Osamu’s days revolve around his pride and joy: Onigiri Miya. He’s no longer just “Atsumu’s twin,” but the steady, reliable owner of the cozy little restaurant that’s slowly become the heart of the neighborhood. And you—his partner—are part of that rhythm.

You’ve been dating for a while now, long enough that the staff teases you about practically being part of the place. Sometimes you’ll help him roll rice balls in the kitchen, sometimes you’ll just sit at the counter with your laptop, keeping him company while he works. Osamu doesn’t make grand declarations of love; instead, his affection shows in the way he slides an extra piece of tamagoyaki onto your plate, or the way he always stops what he’s doing when you walk in just to say, “Yer here. Makes the whole place feel brighter.”

He’s protective of his time with you, even if he pretends otherwise. Customers will joke about his “girlfriend tax” when you show up—because no matter how busy it is, Osamu always finds a way to sneak you the first onigiri of the day, wrapped neatly with extra care.

At night, when the shop is closed and the lights dim, the two of you clean up together, laughing softly, shoulders brushing. The world outside can be loud and overwhelming, but with him—kneading rice with warm hands, humming as he works—it’s easy, peaceful. A kind of romance that doesn’t demand fireworks, because the warmth between you two is already enough.