To be fair, Osamu knows that plenty of Japanese people, mostly adults, take issue to people eating while walking. And Kita may only be a year older than him, but he definitely has the habits of a much older man.
They get situated, and Osamu looks down at the spread on his lap, not even sure where to begin. Though he does, of course, take his phone out to snap a quick picture while he deliberates.
"Mind if I photograph yours?" He asks Kita. "It's cool if it's not okay."
Osamu had meant to take a picture of Kita's dinner, which could have simply been done with it in his lap or hands, but then Kita lifts the skewered chicken up by his face. Osamu momentarily freezes, trying to make sense of the gesture and also not to think about how cute Kita's misunderstanding is. He could very well explain himself, but he decides to spare Kita some embarrassment, and to be selfish, and he takes the photo of Kita's face instead.
"Perfect," he comments, more about Kita than the picture, before he puts his phone away. "Let's eat before it gets cold."
And then he picks up a piece of karaage and pops it into his mouth.
Some people would demand to see the picture. But if Osamu's satisfied, so is Kita. No reason to delay any more.
He takes a bite of the chicken. Eyes widening as the cinnamon and cashews do exactly what Osamu described. Warming against the winter chill. A tiny noise of satisfaction escapes. Something between a sigh and a groan.
Osamu's so absorbed in the taste filling his mouth, the way the citrus and spice sting his tongue and the fatty chicken soothes the burn, that he almost misses the little noise of delight that Kita makes. But he doesn't miss it, and looks up at his upperclassman with awe. That noise was so cute, and simultaneously so hot. Distracting Osamu from a meal is no easy feat, but Kita is so incredibly worth it.
"D'ya like it?" He asks with his mouth full, having fewer reservations about it. "'S it good?"
Osamu heeds Kita's advice, though he doesn't quite realize he's being admonished, and chews through the delicious, tangy chicken, swallowing it down with gusto. "It's incredible, Kita-san. Even though there's the thick glaze, the skin on the chicken's still crispy and the inside's perfectly juicy. You've gotta try one, especially if you like spice."
He holds out the little paper tray with a small heap of fried chicken, and gestures for Kita to take one. He can just stab it with his skewer, or something.
Osamu is much less hesitant to trade plates with Kita, likely because he's been trading and splitting things with Atsumu all his life. When he's offered some of the yakitori, he plucks a piece off of the skewer and pops it into his mouth. The contrast between this chicken and the yuzu-chili one is immediate, as this is warm and sweet in its flavor profile, but the taste is just as immaculate. Osamu moans happily, though this time he manages to swallow before he speaks.
"Oh god, that's so good." He says, voice full of awe and glee. "Comin' here was the best idea. I love when the internet's right."
Not the food. It's incredible, of course. But the look on Osamu's face beats anything else. Something curls in Kita's stomach. Very close to pride. He gets to be here, part of this, and not many people can say the same. In fact - Only him.
Osamu snort-laughs. "Definitely better than getting our asses kicked by a team no one's heard of," he agrees. "Honestly, even if we'd won? I still might like this more."
Being with Kita, eating delicious food, getting a first hand experience of something so different? Osamu's won plenty of games before, but he's never had anything like this. This is different, and special.
"Oh yeah, there's more." He agrees with a grin. "Wanna pivot?"
It boggles Osamu's mind a little to hear Kita speak so casually, what some might even call crass. Enough to distract him from his food, and that's quite the feat all things considered.
"We lost," he remarks bluntly, pausing in the middle of unfurling the plastic from around his onigiri. The rice is super fluffy and warm; he eats a stray grain off of his thumb. "That's all that matters."
Osamu purses his lips. "That's not what I meant. I didn't mean it's what matters as like, the reason we play volleyball. I meant it like, you only get to keep goin' if you win. And we didn't. So it's basically an ass kickin' that way."
The bitterness of the subject matter is slightly ruining the good vibe of the meal, until Osamu bites into his own onigiri and oh, it's so good his bad mood is immediately erased.
"Winnin' would be great," Kita agrees. Wiping his mouth. "But I ain't tradin' with Karasuno. Not a single second. My team threw themselves to the limit, monsters against monsters. And I got to be there. Standin' with you. That sort of feelin' is special. If it only comes once in my life, that would be okay.
"So. I just can't let our match get insulted like that."
Kita takes a breath. Realizes how much space he's just monopolized.
The way that Kita talks about them, his teammates, makes Osamu's chest feel so tight. Not a bad kind of tightness, but an overwhelming rush of emotion all the same.
"I wasn't ready for it to be the last time," he confesses, speaking past a lump in his throat that has nothing to do with the food. "I wanna keep playin' with you, Kita-san. I don't know how we're gonna be a team without you."
Oh, the frustration, the want. Hadn't Kita felt the exact same thing, walking down the stairs? Stopping the Twins' apology?
"I did too," he admits.
"I wanted to keep playin'. But my turn's done. It wouldn't be fair, fallin' apart because one person's gone. I want the next Captain to take ya even further. Whoever it is. That would make me really happy."
Because it would mean Kita did his last job correctly. Building Inarizaki stronger than ever.
Osamu wants to argue. They didn't lose just one person, but all of their third years. One game, one come-out-of-nowhere team, and suddenly Inarizaki's losing more than just incredible players; they're losing the foundation of their team, the upperclassmen who kept them focused and sane and who taught them reliability and strength.
But Kita matters more to Osamu. It would be a lie to say this isn't about losing him, specifically.
"We won't let you down," he promises, deadly serious. "We'll be the team you deserve."
Kita meant it. Every day, every word, he was proud to be Captain. Through the endless mopping and peace-keeping and and diving to cover for missed plays - he would do it all again. But he can't.
"I know. You monsters will have to keep yourselves accountable."
Kita nods. Holds his plate still as he remembers another handshake. Before, it was a vow to about Nationals. To pull Osamu out of his slump, get Kita all the way. Enjoy every bit of the time.
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They get situated, and Osamu looks down at the spread on his lap, not even sure where to begin. Though he does, of course, take his phone out to snap a quick picture while he deliberates.
"Mind if I photograph yours?" He asks Kita. "It's cool if it's not okay."
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He holds up the yakitori, expression neutral. Unsure of what Osamu has in mind.
A few flakes of snow drift down. Enough to catch the restaurant's gold light, turn the background sparkling.
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"Perfect," he comments, more about Kita than the picture, before he puts his phone away. "Let's eat before it gets cold."
And then he picks up a piece of karaage and pops it into his mouth.
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He takes a bite of the chicken. Eyes widening as the cinnamon and cashews do exactly what Osamu described. Warming against the winter chill. A tiny noise of satisfaction escapes. Something between a sigh and a groan.
Kita would never talk while chewing, of course.
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"D'ya like it?" He asks with his mouth full, having fewer reservations about it. "'S it good?"
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Kita's so absorbed that's barely a scolding. By his standards. Taking another bite, he waits for Osamu's review.
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He holds out the little paper tray with a small heap of fried chicken, and gestures for Kita to take one. He can just stab it with his skewer, or something.
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So Kita tries what's offered. Eyes going wide.
"Wow. Here. You gotta try some of the yakitori."
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"Oh god, that's so good." He says, voice full of awe and glee. "Comin' here was the best idea. I love when the internet's right."
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Not the food. It's incredible, of course. But the look on Osamu's face beats anything else. Something curls in Kita's stomach. Very close to pride. He gets to be here, part of this, and not many people can say the same. In fact - Only him.
Lucky, lucky him.
"Oh, the onigiri!"
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Being with Kita, eating delicious food, getting a first hand experience of something so different? Osamu's won plenty of games before, but he's never had anything like this. This is different, and special.
"Oh yeah, there's more." He agrees with a grin. "Wanna pivot?"
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"It wasn't an ass-kickin'," he remarks. Sipping green tea. With all the new flavors, even this turns novel. Bitter-bright against the spice.
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"We lost," he remarks bluntly, pausing in the middle of unfurling the plastic from around his onigiri. The rice is super fluffy and warm; he eats a stray grain off of his thumb. "That's all that matters."
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"Only one team goes all the way. That's the deal. Even a little kid understands. If that's all that matters, we'd never even step on the court."
He bites into the onigiri.
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The bitterness of the subject matter is slightly ruining the good vibe of the meal, until Osamu bites into his own onigiri and oh, it's so good his bad mood is immediately erased.
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"Winnin' would be great," Kita agrees. Wiping his mouth. "But I ain't tradin' with Karasuno. Not a single second. My team threw themselves to the limit, monsters against monsters. And I got to be there. Standin' with you. That sort of feelin' is special. If it only comes once in my life, that would be okay.
"So. I just can't let our match get insulted like that."
Kita takes a breath. Realizes how much space he's just monopolized.
"Sorry for goin' on."
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"I wasn't ready for it to be the last time," he confesses, speaking past a lump in his throat that has nothing to do with the food. "I wanna keep playin' with you, Kita-san. I don't know how we're gonna be a team without you."
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"I did too," he admits.
"I wanted to keep playin'. But my turn's done. It wouldn't be fair, fallin' apart because one person's gone. I want the next Captain to take ya even further. Whoever it is. That would make me really happy."
Because it would mean Kita did his last job correctly. Building Inarizaki stronger than ever.
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But Kita matters more to Osamu. It would be a lie to say this isn't about losing him, specifically.
"We won't let you down," he promises, deadly serious. "We'll be the team you deserve."
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Kita meant it. Every day, every word, he was proud to be Captain. Through the endless mopping and peace-keeping and and diving to cover for missed plays - he would do it all again. But he can't.
"I know. You monsters will have to keep yourselves accountable."
He holds out his hand to Osamu.
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"We should finish our food before it get cold," he points out once they handshake moment passes. "Do you wanna share these noodles?"
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Funny.
It doesn't feel cold at all.
"Thanks for bringin' me."
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"Thank you for agreein' to come with me. The food's amazin', but the company's even better."