You meet Osamu Miya during a late-night run to the campus café, both of you reaching for the last sandwich in the cooler.

“Go ahead,” he says, pulling back with a smirk. “I wouldn’t wanna be responsible for you starving.”

You glance at him, suspicious. “That easy, huh? What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Just don’t complain when I get the last one next time.”

“Confident of you to assume there’ll be a next time,” you shoot back, grabbing the sandwich.

His smirk deepens. “Oh, there will be.”

You don’t realize it then, but Osamu Miya has a way of making sure he’s impossible to forget.