he's finished off the pickled vegetables, he reaches for the fruit bowl instead.
"Him of all people?! How? Otori hates his guts...I think?"
"Well, I heard Otori grumbling about it when he was going around interviewing everybody. Something about having the tables turned on him while muttering Tachibana's name ominously..."
'Yeah, that seems likely.' Mitsuki thought.
The hand reaching out for the fruit bowl freezes, as Mitsuki realizes that he had been unconsciously eavesdropping on their conversation.
Feeling only slightly ashamed of himself for eavesdropping, Mitsuki resolved to continue his breakfast in peace. He draws the fruit bowl closer to him and—
"What kinds of food does Tachibana like?"
"No idea. Better to ask him later."
"But that's the problem!" The student throws his hands up into the air in distress. "I asked him the other day, you see. But he just kept dodging the question by saying he likes everything!"
"Uh, what if he really just does like eating everything?"
"That could be the case. But it just feels weird, does he have no preferences at all?"
"..."
Mitsuki likes fruits. They're simple to eat, and they're all he needs. Maybe with some nuts, preferably. But so long as he's not starving, it's fine. He doesn't need anything else.
The fruit bowl in front of him is magically bare of anything. But the rest of the tray remains filled with a breakfast gone cold.
He's still hungry, somehow. So he continues trying to eat.
"Tachibana is a weird one. He's always so friendly and nice, real easy to talk with, y'know? But it's hard to learn anything about that guy. I don't even know what his favourite colour is."
"You're awfully focused on him."
"I can't help it! Heck, I know more about Otori's family than I do Tachibana's! He's so mysterious. It's like, uh..."
The student struggles to find the right words, but ultimately gives up, slumping down defeatedly.
"My point is, I don't really know anything about that guy."
Who does?
Picking up a spoon, Mitsuki scoops up some of the miso soup, brings it up to his mouth, and swallows it down.
Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat...
He repeats the same action, again and again. Thinking that he'll finally be able to discover something new if he just keeps trying.
He does not. The taste of the soup stays the same.
Before he knows it, the bowl of miso soup is empty. Combined with his earlier bites, this should have been the most he's ever eaten for breakfast in a long time.
And yet, he still feels hungry. No, that's not quite right...
Mitsuki puts down his spoon and holds his arms over his stomach, bending his head down to the table. The action casts a shadow over his face, and his eyes flutter shut.
'...I feel empty.'
He knows what this emptiness is, knows it so well that the name of it teeters over the tip of his tongue. But he does not say it, does not dare. Does not need to.
He thought he had gotten used to it.
Beneath the veil of his eyelids, the image of Kisa's figure, tensed and driven with a sense of desperation during training, resurfaces. He thought that getting a move on with his day would put a stop to this memory that plays on repeat like a broken record, but he was wrong.
The void he'd mistaken for his empty stomach rose higher, carving itself deeper over the space where it was always meant to be.
'Ah, I really hate this.'
As he contemplates what to do with the rest of his breakfast, he hears the sound of gentle footsteps approaching him, followed by a floral scent so faint he's not sure if it's even real.
"....Shirota-senpai?"
Speak of the devil.
Mitsuki lifts his head to see Kisa's worried expression looking down on him, wearing a tracksuit. His brows are furrowed with worry as small droplets of sweat slide down his temples, his breathing seeming slightly laboured.
Involuntarily, he asks, "Did you go out for a run?"
"Ah, yes. I just finished and came straight here for breakfast. Um..."
Kisa hesitates. Did he plan on asking him if he was okay?
Mitsuki decides to take the first initiative.
"...Tachibana, sit with me."
"Huh?" His eyes widen in confusion for a moment before Mitsuki clarifies.
"For breakfast. You haven't eaten yet, right? I'm not done either, so join me."
Mitsuki is purposefully being slightly forceful about it, knowing that if he left room for choices, Kisa would choose the one that would trouble others the least. And right now, he's sure that Kisa would try to be considerate of him and leave him alone. But Mitsuki can't let go of him in that state, not when Kisa's already worried over him.
The most he can do is show that he's fine.
Kisa's eyes soften. "Alright, I'll take you up on your offer," he says. He didn't seem opposed to the sudden choice of seating arrangements. On the contrary, he seemed quite happy, with a new lightness to his movements as he headed to the counter to grab breakfast.
Mitsuki would like to think that it's because of him. At such a notion, he laughs internally to himself.
When was the last time he had such wishful thoughts like that?
'What a bad time to be caught.'
Kisa had seen him hunched over, holding his stomach in a depressed mood. But Mitsuki is sure he won't pry too hard, not unless Mitsuki himself opens up about it, because it's Kisa. And he can't help but want to open up, exactly because it's Kisa.
"Oh, right. I completely forgot!"
Kisa comes back with a tray in hand. The spread of Japanese breakfast somehow looks more appetising when it's in his arms, as Kisa sets the tray down and takes a seat opposite him, before brightly saying with a smile he's grown fond of:
"Good morning, Shirota-senpai!"
"...Yeah."
The empty feeling in his chest disappears.
"Good morning to you, too."
He feels full. It was as if the problem had never existed to begin with.
As it hits him, Mitsuki finally realizes just how full he really is. It was hard to notice before, but now—as he watches Kisa happily eating his own breakfast with gusto—Mitsuki feels the beginnings of indigestion creeping in, and eyes the rest of his half-finished breakfast with a mournful gaze.
Next time, he should just listen to his brain, rather than his stomach. Now he has to finish the rest of this.
He sighs, and deliberately picks up his chopsticks in a slow manner, unenthusiastic about the idea of having to finish the excessive mounds of protein and carbohydrates in front of him—a suffering to which he inflicted upon himself.
Just as he starts poking at his rolled omelette, Kisa inquires curiously. "Shirota-senpai, do you not feel like eating the rest?"
"Ah, yeah." Begrudgingly, he picks up another piece of rolled omelette. "I usually don't eat this much, but for reasons, I ended up taking the entire tray."
Reasons being, the person across from him.
As he reluctantly brings the rolled omelette to his mouth, Kisa looks at the rest of his breakfast thoughtfully, before saying, "If it's alright with you, how about I eat the rest?"
With his chopsticks suspended in mid-air, omelette barely making it into his mouth, Mitsuki looks at Kisa in amazement. "You sure you can finish it?"
"Yeah, definitely!" Looking slightly proud of himself, Kisa holds a hand to his chest. "Maybe it's the run making me hungry, but I'm sure I can finish the rest of it off. So don't worry and leave it to me!"
With how energetic he seemed, saying that, one might have thought he'd accepted a quest to slay a dragon.
"Well, it's all yours now." Mitsuki puts the omelette back to its spot, before he pushes the rest of his breakfast to him. He feels relieved that he wouldn't have to force the rest of the food down his throat, as well as grateful for Kisa's offer to help.
"Hey, Shirota-senpai."
Smiling, Kisa innocently tilted his head—the light of the sleepy sun bathing his figure in a ephemeral glow—as he says:
"The next time you think you've taken too much food, you can call me over to finish it off for you."
'Ah, again.'
Kisa was the one offering help to him, again.
He bends his head down, not too low to prevent worrying Kisa, while making sure his pained eyes are hidden beneath his bangs.
"...Right."
Well, at the very least, he has another excuse to approach him.
"Tachibana!"
The students who were chatting from earlier make their way over as they call out to Kisa, but freeze in their tracks as Mitsuki glares at them, clearly unhappy at the sudden intrusion into his peaceful morning.
"Oh, uh..." A brave Quartz student is the first to try to greet him. "G-good morning, Shirota-senpai..."
A curt "Morning" is all he responds with. Mitsuki occupies himself with his cup of tea, making an intentional show of not wanting to talk. Taking that as their cue, the students immediately start chatting with Tachibana.
"Good morning, everyone." Tachibana greets them with his usual friendly aura. "Is there something you need from me?"
"Yup! We were wondering if—hypothetically—you went to a party, what kind of foods would you go for first?"
They were being so obvious about it, it was almost laughable how far they've made it without alerting Neji's fun sensor.
But Kisa—none the wiser—earnestly thinks about their question while wearing a serious expression.
"Hmm...maybe something light?"
"Like what?"
"Anything that's not too greasy or oily, I guess. I'd get worried if I started eating anything too heavy if I'm moving around afterwards."
It was no wonder that the poor student was pulling his hair out over trying to discern Kisa's preferences. With Kisa acting in a way as if he were intentionally being vague about it.
"..."
'...Are you trying to hide even that much from everyone?'
Kisa's classmates continue to covertly ask him about his specific preferences, only to receive vague and widely acceptable answers in return. It was both frustrating and somewhat funny to watch, the back-and-forth between them reminiscent of a ping-pong match, but without the competitive spirit.
Mitsuki wants to leave now that things have gotten noisy, but a part of him also wants to stay, to see if anyone could succeed where he couldn't.
...Does he really, though? The thought of someone else being the one to prompt Kisa to open up leaves him with the same hollow feeling he had earlier.
'Ah, not again.'
He has to consciously stop himself from holding his arms over the hollow hole that reappeared. Not now, not in front of everyone, and most certainly not in front of Kisa.
It's okay, he doesn't need any more than this, he tells himself. He doesn't need to feel "full."
This is okay, this is enough. Anymore and—
—And Kisa might just disappear, leaving along with the fickle summer wind like a wish-granting fairy after it has fulfilled its purpose.
That's what he fears.
The conversation drags on, and before everyone realizes it, the hands of the clock on the wall reach an almost alarmingly late hour of the morning. The cool air of the early morning is now gone, replaced with a humidity fitting for summer, which everyone dreads.
A floral scent melds within the hot midsummer air, and Mitsuki thinks he should know what it is.
"Shirota-senpai."
Kisa calls out to him, now finally alone after succeeding in sending a few boys marching away in utter defeat.
"Breakfast is over."
"...Yeah."
The floral scent grows stronger, and finally, he recognises the distinctive aroma of petunias in bloom.
It only comes when Kisa's around, and disappears when Kisa leaves.
