There was a problem.

Clad in my pyjamas, hair a dishevelled mess on my shoulders, eyes squinted into slits, I gaped at the entity currently standing at the threshold of my front door. Tousled black hair, icy blue eyes, an indifferent countenance, an immaculate maroon uniform.

He couldn't be real; had to have been a figment of my imagination my still sleepy mind had conjured up. Because there was no way...

My grip on the doorknob tightened. I shoved it closed.

"No Okito," I recited. Then gently reeled it open again. "Okito..."

My eyebrows creased together. Frowning, I shut the door again.

"No Okito... Okito..."

Strange. He hadn't vanished. One more time.

He slammed his palm against the back of the door before I could try.

"Stop doing that already."

His voice sent a newfound jolt through me, stripping me from my sleepy daze. I jerked back, scanning his exasperated frown and the counters of his very much real face.

"Okito?!" I didn't care that I'd shouted. My mind was already spiralling beyond rational thought. "Th-the real one?"

"As real as I'll get." Grateful that I'd come to my senses, he rose a plastic bag to proper eye level. "Is your mom home? Mine was so insistent I take this over—"

"Wh-wha... Why are— Sabotage?" Words were spilling from my mouth in an incoherent swirl. "Are you here to poison me and officially take my position as president of the Baking Society? I knew this day would come!"

I grasped at strands of my hair. Was this going to be my end? I let my guard down and he was going to let me have it, was that it? Oh no. What should I do?

I barely heard him sigh.

He calmly stuffed his hands back into his pockets, bag dangling from his arm. "And you're not listening..."

"H-how many nights have you planned this? You thought I'd be easy in the morning didn't you? You're assured I'm some fragile maiden who can't protect herself?"

He silently watched me panic for a while longer—handsome face still as ever—before speaking again, "Look, I only came here to give this to your mom. Stop jumping to weird conclusions."

But I wasn't listening. Fists raised, I hopped from foot to foot. "Don't think you've won, Okito! I've concocted countless poisons in my lifetime—and yes, I'm talking about my desserts up until late. If you so desire I'll mercilessly conjure the ultimate toxin yet again to defeat you!"

"The only thing I desire is you taking this detergent off my hands to give to your mom."

"Y-you want me to drink detergent?!"

"Didn't say that." He heaved another breath. It was after watching me for a split second longer that he did the unthinkable. Bending forward so that his face infiltrated my proximity, lips centimetres from mine, he called, deep voice screeching my heart to an abrupt halt, "Hello? Is anyone home?"

A shiver darted up my spin, summoning goosebumps across my arms. I lurched back at once, shielding my mouth and hot cheeks with the fabric of my elbow. "D-don't get so close without warning, idiot. I'm home."

Okito did me the favour of retreating. His poise still hadn't faltered, not that I expected otherwise. While I was the type to wear my emotions on my sleeve, he was an emotionless brick that took forever to revert to clay.

Once my heartbeat was under control, I lowered my arm. Then, narrowed my eyes.

It couldn't be.

Smirking, I extended my finger. "You came to beg for my desserts didn't you—"

"No."

I flinched. Shot down before I could even finish my sentence. "Then why? If you're not here to eat my desserts, we have nothing to talk about! Keep your elitist detergent and leave!"

I was well-aware I was shooing him off and hissing like an agitated cat. Long used to my antics since we were kids, he maintained his composure. In fact, all he did was frown.

"You're really going to be this petty after I came all the way here?"

"If you prostrate for my desserts I'll gladly accept all the detergent you want."

"Not doing that."

"Then petty I'll be."

His eyebrows furrowed, exasperation contorting his features.

Okito coming over with a gift from his mom wasn't surprising. Our almost rehearsed banter wasn't either. Before our huge fight at the beginning of our second year, our days had consisted of us interchangeably visiting each other's houses whenever we pleased. Sometimes to hog beds and play video games, watch movies or share mangas, and other trifling activities. We were super close, after all. Our families, too. Him seeing me first thing in the morning in the messy state I was—and I was a wreck, believe me—didn't bother me at all. We were just that comfortable around each other back then.

Which was primarily why it was so shocking. Okito hadn't come over once since our fight. Likewise, I hadn't been to his house. We didn't hang out after school either. So why, all of a sudden...

"Okito! Is that you?"

The chillingly sweet yell came from upstairs. Accordingly, Mom, freshly changed out of her pyjamas and into her work clothes came bursting down the steps.

She knocked me aside upon arriving at the doorstep. I stumbled but regained my balance in time. Mom displayed not a shred of acknowledgment of what she did to me. She was too busy bubbling with immense excitement.

"Oh, gosh! It is! Why are you here?"

"My mom said to hand you this."

"No way! I told Nao she didn't have to!" Upon receiving the detergent, stars swelled in her eyes. She immediately gestured him close. "Come inside, sweetie. We were just about to have breakfast. Kotori, bring out the bowls. I'll make tea."

"It's fine, Auntie Haruki," Okito objected at once. "I only came to drop that off. I don't want to impose."

"Don't be silly! How can I let you leave on an empty stomach? It's early. I doubt you've had breakfast yet, right?" She once again hollered over her shoulder, "Kotori, where are the bowls?"

I hurried to her side. "But, Mom—"

The black look she sent me was enough to catch my voice in my throat. She knew very well what I was going to argue, and she didn't want to hear any of it. "Get the bowls. Now."

Animated tears streamed down my cheeks. "Yes, ma'am."

How did things come to this? This was so awkward.

"Oki! Come sit beside me!"

"Okito, would you like more rice?"

From where I was, poking my head out the kitchen entryway, my discontent was blatant. Regardless, neither Sota nor Mom paid me any mind. In fact, with Okito sitting in my usual seat, they were giving off total happy, nonchalant vibes as they ate away to the amazing smelling food.

Not fair. How dare they—my own family—fraternize with the enemy? Didn't they realize how much my life had been turned upside-down because of him?

A low rumble erupted in my stomach. I wrapped an arm around my abdomen. No fair. I wanted to eat, too. But if I gave in, it meant going along with that atmosphere.

"Kotori, if you're just going to stand there, go back to your bedroom and get dressed. You're ruining the meal," Mom called.

Tears stung the corners of my eyes. "I'll eat! I want to eat!"

Sighing, she shook her head and poured me a bowl of rice to go with my grilled fish. I reluctantly fell into the only open seat, the one directly across from Okito.

"Mmm!" I exclaimed after swallowing my first bite. "So delicious! Mom, you're a genius!"

"Yes, yes."

"A master!" Sota continued, mimicking me with a tiny fist outstretched.

"Yes, yes."

"It really is good, Auntie," Okito said.

She instantly gasped—the complete opposite reaction she gave us. "Says you! I'll never forget how out of this world your cheesecake is. It's only pure luck I've been able to resist from visiting just to try that heavenly dessert again."

"That's an exaggeration."

"I'm serious! You're so talented. Enough to put professionals to shame!"

"...Thank you."

Okito's poker face waned, replacing with a meekness that accompanied his nod. Considering he'd received compliments his entire life, he'd learn to accept them and never once let his happiness show outright.

I pursed my lips. But I knew better. That bastard was totally enjoying Mom's praise. And here she's never once commended me. Granted, Okito's cheesecake was delicious. He'd always make great desserts for us in the past. It was no wonder he managed to become the president of the Cooking Club...

Agh! What was admitting that going to do for me? I couldn't accept defeat just yet!

"Mom," I spoke up in a hasty haze, "I've been working hard, too! I even made it to the second round of that competition—"

"So, Okito, how's school been for you? Kotori hasn't been bothering you too much has she?"

And she wasn't listening!

"Well," Okito mumbled, blissfully chewing, "lately she's left me alone."

Mom cast me a side-eye. "I don't understand where she gets her stubbornness from. She should just apologize and make amends with you instead of drawing out this negligible rivalry."

My heart sunk in my chest. "It's not negligible!" I defended. I gripped my bowl tighter, losing my conviction. "Okito is the one..."

Quiet hung in the air, stifling the once easygoing mood. The corners of my lips downturned further. Gritting my teeth, I held the chopsticks tighter and went to devour my food swifter than before.

"Kotori, pace yourself," Mom warned.

But gulping the last of my rice, I slammed the bowl down onto the table and piled up my dishes.

"I'm heading out."

I hastened toward the sink, set down the dirtied plates and hightailed it out of there as fast as I could. I shut my bedroom door after me, and it was only then, alone in my room, could I finally let out a big breath.

I was so sure I'd gotten used to being belittled by my family. Still, it hurt. Even when I told Mom I'd made it to the second round, all she did was ask how work was going. No means of encouragement at all. Even Dad, who I'd texted, hadn't yet responded. Not that I should've expected otherwise; Dad stopped keeping in contact with us ages ago.

And to think, back when I was still doing the arts the two had supported me in every shape or form...

Clearing my thoughts, I quickly got dressed. Although I momentarily contemplated returning to the kitchen, I ultimately swallowed my distaste and ambled inside. Mom and Sota were too busy socializing. Okito was nowhere to be found. He probably went ahead to school. Relieved, I retrieved Miko's dorayaki from the fridge, bid them adieu, and left out the front door.

The last thing I expected when I exited the apartment building was to find him waiting for me on the lawn.

Every nerve in my body stiffened.

I filled my cheek with air. "Why are you still here?"

"I should ask you why you were in such a hurry to leave. You made me scarf down that delicious breakfast to catch up to you."

"Only an idiot would scarf down Mom's cooking."

"You didn't have to insult yourself..."

"Let me finish!" I twisted his way, index finger raised. "Only an idiot would scarf down Mom's cooking without good reason. Considering you had no valid excuse for doing so, you are an idiot!"

"There it is. Kotori's A+ reasoning."

I tossed my balled fists into the air. "Ah! Stop bickering with me like we used to! I'm really, really mad at you!"

"I know."

My heart skipped its beat. He faced me, the black curls matted to his forehead casting shadows and illuminating his stormy blue irises.

Per usual, I couldn't read him. But one thing was for certain—he had no intention of leaving. Darn it. He was such an enigma. If he knew that I didn't want to talk to him—that I was mad at him—why was he still here?

I sped through the gate and onto the sidewalk. I'd made it obvious I wanted to avoid him, yet his footsteps pursued me anyway. Like a puppy following their owner after being specifically told to stay, his footsteps pattered after me.

"Stop that," I snapped.

"Walking?"

"Following me!"

"School's in this direction."

"Don't care. Go another route."

"I don't know one."

My brow twitched. I didn't know any way besides this to get to Miko's house either so there was no way I was going off on my own.

Considering it was a warm May day, lush green trees lined the banks of the neighbourhood, leaves casually swirling in the wind or littering the road.

"If you have something to say to me, say it."

"Why do you assume I have something to say? Your mom is the one who invited me in for breakfast."

"But, it's suspicious. You haven't come over since the start of our second year. If it was to exchange stuff your mom wanted, your younger brother or sister could've brought it over. And yet you're here. You're even talking to me as if you totally don't shun my entire existence at school every day. Why?"

There was a lengthy pause on his end.

"There's nothing for me to say," he eventually murmured. "Even if I did tell you I was worried, you'd only be angry."

My shoulders squared.

"'A person shouldn't be worried about their rival, or else it's proof they're looking down on them.' That's what you told me when we cut off our friendship last year."

I reeled to a halt. Okito caught up to me before long.

"Because of our moms, we've been together since we were little. You've always dived head-first into trouble, and I've always been there to clean up the mess. Every selfish demand you've made over the years I accepted it. Except that one." He levelled our faces, staring directly into my eyes. "You've loved the arts since we were old enough to talk. You'd yell my ear off about how much you loved it and would constantly drag me to your performances. But all because of that one incident, you—"

"Okito."

He shut up at once. I flattened my mouth.

"I don't need you protecting or looking out for me anymore. I'm not becoming a pastry chef as an escape."

"Even if it is for yourself, and not an escape, that doesn't change anything. The only reason you started baking was because of the bullying. You didn't give it up because you wanted to."

I bit my lip, hard.

Deep down, I'd known it all along. That Okito was only ever looking out for me. That he only denied my baking because he couldn't accept the reason I'd gotten into it in the first place. He couldn't forget what happened during our first year at Soetsu.

But...

"—by believing that," Okito said aloud, voicing my thoughts, "I didn't notice that long before it happened, you were forcing yourself."

My lungs caved.

"You only sang and danced and acted because everyone egged you on. That's clear—seeing how much happier you are baking. Somehow along the way, you'd lost interest, and I never noticed."

Shock enveloped me like a wave. Was I truly awake right now? "Are you apologizing?"

Sticking his hands into his pockets, he sighed. "Well, I'm more so admitting I may have gone about this wrong. Up until now, I was always iffy about going up against you because I convinced myself you shouldn't be baking. But, considering the circumstances you suddenly gained an interest in it, how could I not think you were trying to run away? The timing was terrible. I didn't want you to make a mistake."

Heart warm, my lower lip wobbled. "Okito..."

"Don't get the wrong idea," he warned, albeit via snort. "That doesn't change anything. I'm still going to win that competition. As president of one club to another—as a proper rival vying to make it in the baking industry—I'll cream you. But this time, with everything I got."

I didn't know how to feel. What to feel. But I did know one thing. After all this time I spent seeing him as a rival, he was finally returning the sentiment. He was finally acknowledging me.

"Now, then," Okito said.

It took me a while to register him plucking the container from my hands and tossing one of the dorayaki's into his mouth.

I gasped. Then jumped at him. "Hey! That was for Miko!"

He ambled along, easily blocking my attempts at stealing it back. "I feel bad for her. This is terrible."

"T-terrible?" I sputtered. "F-for your information, this is my first attempt! And I had help!"

"Help?"

"Nori's! I went to his house yesterday." I snatched it back right then, hugging it protectively to my chest. "Look what you did, jerk. It was a gift."

"Kotori."

I craned my neck, pursing my mouth. "What? You better apologize."

Least to my expectations, his gaze was smouldering. "You're... not interested in any of them, right?"

The question caught me off guard. "Interested?"

His eyebrows creased, as if miffed I didn't get it. "That blond," he clarified. "Do you like him?"

"Blond?" I parroted. Was he referring to Koyuki? "Of course I do!"

His eyes shrunk.

"I like Chiaki, Hayate and Nori, too. They're the greatest friends I could ask for. Oh, but Miko is irreplaceable! I love her the most!"

He patted the top of my head. Startled, my rambles seized and I jerked. Tossing the last of the dorayaki into his mouth, he exhaled, as if from relief. "I'm so glad you're dense. It means I still have a chance."

I fluttered my eyelashes.

A chance for what?

Was he insulting me?

***

Okito will be making more appearances in the chapters to come which is exciting. What are your thoughts about his character? Also, how are we feeling about that cliffhanger?

Remember to vote & comment if you enjoyed! <3

Also, Plag77 made a poem about this book and it's really good!  It's on her profile in her poem book "real life" if you want to check it out and show support :')