Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Everyone, don’t forget your summer homework. Don’t leave it for the last day, and enjoy your break.” The homeroom teacher’s voice blurred into the background—just another string of last-day clichés.

As if anyone was still listening.

Nagi wasn’t. He had already zipped his bag before the bell’s echo faded, the sound lost in the shuffle of feet.

He stood and slipped past the rows of desks without looking back. Even when he felt Isagi’s gaze—especially then. Since their last argument, words had dwindled to almost nothing. A stray greeting, a passing nod, and silence filling the rest.

Nagi ignored it. He ignored him. Ignoring was easier.

The hallway opened up—students spilling into groups, eager to trade exhausting classes for summer freedom. Nagi rolled his shoulders once, as if shaking off Isagi’s stare and leaving it behind with the rest of the bothersome things.

“Yo, Nagi!” Bachira’s voice bounced down the hall, cutting through the shuffle of footsteps. He jogged up easily, falling into step beside him, grin wide and unbothered. It only made Nagi vaguely tense.

“So…” Bachira drew the word out, matching his pace. “How long’s the silent treatment gonna last, huh?”

Nagi shrugged, gaze drifting ahead. “I’m not the one who got mad.”

“Yeah, well…” Bachira tilted his head, humming like he was savoring the thought. “That’s just him. Don’t take it too seriously.”

Nagi slowed for a step, cutting him a sideways glance. “If it mattered that much, why didn’t he talk to Reo himself?”

"Fair point.” Bachira chuckled, giving Nagi a playful punch on the shoulder—light, fleeting. “Guess we figured he’d listen to you. Isagi’s… logical, y’know? Thought you had the better chance.”

“Still. That has nothing to do with me. Or with Reo.” Nagi rolled his eyes.

Bachira only shrugged, easygoing—not offended in the least.

Then—ahead of them—a glint of violet hair caught his eye. Reo. Leaning against the wall like he’d been waiting all along. Nagi’s pace quickened before he realized, feet moving faster on their own.

“Nagi!” Bachira called after him.

He turned his head.

Bachira’s smile softened, almost knowing. “Friends fight, y’know? But they make up too. Maybe… think about talking to him, yeah?”

“I’ll think about it,” Nagi said—though his eyes were already fixed ahead.

Nagi slowed when he reached him, chest tight, pulse too quick for such a short walk. Ridiculous. He found it weird that Reo could do that to him without even trying.

Reo noticed him before he spoke.

Of course he did.

“You bailed fast,” Reo said, smile curved, playful.

Nagi shifted his backpack straps, avoiding his gaze. “Not an interesting conversation.”

Reo pushed off the wall, closing the distance until the light caught in his hair, scattering violet glints with every step. “So you came to me instead?”

“...Yeah.”

The grin Reo gave him made something buzz under his skin—mischief and warmth tangled together.

“Good boy,” Reo said, patting his back as he brushed past. The touch lingered just long enough to heat Nagi’s ears. “Let’s go, then.”

Nagi followed him.

They walked side by side. Reo talked easily, hopping from one subject to another—how Yukimiya would be stuck with modeling gigs all summer, how Karasu was suddenly into some blue-haired guy he’d met online, or how Otoya had just decided to go backpacking out of the blue.

Nagi didn’t really care about Reo’s friends. Not much, anyway. But watching Reo talk was different—the way his face shifted so quickly, thoughtful, amused, ironic; the sound of his laughter spilling out. It held Nagi still, caught him in place, as if he’d been spellbound.

The sudden buzz of his phone in his pocket cut through it, snapping his focus back. A message he’d been waiting for.

“Reo,” Nagi said, tugging at his sleeve, “do you have plans tomorrow night?”

Reo stopped mid-step, one eyebrow arching. He leaned in, just slightly, studying Nagi’s face as if to confirm he’d heard right. The question was strange enough to throw him off—too strange for Nagi.

“Why? Are you asking me out?”

Nagi’s breath hitched with Reo’s face so close. It flustered him, his gaze flicking from violet eyes to lips to anywhere else. His chest tightened, traitorously eager.

“Eh… I—well, kinda?”

Reo laughed at his troubled look. “Kinda? So you’re not?”

“Don’t make fun of me, Reo.” The words slipped out in a pout before Nagi could stop them.

That only made Reo laugh harder. He slung an arm around Nagi’s shoulders, pulling him close until their sides brushed. Heat crawled up Nagi’s neck.

“I need a favor, Reo.”

Reo tipped his head, grin lingering, eyes narrowing with amused suspicion. “A favor, huh? You’ll have to be more specific.”

Nagi swallowed, clutching his bag strap tighter. “Just… come with me. I’ll explain then.”

Reo hummed, low and teasing. “Mysterious. I like that.”

Nagi didn’t answer.

Reo squeezed his shoulder, leaning close until his laughter brushed Nagi’s ear. “Fine. Whatever it is, I’ll be there. I’m curious, anyway.”

Nagi’s heart stuttered. He looked away, hiding it the only way he knew—by walking faster. Reo kept up easily, grin never fading.

Nagi didn’t say a word, but the flutter in his chest gave him away. He told himself Reo hadn’t noticed.

The summer night pressed down on them. A sudden draft slipped through the gates, rattling the branches until they groaned in protest. Nagi shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, staring up at the building. Tall. Ominous. Like something straight out of a horror movie—not that anything wouldn’t, at this hour.

Beside him, Reo shifted on his feet, the scrape of his shoes dragging Nagi’s attention for a second.

“Well, this isn’t what I thought you had in mind.”

Nagi scratched the back of his neck, catching the faint downturn of Reo’s smile. “Sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Anyway, are you sure we had to do this now?” Reo asked, voice aiming for casual.

Nagi shrugged, sluggish. “Not really. But better than in the day. Less of a hassle.”

Before Reo could reply, a sound rolled out from the distance. Low. Guttural. A growl that climbed louder with every second.

“…Shit,” Nagi muttered, shoulders tensing before he even realized.

Reo blinked, startled, like the word had caught him off guard. He looked like he wanted to ask something, but one glance at Nagi’s face—half annoyance, half resignation—shut him up.

The roar of a motorcycle cut through the night, headlights slicing the gates like a blade. It rolled to a smooth stop, engine rumbling low and steady, alive.

The rider killed the lights, swung a leg over, and stepped down with practiced ease. Hard to miss; leather jacket padded at the shoulders, dark jeans tucked into combat boots, helmet tucked under one arm. His hair somehow spiked up in defiance, gravity and helmet both ignored.

To Nagi, he looked more like a gang leader than someone here to deal with a supernatural pest problem.

The guy’s eyes swept over them, lingering on Reo a beat too long. Something in his look sharpened, like he’d noticed… something off. But he didn’t comment. He just moved on.

“What’s this? You pick up a sidekick?” Barou’s voice was low, unimpressed.

Reo frowned, clearly irritated at his attitude. “Excu—”

Nagi lifted a hand, cutting him off without even looking.

“Did your sisters play with your hair? What’s with the red stripes, King?” Nagi’s voice was flat, almost bored, but the bite was there.

Barou sneered. “Whatever.”

He dropped the helmet onto the bike seat with a dull thud, cracking his knuckles loud enough to echo.

“What are you doing here, King? Wasn’t Zantetsu the one coming?”

“The idiot got lost. Again. Took the wrong train.”

“Stupid Zantetsu,” Nagi muttered with a sigh of irritation.

Dealing with a kaii was already a pain. Doing it with Barou made it a hundred times worse.

“So. Where is it?” Barou asked.

“The soccer field,” Reo answered before Nagi could, pushing the gate open just enough for them to slip inside.

“This is ridiculous,” Reo muttered, leaning against the fence that separated the field from the bleachers, restless energy rolling off him.

Nagi tapped at his screen, half-focused on the shooting game. Out of the corner of his eye, Barou prowled the field like he owned it, boots thudding with every step.

“Say, Nagi—this standard procedure for… whatever the hell this is?” Reo breathed, impatience edging his voice.

“Hmm, not really,” Nagi said as he shot the last person standing between him and victory. “Barou’s just a weirdo.”

“You’re the weirdo, stupid. And stop wasting my time with small fry. You should’ve handled this,” Barou barked from the middle of the field.

“Too much of a hassle. I’m not a specialist. And I didn’t ask for you, Barou,” Nagi said flatly, never lifting his gaze from the screen.

Barou was on them before the words even faded.

“You. Purple head. Hold this.” He tossed his leather jacket at Reo without slowing.

“Quit it. Reo’s not your assistant. Don’t throw your crap around,” Nagi cut in, sharper than usual. The edge in his voice was enough to make Barou glance back.

Barou taunted. “If he’s not a servant or a sidekick, then why bring him?”

Nagi clenched his jaw. No answer came, even when he wanted to deny it. Reo wasn’t a specialist. He already had a kaii haunting him. Letting him tag along was reckless. He could get hurt. Or worse—become a liability if that damn reptile decided to act on its own. That risk still lingered, even with the ring suppressing it—never foolproof.

So why had Nagi let him stay?

A bundle of crumpled paper charms thudded against his chest, snapping him out of it.

“Do something useful and set up the barrier, or pretty boy’s gonna get hurt,” Barou muttered.

Nagi caught the ofuda without enthusiasm, letting the paper settle in his palm. He turned to Reo, who stared back at him in confusion.

“Reo, stay in the bleachers, okay?” Nagi’s voice was gentler now, but left no room for argument.

Reo stepped behind the low wall, eyes fixed on him as Nagi pressed the ofuda along the fence. One, two, three—forming a loose triangle. Each paper sank into the surface like it was swallowed whole.

For a moment, it looked like Reo would stay put. But when Nagi glanced back, he was already slipping past the barrier before it closed, standing close to him again.

Nagi exhaled through his nose, shoulders weighted. He should’ve pushed him back out.

He didn’t.

“What? There’s no way I’ll let my treasure be in danger.” Reo grinned, haughty.

“That’s not the point.” Nagi’s voice came out reluctant.

Barou yelled from the far side of the field. “Bait, do your thing.”

Nagi rolled his eyes. Without a word, he tugged at the sleeves of his hoodie and let out a slow breath—steadying himself. Something shifted in the air, thickening. The far end of the field rippled—like heat haze. Slithering from one place to another.

When Reo looked at Nagi, his eyes caught for a beat. Nagi’s gaze was fixed straight ahead, the gray of his irises now tinged faintly green-blue, cold under the dark.

Then came the crack—shrill, splitting the silence.

The field wavered, and something enormous bled into view. First, only a shimmer of jagged legs—too many, moving out of sync. Then the bulk followed: black chitin, slick with a dark sheen, burgundy lines pulsing under its shell like veins. The stinger dripped venom as it curved forward, a grotesque hook glinting under the artificial lights.

“What the hell?!” Reo’s voice rang sharp—not fear exactly, but the shock of seeing something that shouldn’t exist suddenly standing there.

Instinctively, Nagi stepped in front of him, shielding Reo with his body. His hand found Reo’s, fingers curling tight. It was to steady him—that’s what he told himself. But the touch anchored Nagi just as much as it did Reo.

Barou’s grin cut wide, all teeth. “Finally.” His eyes lit up the way kids looked at their favorite toy. He spotted a ball near the goal, spun it once on his index finger. “This’ll do.”

With long, confident strides, he headed straight for the creature.

“He’s seriously going to use that?” Reo’s eyes tracked the ball in Barou’s hand before flicking to the scorpion.

“Idiot king,” Nagi muttered.

The ball moved first. Barou’s kick split the air with a sharp whistle before slamming into the scorpion’s chest. The creature staggered back, pincers clacking in agitation.

Barou barked over his shoulder without turning. “You just gonna stand there like a fucking statue?”

“I’m keeping Reo safe.” Nagi only shrugged.

When he glanced sideways, Reo was watching him. Too intently—like he was seeing someone else. Nagi looked away, abashed.

The scorpion didn’t wait. Its stinger arched forward with sudden speed—aimed straight at them.

Reo’s shout came a second too late. “Nagi, move!”

But the stinger never struck.

It stopped inches from his face—caught by something unseen.

Reo squinted—and then he saw it: thin, bony phalanges stretching out from Nagi’s shadow. A skeletal, translucent hand clamped around the stinger, holding it mid-air.

Barou let out a low, scornful laugh. “Show-off.”

“All yours.” Nagi flicked the kaii away, as if tossing a stone.

The scorpion crashed to the ground, screeched, and hauled itself back up, furious. Its limbs skidded over the turf. The air grew heavy, pressing down until every breath turned labored.

Reo’s grip on Nagi’s hand tightened—too hard now, like he was clinging to something solid. His eyes stayed wide, locked on the shadow-hand that had vanished as quickly as it came. Disbelief lived there, and something more primal—fear, maybe. 

“It’s giving you a hard time, King,” Nagi said dryly. “Thought you didn’t need help.”

Barou clicked his tongue and tossed the ball aside. Then he lunged forward—a blur of motion, his presence exploding outward: heat rippling, shadows stretching like a mane. For a heartbeat, he looked like a lion roaring across the field. The scorpion screeched as his kick slammed into its head, pincers rattling, stinger thrashing.

Until it noticed them.

The stinger whipped toward the bleachers.

“Reo!” Nagi’s voice tore out harsher than he meant, panic breaking through. He shoved Reo aside, their hands slipping apart. Reo hit the low wall hard, pain jolting up his shoulder.

The stinger caught Nagi instead, driving into his side and hurling him into the concrete with a sickening crack.

“Nagi!” Reo’s voice cracked, panic raw and unguarded.

Nagi tasted iron, copper thick at the back of his throat. His lungs burned as he forced himself up on trembling legs. Still, he raised one hand, fingers curling into a fist. The scorpion froze mid-lunge, its body seizing as though gripped by invisible chains.

“Stop dragging it out,” Nagi snapped, anger cutting through. The damn kaii had dared to go for Reo, and Barou was still playing around.

“Don’t order me around!” Barou shot forward, fist drawn. His presence roared, heat and force rolling with him. With a single blow, the scorpion split in two, its shriek cutting off into silence.

Only Barou’s ragged breathing filled the air, along with the faint crackle of the still-burning talismans on the barrier.

Reo was suddenly there, dropping to Nagi’s side—face pale. “Nagi, dammit! Why—”

Nagi blinked up at him—blood on his lip, cuts stinging along his hands, a red blotch spreading across his right cheekbone. He lay back on the turf, chest rising and falling too fast.

“He’ll be fine,” Barou cut in, his shadow falling over them. “If the kaii had hit you instead—well, you can guess.”

Nagi smirked faintly, forcing the words out. “Good job, maid-Barou.”

Barou bristled, fists clenching. “Who the fuck are you calling maid, lame-ass? You’re out of shape.”

“Like I said, I’m not a specialist.” Nagi exhaled, wincing as he pushed himself upright. He glanced at Reo, who was still hovering too close.

“Reo, give us a minute?” Nagi asked, quieter now.

Reo frowned, hesitation written all over his face. He didn’t like it. But after a second, he nodded, stepping back toward the bleachers with clear reluctance. His eyes lingered until the last possible moment before he finally gave them enough space.

Barou clicked his tongue. “Oi. That guy’s being haunted.”

“I know.” Nagi’s reply was flat.

“And?”

“It’s none of your business, King.”

Barou scoffed, arms crossing. “Does Chris know?”

Nagi nodded, expression fed up. Barou snorted. He wasn’t the type to meddle in someone else’s mess—especially not Nagi’s.

“The guy’s full of holes. Better hurry and do something… or not. Up to you.” Barou shrugged, snatching his leather jacket from where Reo had left it. “I’m out. Tell the idiot he owes me.”

“Bye-bye, maid-Barou. See you never~”

Barou flipped him off without turning, pulling his bike keys from his jacket.

“Nagi, how are you feeling? Can you get up?” Reo crouched beside him, brushing his bangs out of his eyes with a gentleness that filled Nagi with calm.

“I’m tired, Reo~. Give me a ride?” Nagi drawled, trying and failing to stand. Every muscle still ached.

Reo didn’t answer right away. He pulled out his phone instead. “Baaya, could you pick me up? …Yes. Yeah, I’m fine. …Alright, thanks.” He hung up, sliding the phone back into his pocket.

Then he turned, crouching low, back toward Nagi. “Get on.”

Nagi blinked. “…What?”

“Get on my back,” Reo repeated, voice firm, leaving no room for debate.

Nagi blinked, but the corners of his mouth tugged faintly upward. He climbed onto Reo’s back, arms looping loosely around his shoulders. “Not what I was thinking, but… thanks.”

“You saved me,” Reo said simply, adjusting his grip under Nagi’s legs. “So this is your reward. Enjoy it.”

“The school prince is carrying me. I’m so lucky,” Nagi murmured, chin resting lazily on Reo’s shoulder.

“Should I drop you?” Reo muttered, annoyed but careful with his steps.

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I. I hate being called that… especially by you.”

The words landed heavier than they should have. Maybe to Reo it was nothing, just another offhand comment. But to Nagi—did Reo realize what that meant? How it made his chest feel fuzzy and restless all at once?

Special.

Nagi Seishiro was someone special to Mikage Reo.

That had to be it.

Superiority.