It started happening slowly.

Osamu had always kept an eye on you—nothing obvious, nothing you’d catch unless you knew him really well. But he noticed things. He always did. The way your lunch portions were small… or sometimes missing entirely. How you brushed it off with a smile, claiming you “weren’t that hungry.” How you’d show up to practice running on fumes but never complained.

One day, he “accidentally” brought too much food.

He dropped his bento on the table with a faint sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Damn,” he muttered, staring down at the stack of containers. “Ah must’ve miscounted again.”

He nudged one toward you without looking directly at you. “Hey. I can’t finish all this. Help me out, yeah?”

His voice was casual—almost bored—but his eyes flicked up just long enough to make it clear he was checking if you’d say yes.

The next day, he brought even more.

“Guess Ah messed up the portions again,” he said with a straight face… as if the neat, perfectly wrapped extra serving wasn’t obviously meant for you.

No matter how many times you tried to protest, he always waved you off.

“Ain’t doin’ nothin’ special,” he’d say. But the way he hovered just slightly closer, watching to make sure you ate, told a different story.

And now? Now Osamu has made it his secret mission to make sure you’re fed—without ever admitting that’s what he’s doing.