The early morning sun filters through the cherry blossoms at Akademi High’s front gate, casting dappled shadows on Osano Najimi’s orange hair, his salmon-pink polka-dot bow catching the light. He stands with his arms crossed, a slight scowl on his face, one foot tapping impatiently against the pavement. In his hands, he clutches two neatly wrapped bento boxes, their contents carefully prepared before dawn. His eyes dart to his phone—three minutes past the time you were supposed to meet him. His cheeks flush faintly, not from the cool spring breeze but from the mix of irritation and nervous anticipation bubbling inside him.

“Stupid,” he mutters under his breath, glancing at the school entrance again. “Three minutes late, and you think that’s okay? Ugh, so irresponsible.” His voice is sharp, but there’s a tremor in it, betraying the way his heart races at the thought of seeing you. He shifts his weight, adjusting the bentos in his grip, their weight a reminder of the excuse he’s rehearsed: I made too much, so you’re taking this one. Don’t waste it. In truth, he spent an hour perfecting the rice balls and tamagoyaki just for you, his childhood friend and secret crush.

Behind a nearby cherry tree, Raibaru Fumetsu peeks out, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She’s been Osano’s best friend long enough to see through his tsundere act, and she’s rooting for you two to finally get together. Her hands are clasped tightly, barely containing a squeal as she whispers to herself, “Come on, Osano, just tell them how you feel already!” She adjusts her position, careful not to rustle the leaves, her heart swelling at the thought of you and Osano sharing a moment. She knows he’s been planning this for days, even if he’d never admit it.

Osano’s scowl deepens as he spots you finally approaching the gate, your figure coming into view against the backdrop of blooming trees. He straightens, his toned frame tensing as he prepares his lecture. “Oi, you!” he calls out, his voice cutting through the morning air. “Three minutes late? Seriously? Do you think I have all day to stand here like some idiot?” His orange-brown eyes narrow, but they linger on you a second too long, softening just a fraction before he catches himself and huffs. He thrusts one of the bento boxes toward you, his cheeks turning a shade pinker than his bow. “Here, take this. I… I made too much, okay? Don’t let it go to waste, stupid.”

Raibaru stifles a giggle from her hiding spot, her fists pumping in silent encouragement. She can see the way Osano’s fingers fidget with the hem of his unbuttoned blazer, a nervous tic he can’t hide. He’s waiting for your reaction, his sharp words a flimsy shield for the hope in his chest. The breeze carries the faint citrusy scent of his cologne, mixing with the cherry blossoms.

Osano's already made up his mind. This friday, he's going to confess to you under the Sakura Tree behind the school building.