Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Perfection is not an option. 

It is a requirement. 

At least… that’s what Kiyotaka Ishimaru has always been taught, from the moment he was old enough to be taught anything. 

Trying your best is not enough. You must do better; be better. There is no time for passivity or idle moments. You must always be moving, always be working; always be your best. 

Actually, no. Not your best. 

Better than your best. 

Absolute perfection. 

This is just how it always has been, and how it always will be. Kiyotaka doesn’t even really remember a time Before all of this, truth be told. Before his grandfather’s fall from grace. Before his family moved to this minuscule apartment in one of the worst neighborhoods in their city. Before his mother fell ill and they couldn’t afford to find her treatment, even with insurance. Before she died, leaving him alone with his grieving, overworked father, and the gnawing emptiness that no eight-year-old should ever have to feel. 

He knows there was a time Before, of course he does. He’s seen the pictures, heard the stories, lived the tales. He knows he wasn’t always expected to be Perfect, to be a Model Citizen. The memories dance on the edge of his conscious thought, flitting here and there as he moves purposefully through his day. If he would take a moment to sit down and think, he’s fairly certain he can remember that time, a time of childish dreams and youthful ignorance. A time of happiness and love. 

A time Before everything fell apart. 

But he doesn’t dwell on those thoughts, those memories. That would only lead to madness, he knows that. And it would be counterproductive, besides. He knows his role. He knows his destiny, if he believed in that sort of thing (he did, once. He isn’t so sure, now). 

He is Kiyotaka Ishimaru. Son of Takaaki and Kiyoshi Ishimaru. Grandson of Toranosuke Ishimaru. He is meant to dig him and his family name out of the hole his grandfather put them in, is meant to right the wrongs not only his grandfather had done, but all the wrongs in the world if he has his way. He will become the Prime Minister of Japan, through hard work and effort, and he will show the world that the name Ishimaru is not synonymous with ‘no-good, lying, manipulative, cheating scoundrel.’ He will lift his family name out of the mud and return them to a place of grace and divinity. He will honor his mother’s memory and will bring peace and order to the world. 

This, he knows. This, he has known, from the time he was six years old and watched as his mother cried while his father smashed a bottle against the wall, his grandfather’s deception and dishonesty finally revealed, their entire life savings gone in a flash. 

Thus, there is no point in dwelling on what was and what never will be again. The memories of a naive child are meaningless to him, as he stands before his mirror, staring at the intense youth that meets his glare. His white uniform is pressed clean and crisp, the one thing he wastes his money on, since a professional looking uniform is paramount to life, he knows. His ruby red eyes are filled with determination and drive, his harsh lips pulled into a righteous smile slash grimace, his black hair cropped short and spiky, a practical haircut. His body is taut and unyielding, back straight and head held high as he stares confidently ahead. It is how he’s held himself for as long as he can remember. How he must hold himself to withstand the taunts. 

And taunts he has withstood. Many and many. Taunts, and abuses, and slurs. That’s not to mention the physical assaults, the shoving and punches he’d dealt with on a daily basis in middle school. No one likes an Ishimaru, not in his hometown. Not anywhere, really.

But that is alright! He can handle it! He is Kiyotaka Ishimaru, a young man of elegance and refinement! He can handle a few taunts, a few moments of harassment! He always gets satisfaction in the end, when he turns over the delinquents to whomever is in charge. His eyes may be stinging, and his throat might be aching, but his back will always be rigid and proud, his chin held high and his face a perfect mask of discipline and poise. And should the authorities refuse to listen, should they sneer at him themselves and turn a blind eye— as they oft do— he just goes above them. And if they refuse to listen, he’d go above them, too. On and on, higher and higher, until justice and order are returned to the world. And it always is, one way or another. 

Often, though, he finds himself not reporting instances of his own abuse. There are only so many times a person can tattle before people stop caring, no matter how high up he goes. And, besides, he knows that no one likes an Ishimaru, so he’s long since come to terms with his own mistreatment. He’d stopped reporting his own harassment around the same time his mother died, in fact. 

But that doesn’t mean he allows such things to happen to anyone else! If he ever sees instances of bullying or other injustice done to other students, regardless of age, gender, socioeconomic status, sexuality, ethnicity, or any other minority, he will step in and put a stop to the nonsense at once. Even though the bullying usually then transfers to him. Even though the would-be victims usually just sneer at him too, telling him they don’t need help from scum like him. It doesn’t matter. Like he has said, he can handle it! He trains daily, will spend hours before and after school exercising while he studies, building muscles and reflexes to keep not just himself, but the whole world safe. 

It is his determination to right the wrongs of the world that fuels him during the long, lonely, hungry nights, when his father doesn’t return home from the precinct until long past his bedtime. This determination is what had caused him to start his Public Morals Committee all those years ago, upon finding that his school didn’t have one, to show the world that order, peace, and integrity are what is needed to coexist in harmony with one another. This determination is what keeps him going, even when he longs to put his head down and cry, his body aching from the abuse it has sustained, his mind and heart aching far worse. His determination is what pushes the pain and heartbreak down, so far deep in his heart that he cannot access it while he is active, which he always forces himself to be. 

And it is this determination that has led him here, he knows. On the eve of his first day at Hope’s Peak Academy, the most prestigious school in all of Japan. No; the world, probably. A school where Ultimates— teenage experts in their particular crafts— are invited to go to hone their skills and make connections that will set them up for life. One does not apply to Hope’s Peak, oh no; they are scouted out and hand-picked by a panel of experts, through a rigorous process. Almost everyone who attends Hope’s Peak is set for life, either through the connections they make or through the opportunities that are opened up for an alum of such a high-ranking school. Everyone knows this. 

His grandfather had gone to Hope’s Peak. He knows that, too. The man had been the Ultimate Politician, after all, an absolute genius and highly charismatic, to boot. If only he knew how far he would fall, Kiyotaka thinks to himself, his mouth turning down into a bitter scowl, his intense eyebrows furrowing, which makes his expression far harsher and more severe than even he is comfortable with. He wonders what the man would have done differently, had he known. Wonders if he would have changed his ways, decided to be honest and not accept bribes and payouts, decided to not trust the wrong people, decided to not use his position to get insider knowledge on trade deals, screwing over the everyday person in the desire to build himself up. Had he known he would fall so far, and so hard, would he have decided to not do it? Or would he have just been sneakier, more careful? He’d asked the man that once, in a small, childish voice, and he’d never gotten a response. Though, to be fair, he’d never gotten a response from the man regardless the topic, no matter how often he’d chatter to him in the jail visitor’s room.

He’s not his grandfather. He knows that, more than anything else. He tells himself that, lips barely moving, as his eyes drag over his uniform with critical focus. He is not an Ultimate Politician, for one. Nor is he a genius, a fact he is very proud of, thank you very much. 

No. 

He is Kiyotaka Ishimaru, the Ultimate Moral Compass! This is not a title he was given blindly, through no hard work of his own, but one he has spent years earning! He does not know how the school had heard of him, how they know of his achievements and talents, but they somehow do. And they have decided, without bribery or coercion, that he is deserving of such a title and such a chance. It is a great honor, he knows, to be offered this position. An honor he will have to work ten times— no, fifty times as hard to prove he deserves!

The thought makes him feel vaguely ill, his stomach clenching and his heart stuttering in his chest. Which is utterly ridiculous, if you ask him! Because…

Kiyotaka Ishimaru doesn’t have doubts. He doesn’t allow himself the luxury to stop and think, to idly peruse his emotions and pluck them from his mind for further examination. He just… he cannot. Such a thing is a waste of time, and energy, and he has no use of such a waste! Not with how hard he will have to work just to reach even the lowest of his fellow Ultimates! 

However... if he did. If he was allowed to stop for a moment and consider it. If he could do such a thing freely and without restraint. He thinks… well. He thinks that he would be able to admit that he’s… terrified. Completely and utterly afraid. 

And it’s not just of the daunting task ahead of him, oh no. That alone would be fine, that he could handle! He’s never backed down from a challenge, not once in his life! He has no doubt that he can handle the task ahead of him, the work and the studying something he has long since acclimated himself to! While he may not quite understand why or how he was chosen to attend Hope’s Peak, he knows that he has enough dedication and drive to persevere through whatever challenges the school itself may toss his way. He always has before!

So, no, no... it is not that that has Kiyotaka ramrod straight, staring at the much too pale reflection in the mirror, hands sweating but also ice cold. It is not that that has his breath a little too quick, his eyes racking anxiously over a figure that looks so much like his grandfather’s had— in the one picture they have of the deceased man on the eve of his first day at Hope’s Peak— and yet so very different. 

Instead, it is the thought of his classmates that has brought him here, to this state of frank indecency. Of the ‘true’ Ultimates, the ones who were born with talent that they have honed throughout their childhood and adolescent years. Their natural talents that have earned them a spot that millions would die for, and millions more would kill for. It is them he thinks of and feels dread fill his stomach. 

See, Kiyotaka has never had a friend. He’s never really even had an acquaintance if he’s being honest. At least… not one who not only didn’t mind his presence, but was actually grateful to have him there. He is lucky to be tolerated, most days. And he is not a particularly lucky person... after all, not only is he an Ishimaru— something that would have earned him hatred and spite on sight regardless— but he has also been meticulously painting a larger and larger target on his back through his Crusade for Justice and Order. Even his Ultimate Talent is one that is highly contentious. See, while he believes in morals, hard work, and dignity above all else, he is not foolish enough to pretend that the whole world feels the same way. He likes to think that most people do, likes to believe the best in the world and his fellow man, but even he isn’t naive enough to not realize that it’s not a universal belief. 

So, he stands here— 8:35 at night, red eyes staring deep into his soul— wondering what his fellow classmates will be like. Wondering what they will think of him. Wondering if they— like his primary and middle school compatriots— will despise not only him, but everything he has ever stood for. 

It’s a foolish thing to wonder. An idle moment that is wasted, the clock ticking on as he stupidly allows himself a single second to pause, allowing the thoughts and doubts and fears he’s spent decades outrunning to catch up with a vengeance. 

He tells himself to move, to ignore it, to forget this moment and move on. He has long since finished packing, his meager belongings barely filling a single bag, the ten uniforms he has collected filling the majority of the space, but he knows he should check again. Should look at his textbooks, get even more of a head start, be prepared for whatever the school may throw his way. He knows he has to do this, knows that the only way he can keep his spot at this gaudy institution is to work fifty times— no, one hundred times as hard as his fellow classmates. Knows he has to work harder, has to make up for his lack of natural talent (not that there is anything wrong with that, talent alone means nothing in the grand scheme of things), make up for the dishonor and disgrace his grandfather has put on their family name. 

He knows this as well as he knows that the sky is blue. 

And yet...

With a sigh that sounds closer to a growl in the near silent room, Kiyotaka forces his eyes away from the mirror and strides over to his small, rickety desk, his pristine history textbook lying there innocently. It is one of the only pristine things in this cramped room of his, alongside his uniform. He has Hope’s Peak to thank for that, he supposes. They are the ones who have supplied him with the money to purchase said supplies, a lofty stipend that has paid for the bare necessity of his new school life. Lord knows he’d never have been able to afford it all otherwise…

With only slightly too forceful hands, he cracks open the book and continues where he had left off an hour before— before his impromptu break— three hundred pages into the five-hundred-page text. He wants to finish this textbook tonight, so that he can finish reading his physics textbook during the train ride to Hope’s Peak Academy come morning. Getting ahead of his studies is far more important and a far better use of his time than standing before the mirror, worrying about something as trivial as friendship and torment! 

What would it matter, anyway, if none of his new classmates like him? He isn’t going there to be well liked! He is going there to prepare himself for the real world, to get the necessary skills he will need to achieve all his goals and more! It doesn’t matter if all his new classmates decide they hate him, or if they want to taunt him as badly as his middle school compatriots had taunted him, or if they choose to shove him so hard into the wall that he won’t be able to breathe properly for weeks after. He’s been dealing with such things since age six, after all, from people far larger and meaner than he, himself, is. He’s more than used to it by now. 

(And he refuses to allow himself to entertain the aching thought that it does, in fact, matter. That he aches with loneliness inside, desperately craving a friend to lean on, someone to share his deepest and darkest secrets to, someone who can shoulder some of the burden that he’s been forced to carry for far longer than any newly sixteen-year-old should have to. It is a weakness that he cannot afford, not again. Never again. Not when he’s so close to achieving everything he’s spent nearly a decade planning.) 

So, he pushes all of those thoughts down. He forces them away and focuses on the words before him. Words have always been a comfort to him. Of course, reading itself has never come easy, his mind having trouble deciphering the meaning of sentences and phrases, particularly those of the common vernacular, but it is a comfort, nonetheless. Something about deciphering the verbiage, about struggling to comprehend the information while he reads makes him relax inside. Particularly when reading non-fiction or textbooks. It is familiar. Easy. Simple. It is what he knows better than anything else. What he has trained himself to do since he was a young child. What a comfort this is, reading such a pristine and stain free textbook, in the comfort of his own room! After tomorrow, he will not be able to have this— exactly this— for several months. Maybe even longer if he cannot find cheap transportation back home for the holidays. So, he should savor this while he can, truly. And he will. He is! 

Just...well, maybe...

“Kiyotaka!” he hears a voice call out, causing him to jump at the break in the silence. He stands quickly and turns to face the doorway of his room, the frame devoid of a door that they could not afford to replace when it grew mold a year ago; instead, only a thin curtain resides there to provide privacy, though he usually leaves it open when he is not changing. He hadn’t heard the front door open, as engrossed as he was in his thoug- book. His textbook, clearly. The adrenaline that had spiked through his veins at the fright begins to settle when he sees only the harried face of his father, the only living relative he still has left. He tries for a smile. His father doesn’t bother to try back. It’s their usual routine. 

“Father! Good evening, sir! I hope your day went well!” Kiyotaka exclaims, one moment away from raising his arm and giving a crisp salute to the man. It’s a ridiculous urge, his father never expects him to salute to him, and so it is one he fights against as his father gives him a bemused look, the man looking far too tired to try and decipher Kiyotaka’s actions. That’s alright. He’s not entirely sure he knows, either. It’s just something about this uniform, he supposes. It reminds him of the days his grandfather was still alive, the silent man little more than a ghost even before he passed away about four years prior, with not even a funeral to mark the passing (they couldn’t afford one and the prison didn’t care enough). He’d always saluted his grandfather, back then. He still isn’t quite sure why. 

“Er... yes, son. My day was fine. I’m sorry I’m back so late, the precinct was packed with petty criminals. Have you finished all your packing?” 

Kiyotaka does his best to hide the way his jaw clenches at the question, a thin sliver of hurt attacking him at the knowledge that his father hadn’t, in fact, been paying attention when he’d loudly informed the man three days prior that he’d finished all of his packing in advance. He quickly pushes the feeling away. It’s not his father’s fault, he knows, that the man is so busy. He must be, in order to try and pay back the outstanding debt they are in. He’s lucky to have such a hardworking, dedicated role model to look up to! He can only wish that he can become even half the man his father is! 

“I have indeed, father! My bag is packed, and I will be ready to depart at 6:15 sharp tomorrow morning for the train station! You need not worry, sir!” 

He tries not to flinch at the tired sigh his father gives, the man shaking his head minutely at the way Kiyotaka is yelling in the previously still and silent air, with all the subtly of a bull in a China shop. Despite the taunts his former fellows would make, he does, in fact, know he is being quote unquote, ‘too much.’ He is not an idiot, you know. He simply does not know how else to be… 

“Of course, Kiyotaka. I expect nothing less from you. You are our family’s only hope, after all,” his father claims, words entirely serious despite the half smile on his lips. Kiyotaka feels his stomach hollow out at the words, though they are not exactly new. His father has been saying that for years. It’s silly to still let it affect him after all this time. His father continues before he can let his thoughts spiral any further down. “Now, I’m afraid I have some bad news. I won’t have the ability to see you off in the morning. The precinct wants me to come in early to close up a case I was working on this last week, and I cannot refuse. I know you wanted me to see you off at the train, but I’m afraid I will be unable to. I apologize.” 

The words cut him, more than the previous words had, but he forces himself to smile, as bright as he can. He knows it looks wrong. It feels wrong. His smiles always do, even on the rare occasions when they are genuine. But he has nothing else to give, so he gives it his all. He always does.

“Oh, you need not worry about that, father! I completely understand! Work must always come first! I am old enough to walk myself to the train station, I assure you, sir!” 

His father just continues to stare at him with that blank, tired gaze, a thick silence descending between them as Kiyotaka tries to grasp for what he can possibly say next. He can think of nothing. He knows his father will not be able to, either. This is not the first time this has happened. It seems that any conversation they have turns stilted and awkward these days, his father too tired and Kiyotaka too nervous and high strung. It wasn’t always like this, he’s sure it wasn’t. But ever since his mother died, it seems a rift has opened between them. One he cannot bridge, no matter how hard he tries. And he does try! Believe him, he tries! 

But no matter what, nothing works. The rift stays, growing steadily bigger and bigger, until one day it will consume them both. The biggest problem, he supposes, is that his father has never understood him and his quirks, not fully. But that’s okay! If he’s being truthful, he’s not entirely sure he understands himself much either, most days... 

But that’s not a problem either! He doesn’t need to understand himself! All he needs is hard work, and dedication, and that will lead him wherever he wants to go in life! It’s a Kiyotaka Ishimaru guarantee! He is sure of it. He... he’s sure of it.

He has to be. 

The silence lasts another minute, Kiyotaka squirming under the weight of words unsaid, before his father sighs again, the weary man turning to leave without any more of a goodbye than a partial wave that he aborts halfway through. Kiyotaka tries not to let the wave of disappointment and pain devour him. It’s not like he was expecting anything else from his father. What else would his father have to give? It is not like this day in particular holds any importance. Just another day, one day before the start of the school year, a perfectly normal and boring day, like all the rest. Nothing special about it at all. 

Still…

It would have been nice to be wished a ‘Happy Birthday’. 

He goes back to his textbook. 

Words are always a comfort. 

Chapter Text

Kiyotaka stands before the shining and gilded school he’s about to become a student of, mind blank, his stomach clenched tight and his fists clenched tighter. He’s clutching his single suitcase so tight that he’s afraid he’s about to break it. He can’t seem to force himself to loosen his grip. Well then... 

The trip up to the school had been fairly uneventful, to be honest, which he is thankful for. He’d woken up over an hour early, long before the sun rose, hoping in vain that his father would still be there when he woke. He really should have known better, by now. His father always got the worst of the worst shifts, the ones no one else on the force wanted nor dared to take. He wouldn’t have had the ability to delay himself if he wanted to get to work on time. Especially not now that their ancient car had finally given up the ghost a month back, meaning his father had to take the bus, which took an hour longer each way. Kiyotaka knew this. 

As such, he’d barely allowed himself a moment to feel disappointed before he’d forced it away, washing and cleaning his room for the final time in what would likely be months. He’d pushed that thought and pang of pain away, too, and instead put all his focus on getting ready to leave. That was what was important, not… not anything else.

By 6:15, Kiyotaka was well on his way to the train station, and he had walked so briskly that he’d even arrived over half an hour early for his train, which was scheduled to leave at 7:00 sharp. He’d used the extra time to go over his physics textbook, the numbers and equations making his head spin, but it was nothing that Kiyotaka Ishimaru couldn’t handle! 

By the time the train arrived, he was over halfway through the textbook, the knowledge almost overwhelming. Math has always been one of his better subjects, the rules and regulations calming and understandable to him, but for some reason science— physics in particular— has always tripped him up. He isn’t quite sure why, but he is determined to break through it with sheer determination and hard work! That’s all he needs! Intelligence doesn’t matter when you have a strong character, and an iron will! 

After that, he’d been lost in a world of studying, barely noticing the train as it moved through the Japanese countryside, eyes focused on the textbook before him. If he were being honest— which he always was— he’d confess that he had always loved train rides, back when he’d been too little to have any worries in the world. Back Before everything changed, and train rides were reserved for only the direst of situations. If Hope’s Peak wasn’t paying for this train ticket, he honestly doesn’t know how he would have gotten to school, truth be told. It honestly wasn’t something he had wanted to think about. 

Still, as he’d sat on the fast-moving bullet train, part of him had wanted to look out the window, to gleefully watch as the pre-autumn colors of the breathtaking countryside flew by. However, he knew he shouldn’t. Couldn’t, really. It was a waste of time. And he couldn’t afford to waste a single second! Not now, not when he was so close to achieving all of his life’s goals! He couldn’t afford to slip up now! He has so much he must do, just to keep on par with his fellow Ultimate peers! The real Ultimates, with real talents, not like him! He has to work a hundred times— no, a thousand times as hard if he wants to keep up!

When the train had finally pulled into the station and he’d gotten into the cab that Hope’s Peak had arranged to bring him to the school, Kiyotaka’s heart rate had been elevated higher than it had ever been before. And that included the first time he’d had to present in front of not only the entire school, but all of the parents and teachers as well, his Morals Committee having to do a public presentation if he wanted it to officially count on his record. He’d only been twelve and had been so full of determination and righteousness— and fear. And of course, what felt like every person in the city had wanted to come out to watch him as he floundered.  

(Which— he is proud to say— he hadn’t done, much! He’d been very articulate, if a bit loud, and had gotten his points across very well, thank you very much! That hadn’t stopped his heart from trying to pound out of his chest, of course, but he felt he did a very good job at masking that!)

And now, as he continues to stare— wide eyed and white knuckled— at the hulking building before him, he feels as his heart continues to pound so hard that he wonders if he’s going to have a heart attack and die at the tender age of sixteen and one day. He blithely wonders if he’s doing a good job of masking his nerves now. 

Probably not. 

He can hear laughing and chattering coming from inside the school, which makes his insides clench to hear. The sound of children and teenagers laughing has never been associated with good things, for him. In his youth, it had always been either proceeded or followed by a cruel act done to his person, after all. Part of him wants to turn tail and run away. To never have to head into that school, never have to face those laughing students, never have to worry if they will hate him on sight like every other person he has ever met seems to. Part of him wants to quit, right here and right now, and never have to face the terror that floods his heart at this singular moment in time. 

However...

However, he is not a quitter! He does not give up! To quit is to give up on yourself, and he is not ready to do that; not now, not ever! He’s had too many people deny him in his life, too many people scoff at his grandiose plans, for him to quit now, before he’s even begun! He is Kiyotaka Ishimaru, and. He! Does!! Not!!! Give!!!! Up!!!!! 

Taking a deep, steeling breath— his resolve and nerve back in place— Kiyotaka marches determinedly into the school, head held high and his shoulders held back, looking for all the world like he belongs in this school as much as anyone else does. 

He is a strong proponent of the mentality ‘fake it until you make it,’ after all!

It seems that his determination suits him well, as no one seems inclined to bother him as he marches with measured steps through the opulent halls. He can feel eyes on him as he marches, however. Can hear whispers starting up at he passes by, with hints of laughter echoing through the halls. He doesn’t know if he’s imagining it or not, to be honest. Regardless, he pays them no mind, even as his stomach starts to churn. He has far more important things to focus on!

As he strides through the building— mind firmly on his destination only— part of him wants to gape at everything, the building far more splendid and ostentatious than any other he’s ever been in. It’s honestly stunning and he wants to look around, like a child at Christmas, drinking every detail in. However, he has more pride than that. He will examine the school later, with a controlled expression on his face, perhaps during the tour he knows the school is providing following their orientation at 9:00. 

Now, he knows that today is a non-instruction day, the school allowing them the day to set up their rooms and get used to the school (or, for older years, catch up with old friends), but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have to keep to a tight schedule! It is currently 8:25, which means he still has thirty-five minutes to unpack his meager belongings before finding his way to the main hall. Now all he has to do is find his new dorm room… 

He puts his hand in his pocket and quickly pulls out the map that he’d been sent via mail over the summer. On it, it details exactly where everything is located, including his dormitory. Each student gets their own private dorm, each year on a separate floor. As he is in his first year, he will, logically, be on the ground floor. From what he can tell, he is currently by the gym, and according to the map that means he has to head to the other part of the school if he wishes to find his dorm. He’s always been good with reading maps, so he has no doubt that finding the hallway to the dorms will be no trouble at all. He does find, though, that wading through the crowded hallways is a bit of a challenge. 

To be honest, there aren’t that many students really— given how few Ultimates there are and that the reserve, ‘non-Ultimate’ students are kept separate from the Ultimate students— but it’s still far more than he feels comfortable being around. And given that he’s trying to be as unnoticeable as possible, while also confidently striding through the halls, he’s having a bit of trouble with his task.

Many of the students he sees milling around and laughing are clearly older than him, their friends they’ve likely made over the years welcoming them back happily. However, he does see one or two that look to be roughly his age. That— mixed with their wide-eyed looks, their mouths hanging half open as they stare in awe at the school— makes him assume that they are in his year. If he had the time to spare, he’d let himself look at these students, study their faces, see if he could figure out their true nature (whatever that means). But, given that it has taken him about five minutes just to walk through the busy hallways to the dorms, he figures he doesn’t have much time to spare. He checks the clock on the wall and winces when he sees it says 8:31. Ah! He’s practically late!

Lengthening his stride, Kiyotaka hurries forward to the dorms, relief filling him as he notices that this hallway is less crowded than the others. It seems that the students in his year either have yet to arrive, are elsewhere in the school, or are already situated in their dormitories. Either way, it means that he does not have to worry so much about running into anyone as he hurries to his designated room, especially since his is one of the nearest dorms to his current location. He can actually feel his shoulders already starting to relax as he imagines standing in his own room, hidden from view of the rest of the world, not having to keep up his front of confidence and poise constantly. His insides are squirming up a storm and he longs to take one second— just one, measly second— to let his facade drop so that he can recollect himself that much easier before their orientation. He can almost feel the relief already, his face relaxing unconsciously from the scowl he’d unintentionally put on it while walking through the halls. 

It’s honestly quite stupid of him, really, to let his guard down before he makes it to the dorm room itself. He honestly should have known better by then. And later, when looking back, he knows he will curse himself for that decision, banging his head against the wall (lightly! So as to not damage the wall!) for his stupidity, but at the moment he’d not really cared. He was just so relieved to almost be somewhere relatively safe, his body so tense he felt like throwing up, that he’d not been able to help it, honest! 

But no matter his reasons, pure or not, it doesn’t change the fact that at this moment in time, he is not paying full attention to his surroundings, as eager as he is to enter his dorm. And, as such, he does not notice the quiet click of a door opening or the almost silent sound of leather cloth hissing softly through the air. Nor does he notice the large, hulking form slip out of the room that is adjacent to the one he now has his eyes laser focused on, his eyes catching sight of the little plaque with a crude but almost charming depiction of himself on it. 

In fact, he does not notice the other form at all, not until it is far too late, the man moving to exit the dorm hallway right as Kiyotaka moves to enter, neither paying enough attention to prevent the tragedy that is bound to occur. It is his horrid luck entirely— he thinks later once he is safe in his room— that this had to happen at all. 

Because it truly is his awful, truly terrible luck acting up that makes him ram— full speed— into a hard, firm body, a strangled noise of shock releasing unbidden as he loses his balance almost immediately. 

With wide eyes, Kiyotaka feels himself falling backwards, heart racing with anticipatory fear. He feels his eyes shut a second later, though, bracing himself for the pain he knows is bound to follow. After all, he’s been shoved to the floor often enough (more often than not intentionally) to know how much such a thing hurts. 

And yet, before he can fall fully— his cruddy suitcase scattering away from his grip, his long limbs flailing helplessly— he feels a strong, steady warmth wrap tight around his waist, quick as a wink. And— before he even has time to fully comprehend what had just happened— he feels himself get pulled (almost yanked, really) forward, his body colliding yet again with the same hard, firm body. But this time… this time he stays there. 

He isn’t sure how long he stays frozen in place, this moment in time lasting him what feels like decades. He feels dazed and very confused as he is pressed up tight against the hard body, his hands unconsciously resting upon some firm pectoral muscles as his face gets smushed into a muscular chest, his legs pressed fast against muscular thighs. Bizarrely (or not), his first thought is ‘huh... I wonder how much this guy must work out?’ Which, honestly, should not have been his first thought when being pulled against random, strange men in his dormitory hallway. Not even his second or third thought. Or any thought he has at all, really! But given the emotional whiplash of the last .05 seconds, he feels he’s earned some measure of a strange reaction to a strange event, honestly... 

His second thought is almost (scratch that, definitely) worse, though, as he takes an unconscious inhale and thinks ‘huh. He smells strangely nice. Like cinnamon and motor oil.’ Which, by the way, are not two scents that Kiyotaka would have ever thought would go well together ever before, really. And yet... well, somehow this gentleman (?) pulls it off. 

All in all, it is a very strange moment...

He truly isn’t sure how long the pseudo-embrace lasts (probably not as long as it feels, maybe all of two to three seconds, but it feels lightyears longer), but he definitely feels it when the man begins to talk, his chest rumbling pleasantly under his body. He almost shivers at the sensation, but mercifully manages to curb the reaction in just the nick of time.

And then the words the man says registers to him, making him freeze fully. 

“Hey! Watch where the fuck you’re goin’, asshole!” 

Blinking once, Kiyotaka grimaces and pulls back (finally), and glares at the figure before him, hands immediately going to his hips. Technically speaking, his role as Hall Monitor (!!) is not currently in affect, but that doesn’t mean that this man is allowed to curse on school property! He doesn’t even have time to take in the other man’s appearance before he’s talking, his words clipped and measured, like always. 

“Language! This is a school, and we are required to adhere to the rules in place at all times! And one such rule is no foul language on school grounds! Because the school year has technically not yet started, I will let you off with a warning this time, but if I hear such language again, I will not hesitate to hand you a detention slip! Am I understood?!” 

Kiyotaka does not mean to shout his words, but then again, he rarely does. It’s just how his voice naturally sounds, he supposes. Still, part of him winces internally as he sees the man before him reel back, eyes that he only just now notices going wide as a surprisingly pretty mouth opens dumbly in shock. A few seconds pass by in silence, the other man clearly struck dumb for some reason, which gives Kiyotaka the ability to actually look at the man properly, for the first time. 

Well, one thing for certain is that, while he is large, he’s not technically a man. Or, well… he is, but also… not? Or… well. How to put this… he is not a man in the same technical way that Kiyotaka, himself, is not a man. In that they are both— not technically but actually— teenagers, and thus are not yet men. Kiyotaka blinks at his logic there, shaking his head subtly to clear it of the fuzz that’s obscuring his ability to think properly. Because that statement right there? Makes no sense. Not even to himself, and he’d just thought it!

It is true, though, he realizes as he looks at the man (teen), who may be overly large and hulking, but has a surprisingly youthful face, clearly marking him as a student, not a staff (thank goodness! Running into a student is bad but running into a staff member would have been worse!). With that bit of information gleamed, Kiyotaka moves onto actually looking at the teen, taking in his appearance at last.

The first and most noticeable thing that Kiyotaka notices about the teen is by far the— quite frankly bizarre— hair style he is wearing. He doesn’t know the name of hair styles very well, as such a thing is a waste of time to him, but it honestly, well... hm, how to put this mildly… it quite frankly looks like the teen has a corn on the cob glued to his head. Or maybe an armadillo… aha. Well, whatever it is, the weird thing is a dull, golden yellow and extends at least a foot from his face, while some darker, more natural looking hair hangs limply around the back of his neck, just barely reaching his shoulders. And it… it’s not that it looks bad! It actually looks kind of interesting if he’s being honest… but it certainly is bizarre, and it takes Kiyotaka a moment to look away, as unusual as it is. Eventually he is able to look away, though, and his eyes flit down to the teen’s face, instead. 

The first thing he notices on his face are his eyes, most definitely. Even if the teen wasn’t wearing the most ridiculous eyeliner Kiyotaka has ever seen (including on the women on those beauty shows his mother used to like to watch), his eyes themselves are intriguing in their own right. At first, Kiyotaka thinks they are a light, stone gray, like the color of a rock baking in the summer sun. However, as he looks longer, the stunned silence between them stretching, he notices that they are actually a very, very light shade of lavender, the purple undertone oddly striking with the exaggerated eyeliner. Huh... he wonders blithely if that’s why the teen does it? 

After another moment of staring into the teen’s eyes, Kiyotaka realizes that he is, in fact, staring into another man’s (teen’s) eyes and hastily averts his gaze, cheeks flushing for no good reason. 

This distraction allows him to drink in the rest of the youthful face, the pale skin even and smooth, even as splotches of red begins to spread out along the temples and cheeks. His nose is on the smaller side, but has a chink in it, making Kiyotaka think that it has been broken at least once, if not multiple times before. He has a similar chink on his nose, in fact, from the years of being punched and slammed into walls. And with their lack of adequate healthcare, he had always been forced to set his own nose, making it heal a little crooked, like the other teen’s is. 

And… and his mouth... Kiyotaka’s own mouth goes dry as his eyes flit down there, curious eyes staring unbidden at the pale things. The teen’s mouth is still hanging open slightly, which should make him look unattractive and silly, but it honestly really, really doesn’t. Decidedly not. It just makes him look kind of... Kiyotaka doesn’t know, but it certainly isn’t bad. In fact, it might actually be kind of good, which is making something inside of him freak out as he suddenly realizes that several seconds have passed, at least fifteen, and the two of them have just been staring at each other the entire time. His arms drop dully from his hips, his hands tingling and numb for reasons he cannot quite explain. 

Another second passes and he can feel his cheeks flare hotter, and he knows for a fact that his face is bright red, his pale complexion doing nothing to hide his shame. This is a fact he’s always known and has hated with a passion ever since the children at his primary school first began teasing him about his all too clear embarrassment. It’s no different now, especially as the other teen finally blinks and reels back again, a startled laugh barking from his lips. 

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me. Right? What are ya, a fuckin’ hall monitor?! It’s school, dipshit. Don’t matter what we fuckin’ talk like here.” 

Kiyotaka can’t help but blink again at the words, his hackles rising even as something inside him purrs at the rumbling quality of the other teen’s voice, masking the low-class accent the teen uses. He will not admit it, certainly not while standing not one foot from the other, but the teen has a nice sounding voice. Despite the ugly words being said with it, of course... 

But those ugly words are the source of contention here and so— with the same will he does with all of his other unhelpful emotions and thoughts— he locks all thoughts away but the ones revolving around the teen and his unfortunately horrible potty mouth. 

Crossing his arms, Kiyotaka lifts his head up, trying not to care that the other teen easily has at least four or five inches on him, if not more, and stares the teen dead in the eyes again, this time his own eyes hard and unyielding. He’s been told that he can look very menacing when doing such a thing— his red eyes unnerving at the best of times— but the other teen doesn’t even flinch, just stares hard right on back. He doesn’t let this daunt him, though, and just does what he always does— ensure order is maintained!

“As a matter of fact, I am! I applied for the position of hall monitor over the summer break and was awarded it! It is a great honor, and it is a duty I take very seriously! I do not wish to start our year off on the wrong foot, but I will not tolerate rule breaking of any kind, no matter what you or anyone else may think of the matter! If you do not like the rules, you can take it up with the headmaster! Is that understood?!” 

The other teen stares at him dumbly again, but snaps out of it much quicker this time, snorts of laughter echoing out of his lips, cruel and overly harsh. It makes Kiyotaka flush even harder, his stomach clenching harshly as a cold realization washes over him. Ah… he’s just made his first enemy here at this school, hasn’t he…? Oh… and it’s such a shame, too. There was something about this teen that made Kiyotaka feel so curious, like there’s a puzzle there just waiting for him to unravel…

But such thoughts are ridiculous! Of course this teen and him wouldn’t get along! He’s wearing leather, for one, which Kiyotaka just notices now, his eyes glancing over the teen’s body as they sink to the floor unbidden. Practically no one who wears leather is a reputable person (yes, there are always exceptions to this rule and Kiyotaka would never stereotype anyone, but part of him highly doubts his stereotyping is inaccurate, here). And it is not like the Ultimate Moral Compass could ever possibly get along with a disreputable person! Or vice versa... 

“Jesus Christ, you're actu’ly bein’ serious, ain’t ya? Damn, you some goody two shoes, then? Shit, don’t tell me we’re in the same class, are we? Ah, fuck, goddamnit. Can’t believe I’m stuck with such a fuckin’ tightass, shit fuck.” 

Kiyotaka stiffens even further, his eyes starting to water as the insults already begin. And school hasn’t even officially started yet! And that’s not even to mention how the teen seems to now be purposely putting needless swear words into his sentences, likely just to mess with him! Ugh, this year is going to be terrible, isn’t it?! 

But he refuses to cry. He’s always been an emotional person, crying at the drop of a hat, seemingly. It has never really bothered him too much, as he figures it’s good to have such strong emotions; it means that he is human, after all! Plus, his mother was always an emotional woman, crying with sympathy at even the simplest of commercials. His mother was the strongest person he’s ever known, especially after the cancer diagnosis, so he prides himself on his similarity to her and on his deep connection to his emotions, honestly. 

However... however, something about the way the teen is staring at him— his eyes hard and critical, his mouth (not pretty anymore, not at all) contorted in an ugly sneer— tells Kiyotaka that if he cries now, it will be like admitting defeat. And that is one thing that he, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, never does!

And so— puffing himself up yet again— he pushes one finger into the taller teen’s chest (definitely not remembering what it felt like to be pressed tight against that chest, his body closer to another human that he’s probably ever been since his mother died), eyes blazing, not caring how rude the gesture is. He feels anger flooding his heart now, his body beginning to shake with it, but he won’t let it control him. He’s better than that. 

“My name is Kiyotaka Ishimaru, and you would do well to remember it! As I said, I do not wish to start any battles, but I also will not tolerate anyone breaking the rules! This is your last warning, if I hear or see you breaking the rules again, I will not hesitate to give you a week’s worth of detention! Do you understand me?!” 

Kiyotaka continues to stare at the other teen, silence echoing down the hallway as his shout peters out. It’s a good thing this hallway seems to be fairly deserted, no one else in sight. It allows him to stare at the teen without too much embarrassment, even as his cheeks continue to flush red hot, knowing that staring into another boy’s eyes is considered wrong, but also knowing that he refuses to back down from this test of wills. 

Finally, after several long seconds pass, the other teen smiles, but it is not a nice one. It looks more like he’s baring his teeth, his eyes full of a simmering rage and hatred. And, if Kiyotaka were being truthful (which he always is, with himself especially), it makes him feel very, very afraid. He’s seen that look once before, after all, and it was right before his main middle school bully broke his arm for confiscating his illegal fireworks that he was planning on setting off in the girl’s locker room. So, he supposes he has some right to be a bit afraid of such a look. 

But still! He does not back down!

He can’t. 

Not even when the teen leans forward, all predator swift and fast. It does make him flinch somewhat, though, which seems to be what the teen had wanted, as he can see a self-satisfied smirk out of the corner of his eyes, even as the teen leans in closer, his lips practically brushing his ear, making him want to shiver again. 

He suppresses the feeling. 

Again. 

“Listen here, an’ listen good, ya piece a’ shit. I ain’t gonna change fer no one, got it? They invited me ta this school, knowin’ full well who I was an’ who I wasn’t gonna be. An’ I sure as hell ain’t gonna be some prissy, goody fuckin’ two shoes, mindin’ my fuckin’ language like a fuckin’ square. Ya have a problem with that, ya can have a nice chat. With my fists. Ya understand? Ya asshole?”

Kiyotaka can feel himself shaking, and he can’t quite tell if it’s out of fear, anger, or a mixture of both. The other teen (he still doesn’t know his name, does he? For some reason, this fact really starts to bother him all of a sudden, his fists clenching at the realization) leans back again, smug smile on his face, like he’s won or something. Annoyed, Kiyotaka knows that he cannot give him any hint of satisfaction. 

Despite the tears he still feels gathering in his eyes, his throat tight and angry, he just smiles pleasantly (as pleasantly as he ever can, which usually turns into some kind of grimace, of course), and inclines his head slightly in a jerky nod. 

“If you must resort to violence to solve your problems, then that is very telling of your character! Rules are in place for a reason, and without them the world would descend into chaos! I will not allow that to happen! If you choose to take your aggression out on me, then I cannot stop you! But I will warn you that I have mastered many forms of self-defense and while I will not fight back, I will not stand by idly! You do not scare me, so if that is what you are trying to accomplish here, you are wasting your time!” 

The only warning he gets is a low growl in his ear, before he is suddenly being slammed into the wall, the breath getting knocked out of him as that hard and firm body is pressed up against his again, but in a very different scenario this time. A far less pleasant one, for sure. N-not that the first time had been pleasant at all, of course! Of course…

“Ya goddamn piece a’ shit! Ya got no idea when ta fuckin’ quit, do ya?! I tried ta be nice, but now? You're pissin’ me the fuck off! Do ya have any idea who the fuck I am?! I’m Mondo Fuckin’ Owada, ya goddamn asshole, Ultimate Biker Gang Leader! So, ya might wanna fuckin’ reconsider bein’ afraid a’ me, ya got it?!” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Kiyotaka knows that name. 

It’s not a good reason why Kiyotaka knows that name... 

His father. His father is an officer on the police force. At least once a week, Kiyotaka would hear his father rant about this gang or other causing trouble in the streets, tearing up nice, reputable neighborhoods, causing havoc and grief wherever they went. There are many biker gangs all over Japan, ranging from small to massive. Some are more destructive than others, but all of them cause some kind of grief or other to everyday citizens, who huddle in their houses in terror when the gangs tear through their streets. Kiyotaka has absolutely no respect for bikers or biker gangs of any type, finding them absolutely deplorable, no matter who they are, and usually resolves to never waste his time thinking of such deplorable scum. 

But Mondo Owada? That’s a name he knows. That’s a name he hates, his father telling him time and time again how frustrating it is that the biker is always one step ahead of the police, him and his gang (the Crazy something or other, he never bothered to learn) somehow never quite getting caught for any of their vandalism or assault, even though the police knows that they’re doing it. 

When he’d heard that one of his fellow classmates this year was going to be Mondo Owada (because of course he’d looked into his fellow students, he is not only going to be their hall monitor, but he is going to be their class representative, so he has to know them), he almost withdrew from Hope’s Peak then and there. Clearly, if they were letting garbage like that into the school, then it wasn’t the reputable and upstanding institution he’d always thought it to be!

It was his father who actually convinced him otherwise, bluntly saying that they needed the stipend money that the school would be giving him for his time there. Plus— his father had cajoled— maybe he could find some evidence on Owada and get him arrested, once and for all. Or maybe he could even work on reforming the teen, offering him programs to reform his life (though his father had said that one with a smirk, which makes Kiyotaka think he was possibly joking… maybe). 

It was a stretch, Kiyotaka had known that much, but he had reluctantly agreed, knowing they needed the money. And it would only help him in life, to go to such a prestigious high school, setting him up for his future. Not attending such a school for such a petty, stupid reason would be ludicrous! And Kiyotaka is decidedly not ludicrous!

Still… during the days leading up to today, his stomach had refused to stop churning in knots over the thought of meeting such a rough and wild boy, late at night as he tossed and turned and tried to fall asleep but couldn’t, fear filling him at the idea of being in such close proximity to such a person. After all… a gang leader would likely not take kindly to rules and regulations, and given his role at this school, they’d automatically be set at odds before ever even meeting one another, wouldn’t they? Another enemy made before he’d ever even met them. One who had questionable morals, and possibly no limits whatsoever, to boot.

Never, in all his wildest nightmares, would he have imagined meeting Owada in such a way. 

(Never, in all his wildest dreams, would he have imagined being literally swept off his feet by the biker, being held for several long, lingering seconds in a faux embrace that was embarrassingly not unpleasant. And then, barely any time later, finding himself holding the other’s surprisingly striking eyes for even longer seconds, his heart clenching for reasons he is firmly never going to examine, because he hates lying to himself and he knows that whatever he finds there is not something he wants to ever know. And this— all of this— while feeling slightly dizzy from the overwhelming scent of cinnamon and motor oil that is still assaulting his senses, not as unpleasant as it should be. Because that sort of thing just... it just doesn’t happen. Not outside of lame and cheesy romance novels. Most certainly not to someone like him.) 

(And yet...)

It’s as the teen (Owada, his mind hisses at him, finally having a name for the person he’s been talking to for the past several minutes) begins to pull away, smug smile on his face, that Kiyotaka breaks free from his stupor. With his jaw clenched tight, eyes blazing one last time, he lifts a hand up unbidden and grabs the biker’s sleeve, fingers digging into the soft feeling leather. 

“I have already told you, Owada-kun, that you do not scare me,” he says softly, for once not yelling. He didn’t even know his voice could sound so quiet, truthfully. If it weren’t for the deafening silence of the hallway around them, he wouldn’t even think the biker could hear him. But he can see the way Owada’s nostrils flare, and he knows he has the other teen’s attention. 

Good. 

“I do not care what you do to me. I have faced more than you can ever know, fighting for what I know to be right. You can beat me all you want, but I will not back down. I will persist! My mother taught me to stand up for what is right and true, and so I shall! So, do what you like, Owada-kun, I will not stop until you and your band of criminals is brought to justice! You have my word on that!” 

They were good words. Pretty words. Words that a man ten times as brave as Kiyotaka could say and mean one hundred percent, no hint of doubt or regret in his mind. 

That man is not Kiyotaka. 

As soon as his words leave his mouth— his volume steadily getting louder and louder with each one until he is yelling again— he regrets saying them. He is, unintentionally, staring into Owada’s lavender eyes again and he can see the rage that fills them as his words are processed in real time. He is shaking, he knows he is, knows Owada can feel it, but he can’t stop. He’s never been more afraid before. And he’s felt fear many times in the past, when faced by bullies or other school yard tormentors! But those times are all very different to this one, for one main reason. 

While his schoolyard bullies were cruel and unkind, hitting him again and again until he bled, until he broke, they always knew their limit. Not even the city’s hatred of the name Ishimaru could excuse permanently debilitating Kiyotaka, meaning that all of his tormentors had had lines they knew they could not cross. And he always knew that fact, no matter how bad it got. It comforted him, in some sick, bizarre way, to know such a thing. To know that, no matter what, he would always eventually heal, even if it would often scar.

But Owada?

He’s a criminal. A thug. An outlaw; the fearsome leader of Japan’s largest motorcycle gang. All while being no older than he, himself, is. 

Who knows what limits the other teen has? 

If he has them at all... 

But he... he can’t back down. Not now. Backing down now would- would be worse, r-right? A-and... and Owada wouldn’t actually, you know... kill him, right? O-or do anything that would permanently disable him? Surely- surely someone would notice if he went missing so soon after arriving? A-and someone had to have seen them talking! R-right?! 

Kiyotaka can feel his breathing getting quicker and quicker the longer the irate biker glares at him, his body getting pressed more firmly to the wall, the sensation so far from pleasant he almost wants to cry. He still is holding it in, but he can feel the tears filling his eyes and he knows that any second now, to his intense mortification, they will overflow. 

It’s as he feels more than sees Owada reel back, his fist clenched tight as he pulls it back as far as it can go in their current position, that Kiyotaka finally breaks. 

Completely against his will, he feels his body flinch back dramatically, hitting his head harshly against the wall he’s still pressed against, but he barely even notices it. His eyes slide shut, also unbidden, and he can feel the tears finally spilling over, his hands shaking as he instinctively raises them to cover his face, like he always (uselessly) did as a child, back before he knew Taekwondo and Jiu Jitsu and could defend himself properly. Not that he often did, knowing it would just get him in more trouble than the attacker, but it made him feel better knowing that he could use it, if he truly needed to. 

But here, now, crowded against this wall, his heart pounding and more afraid than he’s been in years, the residual anxiety from this entire morning still lingering and mounting and swirling within him... here, facing a biker who is notorious in all of Japan, despite barely being old enough to shave? 

Here, he feels so much like a child again that all he wants to do is curl up and cry, holding onto his mother as he asks her, again and again, why the other children hate him so much? What he’s done to deserve their hatred? She’d never had a good answer, would simply cry with him and hold him tight, but that was enough, having someone there to hold him and tell him it was alright, that he was alright... that he was still loved, so dearly, regardless… that was plenty more than enough. 

God, he misses her hugs… 

He barely has time to think before contact is made, the sound loud and booming in the silent hallway, and he flinches so harshly that for a moment, he honestly thinks he’s been hit. 

But after the moment passes, he notices that the usual pain doesn’t bloom on his face, or his gut, or... anywhere on his body, really. 

Surprised, he opens his eyes, more tears falling out, and stares into the dark, lavender eyes of Mondo Owada, the biker’s chest heaving like he’d run a marathon. His fist is slammed into the wall besides Kiyotaka’s face, his forearm brushing his face with every breath either teen makes. It takes Kiyotaka a second to realize what happened, but when he does, he has no idea what to make of it. 

Owada... hadn’t hit him? He’d instead... hit the wall? And he hadn’t pulled the punch, either! He’d heard the contact, it had been loud! He’d truly hit the wall at full force, choosing to not hit Kiyotaka, despite having a perfect opportunity to do so! What...?

Kiyotaka— fully against his will— takes a moment to worry about the biker, wondering how messed up his hand must be and how much it must hurt, distantly wondering if he should try to force the biker to the nurse’s office (which he’s not even sure is open, since the school itself is technically not open yet, not to mention the logistics of explaining why Owada was hurt so early in the year, and how he was involved, and oh god, is he going to get in trouble for causing a fight, oh god, oh god-)

But the thoughts are chased away when Owada leans in close again, his lips barely touching Kiyotaka’s ear, finally making him shiver unconsciously, the words low and deep and almost, dare he say... sensual in his ear… 

“I’ll hand it ta ya, Hall Monitor. Ya got some serious fuckin’ balls. But take this as your last fuckin’ warnin’. Fuck with me again, and I ain’t gonna miss next time. Do you understand me, Ishimaru?”

Kiyotaka shudders again at the words, his eyes wide and hands pressed desperately to the wall behind him. He has no idea what is going on inside his head at the moment, let alone his body, but he’s fairly certain he’s about to pass out. The way Owada had whispered those last words, his tone and inflection different to the rest of his speech pattern, oddly formal and educated, almost like... like he was mimicking Kiyotaka’s earlier words... 

Before he can make good on his idea of passing out— mind and body very much done with this conversation, thank you very much— suddenly, Owada is gone. The heat and warmth that had been pressed against him vanishes and with the support no longer holding him up, he sinks, boneless, to the floor, tears falling freely, feeling like an utter waste of space. Like a pathetic child. He blinks sightlessly at the floor, before looking up, Owada almost haloed by the way the light falls on him. It’s... something. It sure is... something… 

“I’mma leave this here, ya got me? I ain’t the kind ta hold grudges, not ‘less I hafta, so I ain’t got any problem lettin’ this slide. I ain’t no fuckin’ bully. But ya cross me again, I will fight back. Got it?” 

Kiyotaka wants to say something, to tell Owada that he won’t let him get away with breaking the rules, wants to say that he refuses to back down, or, well… something… but… but he can’t. He can’t. He’s too afraid. 

He’s too weak. 

So, instead, he just nods dully and stares blankly at the floor, his legs coming up and his arms wrapping around them, like he always did after his tormentors finished and left him lying in the dirt, his face soaked with tears and sometimes blood, his heart aching and pained. At least his tears have finally stopped leaking out of his eyes… small miracles, yes? He can hear Owada shuffling before him, can see his shadow moving awkwardly around, but Kiyotaka doesn’t say anything, just stares blankly ahead. He’s already growing numb to this entire situation, all his earlier bravado and adrenaline gone without a trace. He’s just weak, stupid little Kiyotaka Ishimaru again, the most hated kid in Japan. 

Why did he ever think he could be anything different? 

Another several seconds pass, before he hears a soft sigh, the sound of heavy footsteps finally hitting the ground. Kiyotaka is just about to let out a sigh of relief and stand to finally (finally) enter his room and put his things away, when he hears the steps falter again, Owada clearly having something to say, but seeming to struggle when he tries to say it. Eventually the words come out, faltering and awkward, a far cry from the confident and smug tone from a few minutes before. 

“... you, uh. You’re pretty fuckin’ brave. Fer a Hall Monitor, that is. Ain’t a lot a’ people who can go toe ta toe with me, even fer a couple a’ minutes. So, uh... yeah. See ya ‘round, I guess. Neighbor.” 

And with that, finally, the biker leaves, the hallway echoing with silence once again. The only sound Kiyotaka can hear is the sound of his own heart beating, and the sound of his breaths, ragged and scared, even minutes after Owada officially leaves. 

Finally, looking down at his ancient watch that doesn’t even work half the time but thankfully decided to work today, Kiyotaka is spurred into action when he sees that it’s already 8:55, meaning he has less than five minutes to put his suitcase in his room and book it halfway across the school (without running!!!) to make it to orientation on time. 

Cursing softly under his breath (no actual curses, of course! Just the watered-down, kid friendly versions of them. He’s not a hypocrite, after all), he stands up and hurriedly shoves his key card against the door, the thing opening up a second later. Not having time, he quickly grabs his suitcase, shoves it in carelessly into his room, and shuts it again, hurrying off down the hall. Before he does, though, his eyes can’t help but linger on the room right next to his, his heart freezing with something that might be fear, but might also be something else (something he refuses to think on, lest he have to start lying to himself, which he hates to do). 

Because written there, for all the world to see, are two words. Two simple, little words, that Kiyotaka has a feeling he’s going to hate above all else by the time this year is through. 

‘Owada, Mondo,’ the plaque says, with a tiny, crude caricature of the teen carved into the metal. 

Well. He supposes that explains Owada’s final parting word, then... 

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because otherwise, he’s going to be late. And on the very first day, too! 

(In the end, he manages to make it to the orientation room with ten seconds to spare, his chest heaving and spine tingling as all eyes turn to him. He’d managed to scrub his face clear of all tears during his brisk walk, but he knows that his sclerae are probably still red, which he knows from experience looks very creepy with his red irises. Not a very good first impression, to say the very least!

He bows deeply to the instructor as soon as he is able to and asks profusely for forgiveness. The man just laughs and says it’s fine, directing him to a seat that is between an utterly average looking young man with short brown hair that introduces himself as ‘Makoto Naegi,’ and a timid, overly shy looking young girl who introduces herself as ‘Chihiro Fujisaki.’ They both seem nice enough, and they all seem to get along pretty well during the ten-minute period when the instructor tells them to get into groups of three to get to know each other better. He does, of course, get a few confused stares at the awkward, almost formal way he speaks, proper grammar and speech mannerisms drilled into him by his father when he’d been young, but that always happens, so he doesn’t pay too much attention to it, really. He does manage to keep his volume lower than usual, though, mostly given that they are in a school setting, which he supposes is a good thing. They don’t call him out on anything, at least. 

Best of all, he’s far away from Owada— who had barreled in three minutes late, his fist roughly wrapped in gauze, the teen not even bothering to give the instructor an excuse. He just grunted when the man told him— with a far colder tone than when talking to Kiyotaka, which is something that still boggles his mind— to sit beside a teen with bright orange hair and multiple piercings, and an unfortunately rotund teen whose face kind of reminds Kiyotaka of a hamster. He presently is watching Owada now that he’s finished up the sheet the instructor gave them to learn more about their partners— which he’d finished two minutes early— as the biker trades muttered words with the redhead. 

He watches— though he doesn’t know why— as the redhead snorts and mutters back, Owada grinning at whatever he had said, a bead of laughter escaping his not-at-all pretty mouth. His eyes linger for a beat longer, before he turns back to the board, his pencil flying over his paper as he takes down every word the instructor wrote, and then some. 

When the orientation starts up again, Kiyotaka raises his hand every other minute, having a question about almost everything, from how the dorm rooms work (they do not appear to be separated by gender in their hallway, which concerns him somewhat), to what time breakfast begins each morning (it’s important to know!). He can tell that even the instructor is getting a bit tired of his endless questions by the end, but it isn’t his fault! He just wants to be sure he knows what he’s doing, that’s all! H-he must know what he’s doing so that he doesn’t mess up, like he is so wont to do without instruction…

Through it all... through it all, he feels eyes boring into his back, but whenever he turns to look, the light lavender is looking elsewhere, seemingly disinterested. Sometimes at the desk, sometimes at the clock. Sometimes at the back of his own hand. It makes Kiyotaka feel strange inside, his insides churning at the potential reasons why Owada would be staring at him, but he forces it from his mind. He doubts it matters. After all, Owada himself had said that he wasn’t a bully. Well... here’s hoping that wasn’t a lie! 

(And if he leaves behind a pack of ice he picked up at the nurses’ office, as well as some ibuprofen tablets and some more gauze outside Owada’s door in a paper bag, ringing the doorbell and hurriedly running into his room to not be caught by the teen once the orientation and tours are all finished for the day, well... he is the class representative, after all. It’s only right that he helps out his fellow students, yes?)

Kiyotaka doesn’t know what is going to happen the rest of the year. His first day was already so action packed that he’s kind of dreading to see how the rest of the year goes, if he’s being honest. His class is small, only sixteen students including himself, but his year isn’t the only year in this school. And who knows what the other students will be like, in the end? He’s already made one enemy, it would not be remiss to assume he could very easily make so many more. Who knows what will happen next, where this year will lead?  

Well… well, he’s going to have to find out eventually. 

One way or another...)

Chapter Text

The first week of school practically flies by for Kiyotaka, and before he knows it, he is finding himself running full pace in the school’s changing slash exercise room at 10:00 am on his first Saturday at the school, his mind reeling with the knowledge that he’s somehow survived his first week without any major incident.

(Well, other than what happened that first day, with the hulking biker gang leader, but seeing as how he is firmly resolving to ignore that ever happened, the week has gone far better than he had ever had any hope of it going, honestly.)

He just wishes he had an idea of if this is a good thing or not…

It’s probably good... right? The classes themselves do not seem overly challenging, just tedious, like most of school is. But that is okay! He likes tedium! It gives him something to do with his time! He has no problem sitting through tedious classes taught by fairly dull teachers, doing monotonous, repetitive tasks! It’s what he’s always done, and he enjoys it immensely!

Still… despite being a school for ‘Ultimate Students,’ the course work seems to be akin to that of a normal high school for the most part, from what he can tell. Which may be a teeny, tiny bit disappointing, but not enough to bring him down!

The core classes follow the traditional courses all students are required to take, such as math, science, history, literature, and physical education (by far his least favorite class in general, given the numerous opportunities his fellow classmates are given to torment him in such a class, even if he does well in it. His new classmates haven’t, yet, but still... the potential is there, which makes him feel tense). These courses don’t appear to be overly advanced, either, though the coursework is fairly rigorous. 

The only real difference to a traditional high school that he can notice is the focus on student specific elective courses. For the traditional classes, he would share his class with the others in his year, all of them in each five classes. However, each student has their own specific elective that they take part of, one that they will take alone with a single member of staff hired specifically to assist them. His elective, for example, is a course in ethics and morality. 

The first time he’d had his specific elective class had been very nerve-wracking, considering that he’d been alone in a room with a single teacher, without much idea as to how it all was going to work. The logistics of it all had concerned him, somewhat, and he’d truly wondered what he’d do if he failed a course in what was supposed to be his best subject. How embarrassing!

However, after his first class, he’d begun to understand how it would work, and his nerves almost vanished. From what he can tell, it’s just a normal class like any other, with coursework and projects, but it’s tailored specifically to him and his personal growth. Whatever will best help him hone his ‘special talent’ will be offered freely to him, be it a trip to a specific area or a guest speaker brought in to share further information about the topic. He’s not ashamed to admit that the idea of it all interests him greatly, very much so! While he knows a great deal on morality already, there is always more to learn! 

Other than that, there are also other elective classes, which are less rigorous than the traditional and specific elective courses but allow the students to get a broader range of interests to explore with their fellow classmates. Kiyotaka had eagerly signed up for a political science course that is offered to all grades, which interests him greatly. After all, if he wants to become Prime Minister, he must know everything he can about politics and government! He’d been tempted to try his hand at a government class as well, but his advisor at Hope’s Peak had shaken his head at the idea, saying that for his first year he should keep to one additional course, though he could add to it in his later years if he so desires. 

Overall, his course load is extensive, but none of it is overly complicated or challenging. His most challenging subject so far has been— to his frustration— his physics course, but he’s determined to work through it, like he does with everything. In fact, he’s already finished with his homework for the following week in the class, even though it had taken him twice as long as his homework for his other courses (which he’s also finished, of course). Well, that’s just fine! It doesn’t matter how long he works, just as long as he gets it done in the end! That has always been his life’s motto, after all!

So, the coursework was not a challenge to him, and he is not particularly concerned about it in the slightest! Er, well... maybe a little, but only in the same way he is always concerned about his coursework. In that he worries that he’ll let himself unintentionally slip and let his grades fall behind. But that’s a common fear he’s had, ever since he was a young child and his father drilled into his head the importance of doing well in school, saying that it was among the only advantages he could give himself in this life that others could not take away from him. 

Still! Overall, his courses are not concerning him much. In fact, more than anything else, he finds himself almost feeling enthusiastic to progress, his mind eager to learn all that this school can offer to him!

As such, it is not that that is causing him to force himself to run at full speed on a Saturday morning, trying his best to outrun the anxiety and discomfort that he finds always plagues him, no matter how hard he tries. Instead, what is giving him the most concern is what always— inevitably— gives him the most concern in school. 

His fellow classmates. 

Now, don’t get him wrong! He actually likes his fellow classmates here at Hope’s Peak, for the most part! Some of them he doesn’t quite understand very well, such as Hifumi Yamada (The Ultimate Fan Artist, whatever that means) and Yasuhiro Hagakure (The Ultimate Clairvoyant, of all things, who has been held back several years and is, in fact, an actual adult now). Some of them, on the other hand, he is slightly ashamed to say intimidate him, such as Sakura Ogami (The Ultimate Martial Artist) and Byakuya Togami (The Ultimate Affluent Progeny, which yes, is apparently a thing), though for quite different reasons.

Mainly, he still doesn’t quite have a read on many of his classmates just yet, but most of them seem nice enough. Friendly.

Aoi Asahina (The Ultimate Swimming Pro), for example, definitely seems like a very upbeat and friendly person, the girl smiling at him whenever their eyes meet in class. Of course, she does that with everyone, which makes him think she’s just a bubbly person by nature, but it’s better than he’s ever had in the past. Sayaka Maizono (The Ultimate Pop Sensation) also appears to be fairly bubbly, but in a somehow more... reserved way? Like it is not as natural for her, but she does it anyway for reasons he cannot quite fathom. Same with Junko Enoshima (The Ultimate Fashionista), but there is something about the model that, quite frankly, unnerves him, and he does his best to stay away from her, if he can.

Chihiro (The Ultimate Programmer) and Makoto (The Ultimate Lucky Student, who was invited to the school after having his name randomly picked out of a raffle, and thus is another normal student, like himself) he already knows in a basic fashion, the pair actually telling him that he can use their first names, if he wants, after their introduction the first day. It was a sentiment he’d gratefully reciprocated, even if it had made him slightly nervous. He’d even considered telling them to call him Taka— the old, ancient nickname his mother used for him when she’d been alive— but he’d ultimately decided against it, unable to find the nerve to be quite that familiar… 

However, while he does not really consider either individual a friend— or even an acquaintance really— he is friendlier with them than anyone else. Makoto in particular seems very friendly, like Asahina, but less bubbly and more like he’s just a genuinely down to earth, friendly person. Kiyotaka cannot deny that it helps put him more at ease at this foreign school to have such an average, normal person in it. A people person, someone who wants everyone to get along no matter how different they are. They have not had much of a chance to speak during the week so far, as busy as they both have been, but Makoto will always wave hello at him whenever he passes in the hall, a kind smile on his lips. It’s kind of embarrassing how grateful a simple gesture like that makes him. 

As for Chihiro, from what he can tell the young girl seems overly emotional and shy, often seen with tears misting her eyes, even during situations that don’t quite seem to really require crying. But that is not exactly an insult, not to him. Not seeing as how he, himself, is a fairly emotional and socially awkward individual. As such, he does not fault her for either thing. Not in the slightest! 

In fact, it is something that he admires in her, in her ability to connect so freely with her emotions. It’s a very desirable trait! N-not that he is interested in her in that way! Of course not! She is a very lovely girl, but he has no time for romance, even if such a thing were an option for him, which he firmly knows it is (presently) not! Yes, they have shared a few conversations since that first day, but that’s mostly since they sit next to one another in most of their classes and have the time to spare as they pack up after class ends. They mostly talk about school and things like that, and it doesn’t seem like she minds his company too much... but that doesn’t make them friends, let alone anything else! 

But, well, maybe, with time... they could... be friends?? It’s ridiculous, of course! Him, having friends… how absurd! But… well. Of all of his classmates, she’s the one he’s found himself the closest to— the one he seems to have the most in common with— so far, and he finds that he wouldn’t mind having a friendship with her, if the girl desires it. But! That is very unlikely, aha! And there’s no real way of knowing if such a thing would ever be possible, if she’d ever want such a thing, since it is very unlikely that she would! There are too many variables up in the air, and it would be best for him not to get his hopes up too high... after all, a few civil conversations don’t mean she wishes to be friends! How silly of him! 

He... he really should stop thinking of her and of friendship... it’s such a useless topic…

A-anyway!

As for the rest of the class... he still has yet to fully determine how he feels about them. Toko Fukawa (The Ultimate Writing Prodigy) reminds him a little of Chihiro, but to a much more extreme degree, the girl shy to the point of antisocial, not just asocial. Mukuro Ikusaba (The Ultimate Soldier— which is a terrifying Talent in its own right— who also happens to be the twin sister to Enoshima and is usually seen trailing the peppy girl, which adds a whole other layer to the whole thing, given his intense unease around the latter girl) is similar, but is far quieter, reserved, and intense, keeping mostly to herself and her sister.

Kyoko Kirigiri (The Ultimate… something?? He actually doesn’t know, he’d never found any information on her talent online and has never dared to ask her himself… how mysterious…) is quiet and reserved as well, but in a different way. Less awkward and more... purposeful, he supposes. Whereas the former few girls do not seem to enjoy being asocial and shy, it does not seem to bother Kirigiri at all. In fact, she appears to prefer it that way, looking more relaxed when she is relatively alone than when she is forced to participate in a class discussion, her back rigid and her eyes critical as she looks at her peers.

Celestia Ludenburg (The Ultimate Gambler, which is a nasty habit in its own right) is an absolute mystery to him, one that he’s not particularly keen to unravel. She seems vaguely unpleasant from what little he has seen, reminding him bitterly of the giggling girls at his middle school. The ones who would look down upon him and mock him for his severe looks, cooing that it was adorable he had enough confidence to even be seen in public, which had truly done wonders for his self-confidence.... while some of his worst bullying was done by his male classmates— the boys having no qualms against physically assaulting him— some of the cruelest of his bullies had turned out to be his female classmates, who never failed to find his weak points and cut him deeply to the bone. This reminder is not one he is particularly keen of, and so he spends most of his time avoiding Ludenburg if he can help it. 

And that, of course, leads him to the two biggest troublemakers of his grade… 

With Leon Kuwata— the redheaded teen he’d noticed Owada had been speaking to their first day (who happens to be the Ultimate Baseball Star, though he… doesn’t seem to want to be?? He isn’t sure, as he tries not to spend too much time around him, but from what he can tell he wants to be… the Ultimate Musician?? But Kiyotaka has never heard of someone changing their Ultimate Talent before, so… but he’s digressing!)— it does not surprise him that the former baseball player likes to break the rules, as the teen’s appearance has been screaming ‘troublemaker’ from the start. What with his piercings and white ‘punk’ jacket, and all. As he’s said, he’s not one to rely on first impressions and stereotypes, but is it really his fault if these impressions quite often are right?

After all, in the first week alone, he’s had to give Kuwata at least three detentions for various offenses, such as running in the halls or talking loudly in the library, amongst many other strongly worded warnings. It makes the other teen dislike him greatly, the pale eyes often narrowed and bleeding hatred whenever he is in the general vicinity, but the other teen has yet to openly be aggressive towards him, leaning more towards childish insults and name calling than anything else. He doesn’t seem overly inclined to swear, either, so Kiyotaka usually ignores it, though he can’t hide the frown he’ll get when he hears Kuwata snipe at him from across the hallway, snickering at whatever childish insult he came up with that day. 

Overall, his relationship with his classmates is not overly contentious— even with Kuwata— and, given how terrible he is at not making people despise him, it is not something he is overly bothered by. In fact, if Kuwata had been the worst he’d faced while here at school, he would safely say that he is actually looking forward to his time at this institution, his fellow classmates practically pleasant! 

However (sadly), his year isn’t the only one at this school, and it seems that the older years do not take as kindly to him trying to enforce law and order in this school, many of the upperclassmen glaring and harassing him. None have gone so far as to physically assault him (yet), but he remains on high alert as he patrols the halls, his fellow hall monitors not nearly as effective as he is at catching and punishing ne'er-do-wells and other delinquency. That honestly just paints a larger target on his back, but he doesn’t mind. He’s been painting a target on his back rather meticulously ever since he was old enough to know what justice and doing the right thing even was. He can handle it, he knows he can. And overall, while the upperclassmen can be a handful, it isn’t the most stressful part of his job. 

That honor, of course, belongs to the person who has to be the single most challenging of his fellows at this school. 

Mondo Owada...

True to his word (which Kiyotaka, strangely, gets the feeling the teen usually is), the biker has not brought up what happened on their first day again, and doesn’t really seem to hold it against him. Kiyotaka can feel those intense eyes watching him at the most random of times, but he does not ever catch the other teen in the act, nor does the teen ever try and make conversation. Not that he has any idea what they could possibly converse about, of course! He doesn’t think he’s ever met an individual quite as opposite to himself as Owada is, after all! What on earth could they possibly converse about?? It’s a ridiculous thought and is one he hastily pushes out of his mind, like he always does with ridiculous thoughts. 

Anyway...

Just because what had happened the first day has not come between them doesn’t mean that they get along just fine. In fact, quite the opposite! After all, true to his own word, Kiyotaka does not stand by idly while Owada blatantly breaks the rules either, handing out detention slips whenever the biker breaks a rule. Which the other teen does often. Constantly. Hence Kiyotaka’s firm belief that he is the most frustrating and impossible person that he’s ever had the displeasure of meeting. 

Though… and this part is really strange to him when he thinks on it. Because, when caught, the obnoxious biker will sneer and scowl at him, like he would expect. And yet, however… well. Bizarrely, he does not usually try to argue against the numerous detentions he is given. Sometimes he’ll give a token protest or curse him out (which he’s decided to take to ignoring as long as it’s not school hours, as it’s not worth the headache, really), but for the most part he just glares and sometimes cracks his knuckles. And, so far, he has not gone any further than that. He rarely even talks around Kiyotaka, truth be told, the other teen usually quieting up whenever Kiyotaka enters the room, content to just glare daggers into him whenever he isn’t looking. 

It is, quite honestly, extremely intimidating. 

Which, he supposes, is the entire point…

Still!! Let it never be said that Kiyotaka Ishimaru is one to allow himself to get unduly intimidated by anyone, even someone who is quite larger and more muscular than he is! He continues on with his duties, ignoring the dark and angry glares he is subjected to at any and all hours of the day, and focuses entirely on his studies and his duties, regardless of any and all negative social consequences.

Still... he cannot help how his mind wanders, late at night, quite against his will. How he blithely will remember the feeling of being held up by those strong, capable arms, the overwhelming scent of cinnamon and motor oil assaulting his every breath. Remember what it had felt like to be pressed firmly to the wall by that firm body, the situation terrifying in more ways than one, and yet strangely... well, sensual, in ways that he cannot bear to try and contemplate. Remember the swirling emotions that had raged inside those mysterious lavender eyes, galaxies and universes and lifetimes contained within them that he would never have any hope of deciphering, even if he has a thousand years. Late at night, he will feel his breath catch at the reminder, his body tensing and a strange heat filling his gut that he resolutely pushes down and ignores. 

Because, naive as he can be, he knows what such a thing means. 

And it’s not something he is at all willing to entertain. 

Besides! He- he is not... you know. That. Not that he has anything against people who are! In fact, he has an extensive plan once he becomes Prime Minister to bring about more rights for people who are... that, so he firmly has no problems against it! At all!

But, well... there has never been a Prime Minister who is, well... uh, that, and as such, he knows that he cannot be, either. He already has so much against him, so much that isn’t in his favor, that he cannot afford to add any further complications against him! He... he would do anything to achieve his goal, granted that it is legal and fair! And that... that includes potentially hiding any, er... unsavory aspects of himself. Not that he has such aspects, or that such aspects are inherently unsavory! He just... he means... 

Well. It doesn’t matter what he means, because he is resolutely not thinking about it, which is all he needs to know on the matter! 

Besides... even if he were, you know... that... the likelihood of Owada feeling similarly is slim to none. And even if— and he emphasizes if— the other teen somehow did? It would never work out. They are just... too different. Kiyotaka abides by the rules almost to a fault, and he would rather write his own self up for an infraction than to compromise on his morals for even a second (something he has done, sadly, a couple times). And Owada? Owada is practically the living embodiment of rule breaking and delinquency. So far, from what Kiyotaka can tell, if there is a rule at this school, Owada seems darned and determined to either break or bend it. How could he ever— and he means ever— see anything worthwhile in such a ruffian? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t, and as such, such thoughts are a waste of time and energy. And he hates wasting his time and energy!

Which this all is. A waste of time. All of it. Thinking of his classmates, worrying about them and their intentions, wondering about enemies, and friends, and whatever else. It’s worthless to think about, to worry about, and he’s spent more than long enough worrying about it for a lifetime!

And so, he pushes all of the thoughts out, from the thoughts of his classmates to his confusing thoughts of Owada, his body tensing as he finishes his morning exercise, the treadmill he is running on slowly rolling to a stop as he breathes deeply, taking a long sip from his water. Given that the men’s and women’s exercise rooms are separate, he does not feel shame to have his shirt off, even though it does display the numerous scars he has obtained over the years. Such scars do shame him somewhat, especially considering not a single one was obtained during a fair fight, more often than not Kiyotaka gaining them as his tormentors held him down and beat him bloody, but he refuses to let such a thing dominate his life. He never does. 

This room is one thing that he truly does enjoy about Hope’s Peak, though, without any reservations, he will admit. At home, he’d never been able to afford a gym pass, making do with whatever cheap exercise equipment that he could pick up at general stores, or else running down the streets at a quick pace. Doing the latter was nearly impossible during the cold months or during the monsoon season, though. And it was always somewhat dangerous for him regardless of weather, since the likelihood of someone seeing him and taking offense at his mere existence was sadly very high, but he never let something like that stop him. Exercise is important to a healthy body, after all! 

Still, having actual exercise equipment, including weights and dumbbells and a treadmill, is like a dream come true. He has made sure to build up his physique since he was young, knowing that he’d never use his strength to harm another, but also knowing that having said muscle might be beneficial if anyone ever decided that they did want to cross that imaginary line and do something that would potentially permanently disable him. It simply gives him the ability to defend himself if he truly needs to, which is comforting for him to know. 

Plus, there has always been something so soothing about losing himself in the rhythm of exercise, his mind and body relaxing for once as he pushes himself to the edge of his physical and sometimes mental ability. The times he exercises while studying are the best of all, truly. Being able to not think and just lose himself in the mindless repetition of his feet moving along the pavement... being able to feel his muscles ache, the sensation reminding him that he is still alive, still here, still fighting... it is intoxicating to him. And he doesn’t even have to feel bad about wasting time, since good diet and exercise are two very important parts of being an upstanding citizen! And he so rarely was able to have the former, growing up…

The biggest downside to this room, he’s come to find, is that it’s sadly not private. 

This is a fact he is bitterly reminded of when the door to the room slams open, causing him to spill his water all over his chest, a startled gasp escaping him at the bitter chill. His eyes dart up and he is caught, like a deer in the headlights, as his eyes meet lavender, the exact person he wants to see the least of course being the one to come waltzing in. 

Well, two people he least wants to see, he acknowledges, dimly registering the sound of Kuwata laughing, the teen snickering about some girl he once knew. He feels himself frown as the words catch up to him, his hands landing on his hips as he hears the almost derogatory way Kuwata is speaking about the girl, his words crass and overly crude, even with the slim portion that Kiyotaka has been able to hear of the conversation. It’s so crude that he doesn’t even dare think of the words himself, disgusted at the meaning behind them! Tearing his eyes away from the lavender, he frowns at Kuwata and shakes his head in disapproval. 

(And, as such, he does not notice the frown that Owada, himself, has, the teen also looking to Kuwata in disapproval. Which is a shame, as that may have saved him a lot of his upcoming trouble, if he had…)

“Kuwata-kun! Such a topic is not appropriate to be had in a public-school venue! I expect you to serve a detention for such an infraction! I hope that you learn to not be so crude towards members of the opposite sex in the future!” 

He listens as Kuwata groans, the redhead glaring darkly at him as he stalks into the room, heading over to the weights. Owada does not move from the entrance, rather remaining where he is, shoulders bunched up and tense. Not that Kiyotaka is looking! Because he isn’t. His eyes are resolutely trained on Kuwata, after all, staring hard at the red-haired teen. Maybe if he stares hard enough, he’ll be able to make the other teen understand the importance of respecting members of the opposite sex? 

Yes, and maybe he will also be able to invent a time machine and go to the past, to be able to prevent his grandfather from ever accepting those bribes and implementing those horrible laws and regulations. Anything is possible, technically!

“Aw, come on man! It’s not like any chicks are around ta hear it! I was just joking around, stop being such a tightass, will ya?!” 

Kiyotaka stiffens at the familiar insult, scowl rising on his face, his arms coming up to cross over his chest. He is starting to feel strangely exposed here, in this suddenly too small room, but he can’t escape now. His shirt is currently tucked away in one of the lockers and, while he could just walk over and grab it, something keeps him rooted to his spot, not wanting to make it seem like he’s retreating. That would be too much like giving up for his mind to accept. 

So, he just stands there and glares, hoping his discomfort is not too evident. Judging by the way Owada is staring, he’s not so sure he succeeds on that front. Oh well... not much more he can do about it, sadly! Best to get back on subject and get this conversation over with, probably... 

“And now I will add on a detention for using foul language! The rules of this school are very clear, Kuwata-kun, you may wish to review them! I am more than willing to assist you in such an endeavor! And besides! It does not matter if no women were around to hear you! It is disrespectful to talk about them in such a way, whether or not they are present to hear it!” 

He can see Kuwata puff up in agitation, his glare even more dark as the teen pushes against the wall and begins stalking over to where Kiyotaka is standing. He can feel himself stiffen at the approach, his heart beginning to race as he realizes that he’s about to be hit, Kuwata’s fists clenching tightly as he strides forward menacingly. 

Part of him wants to cower back, the naive hope he’d once had that if he just acts passive his tormentors will leave him alone rising up, unbidden. He’s long since learned that such things rarely, if ever, work out in such a way, however. In fact, often they work in the opposite direction, the bullies disgusted at his lack of spine. 

And so, he just pushes down the desire to be such a coward, and instead just holds his head up high, even as his hands and body begins to shake in anticipation for the pain that he knows he’s about to feel. 

“Oh yeah, you effing tightass? Gonna get on my case ‘bout that, too?! How ‘bout I teach you a lesson you won’t forget, huh?!” 

Kiyotaka fights hard to not flinch back, even as Kuwata looms ever closer, instead opening his mouth to fire a comment back, something about Kuwata having nothing of any value to possibly teach him. 

Before he gets a chance to, however, he sees movement out of the corner of his eyes and feels his heart stutter as he realizes that Owada is moving. For one heart stopping moment, he thinks the thug is moving to join in on his friend’s (and he supposes the two must be friends, with how often they seem to hang around the other) fun and feels himself stiffen further. One irate person, he knows he’d be able to handle, even if it hurt, but two...? Especially when one is as morally unscrupulous as Owada is…

However, before he can fully feel the sharp and acidic spike of fear flow through his veins, he notices that rather than stalking over to him, Owada is stalking over to… to Kuwata. And, to his utter amazement, he watches dumbfounded as Owada grasps the redhead’s shoulder tightly, his head shaking firmly once, his back turned to Kiyotaka as he faces his friend. The biker’s mouth is pulled into a bitter scowl and his eyes (what little he can see of them from his angle) are boring into the redhead’s. 

(Kiyotaka also dimly notices that Owada is not wearing his typical leather duster, for once, but is instead just wearing the simple white wife beater he typically wears underneath the behemoth of a coat, allowing his body to be visible for once. Kiyotaka will never in a million years admit it, but he cannot help how his eyes are drawn to the teen’s overly muscular arms, the biceps likely larger than his own head.

Now, Kiyotaka is not a weak person, not by any stretch of the imagination. He’s spent several years building himself up physically, after all. But he knows that his physique tends to lean more towards what is considered to be lean and even slender. Not that there is anything wrong with that, of course! It’s just how his body is built. 

But Owada?

The teen is what Kiyotaka is fairly certain is known as absolutely ripped, in the common vernacular. 

It’s, uh... very distracting…)

“Leave it, Kuwata. He ain’t worth the effort. Bastard’d prolly just get ya in detention fer the rest a’ the month. ‘Sides. Ain’t like the tightass knows what he’s talkin’ ‘bout. Prolly never even looked at a chick, let alone spoke ta one. Too prim an’ proper fer that.” 

The words make his body— which had unintentionally started to relax at Owada’s unexpected intervention— stiffen up again, his eyes glaring even as he feels his whole body heat up with his embarrassment. Without his shirt, he knows that the other teens will know exactly how flustered he is by the words. Ah… how wonderful…

Still, like always, he refuses to back down. And so, head held high once again, he glares at Owada’s back, the biker not even giving him the decency of looking at him as he insults him. It really shouldn’t bother him as much as it seems to... 

“Excuse you! I will have you know that I have spoken to- to plenty of women!” is what he manages to get out, making him flush further. Ah, wait, no. That didn’t come out how he had wanted—

His thoughts are cut off as he hears Owada snort, amused lavender eyes finally looking over his broad shoulder and meeting Kiyotaka’s, causing him to get a bit tongue tied for no good reason. 

“Oh, yeah? Really? An’ how many a’ these ‘plenty a’ women’ ended that chat without slappin’ that pretty face a’ yours, huh?”

Kiyotaka cannot help the way he blinks at the words, at a loss for how to properly respond. On one hand, he deeply resents the insinuation that women have a tendency to slap him, even if it is a regretfully accurate one, for reasons he doubts Owada is even aware of. (From what he can tell, none of his classmates in his year have any idea who his grandfather is, let alone why that means they should hate him as well, which is honestly a huge relief to him, if true...)

But on the other...

Owada thinks his face is pretty? 

Surely not. It makes no sense! He knows for a fact that he’s not the most attractive man, his eyebrows so dark and thick that they practically take up his entire face. That’s not to mention how his mouth is almost permanently turned down into a bitter scowl despite his best efforts otherwise. And all that doesn’t even touch the highly bizarre and not a little intimidating color of his eyes, made worse by the intense stare he often has on! He’s been told many times how frightening his eyes alone can be, young children sometimes even screaming upon seeing him, their parents hurrying them away while glaring at Kiyotaka harshly, even though it wasn’t like it was his fault!

The point is, he’s never been called ‘pretty’ before. Not even as an insult, which he can only assume that Owada had used the word as. It must have been sarcasm or something similar. Kiyotaka has never really understood sarcasm, after all. It makes the most sense, though. More than the nonsensical idea that Owada genuinely finds him pretty! Ahahaha!!! 

Ha…

Realizing he’s spent far too long thinking about this, his body surely tomato red at this point, he determinedly scowls and glares, somehow, even harder. 

“T-that’s not true at all! I- I’ve had many nice conversations with women! Quite a few!” 

It’s not entirely the truth, but technically his mother counts as a woman, yes? And his great aunt, who had admittedly died when he’d been young, but it still counts! R-right?

Judging by the way Owada laughs, the sound harsh and cruel, he doubts the other teen will see it the same way…

“Oh yeah? Your mommy don’t count, ya know. But I’ll tell ya what. Tell me the name ofa chick ya actu’ly had a pleasant conversation with, ya nerd, an’ maybe I’ll believe ya. An’ don’t even think ‘bout lyin’ ta me. Ya suck at lyin’.” 

He unconsciously bites his lip, looking down resolutely at the ground, suddenly unable to hold those cruelly mocking eyes. He knows it’s admitting weakness, but he can’t help it. He has no idea what exactly the point of this conversation is, as it seems so asinine. And yet, judging by the cruel snickering Kuwata is letting out, there must be a point here. A point that he is just missing, likely due to his social ineptitude... 

It is interesting that Owada has noticed how terrible he is at lying, however. He hadn’t realized that he’s spent long enough around the other teen for him to notice such a thing… it might just be a bluff on the biker’s part, but somehow, he doubts it... 

Regardless! He needs to come up with a name, any name, and be truthful about it! Maybe when he’d been young, back Before everything changed? Or maybe during the rare time he was away from his hometown, individuals less likely to recognize him on sight? Or maybe-

Grinning suddenly, a name popping into his head, he jerks his head back up and stares at Owada almost gleefully, his eyes alight with relief and self-satisfaction with a happy smile rising unbidden on his lips. Because he realizes he does, in fact, have the name of a girl he’s spoken to and managed to have a pleasant conversation with! Many times! And it was recently, in fact! 

(Kiyotaka steadfastly ignores the suddenly blank way that Owada stares at him at his revelation, sure the other teen has found some fault in his moment of glee. He also ignores the way his eyes want to linger on the muscles of Owada’s arms as the teen subtly shifts so he’s facing Kiyotaka more, his arm dropping off Kuwata’s shoulder now that the redhead is watching with a smug air, his fists no longer clenched and poised to throw a punch. It’s not helpful, here. Instead, he focuses his eyes resolutely on Owada’s lavender ones, which truthfully isn’t much better, but at least is somewhat more socially acceptable...) 

“I do, in fact, have the name of a girl I have had a pleasant conversation with! Several pleasant conversations, in fact! I have spoken quite a few times with Fujisaki-kun! She is quite an intelligent young lady!” 

The smug feeling that he gets at his declaration is broken thoroughly as Kuwata begins to laugh, cold and harsh, sounding like he can’t catch his breath. Owada, to his credit, doesn’t laugh, but he does smirk, his eyes swimming with cruel amusement. It makes his stomach churn to see, his shoulders tensing as the smile slowly dies on his lips, the harsh look somehow hurting worse than Kuwata’s laughter. He’s not sure why, honestly... 

“Ah! Aha! Ahahaha! Y-you really think that’s a good come back, don’t ya, you effing nerd?! Aha! Ain’t nothin’ special about chatting up that pathetic little thing! Bet she was so scared stiff she ain’t even had the ability ta tell ya ta leave her alone, let alone raise her hand ta ya! That ain’t a pleasant conversation, ya moron, that’s a hostage situation! Ahahahaha!!!” 

The words make him stiffen even further, his stomach clenching unpleasantly at the words, eyes widening with what he knows to be hurt. W-what? N-no! He... he hadn’t forced Chihi- Fujisaki-kun to... t-to talk with him! They’d had that conversation on their first day, and since then they’ve had a couple of polite chats about this or that after class ended, usually about coursework. That... that wasn’t him forcing her to talk to him! S-sure, he’d been the one to initiate the conversation each time, but... but, well, he’d thought... h-he’d given her plenty of outs! Had done his best to make her feel comfortable, knowing the young girl was overly nervous about most things! 

Unless... oh. But wait… what if she wasn’t usually so nervous and it was just around him that she was so freaked out? To be honest, he’s never actually seen her interacting with anyone else, not when he wasn’t in sight at least, so maybe… m-maybe it was just- just him that she was so nervous around... m-maybe he has been, in fact, forcing her to talk to him against her- her will... oh no... o-oh........

To his shock, he watches with blurry eyes as Owada reels back and snarls at the redhead, his eyes full of anger. For one split second, Kiyotaka thinks that the other teen is about to defend him, his heart stopping at the thought, something like hope rising within him against his will.

But then Owada begins to talk, and he realizes he’s a fool if he honestly thought that Owada of all people would rise to his defense. 

He always has hated hope…

“Hey, shut the hell up, ya jackass! Fujisaki’s a nice chick, show her some goddamn respect! Chances are, she’s just too polite ta tell this asshole ta leave her ‘lone. But it ain’t surprisin’ ta me that ya would choose her, tightass,” Owada claims, turning his eyes back to Kiyotaka, that cruel glint back in them, his lips tilted in a harsh smirk. Kiyotaka tries to hide the pain that the look causes to shoot through him, his throat thick for reasons he hates himself for. He’s fairly certain he fails. If Owada notices, he doesn’t say anything, though. He just continues. “The one chick too nice ta turn your ass down. She’s a bit of a nerd like ya, too. No wonder ya’d cling ta her. Poor chick...” 

The words wound him deeply, probably more deeply than any fists could have. He... he hadn’t... he had just... he’d thought... but the biker’s right, isn’t he? He’s been selfish, forcing poor Chi- Fujisaki to speak with him…! The poor girl! Owada’s right, s-she’s just been too polite to tell him to leave her alone! H-he has to rectify his mistake, post haste! H-he... he has to... to find her and- and...

And what? What if he just makes her more nervous? Or upset? Oh no! He wouldn’t want that! H-he... 

Pathetic, isn’t he? Can’t even make a single friend… can’t even have a single pleasant conversation with anyone without doing something wrong… 

He can feel the tears building in his eyes, and he can feel two sets of eyes boring into him. He knows that Kuwata is noticing the tears, the teen beginning to laugh again, over his offense at Owada’s reprimand. He bites his lip to try and contain the darn things, but he can no more stop the tears than he could stop the rain. As soon as the first one begins to fall, more and more follow, ugly and pathetic. 

Like he is…

Knowing that it’s time to retreat, no matter how much the thought pains him, he stiffly marches to the locker he’d put his things in, trying to cling desperately to any hint of dignity he may still have. Sadly, the echoing of Kuwata’s cruel laughter chases any sense of dignity he may have away, his chest numb and his heart aching. The only thing he can even slightly say about this whole thing is that at least Owada isn’t laughing, too. But somehow, he thinks the dark stare he gets instead is worse, in a way. 

So much for the teen not being a bully, huh? He hadn’t even done anything to the teen. Not today, at least… and never anything that the teen hadn’t previously earned through his own actions…

He quickly grabs his towel and dries himself off, the sweat and water from earlier still clinging lightly to his chest. He then hurriedly puts on his undershirt, deciding to forgo the usual shower he takes after his workout, his pristine uniform folded nearly in his bag. He can just take one once he gets to his room. It... it’s fine. 

He... he’s fine. 

It... he... he’s fine, he… he…

Maybe if he says it enough times, it will become true? 

His eyes are still stubbornly leaking tears as he hurries out of the exercise room and through the hallways, the path not crowded, but he can still feel the phantom sensation of eyes following him. He doesn’t know if it’s real or not, but he supposes it doesn’t really matter. It’s not like he’s never publicly made a fool of himself before. Sure, he’s been hoping he could prevent himself from doing such a thing here at Hope’s Peak, but he should have known he’d fail at that. He always has before. 

It’s right as he’s at the entrance to the dorm hallway, his dorm tantalizingly within sight, that he hears someone call his name, the tone high pitched and one that makes his heart clench painfully. He turns guilty eyes onto the young girl that is hurriedly rushing over to him, concern in her big and bright eyes. It cuts to the heart of him. It... well, it certainly looks like she’s concerned, yes? But... but...

“Kiyotaka-san! Are you alright?” he hears the girl ask again, now standing right before him. He can’t help but notice how she is quite a bit shorter than he is, not to mention frailer. He doesn’t like the thought that he’s somehow intimidating her into spending time with him, but... what if he is? What if she’s only doing this because she thinks she has to, or else he’ll... he’ll... he doesn’t know… hurt her? He would never dream of such a thing! He refuses to hurt people even twice his size, let alone a young girl much smaller than himself! But… maybe she doesn’t realize that…?

“K-Kiyotaka? D-did you hear me?” 

The repeated question brings him out of his stupor, and he smiles as brightly as he can. Judging by her wide-eyed look at the expression, it looks more terrifying than reassuring. 

It always does…

“I- I’m perfectly fine, Chi- Fujisaki-kun! Y-you needn’t worry about me at all! H-how are you?!” 

He winces internally at the shouted words, the programmer’s eyes going even wider at the tone, looking worried. Probably- p-probably concerned that he is going to hurt her! Oh no! 

“O-oh! I- I’m good! B-but, Kiyotaka, a-are you sure you’re okay? Y-you look like you’ve been crying… a-and I told you that you can call me Chihiro, i-if you’d like...” 

Kiyotaka blinks at the concerned sounding words, the girl looking at him earnestly. But... he... she must be trying to be kind! He... right? 

R… right?

He doesn’t know. He… he just doesn’t know. His chest is aching, his eyes burning, and all he wants to do is head to his room and take a long, hot shower, washing away the sweat and grime of the day. And then, after that, he will head to the library and get to work on next week’s assignments. It’s a weekend, but that doesn’t mean he can slack off! He... it doesn’t matter if he has friends here or not. If he is intimidating Fujisaki, then he is most regretful of that fact, but it is not something he can spend time dwelling on. 

Sure, maybe part of him had wished he could be something like friends with the young girl, something about her manner reminding him a little of himself, though in a very opposite way. And it would have been nice, he guesses, to be friends with her. 

But he can’t stand the thought that maybe Owada and Kuwata are right. That Fujisaki is just being nice, humoring him for whatever reason the girl has. Maybe she is being genuine and is just genuinely a good person and wants to be his friend, but he can’t take that risk. Can’t risk taking advantage of her good nature or of terrifying the poor girl half to death. And besides, it’s not like he can drag the poor girl into his own mess! He’s not worth the effort it would put the girl through, even if she thinks she could handle it! 

He’s too messed up for that… and he knows it.

So, despite the ache in his chest, he does his best to soften his mouth, his lips doing their best to mimic a facsimile of a smile. He thinks it’s better than his last attempt, because Fujisaki doesn’t flinch at the look, and rather smiles timidly back. He carefully raises a hand up and wipes away the tears, shrugging casually. 

“O-oh, this? You needn’t worry for me, Fujisaki-kun! I can handle myself! It is nothing that need affect you! And I thank you for your permission, I will take it into consideration! Now, if you will excuse me, I have some studying to do!” 

With one last, awkward smile, he nods tensely at the girl and strides over to his room, fumbling with his key card to open the door. He can hear Fujisaki stammer behind him, and he has a moment to feel bad for the almost harsh way he is treating her. If she truly is genuine in her desire to befriend him, then his actions must be very hurtful right now... b-but! It is for the better! She may not see that, but he does, now at least. He does pause in his doorway for a moment when he hears the girl call after him, her voice high pitched but steady. 

“Oh, okay, Kiyotaka-san! I-if you’d like to get together and study sometime, feel free to let me know!” Fujisaki calls to him, waving goodbye as she heads over to her dorm, a few rooms down from his. Kiyotaka watches her as she goes, frozen in place. He jolts into action when he hears her door click shut, his face flushing as he finally enters his room, stomach churning. 

That... that didn’t sound like she hated him. Did it? No... not really. It genuinely sounded like she wants to study with him. Maybe she has realized he’s a good student and wants to study with him to get ahead? But that doesn’t make too much sense, she’s a very smart person as well, much smarter than him. He doubts she’d need his help studying. If he didn’t like her as much as he does, he’d almost call her a genius, but she’s not as lazy as that! He doesn’t think, at least... so why would she need studying help? Why…

Ah. But this all doesn’t matter! He’s confusing himself. He shakes his head angrily as he carefully removes his undershirt, blushing lightly as he realizes Fujisaki had seen him wearing only the thin material. He then removes his pants and underwear, folds both articles to place in his laundry, and enters his bathroom, the best thing about his room, by far. He’d never had a good shower before, the one at his apartment barely having a steady stream of water for him on a good day, rarely warm, so having a shower with amazing water pressure and what seems like endless hot water is like a dream come true. Kiyotaka knows that if he wasn’t such a studious person, he’d willingly shirk all his responsibilities just to stay in this glorious thing. 

But that would be irresponsible. So instead, he makes sure to schedule at most twenty minutes a day for him to take a warm shower, usually at the end of the day before he goes to bed. And after workouts he also takes a shower, but he typically uses the communal showers by the changing room for that, which is also a good shower, but to a lesser degree, especially considering the public nature of it. 

As he steps into his own, perfect shower, he must admit that it truly helps him relax from the strain of the last twenty some-odd minutes. Even before turning the water on, just standing in the fairly large cubicle makes his shoulders relax from the tight line he’d forced them into at some point. Huh. He hadn’t even noticed how tense he’d gotten until right now. No wonder Fujisaki was concerned! She’s such a nice girl…

She doesn’t deserve to be saddled with a nuisance like himself... 

Despite what she had said to him, Kiyotaka silently resolves to stay away from the programmer for the foreseeable future. As he lathers up his body with the cheap shampoo slash body wash that he usually uses, he figures that it’s the best course of action. He won’t be rude to her, not on purpose! But... but she deserves better than to have to waste her time on someone like him. It doesn’t matter if Owada and Kuwata are right or not. If Fujisaki does enjoy his company or not. That’s never what has mattered. 

What matters, he knows, as he stands in the shower, chest heaving for stupid reasons, is that he’s an Ishimaru. A social pariah. It seems like no one at this school really knows who he is, or what his grandfather had done, but he’s fairly certain that if they ever found out, they’d feel the same way as his previous classmates. After all, how could the Ultimate Moral Compass be related to such a dishonorable man? Clearly it couldn’t be true. Clearly Kiyotaka would have had to have cheated to be allowed into such a prestigious school with such a title. He hadn’t, of course, but that’s beside the point! 

Once they find out, they’ll be angry that he fooled them all for so long. Even if it’s only a week, that’s still too long, to be honest. If Kiyotaka were as moral as the school thinks him to be, he’d tell them all himself, right now! But...

But… well.

He’s too big of a coward.

See… it’s one thing to be hated for something out of his control and to deal with it with as much grace as he possibly can, like he’s done practically his entire life. But it… it’s another thing entirely to be a willing participant in his own torment. He’s never been a masochist, after all! Not really…

So, he won’t (can’t) tell them, but he has no hope that they won’t find out eventually. He’s never had any good luck whatsoever, after all. They will find out, one day. Some day. And when they do... well. They’ll hate him. If he hasn’t made them hate him already by then... aha. And this… this he knows better than he knows anything else. Such a thing is just… inevitable. He can’t stop it. He’s too powerless to do such a thing. Too… too weak… pathetic…

However… however, the one thing he can do is stay away from them all. To prevent them from possibly growing attached to him, to protect them when his secret does come out. And his secret will come out, of that he has no doubt. If he keeps to himself... if the only way his classmates see him is as an authority and a school resource... maybe it won’t be so bad, then. He’s had plenty of people take him up on tutoring help at his old schools, despite their hatred of him. Schoolwork often comes before personal hatred and grievances, after all! And he’s always been a hall monitor, despite everyone hating him, too.

So, he determines as he rinses off the suds— arm motion lethargic and slow for reasons he knows are ridiculous— he can follow his role as a Hall Monitor and as a Tutor, if anyone desires that, but no more. He won’t allow himself to think of the frankly stupid notion of becoming friends with any of them. Not even acquaintances. He… he’s not that foolish. 

He’s learned not to be…

With a sigh, and a weary heart that he resolutely ignores, Kiyotaka shuts off the water and moves to get out of the shower. But, for some reason, his legs refuse to move. He stands there, the warm steam from the shower slowly dissipating from the air and welcoming in a bitter chill, staring blankly at the faucet, watching the last few droplets of water drip, drip, drip…

Alright. So... so, maybe he had wanted to befriend some of his classmates. Maybe he had wanted them to like him— not because they had to or felt pressured to, but because they just... genuinely liked him. It’s stupid, and foolish, and even if he didn’t have the secret of his grandfather over his head, he knows it never would have worked out. People don’t ‘like’ Kiyotaka. Even before fully knowing who he is, people have never liked him. He’s too awkward. Self-righteous. Socially inept. Intense. All of those other words people have called him with sneering faces and taunting tones. All of those insults and torments they’d hurl at him. 

Did he think that Ultimates would believe otherwise? They’re the smartest and most capable people in the world! If anyone would be able to see how utterly worthless and pathetic he is, it would be them! He’d have to be stupid to think otherwise, and he is not stupid. If there’s one thing he knows, it’s that he’s not stupid. He spends every waking moment preparing himself, mentally and physically, so that he wouldn’t be stupid. 

And it’s fine! It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine! He doesn’t need them to like him, he doesn’t need them to be friends with him! He just needs to do well in school, to tutor those who desire it, and to stay out of their way! Like he’s always done! I-it’s foolish to want for more... it’s foolish to hope for more!

After all... 

Hope always, inevitably, leads to despair. 

He’s learned that the hard way, too…

Forcing his legs to move, his body riddled with gooseflesh while his eyes become stupidly blurry again, Kiyotaka wraps himself up in a white, fluffy towel and tries to stop the shivering. The school ensures that the building is kept reasonably warm all throughout, but he can’t stop the chill that is attacking him. Maybe he should call the office and ask them if there is something wrong with his thermostat... or maybe not. He wouldn’t want to bother them, after all... to be more of a burden than he already is…

He stalks over to his dresser and takes out a fresh uniform, sighing in relief at the feeling of a fresh, clean uniform on his newly clean skin. It’s a feeling he’s always loved, the feeling of being clean. It’s something he’s shamefully not felt very much in his life... after all, it’s hard to fully clean yourself when the water in your apartment is shut off more often than not and you can only afford to head to the local bathhouse once a week, at most. At least he doesn’t have to worry about that here! Aha! Ha…

Blinking back the water in his eyes, he takes a seat at his desk and takes out his physics textbook. He’s already finished all of his work for the week, in all his classes, but he might as well try and get ahead! Especially since he’s already so far behind! He’ll head to the library later and find other books on the subject, see if he can’t find more information that will make this all make more sense. He’d go right now, but... well, it’s probably best he stays in, right at this moment. Just... it’s probably best. 

This is how things will have to go. He will study, either in his room or in the library, and he will patrol the halls. He will keep order in this school, no matter the consequences. He will not allow himself such delusions as to hope for friends or even acquaintances. Studying… learning… this is what he will do. This is what he has come here to do. This is what is required of him. This is what he has come to expect. This is what he understands and accepts. And he does. He accepts it.

He just wishes it didn’t make him feel so incredibly lonely... 

Chapter Text

“Hey, Kiyotaka-san! Come join us for lunch!” 

Kiyotaka feels his shoulders stiffen at the loud, friendly voice that echoes through the modestly full dining room, his heart beginning to race. He can feel as eyes fall on him and he’s starting to sweat at the scrutiny. 

It’s currently Friday afternoon, their third week of classes starting to wind down, and Kiyotaka is holding his tray of cheap, carefully assorted food. Basic meals here at Hope’s Peak are free for all students, with more elaborate meals costing a little extra yen, but he’s always just stuck to rice balls and a cheap protein, such as chicken, pork, or more often than not legumes as his main entrée. It’s a beans kind of night, tonight, it seems. For a side he has a fairly decently sized side salad, consisting of big, leafy greens and other vitamin rich vegetables. Finally, he has an apple and banana, with a cool glass of water to top it all off. He’s always found that a good diet is important! And now that he can actually afford to have a good diet, he makes the most of it! 

Most of the time, he sits by himself for lunch, eyes keen for any misbehaving students. He eats his lunch as quick as he can, his stomach always churning to see the other students laughing and chatting with one another, though he does his best to shove the feeling away. Once he’s done, on the days he’s scheduled for lunch duty (which is most days, as his fellow Hall Monitors don’t tend to like the duty), he will then stand off to the side of the room, checking for misbehavior. 

Since that first Saturday, he’s kept to his promise to himself. He’s stayed away from his fellows, other than to patrol the hallways and give out detentions. He’s also started to give out merit tickets, as well, something he’d learned about in his morality class to reward good behavior. Sadly, he doesn’t tend to give out too many of them, though not for a lack of wanting... 

Additionally, he has been contacted to help tutor a few students in his year, now that their first exams are coming up. Asahina and Maizono have already had a general tutoring session with him, the girls smiling thankfully at him for the study schedule he’d made for them. Hagakure was practically forced to see him for tutoring help by the headmaster, since the man (and he’s actually a man, as much older than them as he is) has been held back several years so far and the headmaster does want him to graduate one of these days. Kiyotaka will be meeting with him tomorrow at noon, the supposedly clairvoyant man having said he has ‘predicted’ it will be the best possible time. He doesn’t quite know what that means, but it’s not too big of a hassle for him, so he’s agreed to it. 

However, as of now, he’s managed to avoid people who want to spend time with him for reasons that are not academic. He has been giving Fujisaki polite but firm refusals to her requests to spend time with him, even her requests to study together. He feels very bad about it, but after a couple of refusals, she seems to have given up. He tends to see her by herself, now, the girl not really talking to the other girls, but also not talking to the boys, either. She seems sad, most days, which makes him feel even worse about it all, but it’s better this way. It’s better for her to be alone than for her to grow any form of an attachment to Kiyotaka. At least Mako- Naegi has been trying to include her when he can. He often sees the pair chatting quietly together, before and after class ends. That’s good. At least she’s not entirely alone… 

Unfortunately, Naegi has also been extending such pleasantries to him, calling to him before and after classes as well, not seeming to feel any pressure at the prospect of starting a new school as one of the only ‘normal’ students. So far, he’s been able to politely avoid the conversations, professing his need to study or get to their next class early to help the teacher set up, but there’s only so much he can do without seeming rude. 

And here, standing ramrod straight in the middle of the dining hall, Naegi’s request seeming to linger in the air, he isn’t sure if he can deny it without being hopelessly rude. 

Maybe... maybe he can pretend he hadn’t heard? But no, he’d stupidly frozen when he’d heard the words, and is still standing still several seconds later. It would be very suspicious if he tries to pretend that he hadn’t heard. Especially since— when he glances over— he can see Naegi waving his arms wildly, the boy making his request a second time, seeming to not care for the commotion he’s making. It makes his cheeks flush, but he cannot reasonably leave now, not if he doesn’t want to be rude. And moral people shouldn’t be needlessly rude! 

So, with only slight stiffness in his movements, he finds himself marching over to the table that is filled with quite a few students in their year, all looking at him with pleasant smiles. 

He tries to smile back as he reaches the table, though he knows it’s strained and ugly. The people around the table kindly don’t bring it up. He lets his eyes sweep over the occupants, nerves mounting as he does. He sees both Asahina and Ogami sitting off to the side, the pair likely having been chatting to one another before he’d arrived, and they turned to smile at him. He flushes at the sight of the latter girl, reminded of his horrible blunder the second week of school. He’d utterly mortified himself by mistaking Ogami as male, not female, and he’s still horrified not only that he’d made such a mistake, but that he’d said it to the girl! Luckily, she’d not taken too much offense and had just said that she’s used to it, but he wouldn’t have faulted her if she had chosen to hit him for his error. He wouldn’t have even been that upset had she done so. He’s lucky she’s such a nice girl! 

Across from the pair sits Maizono and Fujisaki, who had also been chatting softly, though he would bet that Maizono had been doing most of the talking. He carefully adverts his eyes from the latter girl, still feeling horrible for the way he’s been practically avoiding her. While he knows it’s for the best, she probably doesn’t realize that, and he has enough knowledge about people to know that being avoided, especially when you don’t know why, can really hurt. He… he has had a lot of experience with that… ha... this is, of course, if she genuinely wanted to be his friend. Which he doesn’t honestly know one way or the other if she ever did or not. But it doesn’t matter, either way. He knows this more than anything else.

The final occupant of the table, Naegi, is currently half standing adjacent to both sets of girls, smiling brightly at Kiyotaka, his lunch half eaten on the table before him. 

“Hey, Kiyotaka! I’m glad you were able to join us! Take a seat wherever you’d like,” Naegi claims, sitting back down himself. Kiyotaka nods stiffly and moves to sit at the last side of the table, across from Naegi and adjacent to Ogami and Maizono but not directly beside anyone. He sets his food down and stares at it blankly, not quite sure what he should be doing. Should he... say something? Do they expect him to say something? But what can he say? Well, he supposes he can thank them for being kind enough to invite him over...

“Thank you, Naegi-kun, for inviting me to sit! I most appreciate it!” he half shouts, internally wincing at the volume. Ah, no... he hadn’t meant to be so loud...

Luckily, Naegi doesn’t seem to mind, the boy just smiling brightly and nodding quick. 

“Of course! I’ve been trying to invite you all week, but you always seem so busy. Do you always take lunch duty?” Naegi asks, head tilted in question. He doesn’t seem to be judging him, but it makes Kiyotaka flush regardless, reminded of all his former classmates who’d taunt him for his dedication to his duty. Naegi doesn’t seem the type to be judgmental, and seems to just genuinely be curious, but...

Deciding to play it safe, Kiyotaka nods firmly, fighting the urge to stare down at his lunch to avoid looking at the boy. While direct eye contact can be considered rude, he should always at least look at his companion in some way, to show that he is engaged in the conversation! His father has taught him that well! 

“Of course! The other Hall Monitors do not like the assignment, but I do not mind it at all! It is of the upmost importance to keep order at this school at all times!” 

He manages to reduce his volume this time, but he’s still far too forceful, he knows. Still, Naegi doesn’t comment on it, just nods seriously. 

“Oh, of course! I completely understand. Well, whenever you’re not doing your duty, you can feel free to sit here with us! None of us mind, right guys?” 

Naegi looks at the other occupants of the table, who all nod their heads, some more emphatically than others. 

“Yeah! It’s totally cool for you to sit with us if you’d like, Ishimaru-san! Thanks again for the tutoring help, by the way, that schedule is sooo helpful!” Asahina pipes in, smiling brightly. Ogami nods once as well. 

“Yes, you do not need to sit in the corner by yourself if you do not wish. Join us whenever you’d like,” the larger girl says, eyes intense on him. He tries not to flush at the scrutiny. 

“A-ah! I shall, uh, keep that in mind!” Kiyotaka stammers, feeling awkward and self-conscious. He then tacks on, “thank you for your kindness!” while bowing his head, hoping that it can make up for his awkward words.

No one calls him out on it, again, and instead the table goes back to their previous conversations, finishing their meals. Pretty soon, they all begin to talk about a show they all have seen that Kiyotaka has not (even if it weren’t a waste of time to sit around watching television, his apartment hadn’t had one anyway, and he has no idea how to work the one in his dorm), letting him fade to the background while he quickly eats his lunch. He doesn’t have lunch duty today, since the administration only lets him take four of the five available slots (even though he’s told them he truly doesn’t mind the assignment), so he doesn’t have to rush quite as much today. Still, he feels awkward sitting here, feeling too much like an outsider for his own good. 

Once or twice, either Naegi or Asahina (who tells him to call her Hina, which he politely says he will consider) try to bring him into the conversation, telling him about the plot of the show, which seems fairly convoluted from what he can tell, though he’d never be so rude as to say such a thing. However, they don’t force him to talk and accept his nods of the head, which he appreciates. He’d probably just annoy them anyway, even if he did try and make conversation... he always does.

Eventually they stop trying to include him, which he tries to feel happy with, but instead only feels cold inside. It’s perplexing. He’d wanted them to leave him alone, right? So, why does he feel so wrong inside when they do?

(Well, maybe because he truly doesn’t want them to leave him alone, not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact… but that’s counterproductive to think about, so he forces it away.)

Finally, he finishes the last of his meal, the last of his rice vanishing into his stomach. Part of him feels reluctant to leave the table, as it’s nice to be surrounded by others even if he is not talking, but he knows better than to linger. They probably only invited him to be nice, anyway. He’d hate to abuse their kindness... 

It’s when he stands ten minutes after his arrival, hoping to excuse himself with just a polite farewell, that all eyes at the table turn to him curiously. Even Maizono looks at him questioningly, her perfectly made-up lips pulled down in a frown. A-ah... he’s made an error, hasn’t he? 

“Oh! You finished quickly, Kiyotaka! Do you have somewhere to be?” Naegi questions, head tilted innocently, making Kiyotaka’s stomach clench. The question sounds genuine enough, but something about it seems almost pointed. Like Naegi is judging him. He tries to push the thought away, not wanting to think unfairly of the kind boy, but he can’t quite manage it. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tries to smile again and nods tightly. The smile feels dead on his lips. 

“A-ah! Yes! I, uh, have a lot of studying to do! Our first exams start next week, and I still need to go over that essay that we were assigned in history last week!” he claims, though he’s long since finished the essay, and has been fully prepared for the exams for over a week now. Still! It never hurts to study more, and to go over the essay a twentieth time! You never know what mistakes might be lurking! 

Naegi frowns at the reply, but doesn’t question it, just nods slowly, smiling a moment later. 

“Oh, okay then. Well, I wanted to ask you something before you left. See, our class has set up a group outing tomorrow at 1:30. I was wondering if you’d like to join us? I know that it’s pretty last minute, but it’s not anything major. We’ll probably just wander around that nearby mall, doing some window shopping, looking at what’s there, things like that. I-it should be a good way to get to know each other, you know? Y-you don’t have to decide now, though, if you don’t want. If you want to come, you can meet us in the entrance hall around 1:30,” Naegi claims, smiling brightly at him. Kiyotaka feels frozen by the look, noticing the girls nodding at him from the corner of his eyes. Fujisaki, however, is staring down at her plate, not looking at him anymore. He wonders if he’s offended her. She probably wouldn’t want him there anyway. He should refuse. 

“A-ah! I shall consider it!” is what he says, bowing his head, not wanting to offend. Naegi accepts it gracefully, smiling brightly at him as he wishes him good luck with his studying. Kiyotaka nods tightly once more before hurrying away, throwing his trash out efficiently. He then rushes to the library, eyes firmly ahead of him, not wanting any more distractions. (Especially not ones attached to the lavender eyes that he feels watching him, always and incessantly.)

He spends the rest of the day going over his notes and textbooks, over and over, hoping to drown out the utterly absurd idea of joining his classmates on their excursion. Naegi probably only asked to be nice, and it’s very unlikely anyone else would want him there, regardless. It’s safer to stay away. He knows that.

When 1:30 comes and goes the following day, Kiyotaka stays exactly where he is, sitting in the library, creating an extensive tutoring schedule for Hagakure, realizing that the air-headed man is definitely going to need it. 

He tries to force away the ludicrous idea that he should go and join them. Hagakure had even mentioned it when he’d left half an hour before, absently saying that it would be ‘totally neat’ if he wanted to show up. Kiyotaka just said what he always says— that he’d consider it. Which is true! He does consider it. In fact, he would say that he considers it a lot! 

He ultimately decides against it and tries not to let the intense loneliness bother him as he writes the study schedule on the paper before him. 

It only partially works. 

Chapter Text

Kiyotaka holds the phone tightly against his face, biting his lip gently as his father tells him stories about the precinct, the man sounding as tired as he always does. His heart is clenched tight as he hears the harried tone, knowing that it will soon be time to hang up, the one time he gets to hear his father speak to him gone far too quick. He knows, though, that he will be unable to come up with another topic for them to talk about once his father has finished his current topic, and so a swift ending is likely the best choice.

Currently, Kiyotaka is standing outside the Headmaster’s office, using one of the phones that line the hallway for student use, calling home like he has done for the past few Sundays. He’d even say that it’s become something of a tradition of theirs, talking together on Sunday night after his father gets off his shift, even though it’s only the third time they’ve done it thus far. Neither of them has much time to chat more often than that, what with his father being endlessly busy with work during the week and Kiyotaka focusing solely on his schoolwork and duties. It’s nice, though, to talk to his father, who he’s come to realize he misses very, very much. He’s never spent so long away from the man and— while they’ve not been very close in years— he still loves and cares for him deeply, and speaking with him is very soothing, even with the awkwardness.

Not that the awkwardness is not present, of course. It is. It always is, since neither of them really knows how to talk to the other, not anymore. And, in fact, today it is even more awkward, since he’d made the mistake of telling his father about the lunch he’d shared with his classmates on Friday. Since his first call home, his father has been asking him about his fellow classmates, asking if they’re treating him well and if he’s made any friends. Usually, he just says that he’s been too busy studying to talk with them, but that they’ve been very kind to him, at least. Today, however, when his father asked, he’d told him the truth, that he’s been speaking to them casually and that Naegi had invited him to eat with them two days prior.

This news had, to his surprise, made his father sound very happy. Far happier than he’d assumed that it would, honestly. The man had spent over a minute saying how it would be good for him to socialize more, how even studying could be put on hold for an hour or two to spend time with friends, as long as he doesn’t fall behind. The line of conversation had made Kiyotaka’s stomach churn, knowing why exactly he can’t allow himself to grow close to his classmates, but also knowing he could never tell his father about it, for fear of making the man feel guilty.

In order to not deal with the gnawing ache inside him, he’d hastily changed the subject, asking about the cases his father is currently working on, far too obvious for even a child to not notice his evasion. As such, he knows that his father had picked up on the change in conversation, but he’d thankfully not brought it up. Instead, he had awkwardly launched into a story about the case he is currently working on. Something about a string of robberies that have stumped them all, a story that he is just about finishing up on. 

Kiyotaka looks at the clock in the hallway (his watch refusing to turn on anymore, making him rely on other means of telling time), and is a bit disappointed to see that it is almost 9:00 pm, curfew starting in one hour. Despite the awkwardness, he does love to speak with his father, the one person on the planet who can even somewhat tolerate his presence. But… there is nothing for it. He… he must say goodbye.

With a soft sigh, Kiyotaka wishes his father well, the man returning the words pleasantly. He then listens with a churning stomach as the man tells him to consider what he’d said earlier, about making an effort with his classmates. 

“Hope’s Peak is different, son. They don’t know who you are. You can use this opportunity to meet new people and make friends. You deserve the chance to unwind, alright?” his father says softly, his tired voice a little less forceful than it usually is. It makes his chest ache to hear, knowing that he can’t do as his father asks for once, knowing why such a thing is impossible, but he does what he always does at such requests. 

“I shall think about it, father! Thank you for your kind words! I should be going, I have to finish up my laundry before curfew, so if you would excuse me!” Kiyotaka professes, hoping his father doesn’t hear the waver in his tone. Either the man doesn’t, or he pretends he doesn’t, since all he gets is a soft sigh and a polite farewell, like always, before the dial tone sounds. Despite that, he keeps the phone pressed tight to his ear for several moments longer, listening to the drone as it sounds. He shakes himself out of it a moment later and hangs the phone up with only a little too much force, pushing back the foolish tears that have no reason to be in his eyes. He doesn’t have time for tears. After all, he’d not been lying when he’d said he had laundry to do!

“Oh hey, Kiyotaka!” he hears someone call to him as he turns to go, his head full of his plans for his clothe cleaning regimen. He blinks at the unexpected interruption and feels his stomach churn even further when he turns to see Naegi’s smiling face. A-ah. Of course. The boy— who Kiyotaka knows has taken to calling home every night between 8:00 and 9:00, preferring to use the school phone to his personal cellular one for reasons Kiyotaka cannot fathom— must have just finished his phone call as well and decided it was a good time to strike up a conversation. Which is exactly what Kiyotaka has been trying to avoid all day…

After the group excursion the previous day, he’d remained in either the library or his room, going out only briefly to make himself a quick dinner before rushing back, not wanting to run into anyone and be asked why he hadn’t shown, not wanting to have to explain his rude actions. (Or, worse, for no one to even have noticed his absence in the first place…)

He’d done the same thing today as well, which is why he’s put off doing his laundry so late. Usually, he’d have had it done by now, so he wouldn’t run even the slightest risk of missing curfew, as such a thing would be absolutely mortifying for him, really. However… he hadn’t wanted to run into any of his classmates, either, and so he’d conceded to starting his laundry an hour before calling his father, knowing the dryer would be done by the time his phone call ended, and knowing that ironing wouldn’t take him longer than forty-five minutes. 

However… standing here, cornered by the one person he least wants to see, it seems that his best laid plans have failed him. So what else is new, really?

God… why can’t Naegi just leave him alone?

(He ignores the pang of pain the thought causes to shoot through him, not having time to deal with such nonsense right now.)

When he hears Naegi shuffle awkwardly, he realizes suddenly that it’s been too long without him replying, making him look incredibly rude. Not wanting that, he looks up at the lucky boy and smiles. It feels strange and wrong.

Again… what else is new?

“Ah! Naegi-kun! How are you today?!” he shout-asks, hating the volume like always. Luckily, Naegi just smiles, either not noticing or not caring that he’s yelling again. 

“Oh, I’m doing alright! I just wanted to talk to you if you don’t mind. I haven’t had the chance to see you recently, ha. We, uh… we missed you at the get-together yesterday! Did something come up?”

The words are not said maliciously. Kiyotaka can tell that, as the boy genuinely looks curious and not at all judging, and yet… and yet, Kiyotaka cannot help but hear the accusation. The judgement. Why couldn’t you bother to show up, huh? We were kind enough to invite you and you couldn’t even be grateful enough to show? he hears echo in his head, causing shame to flow through his body. He knows Naegi would never say such words to him, the boy far too kind, but he almost wishes the teen would.

He’d deserve it.

Instead of saying anything like that, knowing how stupid such a thing would be, he just nods firmly, only a little too forceful. 

“Ah! Y-yes,” he stammers, eyes darting at the lie he’s about to tell like always, “I was terribly busy! Exams, you know! Plus, a student I’m tutoring needs a bit more... assistance than I’d anticipated and I’d needed the time to create a more thorough tutoring schedule for them!”

Kiyotaka pauses, his stomach full of knots, as he considers his next sentence, the words only half formed in his mind. Before he can talk himself out of it, he finds himself asking, “w-was I, uh... the only one in our class to not show?” 

The words are spoken much softer and with less force than normal, which is almost worse, he thinks. Stupid! Why would he ask such an asinine thing?! Now Naegi is going to know how pathetic he is! If he didn’t already! Well... maybe, now that he does, the boy will finally leave him alone? That… that’s what he wants, right?

He ignores the pain that accompanies the thought. 

However, contrary to what he expects (fears)… Naegi just shakes his head, eyes wide. 

“Oh, no! Don’t worry, other people were busy too! The get-together was kind of created very last minute, so not everyone was free. Togami-san didn’t show, neither did Kirigiri-san or Fukawa-san. Enoshima-san and her sister had a prior arrangement as well, so they didn’t come either. And I don’t think anyone had a chance to ask Owada-san,” Naegi confesses, cheeks turning a shade pink as he shrugs awkwardly. “I- I, uh. I’m a little intimidated by him, ha... Kuwata-san says he’ll ask him to join next week, though, since we all thought it would be nice to make this a regular thing, for those who can make it. And you can come too if you’re not busy! Or we can create a study group! It would be nice for all of us to get together sometime, you know. I mean… if you want. I don’t want to force you! And, uh... if I’m being too overbearing, feel free to let me know. I wouldn’t want to annoy you.”

Something about the boy’s nervous tone, combined with the way his eyes dart to the side, makes Kiyotaka feel like utter garbage. He’s the first to confess that he’s not the best with deciphering what other people are thinking and feeling, as he’s woefully socially inept, but even he can tell the boy is feeling awkward. Oh no! He hadn’t wanted that! He has to find a way to rectify this!

“A-ah! Do not worry, Naegi-kun, you are not annoying me at all! I- I apologize for missing yesterday! I am just very busy! B-but I appreciate the invitation and will think about adjusting my schedule accordingly for next week! A-and, as for the study group, I am uncertain if such a thing would be desired, but if so, I will not deny you! I will do all I can to help you and our classmates with their schoolwork, if it is needed!”

Oh no, he’s rambling, isn’t he? Oh no… oh dear! He wants to fidget, but his father has always told him that fidgeting is a nasty habit, one that he’s worked very hard over the years to curtail. However, as he sees Naegi’s wide-eyed look, he cannot help the nerves that flood through him, loosening his tongue, his volume way too high, his words way too loose and coming out in a panicked rush. He’s not quite yelling, as he wouldn’t dare break the ‘no yelling in the halls’ rule, but it’s still far louder than it should be. Oh no… 

“B-but... you needn’t feel pressured to make such invitations to me, Naegi-kun! I- I do not expect such a thing from you if you wish not to! I know that my presence is a highly distasteful one, and I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated to invite me where I am unwanted! You are a very kind and caring young man, but you needn’t make such requests to someone as inept as I, I assure you! I would hate to burden you so! I- I am fine being alone! I swear!” 

Oh no, oh no, oh no! Why had he said all that?! He can feel his body sweating and his hands beginning to shake, everything in him screaming at him for revealing so much. If only he weren’t such an idiot, he’d never have let so much slip out! Now Naegi is going to look at him with disgust, finally realizing how pathetic and worthless Kiyotaka is! He’ll revoke his invitation and tell him to never talk to him again, ever! I-it’s what he deserves, he knows it is, but now that it’s about to happen, he suddenly wishes that things were different. That… that his presence wasn’t so utterly abhorrent to other people. That he could allow himself to make friends, to be normal for once. But such a wish is a worthless one. After all, how could it ever come true? It couldn’t. It can’t. Not- not when he is… is so utterly horrible and… a-and pathetic… and now… n-now Naegi will see that and… a-and h-hate him…

And yet... and yet, as he glances worriedly at Naegi, it is not disgust he sees filling the young man’s eyes, like he expects. Instead… instead, it is something far, far worse. 

Pity.

“W-what?! No! That’s wrong! Your presence isn’t unpleasant at all! I-is... is that why you’ve not been joining us? Because… because you think we don’t want you there?” 

Kiyotaka’s insides are squirming furiously at the soft words, hating the sad way the boy is looking at him, like he’s a kicked puppy that Naegi wants to bundle up and save. Oh no, this is so much worse than he’d feared! He- he’s somehow tricked Naegi into thinking that he’s someone he should be worried about! N-now the boy will force himself to be nice to Kiyotaka, even though he wants nothing more than to abandon him, all because the boy is so nice! Oh no!!!

He doesn’t get a chance to stammer anything out, however, before Naegi plows on, eyes suddenly forceful and determined. 

“Kiyotaka, I promise you, I don’t mind talking to you at all! I’ve enjoyed our conversations very much! I- I don’t know who told you that they didn’t want you around, but I promise I’m not lying, or just being nice. I really would like to get to know you, okay? If I’m making you feel uncomfortable, I’m really sorry, I know I can be a bit overbearing at times. I, uh, came from a bit of an overbearing family, ha... b-but please don’t worry about me just doing this because I feel like I have to or anything! I wouldn’t do that! I promise, Kiyotaka, okay?”

Kiyotaka knows that the boy is trying to be kind, that his earnest expression is genuine and that he truly means his words. But... but he can’t accept them. Because… well. Even if Naegi means them now, that doesn’t mean he will after he finds out the truth. In all likelihood, if Naegi is being truthful about wanting to get to know Kiyotaka now, then he’ll just be that much more disgusted when he finally learns the truth. And how can Kiyotaka even know for sure that the boy is, indeed, being truthful? Yes, he looks truthful, and looks genuine, but looks aren’t everything! And Kiyotaka... Kiyotaka’s been fooled before… 

He refuses to be fooled again. 

And, suddenly, he wants very badly to tell the truth then and there. To just get it over with and do away with this horrible suspense. He’s always been a very truthful person, hating secrets, thinking them deceitful and immoral. He hates to lie, and he hates to keep things from others. He always has. And beside that, it’s foolish to put off unpleasant things due to the vain hope that it will get better with time. It never, ever does. Kiyotaka knows that from experience. It would be best to just tell the truth now and have this horrible suspense over with once and for all! It really… really would…

And yet… no matter how much he tries to force himself to say the words, to tell Naegi his horrible secret, he just... he can’t. Sure, it’s not the deadliest secret in the world, and if he were forced to confess—if someone told him to... he doesn’t know, kill someone or confess his secret— he’d confess in a heartbeat! No secret is worth someone else being harmed over! But that doesn’t mean the thought of confessing doesn’t utterly terrify him. 

The only good thing about being so well known in his hometown is that he’s never had to worry about anyone not knowing the truth. Anytime a new kid joined their school, they’d quickly be brought up to speed, even if they themselves were considered a social pariah. He’s never had to actually confess to anyone before, never felt the horrible pressure to let another human being know his utterly shameful history. He’s always prided himself on his honesty, on his ability to be upright and true, but now... he’s never felt so ashamed of his weakness! 

Because he can’t do it. Even as Naegi looks at him, eyes wide and beguiling, wanting for Kiyotaka to know how truthful he is, he can’t find it in him to confess. It makes him feel like the scum of the earth, like he’s lying to the boy by not telling the truth, but he just... he just can’t.

Hands shaking and lip wobbling, he tries to smile at the boy, to assure him that it’s okay, that he’s not upset.

He knows he fails. 

He… he always fails… 

“A-ah! Naegi-kun, please, do not worry! I... I do not think that at all! I am so sorry if I gave the impression that I find you overbearing! I do not, at all! I- I appreciate your concern, but I do not need it, I promise! I- I’m fine! I’ve learned how to be alone by now, I assure you! S-so you needn’t worry about me, not at all, okay?!” 

He’s shouting again. Why is he shouting again? Can’t he do anything right? He needs to get out of here, before he makes this even worse...

“N-now, if that is all, I really must be going! I’ve delayed doing my laundry for too long and I must finish it before curfew! Good day, Naegi-kun!” 

Kiyotaka doesn’t give Naegi enough time to reply, he just bows low and turns abruptly, ignoring the startled cry from the other boy. He can hear Naegi call after him, asking if he’s okay, asking him to slow down, but he doesn’t stop. He just keeps marching, face uncomfortably hot, nausea churning in his gut. He feels like utter scum, but he can’t help it. He... he’s a coward! A no-good, rotten coward! He doesn’t deserve to be at this school! He doesn’t deserve anything good! He deserves to be punished, to be back at his old school, to have his usual tormentors there to put him back in his place! He doesn’t know why everyone at this school seems disinclined to punish him when he so clearly deserves it! 

He can feel tears swell in his eyes and he hates that, too. He’s never been as ashamed of his emotions as he has been here. At least at his old school, people knew how emotional he was, and while they hated him for it, it wasn’t a surprise. But here? Here, he’s supposed to be an Ultimate. The best of the best. Ultimates don’t cry at the drop of a hat! Ultimates aren’t as utterly weak as he is! He’s a sham, a liar, a fraud! He’s utter garbage! He...

He arrives at the laundry room door, chest heaving, mind swirling with every insult and taunt that has been hurled his way since he was too young to even understand what they even meant or why he’d been called such horrid things. He wants to curl up into a ball and never get back up, to let the tears he’s suppressing so fervently fall, but he has things to do. He’d put his uniforms into the dryer earlier that day, so that he’d have enough time to iron them before curfew (dry cleaning works best, but since he has no hope of affording such a luxury, he makes do with what he has), and if he doesn’t do it now, he’ll be leaving his things there overnight. And that wouldn’t do! That would be highly irresponsible!

Hoping desperately that the laundry room is empty, and he won’t have to put up a front around anyone, he pushes open the door and steps inside. 

And he promptly curses the universe at large, because of course the room isn’t empty. Of course, he’s not allowed a moment’s reprieve. Of course, he’s not allowed even that much. 

And, most of all, of course the person who happens to be occupying the room is Owada, of all possible people. 

He truly wonders what god he’s managed to piss off so royally… 

He can feel those lavender eyes land on him as soon as he enters, making him feel smaller than he’s ever felt before. Owada has not stopped staring over the past few weeks, doing it constantly and incessantly, but at no point has it gotten any less nerve-wracking. He’s given the biker more than two dozen detention slips since school started, which has made the other teen angrier and angrier with him with each one, the glares he gets growing increasingly darker by the day. Owada still hasn’t hit him yet, nor does he argue against them too much, but it’s clear that the endless detentions make him furious.

But still… even though he does get very vocal about his displeasure, cursing and grumbling the entire time, Kiyotaka had realized early on that while he is angry about getting the slips, he never really tries to argue his way out of them. He will curse and call Kiyotaka names, yes, but he still doesn’t try and say he hasn’t earned the punishment, like Kuwata and some of the older students will, not to mention nearly all of Kiyotaka’s old classmates. Not even after all this time. It honestly does impress Kiyotaka if he’s being honest. Maybe the biker has some sense of honor after all? Miracles of miracles, really…

Still, he does not let that fool him. The biker absolutely hates his guts, as he believes the saying goes. And as such, as he stiffly marches into the room, he can feel the anger and hatred radiating from the larger teen, can hear him cracking his knuckles menacingly. As he quickens his pace to the reach the dryer his uniforms are in as fast as possible, his keycard out to unlock the machine, he hopes that he can get through this interaction without anything too horrible happening.

It’s too bad he’s never had any such luck…

“So. Noticed ya no longer hangin’ ‘round Fujisaki. What, she kick ya ta the curb or somethin’?” he hears a low voice call, his back stiffening at the rumble. It shames him that he has such a reaction to the tone. Especially since he knows that it’s not just fear that makes his back seize up in such a way…

Feeling his hand freeze as he reaches for his last article of clothing, he can plainly see how fiercely it shakes, like a leaf in autumn. How pathetic... he pushes through the useless emotion and grabs the dress shirt, straightening abruptly. He takes a second to collect himself, before grabbing his basket and turning to march determinedly over to the ironing station. He doesn’t allow himself to glance at Owada, no matter how much he may want to. No good would come from that. 

Part of him does contemplate ignoring the other completely, but even he is not that rude. Not even to a criminal like Owada. So, as he takes his first jacket and lays it on the ironing board, he speaks, voice measured, if still too loud. 

“I assure you, she has done nothing of the sort! She is a very kind girl, and I would ask you to remember that! I... I simply took into account what you and Kuwata-kun had said and adjusted myself accordingly!”

Ah. He hadn’t truly meant to say that, honestly, and can now feel as his skin crawls at his admission that he’d actually listened to what the other teen had said, but he can’t exactly take it back! Besides, it’s not like it’s exactly untrue… cheeks pink, he grabs the iron and plugs it into the outlet, eyes intent as he stares at it, willing it to heat up faster. 

No such luck. 

“Wait, ya actu’ly listened ta that? Ha! And here I was, thinkin’ ya’d be too high an’ mighty for such a thing. Ya rich types usu’ly are.” 

That makes Kiyotaka blink, his head instinctively turning to face the biker, eyebrows furrowed. Is he... is he being serious? Owada doesn’t... he doesn’t actually think he is rich… does he? No… no, surely, he is just taunting him for his poverty… right? Looking at the biker, he sees that his face is relaxed, with only a small smirk upon it, though it isn’t really mocking. And he... he doesn’t look like he was joking... uncomfortable, Kiyotaka turns back to the iron, relieved that it’s finally warm enough to use. Grabbing it, he begins ironing the first jacket, something soothing him inside at the sight of the wrinkles vanishing before his eyes. Too bad the relief is short lived, since he still has an unfortunate conversation to return to…

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Owada-kun! I am not exactly a ‘rich type,’ as you call it!” 

And that is putting it mildly! Growing up, he was usually lucky if his father could afford heat in the wintertime. He’s spent many winters huddled up under the few blankets they could scrounge together, shivering so hard he oft wondered if he’d ever be warm again. It’s currently the end of September, the weather starting to turn cold once more, and he’s never been more grateful to the school’s blessed heat than he is now, truly! He just hopes his father is able to afford the gas bill this year, with the money he’s been sending back… it would kill him to know he’s nice and warm here, while his father is slowly freezing to death in their apartment…

He can hear Owada snort at his words, the biker clearly not believing him. For some reason, this— of all things— makes a white-hot spike of anger flow through him. After all, he’s suffered the cruel pangs of poverty quite often over the years. He’d even lost his mother to it… they’d caught the cancer in time. He knows they had. If they’d been able to afford the treatment, she’d likely still be with them today. His hands start to shake again as his breath stutters, his eyes closing at the rush of pain that hits him at the thought. He can feel a tear slip down his cheek, to his utter mortification. He subtly wipes it away and does his best to will the rest down.

It only kind of works. 

“Yeah, right. Whatever. Still, ain’t expect ya ta actu’ly care. What, decided she ain’t your type? Not gay, are ya?” 

That question brings him up short, his hand jerking from where it was ironing his jacket, almost making him ruin it. Looking over his shoulder to glare at the biker, he finds a smug smirk that he instantly hates. Straightening his back, he scowls as he turns back to his jacket, finally finishing ironing it as he lets the silence sit for a moment, his mind roiling with various responses to that question, hoping that this is not an indication of more taunts to come. He… he’s spent enough time in his life getting taunted for such a thing that he… he truly does not want to face anymore…

“I do not see how that is any business of yours! My personal orientation is no matter to you! But, for the record, I am no such thing! Not that there would be any shame if I were! Homosexual people deserve as much respect as anyone else! When I am Prime Minister, I will ensure that this is enforced! To use such a thing as an insult is- is deplorable! You should feel ashamed of yourself!” 

He can hear Owada growl behind him, which makes him tense even further. Well, that’s fine! He can handle this! He will not make a fool of himself anymore today! Besides, he’d meant what he’d said. H-he… he isn’t, clearly. But… but if he were… well. It’s not an issue, so best to not think on it.

“Never said it was, jackass! Just a question, shit. Remind me ta never try an’ make conversation with your ass again, goddamn.” 

That brings Kiyotaka up short. Owada was trying to... make conversation? With him? What? Surely, he must be joking? 

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, Kiyotaka can feel his lips move, the anger and pain from earlier still roiling within him, his mind blanking with memories of past abuse and present hurt. As such, when he begins to speak, he has no real clue as to what he’s intending to say, just knowing he has to say something. Anything. After all. Owada wanted a conversation, now, didn’t he? It would be impolite to not reply! Even if his words are not as carefully thought out and picked like he normally likes them to be…

He really should know better than to do such a thing by now… 

“You, making conversation?! Ha! If this is what you consider conversation, then you can kindly never try it with me again! I assure you I will not miss it!”

Ah... that… that was not what he should have said, is it? It was… was unnecessarily cruel, wasn’t it? Oh dear… of course, he knows that Owada is a biker and knows that it most definitely is not the worst thing the teen has ever heard, but he still feels freezing cold shame flood through him as silence descends between them. He hates being cruel, even towards someone as admittedly deplorable as Owada is. It goes against his sense of morality to be so uncaring! How unlike him, truly, to say such a thing… his stomach clenches at the realization, the anger that has been circling through him vanishing as the icy shame replaces it.

Kiyotaka is just about to speak again, wanting to apologize for his cruelty, but before he can even make the decision to try, he hears Owada growl again, this time the sound being accompanied by the sound of footsteps. Oh… oh dear. This isn’t good... Kiyotaka has the presence of mind to put the iron safely off to the side, shutting the thing off for good measure. Something tells him that it would be best for that not to be within range for whatever is about to happen…

“You goddamn piece a’ shit,” is all the warning he gets before he feels his shoulder get yanked, his body getting slammed against the row of washing machines harshly. 

Ahh, ow. That actually hurt, especially since his lower back was jammed into by the handle of one of the lower machines. He raises his wide eyes to meet angry lavender ones, fear filling him at the abject rage he finds there. 

“You are a goddamn piece a’ shit, ya know that?! Actin’ all high an’ mighty, like you're somehow better than the rest a’ us, when I know the truth about you,” Owada hisses, making Kiyotaka’s eyes widen while his heart freezes with fear. Because… because…

Owada… knows? His… his secret? Kiyotaka doesn’t have many secrets, likes to be open usually, other than… than the one, and… and he… h-how…

Kiyotaka can feel his breath speed up as his mind flips into overdrive. W-what? What?? How?! How does Owada know?! And when did he learn it?! Who told him?! Or… or has he known all along?? Was Kiyotaka just that naive to think he could actually keep such a thing a secret?? Oh, God, Kiyotaka thinks he’s going to be sick... it’s all over now, isn’t it? It’s too much to hope that Owada will keep the secret to himself, and so the whole school will know by morning. The only reason Owada would keep it would be to blackmail Kiyotaka, but Kiyotaka is not the type to give into such dirty tactics, not even to keep his secret safe. He’d rather die than let himself be used so! Ah... it- it’s a good thing he’d not allowed himself to get too close to anyone, isn’t it? They’ll all hate him now, he knows they will...

Before he can spiral any further, tears once again filling his eyes at the thought of all he’s about to lose (not that he ever really had any of it in the first place, really), he hears Owada let out a dark, angry chuckle, the teen pressing him further into the washers, his feet lifting off the ground slightly with the force. But, for once, he’s not upset at the pain. If anything, he almost welcomes it. 

After all…

He deserves it. 

“Yeah, that’s right, I know. I know that, no matter how high an’ mighty ya might act, y’ain’t nothin’ special. You're just as worthless as the rest a’ us, ain’t ya? Hell, y’ain’t even s’possed ta be at this school, are ya? The hell kinda talent is ‘Moral Compass,’ huh?! Ya prolly just got in ‘cuz your daddy bought ya a seat, like Togami’s did. Not a rich type my ass. You’re nothin’ special, Ishimaru. Not at all.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Owada... Owada doesn’t know. Not… not his actual secret. He just... he just thinks that Kiyotaka had bought his way into the school. Which is an utterly ridiculous thought! If Owada knew anything at all, he’d know how preposterous that is! 

Kiyotaka wants to be relieved, but any relief is drowned out by the almost deafening return of his blinding anger. After all… how dare he?! How dare he assume such a thing about him?! Maybe he’s right, maybe Kiyotaka doesn’t deserve to be here, but it’s not because he had to buy his way in! And the nerve, talking about not deserving to be at this school... pot, kettle much?! 

The insinuation that he’d ever do something as immoral and dastardly as bribing his way into this school (he is not his grandfather) makes his blood boil, and before he can stop himself, he begins to hiss, voice low and deadly. He’s never heard himself sound so dangerous, and he’d be afraid of it if he weren’t feeling so endlessly angry. 

“You are one to talk, Mondo Owada! Saying that I do not belong here, when you are the one that is marring this school’s good name?! How in the world the headmaster would allow such- such... scum, such as yourself into this fine school, I will never know! You probably had your gang threaten him, as that’s the only way I can imagine that a criminal such as yourself would ever be accepted into such a prestigious institution! You are the one who does not belong here, Owada, not me!”

Oh. Oh dear. He should not have said that. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. And not just because he can see the burning rage in Owada’s eyes, the biker looking angrier than he has ever seen him, or because he can feel the way Owada tightens his grip, bruising and painful. No, it’s not the rage and fury he sees that makes him feel regret. 

It’s the momentary flash of hurt… 

See, this is why he hates anger. It’s such a useless, worthless emotion. It’s an emotion that people use to tear others down, to take their own inadequacy and try to make it better, to use that as an excuse to abuse other people to elevate themselves. It’s the emotion that has caused all of the heart ache and pain in his life, his classmates taking their own anger and pain out on him. He’d vowed to himself, years and years ago, that he’d never, ever let himself get so far gone that he’d try and tear another down in such a way. And thus far, he never has. He’s gotten angry, yes, has burned with anger and hatred and rage. But he’d always forced it back down. He’d pushed it away, refusing to let it out, hating how it made him feel. 

Well… until now, at least. 

And he should have pushed the emotion away this time, too. Should have ignored it like he usually does and walked away, should never have tried to hurt Owada the way that he, himself, is hurting. But… with everything that has happened this last hour, with all the inadequacy and feelings of inferiority that he’s been feeling since he got to this school, he just... he hadn’t been able to. He’d been too weak… too pathetic. Owada’s words had cut too deep and he’d been unable to ignore them like he usually would. And now... now, he is about to be murdered by the world’s Ultimate Biker Gang Leader, and he can’t even fault the teen! He’d been so awful, saying such terrible things! 

Truly, Owada is right. He doesn’t belong here. What kind of Moral Compass would ever say such horrible, terrible things?! He should march to the headmaster’s office right now and tell them they must kick him out at once! It’s what he deserves!

Before he can chastise himself any further, he hears Owada yell in rage, and he braces himself as he feels the larger teen throw him to the ground, his wrist aching as it breaks his fall. He doesn’t think it’s broken, he knows all too well what that feels like, but it’s quite possible it’s sprained. 

Good.

He deserves the pain… 

Still, despite how much he may deserve whatever Owada is about to do to him, he can’t help the way his body forces himself back in fear, tears spilling down his face as he scrambles back desperately. The child inside of him is crying out, the memory of his bullies standing over him, jeering as they got ready to punish him for his very existence brought to the forefront of his mind. And as Owada advances on him, his face dark, Kiyotaka wonders what limits this teenager has. 

If he has any at all… 

(Is he about to die? Owada wouldn’t actually kill him... would he?)

(Kiyotaka feels his heart stop at the voice in his head that whispers maybe he should. Maybe it would be better that way…)

(He’s never been suicidal, wouldn’t dare be so cowardly as to leave his father like that, but maybe... m-maybe...)

Owada stops his advance inches away from him, his fists clenched, and his teeth bared in rage. Kiyotaka can feel abject terror rush through him, but also... also something akin to relief. Even if Owada doesn’t kill him, whatever the teen does has been more than earned. It’s what he deserves, the price he must pay for his very existence. And… and part of him— the part that can think rationally and isn’t lost in feelings of self-hatred and inadequacy— is concerned that he feels such a way. Surely… surely, it’s not healthy to actually want to be hurt, is it? 

But… but such a concern is unhelpful here, so he pushes it aside, knowing he has more important things to worry about, as he stares up at the overly irate Owada with large, watery eyes. But he doesn’t try to beg for forgiveness. He doesn’t try and argue against the punishment that he is about to receive. No matter what, he will accept whatever is about to happen like a man. 

Even if he is so very, very afraid… 

“You goddamn, motherfucking, absolute piece of dog shit! The fuck you think you are, saying such garbage ta me?! Ya think I don’t know?! I ain’t got any goddamn idea why that piece a’ shit headmaster accepted me inta this fucking school, but I ain’t exactly in the position ta turn him down! And like hell would I ever fucking ask ta be here! Ya think I like it, having everyone staring at me, judging me?! I can see you, the way you look at me, like I’m scum on the bottom of your shoe. Ya think I like that?! Ya think I want that?! No! Fuck no! I would much rather be out on the fucking streets, just me an’ my gang, no one daring ta fucking judge the likes of Mondo Fucking Owada! But no, I’m stuck here, with goddamn pieces a’ shit like you, trying ta be something I’m not! I’d leave if I could, but ain’t no one turn down an invite from Hope’s Peak! I’d be an idiot ta do so!” 

Owada takes a breath, eyes full of rage and hatred, but also... also something else. Something deeper. More primal. It hurts something deep in Kiyotaka’s soul to see it, making him want to cry just by looking at it. Because… because he knows that emotion. He knows it intimately, feels it every goddamn day he’s been alive. That helplessness, that feeling of inadequacy and inferiority... the knowledge that you don’t deserve any of the good things you’ve been given... he knows it all too well.

He lives it. 

Maybe he and Owada have more in common than he’d previously thought... 

“But I ain’t gotta take that shit, not from the likes a’ you. ‘Cuz I know you, Ishimaru. And you. Ain’t. Nothing. Special. So, you can pretend all you like that you’re better than me. Can lord over everyone else, thinking you're the top shit, too high and mighty ta deign the rest a’ us with your godly presence. Can sleep comfortably in your big bed, never knowing what it’s like ta go to bed hungry, to not know when your next meal is gonna come. You can pretend all you fucking like. It doesn’t change the fact that we’re in the same goddamn place, ain’t we? You're nothing, Ishimaru, absolutely nothing. And I’m gonna prove it to you. Have any last fucking words?”

Owada falls silent then, staring at Kiyotaka with his dark, angry eyes. Kiyotaka can see the way the other teen is shaking, though, can see how his fists are practically trembling, had heard the way his voice had kept switching between his low-class accent, and something… different. More formal, more educated, and more pissed off. More hurt. He knows, then, that whatever happens… it is what he has earned. It is the price of allowing himself to feel such horrible anger. How can he call himself moral when he’d hurt another person so badly? He knows Owada would rather die than admit it, but he knows hurt when he sees it. Just because the other is a criminal doesn’t give him the right to hurt him in such a way. Not at all.

And so, despite the fear, Kiyotaka goes absolutely still. He takes a deep breath and looks up at Owada, staring the teen straight into his eyes. 

And he smiles. 

“I understand completely, Owada-kun. What I said to you is unforgivable. I will not dishonor you as to try and beg forgiveness. I will accept whatever punishment you deem fit. I deserve nothing less.” 

He closes his eyes as he finishes his speech, willing to accept the punishment, but too much of a coward to watch it as it happens. His voice had been soft again, as soft as it had been during that first meeting that he’d had with Owada, softer than he’d known was possible. It makes him feel weak for being so soft, but it doesn’t matter. Not really. It’s simply what Owada is owed, for the pain he has caused. 

It… it is what he deserves… 

Several seconds pass in silence as Kiyotaka remains on the ground, body tense and taut but face relaxed as he awaits the punishment that Owada is about to give him. He waits. 

And waits. 

And waits. 

After about ten seconds pass, Kiyotaka opens his eyes, confusion filling him. Why... why isn’t he being beat up? Is… is something wrong? 

Confused, Kiyotaka looks up, and feels even more confusion at the dumbfounded and bewildered look upon Owada’s face. What... why...? Kiyotaka doesn’t understand, and so he furrows his brow, tilting his head to show his confusion. 

The motion seems to break Owada out of the stupor he’d been in, but instead of rushing forward to hit him— like he would have expected— Owada actually... takes half a step back...? What in the world...?

“W-what? The fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?” Owada mumbles, sounding almost like he’s out of his depths. Well, that’s... that’s puzzling. Has no one ever accepted their punishment before? Strange. Though… he supposes he understands it. Not many are willing to accept their wrong doings and take punishment where punishment is due, after all. He faces such people all the time, during his patrols... why such a thing would take a person as rough and wild as Owada aback, though, he has no clue. He’d think it would make things easier for him, really. He does decide to take advantage of the momentary reprieve to sit up properly, instead of the lounge he’d previously been in, holding onto his injured wrist lightly. He’s still frowning in confusion, looking up at Owada with his head tilted, though. 

Another moment passes in silence before Kiyotaka breaks it, voice almost hesitant as he speaks. 

“Are you... alright? I… I meant what I said, you know. I was cruel, and as such, I deserve whatever punishment you deem fit. Are you perhaps thinking that I will report you to the headmaster? I assure you that I will not! No one else needs to be involved. I’ve never reported such a thing before, after all. You… y-you may do whatever you would like to me. I will not resist. That is- t-that is a Kiyotaka Ishimaru guarantee!”

He thinks he’s being very reasonable here, honestly. So… so, why is Owada staring at him with what looks to almost be horror in his eyes? Is what he’s saying truly so hard to believe? It’s only right, he feels. Those who try and worm their way out of what they’ve brought upon themselves are vile, he feels. He’d rather die than do something so cowardly as that! Even as much of a coward as he knows he is, he’d never try and deny a punishment that he’s earned. It’s one of the many reasons why he rarely, if ever, reports what the children would do to him. After all, he’d earned their hatred because of what his grandfather had done. 

It was only right. 

… Right?

“Are you fuckin’... ya fuckin’ serious right now? Ya do realize I’m talkin’ ‘bout beatin’ the shit outta ya, not givin’ ya a fuckin’ detention, right? I’m abouta knock your fuckin’ lights out. Ain’t ya... I don’t know, scared?” 

That makes Kiyotaka blink, frowning as the words process. Is he scared? Well, of course, but...

“Of course I am scared! I’m absolutely terrified! I do not like being in pain, I assure you! However… it is what I have earned. Is that... is that not correct? I hurt you-”

“Ya didn’t fuckin’ hurt me!” Owada abruptly interrupts, his anger flaring bright and hot once again. Kiyotaka flinches back, nodding hastily. 

“O-of course! I meant, I insulted you, and as such, I have earned punishment. This is... this is how things works, is it not? I did something morally wrong, thus you, the injured party, has the right to punish me as you see fit. And if that is with violence and pain, then I will accept that with as much grace as I can. It is... it is only right,” Kiyotaka stresses, feeling very lost. 

This... this is correct… right? He’d been taught, all his life, that actions have consequences. He’d learned that firsthand, watching how far his grandfather had fallen. He’d watched his father silently accept the punishment, his mother crying but not doing anything to try and stop the angry attacks. And when the children had come to take their own— deserving— anger out on him, he’d accepted that, too. It was only right. It was... it was what he deserved. 

What he had earned.

Right? 

He... right??

Somehow, it seems, Owada doesn’t agree with him. The teen is slowly shaking his head, his eyebrows deeply furrowed, looking at Kiyotaka like he’d just grown an extra head. Which is, he feels, quite undeserved. 

“No, the fuck? No one deserves ta be beaten. I mean, shit, yeah, some people do, but that’s like... rapists and murderers and shit. Not... not kids. The fuck you learn somethin’ like that?” Owada pauses here, before his eyes widen, his breath growing shaky as he looks down at Kiyotaka, something… something different entering his eyes, something that Kiyotaka, for the life of him, cannot figure out. What… “W-wait… s-shit, your da doesn’t... h-he doesn’t hit ya, does he?”

Owada’s tone of voice makes it seem like such a thing is the absolute worst thing in the world, the tone wavering for the first time all night. And Kiyotaka agrees! That’s why his father would never dream of hurting him! 

“Of course not! How dare you ask such a thing?! My father is an upright, moral man, and I am honored to have such a role model in my life! My mother, when she was alive, never did such a thing either!” he exclaims, voice loud again with his fervency. Owada blinks, seeming taken aback at his ferocity. He still doesn’t seem to understand though, so Kiyotaka tries again. He… he doesn’t know why he cares that Owada doesn’t understand, but he… he strangely wants the teen to understand. To… to stop looking at him like that, like he… like there is something wrong with him…

“No, I was not beaten by my parents, if that is what you are thinking. Nor any other family member. It simply... it’s what is logical. You do wrong, you get punished. It’s how the world works. When people misbehave, I give them detention. That is a punishment. It’s only fair that when I am cruel or hurtful, I should face punishment, too. I am not so arrogant as to assume I should not face the same consequences for my action as anyone else, I assure you! Just because your means of punishment are not the same as mine should not matter. I insulted you. You punish me. That... that is only fair.”

This feels very backwards to him, all of a sudden. Here he is, actually arguing to get beaten! Ha! What a strange life he leads…

Owada seems to be thinking similarly, because he’s shaking his head again, backing up slowly. All the rage from earlier seems to have vanished, the other teen just looking very perplexed, and— truthfully— a little disgusted. Well, that’s unfair… Kiyotaka’s only telling the truth!

… right? 

“I ain’t got any idea the fuck your problem is, but I ain’t got enough time in a day ta make sense a’ that fuckin’ bullshit. Ain’t no one should be that acceptin’ a’ bein’ beat. I don’t know what kinda punishment kink ya got, man, but count me the fuck out.”

Well! He never! 

Kiyotaka stares in utter bewilderment as Owada turns and faces the door, striding away, seemingly done with this conversation. It’s right as he’s about to reach the exit that Kiyotaka snaps out of his stupor and stands, voice loud as he calls to the brash biker, offense rising within him. But also… also a kind of desperation. And he… he doesn’t even know why… god…

“I beg your pardon?! I do not have a punishment... kink! I am not as depraved as that!” he exclaims, causing Owada to pause, his hand outstretched for the doorknob. 

Slowly, the biker turns, a single eyebrow raised. It makes him flush to see, and he hurries to try and explain himself one last time. He can’t let this biker think such a deplorable thing of him, after all! He… he just… he can’t…

“I just meant... I just... I don’t like to be hurt, alright? I- I never have. But sometimes... sometimes such things are just, well... inevitable. And no amount of begging or pleading will matter. You will be hurt, no matter what you may wish. And… and as such, when faced with such situations, a person can either shy away from what they have earned, like a coward, or… or they can accept it with dignity and grace. That is… is what I was raised to believe. When I anger someone, when I have hurt someone, I have earned whatever they do to me. I... I deserve their anger. I deserve their rage. I... I do. Don’t… d-don’t I?” 

He hadn’t meant to ask the question, to sound so unsure of himself, but once the words are out there, it’s not like he can take them back. And so, he can only watch, throat suddenly thick for reasons he absolutely cannot begin to fathom, as Owada shakes his head slowly, eyebrows furrowing again, eyes full of an emotion that on anyone else he’d call pity.

But… but on Owada? It looks less like pity and more like... like…

Sympathy... 

“Nah. Ya don’t. Ya may be a tightass with no sense a’ humor, but ya don’t deserve ta be beat. Not even with how goddamn annoyin’ ya are. Now, I’m shit at things like this, so I’m gonna leave now. Same rules as before, I ain’t gonna bring it up if you don’t. But, like... maybe ya should talk ta someone ‘bout this shit, someone who actually knows what they’re talkin’ ‘bout. Hell, bet Fujisaki can talk some sense inta ya. Just... everythin’ ya just said, ‘bout deservin’ ta be punished? Is fuckin’ wrong, and whoever tried ta con ya inta believin’ that shit is a goddamn liar. I may be a fuckin’ biker, but even I know that shit. I can admire a dude who can take a beatin’ with dignity, but there’s a difference ‘tween that and actu’ly thinkin’ ya deserve ta be beat. But whatever, dude. Just... whatever.”

And with that, Owada sweeps out of the room, his leather duster billowing behind him as he moves, the biker not even bothering to look back. The door shuts with a silent click, leaving the room silent and still once more. 

Kiyotaka cannot help the way he gapes at the doorway, his mind reeling. He... dear lord, he’d never have expected to hear that, especially from Owada of all people! It... he... he must be wrong. Right? Or he’s lying, or... or...

B-because Kiyotaka must deserve it. He just... he must. After all the pain and suffering he’s faced, to think that maybe… just maybe… he doesn’t? It... he... it does not compute. It does not make sense. It just... it doesn’t. 

And Kiyotaka knows that it would never, ever be alright if such a thing happened to anyone else! Of course not! That is why he always steps in to stop other people from being bullied, no matter what they may have done! Punishment isn’t meant to be so harsh, not to the average person. Punishment is things like detention and suspension, or sometimes more extreme measures like expulsion, not… not being beaten. 

But that doesn’t apply to him. It never has. He’s the one exception that proves the rule. He deserves the pain. He deserves the beatings. He just... he has to, otherwise... otherwise, why did no one stop the children from doing such horrible things to him? Why did no one ever care when he’d burst into tears, begging them to leave him be, begging for a reprieve? Why... why would they do such horrible, terrible things to him if he did not, on an intrinsic level, deserve such a thing? 

He knows the teachers knew. He knows that they saw. He’d told them, a couple times, back when he’d been naive enough to believe someone would care. They’d never done anything, never tried to stop the children from their cutting remarks and their harassment, and later their physical abuse. ‘Grow up and stop telling such horrible lies,’ they’d snap at him, eyes harsh and cold. You deserve this, he’d hear their eyes tell him, looking deep into the heart of him and finding him... lacking. He could always fight the words when he was bringing up an injustice against someone else, knowing that it did matter for them, that for them it wasn’t okay, but for him... for him he’d always just assumed it was true. That he did, somehow, deserve it. After all, if he didn’t… if he didn’t, then why would he be tormented so? Why... why...

He... he... 

Kiyotaka can feel the tears falling down his face again, soft and silent, but he can’t make them stop. Everything he’s been pushing down for years comes up again, and he wants to crawl into a corner and cry for the rest of his life. Because… because h-he…

He’d never told anyone about the abuse he’d faced as a child. He didn’t have to. All the adults in his life already knew, after all. He knows his parents could see the pain he was in, knew they hated it dearly, but they could never do anything to stop it either. Not when they were just as hated as he was. His mother— rest her soul— would hold him when she could, shushing his tears and telling him how brave and incredible he was. How upright and moral. How he was a hundred times the person any of those bullies were. He would cling to her words as hard as he could, childish naivety and ignorance shielding him well. 

When she died, however, and his father became the sole provider for their entire family, he… well. He’d suddenly been on his own. His father would try his best to help, but the man was so spread thin that he was lucky to even just see his father, let alone be comforted by him. 

And Kiyotaka…. Kiyotaka knew that seeing him in pain hurt his father, the police officer feeling helpless to protect his own son, hating to see his bruises and his tears. And so… and so, he had begun to get better at hiding it. At hiding the pain, and the fear, and the bruises. He’d even tried to hide his broken wrist when he had been twelve, only accepting that he couldn’t when his wrist swelled to twice its normal size and ached whenever he’d even lightly moved it. They’d eventually had to take him to a small clinic well outside of town, their ancient car whining the entire way, just to get it properly bandaged, something that had put them back months. After that, however, he had become even more determined to handle everything on his own, refusing to be such a burden to his father again. 

Kiyotaka cannot pinpoint the exact moment, however, that he’d decided that the punishments he was given were not only earned, but deserved. That it was right and moral for him to be treated in such a way. It just... he doesn’t really know. 

Well... maybe, if he allows himself to dwell on it, to genuinely think on the matter, if he were allowed to think about such things, he- he thinks... well. He thinks it probably was around the time his mother had died. 

And he… he hadn’t. 

It just wasn’t fair, he feels. It wasn’t fair that she— a woman who was so kind and wonderful and utterly amazing— would die while he— a horrible and disgraceful waste of a human being— hadn’t. H-he doesn’t want to die! He likes being alive, thank you very much! A dead person can’t become Prime Minister and clear his family name, after all!

But... b-but...

Oh, he doesn’t know. This is all worthless, isn’t it? What can he possibly hope to achieve by going down this path, in such a public location, no less? What he does and doesn’t deserve doesn’t matter. It just… it doesn’t. It can’t. And besides, Owada doesn’t know the whole story. Sure, he says that Kiyotaka doesn’t deserve such a thing, but how can he really know? Even the biker had conceded that some people do, in fact, deserve to be hurt. Owada just doesn’t realize that he is, in all actuality, one such person. If he knew... if he ever found out the truth... well. 

Then he’d understand. 

Until then, until his secret comes to light, he’ll just have to be careful. He let way too much slip tonight, let Owada see too close to the heart of him. Sure, he’d seen a bit too much of Owada’s insides, too, cracking the gruff exterior just a smidge to catch a glimpse of the boy inside, but still. It was too risky, being so open. He has to be more careful in the future. Especially around that lavender eyed boy, whose stare seems to always cut right to the heart of him, like he can see inside of Kiyotaka and see all he has hidden within him. He’ll have to be very, very careful around him, indeed…

Kiyotaka likely would have stayed in that spot the rest of the night, staring blankly at the ground, if the warning bell signifying five minutes until curfew hadn’t just gone off, causing him to jolt harshly. Oh, shoot! He hadn’t realized it had gotten so late! With a sad look at his regretfully still wrinkly uniforms, he hastily shoves them all into his basket and hurries out of the room, needing to get back to his dorm before curfew hits. The last thing he needs after this disaster of a night is to have to give himself a detention, on top of everything else!

Luckily, he makes it back to his room with plenty of time to spare, since the laundry is so close to his dorm, his body relaxing as he finally enters his room, the one place where he can fully relax. He’s regretful that he’d not been able to iron all of his uniforms, but at least he’d gotten one jacket ironed... he’ll just have to head back sometime after classes tomorrow and finish the job then. Maybe he’ll do it during lunch or dinner, so he doesn’t have to waste time when he should be studying to do the task that he already should be done with…

Realizing the futility of dwelling on it all, he just puts his laundry off to the side, folding the wrinkled cloth as accurately as ever. He feels so exhausted right now, despite having barely done any physical activity since his morning exercise, but he doesn’t try and question it. He just heads into the bathroom, brushes his teeth efficiently, washes the grime and dried tears off his face, and returns to his bedroom. He doesn’t bother to take a shower because he’s not entirely sure he deserves something so wondrous right then. He removes the clothes he is wearing, folds them carefully too, and get into bed, not bothering with night clothes. He usually doesn’t wear them during the warmer months anyway, his briefs enough for him to sleep in. And while it is getting colder out, it’s not cold enough yet to require night clothes. Besides, it’s not like he has a roommate or anything. He’s suddenly very grateful for that fact... 

It takes him a lot longer to fall asleep that night than it usually does, but eventually he finally succumbs, after an hour and a half of tossing and turning. 

And if, when he wakes hours later, heart racing and wild, the image of lavender eyes full of compassion and sympathy turning dark and angry with abject hatred once their owner learns his deadly secret, the memory of a dream plaguing him long into his waking hours, well...

No one else has to know. 

He’s good at hiding unpleasant things, after all. 

Chapter Text

Kiyotaka stands, stiff and rigid, in the middle of the courtyard, eyes firm on the laughing, smiling faces that have all— regretfully— turned to face him. 

He really wishes he hadn’t been so foolishly distracted today. 

It’s Saturday again, the past week rushing by in a blur of exams and due assignments. He’d spent several hours every day studying in the library, reviewing his notes and textbooks and additional study materials for the umpteenth time, sure he’s already starting to memorize the words, but knowing that he can’t slack off now. 

In addition to studying, he’s also been tutoring several different students, even quite a few in years above him. Apparently, word had gotten around about how good his study schedules are, and now everyone wants him to draft them up one. Which he does, gladly! Each one he takes his time with, too, tailoring each specifically to the person who is asking. He doesn’t know the students from the older years very well, which makes it slightly challenging to do so for them, but he’s a little startled to realize he actually knows his class fairly well by now. Not perfectly, no, but enough that drafting study schedules and guides for them isn’t that challenging at all, really. It’s almost easy, even, to consider that Naegi spends an hour each evening talking to his family and thus is unavailable then, or knowing that Ogami spends several hours of the day training in either the gym or the girl’s exercise room or even outside. He hadn’t even realized he’d gotten to know his fellows that well, honestly... 

Most shocking of all, though, is that he even gets a lot of smiles and thanks for his work, even though he’s just doing what he can for his fellow student. It’s not really that big of a deal, even. It’s just his time, after all. What is that worth to anyone else? Nothing, really…

(Still… it had felt nice to be appreciated, his chest swelling with something akin to pride each time he handed someone their personalized study schedule, equipped with a bullet point list detailing all of the topics that would be most helpful to study for each particular exam. He had tried to stomp it down, telling himself that he’s just doing what anyone in his position would do, but he couldn’t quite fully manage. After all, it is nice to have his hard work appreciated by people! Even if they don’t know the whole truth about him yet…

But he doesn’t let himself dwell on the feeling for too long, forcing that emotion away like he forces all useless emotions away. Pride won’t help him get where he needs to go, after all! In fact, pride will just drag him down, like it had dragged his grandfather down. And he refuses to do that…)

Anyway, he’s digressing… the point is, because of the busy nature of the last week, he’d actually somehow managed to forget that today is Saturday. Or, well… that’s not quite right. He had known, internally, that today was Saturday, given how he’d just finished up Hagakure’s second tutoring session. However, he supposes he’d just forgotten what, exactly, Saturday means. Or, more accurately, he had forgotten what, exactly, occurs on Saturdays now. 

And, as such, here he is, frozen like a deer in headlights as almost the entirety of his class turns to look at him, friendly smiles beckoning him over to join their little group. 

A-ah, how foolish of him! He should have remembered Naegi’s words from the previous Sunday, about how the group had decided to make this a weekly thing. If he had, he would have been sure to avoid the courtyard entirely, not wanting to intrude upon them. He isn’t even sure why he’d chosen to come out here, other than that it is a nice autumn day, the sun shining softly and the air crisp but not cold. It’s his favorite kind of day, truth be told, one he revels in when he allows himself to enjoy such a thing. He supposes he’d just wanted to take advantage of the nice day, really.

Now, however, under the scrutiny of nine some odd teenagers... well. Now, the day doesn’t seem quite so enjoyable anymore…

He contemplates turning tail and running, desperately wanting nothing more than to avoid this situation forever. But they’ve all already seen him, and as such doing such a cowardly thing would just make him seem ungrateful or— worse— high and mighty… 

Owada’s words from the previous week rise in his mind unbidden, and he has to swallow thickly to get the lump that forms to go down. He’s done very well, this past week, to ignore the conversation from last Sunday, thank you very much, going as far as to avoid the teen altogether. Of course, he can’t do that entirely, not with his duty as Hall Monitor and Owada’s allergy to following rules, but he has been nearly silent as he writes the biker his detention slips, eyes resolutely on the paper as he ignores the feeling of intense eyes staring holes into him. He’s been doing well at not thinking or talking about the biker, and he refuses to break his streak now, so he pushes down the memory and shakes it out of his head. 

The world set back to rights, Kiyotaka focuses on his current problem again. To run or not to run, that is the question...

His decision is made for him when he hears someone (Naegi, of course) call to him, asking him to come over vocally. With a silent sigh, knowing it would be beyond rude to leave now, he reluctantly marches over, trying not to seem like he’s walking to his death. Judging by the concerned look in Naegi’s eyes, he probably fails.

Typical. 

Now that he’s closer, he can see who exactly is there and who isn’t. He can see Asahina and Ogami standing close together, the two girls chatting lightly, though it seems that Asahina is doing most of the talking while Ogami watches on indulgently. Maizono and Kuwata are nearby, too, Kuwata seeming to be very invested in whatever it is Maizono is talking about. Huh, he thinks absently. Must be a good story… hm. He moves his eyes onward quickly, though, not wanting to be accused of staring or anything rude like that!

Behind them, he can see Fujisaki, Hagakure, Yamada, and Ludenberg standing around. None of them are really talking, with Fujisaki staring at the ground while Hagakure stares into space and Ludenberg looks at her nails in boredom. He can see that Yamada seems to be staring rather intently at Ludenberg for some reason, which he finds a little strange. He has noticed the rotund teen hanging around the pro-gambler a lot lately, though he rarely is seen speaking to her. Perhaps he’s trying to find the nerve to strike up a conversation? Hm… perhaps, he supposes. None of them seem truly uncomfortable, though, not even Fujisaki. Even when not talking, they all just… seem like they belong. No hint of awkwardness or unease or… or anything, really.

Not like Kiyotaka feels…

Flushing lightly, he looks back at Naegi, trying his hardest to not look like he’s the odd man out, the only one of the bunch who doesn’t belong. Before he can start talking, though, he sees movement in the corner of his eye and does a double take, his body stiffening in an instant, his unease mounting instantly. Because he realizes suddenly that there is one more person joining the group on their excursion this week, one that makes him wish he’d said to heck with being rude and just run when he’d still had the chance. 

Cheeks flushing hotly, Kiyotaka turns back to Naegi again, who is smiling kindly, trying his darnedest to ignore the almost familiar sensation of lavender eyes staring holes into the heart of him. He’s getting good at this task, honestly. Well, it’s like they always say. Practice makes perfect... 

“Oh, Kiyotaka! I’m glad you were able to make it today! I wasn’t sure if you would, but I figured lingering for an extra minute or two wouldn’t hurt. I- I mean... you are planning on joining us, r-right?” he hears Naegi stammer, the boy sounding less sure of himself than usual as he takes in Kiyotaka’s rigid posture. The look makes him feel guilty, and so he consciously works on relaxing his shoulders, trying not to look like he’s currently being tortured. He isn’t sure how successful he is, but at least Naegi no longer looks so upset. That... that’s something... 

However... however, he can’t accept the invitation, no matter how rude it makes him. For one, spending time with his classmates is an unbelievably bad idea, considering the secret he’s keeping from them. For another...

He can still feel eyes staring holes through him. 

With as polite a smile as he can manage, he shakes his head firmly once, ignoring the pang in his gut at the crestfallen look on Naegi’s face. 

“A-ah, I’m sorry, Naegi-kun! I’m afraid I do not have the time to spare today! We have many assignments due in our classes, you know, and I would hate to fall behind! But I thank you most dearly for the invitation, I assure you! I-”

Kiyotaka would have kept going with his words, trying somehow to justify his unjustifiable refusal, but he is cut off by a loud snort, causing his eyes to dart to the source of the sound, startled. 

His eyes meet lavender. 

“Ya can’t be serious. It’s a fuckin’ weekend! No one’s that concerned ‘bout their schoolin’ that they can’t take a single fuckin’ day off. Just admit ya don’t wanna hang out with us and leave it. Y’ain’t gotta come up with all a’ these bullshit excuses,” Owada claims, rolling his eyes as he crosses his arms. Kiyotaka swallows thickly at the lightly growling words, wanting to advert his eyes but knowing he can’t. 

Instead, he does what he always does when nervous and straightens his back, holding his head as high as he possibly can. 

“T-that’s not true at all! I- I would never think such a thing! Just because I take my schoolwork seriously does not mean I am- am avoiding you all! I just... I just cannot afford to fall behind, that is all! And watch your language! We are still on school grounds!” 

Instead of getting angry— like Kiyotaka half expects— the biker just snorts, a bitter half smile rising on his lips. 

“Yeah, I'mma call bullshit on that one, tightass. C’mon. Admit it. We’ll be gone for, what, an hour, two, tops? Even you can sacrifice that much time. So, just fuckin’ admit it, Ishimaru. ‘Nough bullshit. Ya just don’t wanna spend time with us. Too busy up in that ivory tower a’ yours, ain’t ya? Can’t deign ta grace the rest a’ us dirty commoners with your lordly presence, huh?” 

W-well! Well! 

He can’t help but stare at Owada in shock, their conversation from the last week instantly rising in his mind. And here he was, thinking the teen would be true to his word and not bring such a thing up again. Ha! That’ll teach him for believing that the biker could ever have a hint of honor!

He can hear Naegi pipe up, a noise of protest escaping his lips, but Kiyotaka plows over him. He’ll apologize later. Now? Now, he has a biker to set to rights. 

“I- I have already told you, Owada-kun, that I do not feel such a thing! I am not a liar, and I am not lying when I say I am busy! The whole world does not revolve around you, you know! Just because I cannot spare the time to join you all does not mean I am- am avoiding you! Any of you! I- I just... I cannot...” 

His words peter out as he realizes he doesn’t know what to say next. After all, how can he explain his true reason for refusing? That he’s afraid of getting too close, too attached, only for them to abandon him later when they learn his bitter truth? He can’t say that; they’ll hate him! But he can’t keep lying either, because— as awful as it is to admit even to himself— Owada is right. He doesn’t need to study today and has in fact budgeted a few hours of rare free time right now, which he was going to use to take a relaxing stroll around the beautiful school grounds. So, he can’t say he need to study without it being a lie, and he is not a liar! He is not as immoral as that! He must come up with a true excuse, but what…

Luckily (or not), he is spared from having to come up with anything else when Owada snorts again, a cruel sneer rising on his lips, the biker striding forward with purpose. Before Kiyotaka can get too nervous at the other teen’s approach, however, Owada stops, a little under a foot away. This close, he can see the flecks of silver that he’s begun to notice in the biker’s eyes. Why is he noticing such a thing? It’s a stupid thing to notice. He pushes it out of his mind. 

“Oh yeah?” he hears Owada practically purr, his glare dark and meaningful as his lips pull upward into an ugly sneer, “then prove it, Hall Monitor. Come with us today. Prove y’ain’t as high an’ mighty as I know ya are. Y’ain’t chicken, are ya?” 

Oh! Oh! Is that a fudging challenge?!

Well then! He’ll show him! He’ll show that- that no good biker what’s for! After all, Kiyotaka Ishimaru never backs down from a challenge!

“Fine! I will then! I’ll join you and the class on your- your excursion, you’ll see! I- I’ll just have to make up for my lost time later, during dinner I suppose!” 

It takes him a moment to realize what he’s done, what he has somehow agreed to do. His face flushes brightly when he does, but for some reason, it doesn’t seem so bad. Not when he sees the tiny, self-satisfied smile (an actual smile, not the smirks he usually sports) that graces Owada’s lips for a split second, before the teen turns away, shrugging his shoulders casually. 

“Fine. Whatever gets your rocks off, tightass. Now, are we goin’ or not? I ain’t exactly got all day, y’know.” 

A moment of silence follows the biker’s gruff words, before Naegi springs into action, the boy looking almost nervous as he nods quickly. 

“O-oh, of course! Uh, I mean, you don’t have to come if you really don’t want to, Kiyotaka, but we’re happy to have you, if you want. We should get going now, though... s-so you can join us, if you like, but don’t feel pressured, okay?” 

Kiyotaka doesn’t say anything in response, his mind too embarrassed by his public spat with Owada, but he follows after the group regardless, taking up the rear like a silent observer. After all, it’s not like he can just go back on his word now, can he? That would be admitting defeat. And Kiyotaka... 

Kiyotaka never admits defeat. Not so easily, at least. 

The walk itself isn’t too unpleasant, he has to admit. All students at Hope’s Peak are allowed to leave whenever they want, even during school hours, so he doesn’t have to feel any guilt as they exit the school grounds, Naegi leading them to the nearest outdoor mall, Asahina chatting enthusiastically beside the lucky boy. The rest follow at a sedate pace, the classmates chatting together softly, laughing at certain jokes he assumes one of them tells. Even Owada and Fujisaki join in, the unlikely pair actually talking lightly to one another, neither seeming to be too uncomfortable about the whole thing. It’s kind of frightening, but as long as they’re enjoying themselves...? 

Still, it makes something deep inside him ache to watch, seeing all of his classmates talking and having a good time, while he’s stuck back here. Watching them as they do it, but not really a part of the group. An outsider looking in. A ghost forced to watch as the living world goes on around him, trapped inside a mockery of an existence. 

The thought depresses him, in all honestly… 

And this is exactly why he hadn’t wanted to come! What use is it, being forced to watch others laughing and having fun, knowing that he will never be able to have that? Not even if he wants it. Which, he’s forced to admit, heart aching, that he does. He truly, truly does... 

He wonders absently if that’s why the remaining five classmates who hadn’t shown up (Togami, Kirigiri, Enoshima, Ikusaba, and Fukawa, he mentally supplies) had chosen not to come along. Somehow, he doubts it. After all, it’s only him that doesn’t truly belong here. The false Ultimate that tricked the school into believing he actually belongs. Ha! How foolish of him to think otherwise!

Luckily, for him, the trip to the mall does not take that long, though it had felt like it had. Still, it’s not even ten minutes later that Naegi calls them to attention, smiling as they enter the mall’s boundaries. They all come to a stop, standing in a half circle around the boy, but he doesn’t seem daunted by the attention like Kiyotaka knows he would feel, though he’d hide it as best he could. Instead, Naegi just smiles, looking at them all in turn. 

“S-so! Where should we go first?” he questions, eyes landing on each of them as he does so. There’s silence for a moment, before multiple voices call out. 

“The sporting goods store! I need to get some more protein powder so I can keep up with Sakura during training!” Asahina calls out, right as Fujisaki tentatively says, “I- I was thinking, m-maybe we could go to that computer store? I-it’s right next to a general store, too, s-so...” 

Kiyotaka feels sorry for the soft-spoken programmer, who turns red with misting eyes as she realizes she’s not the only one to speak up. He doesn’t get a chance to say anything (not that he has any idea what he’d even want to say, granted) when Naegi speaks up, sounding considering. 

“Ah, well, maybe we can do both? We could head to one first, and then go to the other?”

His classmates seem to be considering the compromise, but then Hagakure— of all people— shoots it down. 

“Nahhh man, that doesn’t sound like a good idea. I predict, like, a 75% chance of that ending in total disaster if we try it. Doesn’t seem worth it, gotta admit.”

Kiyotaka gives the man a strange look, having no idea what he is talking about. He’s not the only one, as he hears a— sadly familiar— snort ring out, a cruelly mocking voice following it. 

“Oh, yeah, an’ a’ course we gotta follow whatever your bullshit predictions tell us, huh, ya hack?” Owada rejoins, rolling his eyes at the idea. Hagakure opens his mouth, probably to spout some more mystic nonsense, but Naegi cuts him off, giving the supposedly clairvoyant man a look of apology as he does so. 

“I-it’s alright, Owada-san! We don’t have to do that idea. I guess we can always split up? Those of us who want to go to the sporting goods store can go with one group, and those who want to go to the computer or general store can go with the other? And then, maybe, we can meet up at the food court in about half an hour, so we can get some lunch? How does that sound?”

There’s a murmur of agreement through the group, Hagakure giving a thumbs up and a bright grin towards the idea. Hm. Guess this idea ends less in disaster, then, he thinks skeptically. 

Still, Naegi latches onto the group consensus and smiles brightly at them all. 

“Okay! Great! So, uh... everyone who wants to go with Hina, stand over there,” Naegi states, pointing to a bench off to the side. He then points to a different bench, across the way. “And everyone who wants to go with Chihiro, stand over there. Sound good?” 

The group says an affirmative and begins to split off into the two groups. Asahina and Ogami, predictably, stand in the group for the sporting goods store, with Hagakure of all people joining them, as well as Naegi. He sees Kuwata start heading over in that direction, but the teen abruptly changes course and joins the other group, for reasons Kiyotaka doesn’t understand. Though, he thinks it might have something to do with Maizono, who had decided to join Fujisaki’s group, the redheaded teen walking up to chat with her again. 

Along with Fujisaki, Kuwata, and Maizono, he sees Owada— for some reason— head over to the computer slash general goods store group. Huh. He wouldn’t have predicted that... but it doesn’t matter, the biker can do whatever he wants, who even cares? Not Kiyotaka! Aha…

Anyway…

The last two, Ludenberg and Yamada, remain in the middle, neither seeming to be inclined to move. When Naegi calls to them, asking which group they want to be part of, Ludenberg replies in her light accent that, “hmm, I don’t think I am interested in either, to be honest. I think I’ll head to the food court now to grab myself some tea instead.”

Yamada, immediately, nods his head and says he wishes to do the same. If Kiyotaka were better at reading people’s expressions, he’d notice the look of annoyance on Ludenberg’s face, though it only lasts a second. As is, he doesn’t question it and just watches as the pair wanders off, Yamada rambling about something or other. 

And just like that, it’s only him standing in the middle of the pathway, sticking out like a sore thumb. 

Hmm... maybe... maybe, he can just wander off by himself now that he’s here? After all, that’s kind of what Ludenberg had just done, right? And besides, he doubts the others will really notice, it’s not like they’ve been paying him any mind up to this point anyway...

However, before he can even hope to put his plan into action, he hears an (unfortunately) familiar voice call out, the words full of derision. 

“Hey, tightass, ya plannin’ on movin’ anytime soon? Or ya just gonna wander off on us, seein’ as how ya didn’t even wanna come in the first place?” Owada taunts, a smug smile on his face, like he’s won or something. Feeling himself go hot all over, he glares at the utterly obnoxious teenager, his lips moving before his mind can catch up to him. 

“I was just thinking! Give me a moment!” he cries, fists clenched by his sides. He looks away from Owada and over to the two groups, critically this time, actively debating now that he’s been called out. After all, he can’t just wander off now, not when he’s been challenged again!

But now, as for which group to choose...

On one hand, he doesn’t really have any interest in going to the sporting goods store, since it’s not like he could actually afford anything in the shop anyway. And, while he has no interest in the computer slash tech store for the same reason, he could probably find a cheap replacement for his binder— which is starting to fall apart on him— in the general store. 

On the other hand... does he really want to spend an entire afternoon with Owada breathing down his neck? Ah. ‘Not really’ is too light of a phrase to describe how he feels about that idea, honestly. He doesn’t dare repeat the actual phrase that comes to mind, though, face flushing at his own mind’s surprising vulgarity. Perhaps he’s been in Owada’s proximity far too much these days...

However, even though his mind tells him to walk over to Asahina’s group, knowing that that is the safer option, his cursed feet, for reasons unknown, drag him over to Fujisaki’s group instead. He resolutely does not look at Owada, not wanting to see his stupid, smug grin at his supposed ‘win’, thank you very much! 

(It’s a shame he doesn’t, though, because otherwise he might have caught a glimpse of the soft, almost pleased smile the biker gets on his face before he can school it into his usual look of indifference. Not that it would have mattered, of course! Kiyotaka doesn’t care for things like that, not at all...) 

The groups all decided, they all start moving together, Asahina’s group going one way while his group goes the other. Ah. It seems the stores are on opposite sides of the mall, then. That makes sense why they would split the group like this, he supposes. More sense than Hagakure’s fraudulent ‘predictions,’ at any rate... 

It doesn’t take them long to reach the store Fujisaki was talking about, though, Kiyotaka not even having enough time to feel like an unwanted fifth wheel before they stop, the tech store gleaming before them like a glittering treasure. Honestly, the store intimidates him greatly, and he almost turns to head to the general store, which he can see is right across the way, but stops when the rest of the group enters the tech store together. Part of him still wants to head to the general store regardless, really not wanting to be surrounded by things he can never, in a million years, have any hope of affording, but then he catches Owada glancing back at him, a single eyebrow raised, and Kiyotaka feels his legs moving stubbornly after his classmates. Gah! Curse him and his darned pride! 

Standing inside the store is as awkward and humiliating as he thought it would be, though, rows upon rows of the highest end computers and tablets as far as the eye can see. The store isn’t super crowded, thankfully, but he still feels almost claustrophobic as he reluctantly follows after the group. He knows he probably looks ridiculous, all hunched over and awkward, but he can’t help it. The gross display of wealth and fortune... it makes his stomach churn with bitter jealousy, an emotion he hates almost as much as anger. It’s such an ugly emotion, after all… 

His discomfort is disrupted when he feels more than sees (since his eyes are firmly on the ground, to prevent him from hopelessly ogling such splendor) someone walk up beside him. And, judging by the white loafers he sees on the ground besides his black boots, not to mention the hints of a long leather coat he sees at the edge of his sightline, he (regretfully) knows exactly who it is that’s decided to bother him. 

“Ya know, if you're tryin’ ta prove ya actu’ly wanna spend time ‘round us an’ that ya don’t think we’re all scum on the bottom a’ your shoe, ya might not wanna look like someone just killed your puppy an’ forced ya ta watch, ya know. Sends mixed signals.” 

The words, spoken softly in his ear, make his hackles rise, his fists clenching instinctively. He wants to rise to the challenge, to say he’s not uncomfortable at all (a big, huge, fat lie, since he clearly is, just not for the reason Owada seems to think), but for once, he can’t. His insides are too twisted up to have any hope of that.

Instead, he just mumbles out something that even he doesn’t understand and hunches his shoulders further, his eyes so firmly on the ground he wouldn’t be surprised if he accidentally bumps into someone, or something. He doesn’t, luckily. 

(He’s so focused on not looking at the technology around him that he misses the slight frown on Owada’s face, the biker actually looking concerned for one single, solitary second before he looks away. Ah well. Such is life...) 

Eventually, the group comes to a halt, his eyes instinctively looking up when he hears Fujisaki let out a loud gasp, concern filling him. Is the girl alright? He’d never heard her sound like that before... 

She’s fine, of course, and is instead looking in awe at the thing he guesses she’d dragged them here to see. 

It’s a computer, he knows that much, even if he’d rarely ever used one growing up (they’re far too expensive, even second hand). He’d only ever had a chance to use one while in his old school’s library, and those had always been ancient, so slow that even he would start to feel impatient at the sluggish speed. 

This computer, though... it’s nothing like those ancient, almost broken computers he’d had to use on the few occasions his teachers had assigned online assignments. In fact, it’s almost an insult to this computer even comparing the two. He knows next to nothing about technology, but even he can see how utterly beautiful this machine is, not needing to hear Fujisaki— less shy and stammering now that she’s finally in her element— ramble on and on about how impressive it is. He has no idea what the words like ‘RAM,’ or ‘Gigabyte’ means, but he can tell that whatever they are, they must be very impressive, because even Owada lets out a low whistle at one of the things the girl says. 

He’s never felt more worthless in his life. 

He knew he shouldn’t have come here. He knew he shouldn’t have stepped foot in this godforsaken store. Why had he allowed Owada to goad him into coming along in the first place, let alone entering the building? He’s such a fool! A giant, idiotic fool! 

Because coming here, being surrounded by all the opulence and splendor he knows he’ll never have, even if he does somehow manage his goal of becoming Prime Minister... being here, reminded so utterly and painfully of how inferior and pathetic he is, especially compared to his peers... it cuts him so deep that he wonders if he’ll be able to stop it from bleeding. He has never felt so low before, and it’s all so- so... so stupid.  He’s stupid, for thinking he’d ever belong in this world. A world that Fujisaki, and Maizono, and Kuwata, and even Owada, somehow, all slot into perfectly. A world that will never, ever be his, no matter how hard he works, how hard he tries. He can’t ever leave behind his impoverished roots, after all. Not fully, at any rate. 

He doesn’t deserve to be here. 

He doesn’t deserve to attend Hope’s Peak. 

He doesn’t deserve anything good or nice at all. 

No. Instead, what he deserves is...

“Hey, Ishimaru,” a brash voice cuts into his thoughts, causing him to look up with wide eyes. They meet cold lavender. “Bet you're gonna ask your daddy ta buy ya one of these beauties now, huh? Wouldn’t surprise me. Rich guys like you always get whatever ya want, huh?” 

Okay, now that... that is it! How dare he?! How dare he- he... make fun of him like this?! Clearly Owada knows the truth, knows that he’s not rich in the slightest, and is just trying to... to... take the piss out of him, he believes the common vernacular would say! He can feel tears rise to his eyes, but he stubbornly forces them down. However… he can’t quite stop the way his hands are shaking, his body strung up so tight he’s one second away from snapping completely. Oh dear... 

“Would you be quiet, Owada,” he snaps peevishly, so upset he doesn’t even try to mask the way his voice is wavering, his anger and humiliation clear for all to hear. At least he’s managed to keep his volume down, despite his distress… the last thing he’d need is to be forcibly removed from the store because he’s making a nuisance of himself, after all... “You know full well why I cannot do such a thing! It’s highly distasteful to taunt someone over a matter such as this!”  

“Huh?” he hears another voice chime in. It’s another that he, regretfully, knows all too well… “The hell ya mean by that, poindexter?  What, ya too good for something like this?” 

Kuwata’s words are cutting, his heart aching at the meaning behind them, but the former baseball star sounds genuinely confused, not mocking, for once. It makes his cheeks flush a brighter red, especially when he sees the confusion and bafflement on the faces of his fellows, even Fujisaki and Maizono looking concerned. Though not Owada, of course, who is just frowning at him, eyes full of a dark emotion that Kiyotaka doesn’t even want to bother trying to decipher. And at that moment... Kiyotaka truly wishes that the earth would open up and swallow him whole, wanting nothing more than for this entire moment to be over with already. 

But it’s painfully clear that he’s not going to be able to leave this conversation without explaining himself, at least slightly. And so, with trembling lips, he confesses part of the secret he’s been carrying so closely to his chest for nearly a month now, his heart aching to be forced to make such a concession. 

God. He never should have come out on this excursion today…

Nothing good ever comes from forced bonding experiences. 

“I don’t know if any of you have noticed, but it’s not like I could ever, in a million years, afford such a device!” he hisses softly, more humiliated than he’s ever felt in his life. The tears are back with a vengeance and he is forced to look down, not being able to stand the looks of muted horror he briefly sees enter the two girls’ eyes. It’s almost funny, in a twisted way, and it actually makes a bitter smile rise on his lips, as he continues on oh so bitterly. After all, no one likes to be reminded of abject poverty. It’s such a distasteful subject... “In fact, I could never afford a single item in this store, probably not even a single mouse! So, if you will excuse me, I will be headed over to the general store now! I will see you all later!” 

With that, Kiyotaka resolutely marches towards the entrance, which is very awkward to do with how hunched his shoulders are, his eyes firmly on the floor. He actually almost runs into a display this time, only managing to catch himself at the last possible second. However, he knows that his classmates are still watching his retreat, probably judging his every move, making him feel somehow even more humiliated. It’s this thought that finally breaks the dam, his tears falling, which is his cue to swiftly exit the store before he is forcibly thrown out. 

As soon as he’s outside, the chill late September air biting his cheeks bitterly, he feels his body start to relax. He’s still mortified, and his eyes are still stubbornly leaking tears, don’t get him wrong. But just being out of that godforsaken store... not being surrounded by the technology that he’ll never have any hope of affording... it helps. Greatly. 

After a few moments of breathing steadily, sitting on a bench a few stores down from the tech shop, he finally manages to stop the tears from flowing, though his body has started to feel numb, and not just because of the cold. His humiliation has paved way for cold resignation, the knowledge that, by morning, the whole school will know his financial situation making him feel almost hopeless. It’s not like he’s actively been hiding the fact, and he’s sure several of his classmates have noticed how careful he is with all of his few possessions, but it still feels... well. Awful.  

It is funny (or, you know, not funny at all) how no one ever seemed to notice, though. He distinctly remembers one day near the beginning of the year when he’d almost burst into tears during physical education, after he’d gotten mud smeared horribly over his gym kit, wondering how in the world he’d ever get such a stain out of his— for once brand new— clothing. He’d forgotten at the time that he’d actually had access to an actually good laundry facility for once, making the process so much easier than ever before, but he’d been so upset at the time. What, did they just all think he was a snobbish rich boy, crying because he’d gotten a little mud on his clothes? Ha! That’s rich! 

But there’s no use sitting here, feeling sorry for himself, is there? What’s done is done. He’d told his classmates about his financial situation, and he can’t ever take it back, no matter how much he may want to. And oh, does he want to… 

Still, there’s no use sitting here crying about it. He knows that. With a soft sigh and a still aching heart, he stands carefully and wanders over to the general store at last, the pitiful number of yen he keeps on his person at all times burning a hole in his pocket. He doesn’t even know if he has enough to pay for the meager supplies that he needs... he knows that he technically could always use the debit card the school had given him, to use the stipend they give him every month, but he wouldn’t ever do that. His father needs that money far more than he does. He can always just make his current binder last him a few more months if he has to, he’s sure he can… he… he’ll be fine...

Still, there’s something oddly soothing about wandering through the familiar aisles, even though he’s never been in this particular store before. If you’ve been in one general store, you’ve been in them all, really. It’s comforting in a way. He belongs in a store like this, as run down and shoddy as is it. If he could be the embodiment of any store, it probably would be a general store. Reliable, steady, but not really worth anything, when push comes to shove. Not at all like a glimmering technology store, full of priceless treasures, hot commodities that everybody wants. The thought makes him smile, his eyes dull and dead as he looks at the haphazardly packed shelves. So fitting, honestly...

He doesn’t know how long he spends in the store, staring at the cheap goods that he can’t afford, before he feels a presence come up beside him, omnipresent and oppressive. He stiffens again, the looseness in his posture vanishing as the scent of cinnamon and motor oil assault his senses. Because of course. Of course, Owada couldn’t just leave him alone, for once. Of freaking course. 

He wonders how much a person can safely cry in one day. His eyes wouldn’t get too dried out, would they? 

“Hey, uh, look, Ishimaru-” Owada starts, before Kiyotaka abruptly cuts him off, not caring if he’s being rude. 

“Look, Owada-kun, I am not in the mood, so if you have any decency in you whatsoever, you will kindly leave me alone!” he hisses, stomach roiling as he glares at the dried ramen noodles that he sees before him on the shelf. Hm, it seems that they are on sale. Maybe he could afford them if he scrounges for every last yen that he has...

Silence falls between the pair following that, but to his great displeasure and distress, Owada doesn’t seem keen on leaving him alone. In fact, the teen actively follows him as he marches resolutely down the aisle, blinking as the tears make their way back, though he stubbornly tries to keep them in. Oh, great. This again. Is he somehow cursed to always cry when in the biker’s presence? If so, what god must he pray to, to lift such a monstrous curse? 

It’s several long minutes later before Owada speaks again, his voice far softer than he’s ever heard it before.

“You really mean it when you say you’re not rich, don’t you?” 

Kiyotaka freezes instantly at the words, far different from Owada’s usual speech, his heart pounding at the hidden accusation, the words unsaid. You really are that poor, aren’t you? he hears a soft voice whisper into his ear. You really are that pathetic, aren’t you? How shameful... how disgraceful... you’re a mockery of everything Hope’s Peak stands for... what an utter loser...

Kiyotaka looks up harshly, a shaky demand to leave him the hell alone fresh on his lips, but the words die when he catches sight of Owada’s face, far different to what he’s come to realize he’s used to... 

Instead of a look of mild disinterest or even defiance, like normal, he sees… god. He sees a look of openness, of vulnerability, of, dare he say… kindness. Owada isn’t looking at him like he’s a bug he wants to squish, like he usually does, but instead is looking at him softly, openly. And the look in his eyes... on anyone else, anyone at all, he’d call it pity, but on Owada... on Owada it’s... 

It’s not even sympathy, like he’d previously thought. It… it’s…

It’s empathy…

That, more than anything, makes his shoulders relax. Part of his mind is screaming at him, telling him that he can’t let his guard down, not even for a second, but he can’t help it. He’s been on edge since this whole fiasco started, and his body just can’t handle it. 

And so, instead, he shrugs carelessly, eyes listlessly looking at the styrofoam cups he sees for sale on the shelves, wanting to look anywhere but at Owada, not able to stand the softness he sees there.

Perhaps, had he not been feeling so off inside, he would have left it there and let the conversation peter out into nothingness, until Owada finally left him, the awkward silence too much for the brash teenager to bear. Maybe that’s what he should have done, would have been the intelligent option. 

Kiyotaka’s never claimed to be overly intelligent, however. 

“No, Owada-kun. I am not. Not even close. You... you told me, last week, that I could never understand what it’s like to go to bed hungry. You couldn’t have been more wrong. I often did, my father unable to pay off our debts and feed us at the same time. I often wondered if I’d waste away from lack of nutrition, like the starvation victims I’d see in my textbooks. My... m-my mother, she... she died, because we could not afford her cancer treatment. I... I am not rich, Owada-kun. And it is highly unlikely that I ever will be. No matter what lies I may tell myself to get through the day…” 

He doesn’t know what had compelled him to tell such personal details about himself, his stomach squirming uncomfortably. And yet... while he knows that he should, he can’t quite find it in him to regret it. Even if Owada laughs at him for it, calls him pathetic like he knows he is, it doesn’t matter. He’d said his piece and that’s all he can do. And if Owada laughs at him, mocks him, well... then at least this strange feeling he gets when he looks at Owada will finally go away. The feeling that— despite all his gruff exterior and harsh expression— inside the biker lies something far softer; far rawer and bloodier. It’s that feeling that had caused him to share so much, truly. He waits with bated breath for Owada to prove him wrong, for the biker to show his true colors and mock him like all of his childhood tormentors had mocked him, waiting for his stupid and moronic hope to be utterly and thoroughly dashed. 

His waiting is entirely in vain. 

“Wow, that uh... that really fuckin’ sucks, man. I mean... freakin’. But I, uh... I get it, ya know? It uh... it was the same, for me. Well, not exactly the same, but... s-see, my folks they, uh... they weren’t exactly the best, heh. Da didn’t exactly hang ‘round long, and ma died not too long after. I barely even remember ‘em, ta be perfectly honest. Just a blur of angry faces and drunken words. My older brother, Daiya, he uh… he raised me. Took care a’ me. We never had much, but as long as I had him, I was good, ya know? But... but I still hated it. Bein’ so poor. Never havin’ even a fraction a’ the things the kids at my run down schools had. I remember gettin’ so angry whenever I’d see one a’ my classmates totin’ ‘round some new gizmo or whatever, not even realizin’ just what I’d give ta have something even half as nice. I... I was always so angry, back then. Still am, heh… ‘specially here, at this school... it... I dunno. S’hard. And you… ya just... I dunno. Ya remind me a’ them. The kids I knew. The ones I hated...”

Owada pauses here for a second, before looking up at him and chuckling softly.

“But I get now that y’ain’t like ‘em, are ya? You... ya get it. What it’s like. Ta have fricken nothin’ while wantin’ everythin’. Ya know, ya… ya remind me a’ my bro a bit, heh. My bro, he, uh… he started my gang, ya know. Built it up from scratch. From nothin’. Always had big plans, Daiya did. An’ I don’t expect ya ta understand, but it’s all I got left a’ him now. He... yeah. Maybe I don’t like the violence as much as I prolly should, but I can’t just quit. I owe it ta Daiya ta keep the gang runnin’, keep us together. Honor his memory. Or somethin’ like that… shit. Uh, I mean… shoot. But, uh… my point is, while I may be a biker, I ain’t a complete a-hole, ya know? I do got some limits. An’ I shouldn’t a’ said what I did ta ya. You're right, it’s uh... distasteful, ta talk ‘bout things like that, ‘specially in front a’ other people. I don’t expect ya ta accept it, but I am sorry. Genuinely. It was shitty a’ me ta do that, and if ya wanna hit me or somethin’, I won’t stop ya. I prolly deserve it.” 

Owada stops his rambling words abruptly, his hands twitching at his sides. Kiyotaka cannot see much more of the teen from where he is looking, but from what little he can see, he can tell that Owada is highly uncomfortable, the vulnerability probably making him want to curl up and die. Kiyotaka understands. He’s exactly the same. 

Something about that thought is oddly... soothing. Comforting. 

With a soft, wry smile, Kiyotaka looks over at Owada, eyes alive for the first time since this whole thing started. 

“I thought you said that no one deserves to be hit, Owada-kun? Or does that not apply to yourself?” 

He watches, perversely amused, as Owada blinks owlishly at him, clearly not expecting the words. Which makes sense, it was fairly uncharacteristic of himself, he knows that, but he… he’d not been able to stop it. The lightly teasing words. He… he hadn’t even known he could tease. It… huh. He feels his heart stutter painfully in his chest when he sees the biker smile softly, the smile growing until it’s a large grin, a soft, almost relieved laugh escaping from the biker’s lips. He feels Owada shove him, but it’s not painful or rough at all. In fact, it’s almost… almost playful, like they’re...

Like they’re friends. 

How queer…

“Aw, shut the hell up, ya nerd! I said no one deserves ta be beat, not hit. There’s a difference, idiot. Now come on. Hit me. I know ya wanna, ya goddamn goody-two shoes. Y’ain’t gonna get another chance like this, I promise ya that!” 

Kiyotaka cannot help the grin that blooms on his face, though he knows it’s ridiculous. He probably looks like an utter fool, but for once, he just… he doesn’t really care. Not when Owada is looking at him with velvet soft eyes, looking at him— for all the world to see— like he’s something so utterly precious. 

This is dangerous. He knows it is. Can hear the warning bells ringing loud and clear in his head. Can see the warning signs flash before his eyes, telling him to stop, to turn back, to run away and leave now before the danger he is in comes to destroy him. 

He mercilessly ignores them. 

Gently— with not even a fraction of his true strength— Kiyotaka balls up his fist loosely and, as weak as a kitten, taps Owada gently on his chest. It barely counts as a hit, more like a tap, but somehow, it makes Owada howl in laughter, the teen not caring that they’re getting glared at angrily by the store owner. Kiyotaka should be offended by the laughter, usually hating being laughed at, but he can tell that Owada is not laughing at him, per se, but rather with him, though he’s not laughing. He is smiling, though, for once not feeling like it’s awkward and unnatural on his face. And somehow... somehow, that makes all the difference in the world. And— instead of feeling offended— he finds that the overly loud laughter is the most amazing sound he’s ever heard. 

Suddenly, before he can even blink, Owada’s hand darts out and grabs his wrist, not roughly but firmly, and pulls it gently towards his chest, right over his heart, before holding it there. Kiyotaka’s head starts reeling from the sensation, the biker’s hand feeling rough and yet so utterly warm, the touch more comforting than any he’s ever felt before, save his mother’s. He could quickly find himself getting lost in such a wonderful sensation, if allowed. Oh, he definitely could... h-he already is, heart pounding in a way that is so far from fear it’s not even funny, his cheeks feeling warm but not from embarrassment. He’s never felt like this before, has no idea what it possibly means, but as he stares deeply into the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen, he knows that whatever it is, it’s more dangerous than anything he’s ever felt before. So very, very dangerous. 

So… why isn’t he afraid?

“Man, Ishimaru-san, you, uh... you sure are somethin’ else, ain’t ya,” the biker claims softly, the gentlest smile on his face as he angles his body further towards Kiyotaka, the small aisle not small enough, really. Kiyotaka— almost against his will— finds himself mirroring the other teen, pulled closer and closer, like a magnet pulled helplessly to its partner. Or maybe like a meteor, trapped in a planet’s gravitational pull, or… or… well. The point is, he can’t pull away even if he wanted to. 

And he doesn’t. Want to, that is. 

God, he doesn’t want to... 

This just… it feels so nice… so completely and utterly nice. Owada is warm and his eyes are soft, and everything in Kiyotaka is swirling dizzyingly, making his head go all stupid and slow. Despite himself, he can feel his eyes dart down from Owada’s and down to- t-to… to his lips, which look so much softer and pinker than he’d think a rough and wild biker gang leader’s lips would look like. As Kiyotaka looks, unable to tear his eyes away, he can’t help the thoughts that run through his head, fast as lightning, as insubstantial as smoke. What would they feel like? the thoughts whisper to him, soft as cotton. Against yours? What… what would they…

It’s as the pair are barely a breath apart from one another, Kiyotaka practically tasting the sweet cinnamon on Owada’s breath, his lips barely a centimeter away from the other’s, that his brain finally kicks in, the fog that had descended around him clearing. 

And the fear that he said he wasn’t feeling? Makes itself known with a vengeance. 

Flinching back so hard he would have fallen into the display behind him if Owada wasn’t holding his hand so tight, Kiyotaka stumbles back, mind and body horrified by what... what he’d... what h-he’d almost... what he’d almost allowed...

He can see Owada staring at him with equal horror, the teen dropping his hand like it’s scalding, something like anger replacing the vulnerability from a second before. Something about the harsh juxtaposition between the two emotions makes him want to cry, but he pushes that feeling away. He- he... oh god, what had he almost done...? Oh, God. What had they almost done?!

“What the fuck... w-what the hell did ya... what did ya do ta me, ya fuckin’ freak?! What are ya, some kinda goddamn fairy?! Get the hell away from me, you f*g!” 

Kiyotaka cannot help the gasp he releases at the disgusting slur, taking another shaky step back. Oh, God. How... how had he allowed himself to be so utterly captivated by such a... such a... a brute?! An utterly horrendous, no good, absolutely vile thug?! 

Feeling nauseous and utterly disgusted, he bares his teeth at Owada, eyes almost manic as he glares, his heart racing a mile a minute, the emotions swirling in them so messed up he doesn’t even know where to begin! He... h-he...

“I- I... you! I did nothing! I-it was you who... and how dare you use such a word?! I’m not- not... that, but that gives you no right to use such language! You are lucky we are not on school grounds, or else I would give you detention for the rest of the year for using such a vile word! I- I have never been so disgusted before in my life! Y-you... you...” 

Kiyotaka’s angry words peter off into nothing, as an aching hole takes root in his chest, growing larger and larger by the second. His throat grows tight, his eyes begin to water again, and he doesn’t know what to do, having never felt so utterly helpless before. The way Owada is glaring at him, such abject hatred and disgust in his eyes... it hurts worse than any insult or injury he’s ever felt before. 

And he doesn’t even know why. Why it matters. Why he cares. Why Owada’s opinion means anything to him at all. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t. It really, really shouldn’t. 

And yet, somehow… it does. 

Oh, god. He should have listened to those warning signs. He should have turned back when he had the chance. He should never have allowed Owada to speak so softly to him, should never have allowed himself to speak so softly in the first place... hell, he never should have stepped foot in that store, never should have let Owada goad him like that, never should have... never should have come on this outing, never... never...

Never should have come to Hope’s Peak. 

Never should have hoped that he could be worth more than the dirt he knows he is. 

Never should have hoped, period. 

With a sharp inhale of breath that he will forever deny being a sob, Kiyotaka turns on his heel and decidedly doesn’t flee the general store, feeling like the fires of hell are chasing him. As soon as he’s out of the store, he begins to run. He runs, and he runs, and he runs. Once, he thinks he hears someone call to him, sounding overly concerned, but he doesn’t stop. He just keeps running and running and running, long passed when his chest starts to burn, long passed when his body begs him to stop and take a break. He just keeps running, hoping that if he runs fast enough, maybe he’ll be able to escape the moment that he’d stupidly allowed himself to have. The accursed vulnerability that has always been destined to be his downfall. He runs like his life depends upon it and maybe, in some way, it does. 

It truly, truly does. 

Finally, Kiyotaka has no idea how long later, he finds himself halting outside Hope’s Peak, feet stopping so abruptly it takes his brain a second to catch up, having no idea how he’d gotten here. He’d not followed the path he recalls Naegi taking them along, his feet running him down endless streets, not caring which direction he went. But still, somehow, he managed to find himself here. At the source of all his problems. 

But oh, he’s just being dramatic, isn’t he? Yes! Dramatic! This isn’t the end of the world, he tells himself harshly, as he walks as fast as he can without running, wanting nothing more than to be back in his dorm, safe and sound, far, far away from Mondo Owada and that awful moment in that general store. God, he wants that. More than anything... 

Thankfully, no one stops him in his pursuit, and he is able to enter his room without delay, his chest still heaving from the breaths he’s not taken in several long minutes. Feeling lightheaded, Kiyotaka practically collapses against his door, sliding to the floor as the tears finally fall, his chest aching from more than just exertion, though he fervently denies it. 

He... he had... what had he almost done? Now, alone in his room, he’s finally safe enough to open the floodgates and actually think about what had happened, trying desperately to sort through the jumbled mess that is his mind. But... but, as more and more thoughts fly past, feelings and thoughts and ideas, he realizes how futile it all is. He can’t make sense of this. He can’t make sense of any of it. He’s hopeless to find any sense at all, whatsoever. 

After all, what sense is there to be found in him almost kissing Mondo freaking Owada?!

Kiyotaka gasps harshly at the thought, more tears leaking down his face as he closes his eyes, banging his head sharply against the door. 

No. N-no, that’s wrong... t-that- that’s wrong! No! N-n-n-no! No no no no no no no no no! He hadn’t almost- he hadn’t wanted to- he hadn’t... hadn’t... no... no! No! No! N-no... no...???

(He would have thought he’d learned his lesson already… would have known better than to- to want… to want-)

Kiyotaka gasps again, head reeling and heart aching and wanting nothing more than to just lay down and not get up again. It would be simpler than trying to sort out the mess he’d just made. 

But he... he can’t do that, now can he? Oh, no... no, he can’t. He’s Kiyotaka Ishimaru. Son of Takaaki and Kiyoshi Ishimaru. Grandson of Toranosuke Ishimaru. He is not a quitter. He does not give up. He refuses! He refuses! He is an Ishimaru, and while the whole world may think that name is synonymous with scoundrel and cheat, it is up to him to change that! He can’t give up now, not because of one... one... criminal! His family is depending on him! His father is depending on him! He cannot let them down! He will not let them down! He refuses!

Determination firm in his heart, Kiyotaka takes all the thoughts and pain and hurt that are still racing around in his head, and shoves them down, down, down, so far deep into his hippocampus that he will never, ever be able to access them. There. That... that settles that. 

Body aching, his legs uselessly weak from the torment he’d just put them through, Kiyotaka stands shakily and wobbles over to his bathroom, realizing that he desperately could use a shower, needing to wash the grime of the day off. It’s barely even 2:00 in the afternoon, honestly, and he’s already so exhausted he doesn’t know what to think. What to feel. He wants to crawl into bed and sleep forever, but he knows he can’t. He’s already put off his schooling long enough. 

Mind purposely empty of all thoughts, Kiyotaka turns on the shower, letting the warm water run for several seconds, just staring blankly at it, before realizing he has to actually get in the shower. And so, he does, his mind so lethargic that he forgets to take off his uniform first. But that- that’s okay. He doesn’t... he doesn’t mind. He’ll just have to wash the thing later today, that’s all. He remains where he is, ramrod straight under the relentless downpour, until his legs can’t hold his weight anymore and he collapses into a heap on the floor of his shower, face wet only because of the water bearing down on him, nothing else. 

It takes him far longer than usual, but he eventually finds the strength to get up and turn the water off. He steps out of the shower and resolutely refuses to look in the mirror, knowing he won’t like what he sees. He never does, even on a good day, but he’s not self-destructive enough to allow himself to do something he knows will only obliterate him. 

As he takes out his literature textbook— somehow having gotten out of his wet clothes and into fresh ones, though only the gods know how, since he has no idea how that occurred, mind too messed up for that— he gives himself over to the words in the book. Words he’s read a thousand times before, but that he still doesn’t grow tired of (so he tells himself). Words that aren’t insulting him. Words that don’t call him a f*g, ruining everything he’d managed to tentatively build up in one fell swoop. 

It’s a good thing he’s never liked Mondo Owada, not even slightly. 

This would hurt a lot more if he had. 

(It hurts. Oh, god, it hurts. 

Kiyotaka, if he allowed himself, would wonder if this is what dying feels like. 

It’s a good thing he’s such a good liar.) 

Chapter Text

It’s been a long week. A long week, the start of what he knows will be a long month, a continuation of what has been an insanely long year, the culmination of what has been a painfully long life. 

Kiyotaka wonders if it’s too late to get his money back for the endless ride that is life. 

Exhausted— both mentally and physically— Kiyotaka writes another detention slip, his fifteenth one that day. And this is only counting the ones he’s handed to this particular student, who he refuses to even look at, he’s so tired. 

Like he’s said: it’s been a long week. 

“What, can’t even be bothered ta fuckin’ look at me, ya fuckin’ dickbag?!” he hears a rough, not at all charming voice cut through his fog, making Kiyotaka want to curl up on the ground and cry. But seeing as how he can’t exactly do that— the public location only a small fraction of the logistical nightmare of that desire— he just sighs softly and looks up, eyes unfocused as they stare absently on the corner of the student before him’s chest. 

“This is your fifteenth detention slip today. Please don’t make me write you another one.”

He wants to say more. He has said more, days and days ago, when his chest was aching and his mind was swirling, and everything within him wanted to explode in a burst of noise, noise, noise. He’d snarled, and snarked, and sneered, and other ‘sn-‘ words that express the absolutely horrible manner in which he’d conducted himself just days before. By this point— Thursday afternoon, right after classes got out for the day— he’s too exhausted to really think, let alone feel anger and rage. 

It’s too bad the student in front of him doesn’t seem to feel the same way... 

“Oh yeah?! Well fuck you, ya fuckin’ cock suckin’ goddamn motherfuckin’ sonovabitch! You ain’t gonna tell me ta do shit, ya hear?!”

If Kiyotaka were allowing himself to, he would hear the almost desperate way the student in front of him is talking, like the person hopes that if he just sounds mean and angry enough, nothing else will matter. That all the other emotions— both good and bad— will fade away if he just pretends hard enough. 

It’s too bad that Kiyotaka is far too tired and far too sad to notice much of anything, really. Ah, but no, he isn’t sad, n-no. He’d meant... tired. He’s far too tried and... and tired to notice much of anything. That’s better. He’s not sad. Why would he be sad? Sorrow is an emotion reserved for when a person has lost something that is truly dear to them, be it a loved one, a cherished belonging, or some semblance of innocence that is gone, broken beyond repair. He hasn’t experienced anything of the sort. So why would he be sad? 

“I will write you another detention slip if you do not stop. Do not test me.” 

He can hear the way the student in front of him inhales sharply at the words, an angry tirade no doubt bound to be on the way, the hundredth this day alone. He’s lost count of how many he’s heard since Sunday. 

He’s really so very, very tired…

“U-uh guys, come on, can’t we try and work something out-” a hesitant voice cuts in, interrupting the diatribe before it can even begin, only to be subjected to twin glares as both he and the student in front of himself snap “this is no concern of yours!” 

(Well, he’s said that. The other student had said “shut the fuck up, ya damn fucker!”, which is just a bit excessive, in his humble opinion.)

Even speaking, his voice sounds so weary he’s almost surprised, whereas the student in front of him just sounds angry and enraged. He watches with dispassionate eyes as the student the hesitant voice belongs to (Naegi, his mind helpfully supplies) backs off hurriedly, hands raised in the universal sign of surrender. A-ah, that wasn’t good. He’ll have to apologize to the boy later...

Later, he repeats absently to himself, his eyes drawn, quite unbidden, to look into lavender ones, after a sound of anger had stupidly made him turn his head to look. He tears his eyes away a heartbeat later, barely a few nanoseconds of time passing, but the glance had been long enough that the sight is now burned into his brain, the anger, and rage, and hatred, and pain, pain, pain assaulting him, even with his eyes open. 

God. He’s so tired. 

“You goddamn piece a’ shit, thinkin’ ya know me when you ain’t got any fuckin’ clue at all, do ya?! I’ll kill you, you motherfucker, I’ll goddamn kill you-!”

He can hear gasps of horror echo around the room, reminding him painfully that he’s currently in the dining hall, a very, very public location, what feels like the entire student body watching them. It’s after school, no major meals occurring, but it is still a popular meeting place for students following the end of the school day. They’re off to the side, Kiyotaka not stupid enough to do such a thing in the middle of the room, but still. They’ve been loud enough to garner the eyes of nearly every student, and now he can see that some of the teachers have been called, adults striding over with worry upon their faces. 

Suddenly realizing that he has to end this, and now, he ducks under the arm that the student in front of him swings out, his reflexes still as sharp as ever, despite how sluggish his brain is being. Quick as a wink, he slaps the detention slip into the student’s open hand and hurriedly dashes away, gone before the teacher can even call out to him to come back and explain himself. 

He’s too tired to explain himself. 

It doesn’t take him long to retreat back to his dorm room, his one solace here in this place. The walls are soundproof, so even if his neighbor wanted to, he can’t be bothered by any racket the teen might possibly try to make. He can sit, in blissful silence, for hours and hours as he loses himself into the mindless monotony that is studying. 

If he reads his textbooks one more time, he’s going to straight up scream. 

However... however, he doesn’t have anything better to do with his time. His room is equipped with a television set, as well as a fairly nice stereo slash radio set, but seeing as how he’s never used either thing before, he doesn’t even know where to start with them. With a churning stomach, he turns to his desk and walks mechanically forward, feeling so utterly hopeless that he doesn’t know what to do. 

Quite despite himself, he begins to think about the cause of his problems right now, the event that had ruined pretty much everything. And as he does so, he’s left to wonder… why? Why had he gone on that excursion that day? Why couldn’t he have just left well enough alone? He’d already known that no one at this school likes him. He’s a hopelessly unlikeable person, the worst kind of social pariah, what else was he expecting? For something to change that? For someone to look at him and realize that, actually, he’s not that bad after all? Ha! Hahahaha! What a fool! 

Things would have been just fine had he never touched the hornet’s nest. Had he had the sense of mind to leave well enough alone. Had he just been smart, for once, and not taken the obvious bait from the obvious pole. 

He’s never claimed to be a smart person. 

Because now... now, this is starting to affect his daily life. He hasn’t been eating well, hasn’t been sleeping well. All he does is stare blankly at walls, wondering where in life he’d gone so horribly wrong, wondering which god he’d angered so badly that this is what he gets, after finally, finally thinking that maybe something good was going to happen to him. That finally, finally he deserves something good. 

But no. No, he didn’t, he doesn’t, he doesn’t deserve anything good, anything good at all! He- he deserves pain, and suffering, and anguish, and despair! He... he...

Tears fill his vision again, making it impossible to see, and he gives up the pretense of studying as he pushes his textbook to the side, thunking his head down on the table, his arms flat at his side, not bothering to use them to soften his head. He doesn’t want to soften anything, right now. He just wants to wallow in his utter misery, sorrow and anger and pain his only companions. 

He’d been given a detention earlier this week. An honest to god, actual detention. Given to him by someone that wasn’t himself, even. He doesn’t think that has ever happened before, not deservedly. 

But a teacher had caught him yesterday afternoon, back when his heart wasn’t so weary that he wanted to give up on life in general, yelling horrendously at Owa- Another Student. The teacher— one he didn’t know very well— had barked at them to explain themselves, which Kiyotaka had realized he couldn’t, actually, do. 

It was that, more than anything else, that had snapped him out of his daze of anger and hatred and had brought cool and thick shame into his heart. He hadn’t been able to look at- at the other student, nor the teacher, and had just silently accepted his detention slip, staring at it with shaking hands and watery eyes. 

The other student had taken a deep breath then, the sound angry and bitter, and Kiyotaka hadn’t been able to help how his eyes had whipped up, impossibly wide, so horrified in himself he didn’t know what to do. And then, after a moment, for the first time in days… he’d seen something other than rage and anger and pain in the other student’s eyes. Something that may have even been, maybe, possibly, highly unlikely, doubtfully, a teeny, tiny, utterly minuscule, nothing-at-all hint of... of... well. 

Concern. 

But it had been gone quick as it came, if it had ever been there at all, and then the other student had stalked away, not even sparing him a backwards glance. 

After that, he’d lost all taste for anger and rage. He’d spent the rest of the day in an almost drunken haze, mind reeling at the realization that he’d actually gotten in trouble. For something that was entirely his fault. 

It hurt. It had hurt, and it still hurts, and yet he can’t quite bring himself to make it all stop. To walk up to the other student and put an end to this nonsense, once and for all. To be a man, strong and proud, and tell the- the other- other student that he wasn’t going to play this stupid, losing game anymore. 

Because... because if he did that... if he does that, if he marches to the other student and says such a thing, then... then...

Then the other student will stop talking to him. The other student will never look at him again, not even with anger and rage in his eyes. The other student will go back to ignoring his very existence, like he’s absolutely nothing, like he’s just a piece of trash that someone left out. 

And he... Kiyotaka, he... he can’t bear that thought. 

He’s always been so horribly weak. 

Because this morning, when he’d woken up, he’d been resolved to end it. To end the misery, the torment, the anguish, and the despair! 

But then. Then he’d walked into home room, the words on the tip of his tongue as his eyes had landed on the frame of the other student, hands shaking as he drunk the form in, intent on saying the words and saving them both from this horrible, horrible fate. 

But then... then, he’d felt the words die when the- the student turned and looked at him, eyes bright and vibrant and alive. Yes, maybe he was looking at him with anger. Yes, maybe he couldn’t stand the sight of him. And yes, maybe he wouldn’t ever be able to fix this, this mistake lasting him until his dying day.

But somehow, through it all, the piercing thought that it would all be okay if he could just have those eyes on him had cut through the rest of the noise. Even if they hated him. Even if they despised him. Even if they couldn’t stand the very sight of him. 

He’s so gosh darn pathetic it’s not even funny. 

And he’s knows that, okay? He knows he’s being pathetic, and melodramatic, and so gosh darn stupid, stupid, stupid. He’s knows he’s being an absolute teenager, taking one tiny thing and blowing it up, making it seem like it’s the end of the world when it’s not, but... but... but he can’t help it! Because— try as he might— he can’t escape the truth that he is, in fact, a teenager. And that, while he logically knows this isn’t, in fact, the end of the world… it still feels like it is. 

And the worst part about all of it is that he doesn’t even really know why. Why it hurts so bad that Owad- t-the- the other student... why it hurts that he hates him, now. So soon after he’d finally come to realize that there might be more to the other teen than he’d previously thought, so soon after exposing himself so utterly for the other teen’s perusal and seeing a different side of the teen in return. It feels like something akin to a betrayal, even though that’s ridiculous! They’d never been anything to one another, not friends, not acquaintances, nothing! He shouldn’t be feeling so betrayed and hurt by Owad- the other student’s actions. Really... r-really, he shouldn’t. He... he shouldn’t...

And why is he thinking about this again? Hadn’t he already decided it was a bad idea? That it’s useless and a waste of time? Yes! Yes, he had! He had and he knows, and he should stop this right now, right this second!

So why can’t he seem to stop?

Sighing— his head starting to ache with the strain— Kiyotaka lifts his head up and stands abruptly, walking over to the foreign television set in the corner. Alright. Fine. His usual methods of distraction aren’t enough, so he’ll use drastic measures. Surely, ‘T.V.’, the ultimate source of brain rot, would be enough to distract him? 

Well, maybe. If everything he passes wasn’t so utterly boring. 

Seriously, this is what he’s been missing out on? This is what his classmates, both current and former, would always rave about? It’s awful! Terrible! He passes by several channels, some full of people yelling, others of men getting hit in the genitals while other people laugh, others with animated people doing utterly bizarre and illogical things! He doesn’t understand it, any of it, and he shuts the box off after a few minutes before his headache can get any worse. 

Oh well. Seems that wasn’t enough to distract him. Maybe... maybe the radio, then? He likes music, sometimes. Mostly the classical pieces he used to hear on the old record player they’d once had in their apartment, before it broke and wouldn’t play music anymore. He might as well try, yes?

But the ‘music’ he hears on the radio sounds more like nonsensical noise, and he has to turn it off after less than a minute, his headache getting worse, not better. 

It’s with a weary sigh that he retreats to his desk again, staring at the textbook, stomach churning at the thought of opening it up again and trying to force himself to read a single word more... but what else? What else can he do to try and force the thoughts down? Because he has to... he has to force the thoughts down, he can’t keep going like this he can’t... h-he- he can’t...he... he can’t...

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his doorbell ringing, causing his head to jerk up, heart racing for reasons he can’t even begin to fathom. S-someone... someone is at the door? Someone wants to... wants to see him? 

For most people, that would be a happy thought. A good thought. Something that makes them smile and feel grateful, knowing that it means someone is thinking about them. They’d feel happy to have a visitor; company; something to do. 

Kiyotaka feels a pit of fear and anxiety flow through him. 

Maybe he... maybe he can ignore it? Maybe he can pretend he doesn’t hear it? Or maybe that he’s not in, that he’s somewhere else? He doesn’t know where else he could be, seeing as how he’s barely even found himself going to the library for any longer than a half hour at a time, but he could pretend! He... he’s good at- at pretending...

Luckily, it seems that whoever is at the door gives up quickly, as he doesn’t hear the doorbell ring again, which makes him feel relieved and not a hint disappointed. After all, the likelihood that the person knocking would be the person he wants, stupidly, to see is- is... ridiculous. He is ridiculous. He’s always known that. 

Before he can turn his face away, however, he sees a thin piece of paper slip under the door, causing him to blink owlishly at the offending note. W-what? What is this? Is this... is this a trick?! Surely, it’s not another detention slip, given to him by a teacher for his appalling behavior, is it?! It’s highly unlikely, but... but...

Standing shakily, he practically runs to the door, scooping down and picking up the note, eyes wide and almost feverish as he stares at it. 

Alright. Well, it’s not a detention slip, that’s something he can instantly tell. In fact, it looks very nondescript in general, with nothing on the outside of it to give a clue as to what it is inside. It’s a basic piece of lined paper, the edges still holding the torn off scraps that indicate it once lived inside of a school journal, folded once in half, messily. Kiyotaka absently pulls the scraps away, throwing them in the trash as he moves to sit shakily in his dorm chair. 

Okay. Alright. So, someone has sent him a note. Clearly, they had intended for him to see this, which means they want him to read it. That’s not a challenging feat, he’s sure of that. He’s known how to read since he was three years old, after all. Before his grandfather’s fall and he’d had to struggle so hard just to live. 

And yet, he can’t help the way he stares at the hastily folded sheet, heart thumping at the knowledge that someone... someone is writing to him. How bizarre! How queer! How perplexing! He knows that he’d be able to end this mystery in a second, if he were to just unfold the note and read what is inside, but... but... well, this is the best distraction he’s currently got, so he doesn’t want to lose it quite so quickly!

However, the novelty of the situation is starting to wear off, and there’s only so many times he can wonder ‘hmm, I wonder who sent this? What could this be?’ before dull monotony sinks back in. 

With a soft sigh, Kiyotaka opens the letter, eyes roving the messy kanji, his heart stuttering as he absorbs the meaning hidden within. 

‘Ishimaru-

Meet me by the first-floor storage closet at 8:00 tonight. There’s somethin’ I gotta tell ya.’

That’s it. No signature, no return address, nothing at all to signify who, exactly, is writing him. And yet, as his eyes linger on the words, reading them ten, twenty, a hundred times more, he can’t help the way his heart is pounding, something dangerously close to hope blooming in his chest. 

Which is beyond ridiculous! There’s no way to determine who, exactly, wrote this note! It’s hand-written, yes, but he’s never seen this handwriting before, so he couldn’t exactly say who it belongs to or not. But based on the bold, slanted words, the hurried and jagged quality to the kanji, like the letter writer wrote them carelessly and without any thought whatsoever, far from Kiyotaka’s elegant and uniform handwriting he’s spent years perfecting... he... well. He has an idea, a hope as to who it was that had written this letter. 

God, he hates hope...

Should he go? Should he... s-should he meet this- this mystery person? What could they possibly want from him? Blackmail? A conversation? Something more? Less? In between? He doesn’t know! He has no clue! Nothing like this has ever happened before, not to him, and something about it is so- so... intriguing! And terrifying! And new! 

He stands up abruptly and begins to pace, chewing his lip gently as he walks around his room, back straight and hands behind his back, his left hand holding his right wrist, something he’s always done while walking with purpose. It’s powerful! Right now, it’s more habit than anything, his mind reeling with thoughts and feelings and ideas. 

It’s a trick. It has to be, right? There’s no way that anyone would actually want to see him for any actual, good reason... right? They must either want something from him and are willing to use backhanded measures to go and get it, or... or, they want to use him for something, probably for their own personal gain. It’s the only reason people ever want to see him, really. 

Still... the note itself hadn’t said anything of the sort... it had said, ‘There’s somethin’ I gotta tell ya.’ Nothing there to indicate nefarious ill will or anything like that. The lack of proper grammar indicates that a lower-class individual wrote the letter, or else someone incredibly lazy, which is a pretty big clue, honestly. He stops going down that line of thinking very quickly, though, realizing that trying to figure out who sent the letter is futile, really...

Oh, this is exciting! A mystery! Something that he can... can work on, and solve, and not focus on the misery that it is in his head! Hooray! 

If this were a normal day, Kiyotaka wouldn’t spend even a fraction of the time trying to decipher the note as he ends up doing. He’d just chalk it up as a weird occurrence and forget about it until, maybe, it was time to meet the individual. But today, this day, when he has no other distraction and desperately needs to do something or else he knows that he’ll slip further and further into despair... he’s ashamed to admit that he spends honest to god hours staring at the note, mind going in circles around the meaning. 

It’s really not that deep of a letter, fatigue settling in after less than an hour, but honestly... it’s all he’s got. So, he clings to it like a child clings to their mother. 

By the time the dinner bell rings, his head is aching, and he wants nothing more than to lie down and sleep for decades. But his stomach is aching, his lunch that day interrupted by- no one, and he knows that he needs to eat. Yes, he had once been used to skipping every other meal, sometimes every meal in a day (often his only meal was the meager ‘lunch’ his school provided, which was better than nothing but not available during non-school days), but after over a month of a steady source of food, his body has grown accustomed to regular meals again. He won’t mess up his nutrition schedule! Not for... not for anyone! Especially not… no one. 

Still, he makes sure he is quick about getting his food, eyes resolutely on the ground as he enters the dining hall, heading quickly to the kitchen. He can feel eyes on him, can hear someone call his name, but he ignores them, like he’s been ignoring them all week. His fellow classmates have— for reasons he doesn’t understand— actually been concerned for him this past week. Quite a few have tried coming up and talking to him, including Naegi (of course, numerous times), Asahina (her eyes wide with concern, lips pouting gently), Hagakure (in his very bizarre, abstract way), Maizono (just a quick question of if he was alright), Fujisaki (stammering, but determined all the same), Ogami (quiet and reserved, but still meaningful), and— most bizarrely of all— Kirigiri. 

That one had been very strange, the usually reclusive girl striding up to him the previous day and asking, with absolutely no preamble, if he was feeling depressed. The question had startled him— the way she’d said it so point blankly the most startling thing, honestly— making him blink owlishly at the lavender haired girl, and he’d not been able to think of an answer. He’d just shrugged clumsily and hastily retreated without any further comment, practically running from her critical, piercing eyes. The only thing he can think of is that her father, the headmaster, had put her up to it, but even then, he has no idea why the girl had actually done it. Not the way she had, at least. He had never had a single conversation with her before that moment, after all. Why would she care if he were depressed...? Which he isn’t! Clearly! He really should have said that to her the previous day, now, shouldn’t he...

Ah well, what’s done is done. Now he’s quickly grabbing himself a basic dinner, some ramen noodles (not the Styrofoam kind that you’d find at general stores, but actual, freshly made ramen noodles, offered every so often for free for all students) and a side salad. There’s a savory broth and some beef strips with his ramen that smell absolutely delicious and he can feel his stomach growl as he takes his meal and hurries off to his room. Usually, he wouldn’t dream of eating in his room, the action very uncouth and lazy, but he can’t help it. He could see someone striding over to him as he exited the room and he’d not wanted anyone to bother him. Not right then. 

He hates himself for how rude he is, but he doesn’t know what else to do. 

The meal is, quite honestly, delicious. He practically inhales it in record speed, his stomach pleasantly full and warm, for once. While he’s been eating regularly here, usually he just eats rice balls and beans, with a lack luster side salad and some fruit on the side. Maybe a glass of milk or slice of cheese, maybe some yogurt, if he feels like eating the full range of food groups that day. It’s rare that he gets a luxury such as this, and he’s grateful to the school for kindly supplying such a thing, today of all days. When it’s gone, he kicks himself for not savoring it even more. What a fool! A no-good, gosh darn fool!

Ah well. Now that his meal is done, he looks at the clock, and feels his stomach roil as he sees that it’s still only 6:23, almost two hours until the note said to meet. Hm. That’s unfortunate...

With some food in his stomach and his headache subsiding somewhat, he finds that he’s able to study, again, without wanting to scream. It’s a close thing, yes, but there’s no such thing as too much studying...!

He manages to slog through another hour of mindless studying, before his eyes begin to swim and he can’t hope to read a single thing more, his brain actively rejecting any words he tries to read. He looks at the clock. 7:28. A little over half an hour left. Hm...

Well, now he supposes he can think about what he’s going to do when he arrives at the meeting... if he’s going! He still hasn’t decided about that one, honestly! 

Will he go? It’s kind of foolish... he doesn’t know who this mystery person is (though he has a fairly good idea) and absolutely anything could happen! It’s not like it’s after curfew, and people would still be milling around, but he knows that part of the school tends to be deserted most of the time, which makes it perfect for clandestine meetings. The number of students he’d caught in that particular closet, in various forms of indecency... he shudders at the reminder. Surely, whoever this mystery person is wouldn’t possibly want something like that with him, would they?! Surely not! And if they did, they’d be sorely disappointed when he resolutely hands them a detention slip! 

Still... anything could happen, in such a secluded place! Anything at all! And if... if the mystery person was the person he was hoping — thinking!!— then he... he’d have to... he’d have to be careful. He... he’d have to...

Unbidden, his mind is reminded of that day. His body so stupidly close to another. Mouth a hairsbreadth away from soft looking, light pink lips. Mind hazy and sluggish and dumb. And he’d... he had... had wanted...

(What would have happened, had he not jerked himself away? What... what would have...)

He snaps himself out of the daze, face flushed unpleasantly, and flies up to pace the room restlessly, heart beating fast. No! Nope! Nuh uh, no way, not touching that, thank you very much!! He is not... that, so such thoughts are useless! He... he’s not. He’s just not. Okay? 

(He’s been taught numerous times that he can’t be. That it… that he’s not allowed to be. And he’s always been good at retaining lessons given to him.)

S-still! He should be careful! Whomever it is may want to harm him! Physically, or mentally! He has to be careful and cautious when he goes, to protect himself!

When... when he goes...

Oh, who is he kidding?! Of course, he’s going! It’s a mystery! A puzzle! And Kiyotaka Ishimaru, above all else, loves a good puzzle! Well, not really, they tend to confuse him more than anything… but still! They stump him in a good way! He guesses! 

Regardless, whether or not he actually likes puzzles is futile, as he hates not knowing something even more. And now, with the clock saying 7:50, he knows he has to get going now or else he’ll be late. And he hates being late!! 

However, as he’s hurrying to his destination, he’s forced to stop short, eyes catching a student committing a gross breakage of the school rules: spray painting on the walls. How ghastly! He may not technically be on duty, but the job of a Hall Monitor is never done! 

It takes him far longer than it should, writing the complaining student up and making sure they clean up the horrid mess they made, and while his internal clock may not be quite as strong as his internal compass, even he knows that he’s woefully late. Oh no! He hates being late!

Feet rushing forward, not quite running (since he’d never run in the halls, probably even if his life depended on it), Kiyotaka moves as quickly as possible to his destination, hoping that whoever his mystery person is, they aren’t too angry at him. 

Now, if he weren’t feeling a bit panicked at the prospect of being late, Kiyotaka would have picked up immediately on the fact that something about this hallway seems... well, off. He wouldn’t have been able to explain what, exactly, was off about it, other than that something was not right, his internal Trouble Detector that he’s been honing since he was no older than six going off. 

However, he is feeling a bit panicked, eyes catching a glimpse of a clock and seeing that it read 8:02, making him officially late! Oh no!

Mind too preoccupied to pick up the warning signs, yet again, Kiyotaka strides up to the closet door, seeing a note hanging there. Blinking in surprise, his eyes quickly go over the words, recognizing the note as being written in the same handwriting as the last one. 

Ishimaru-

Enter the closet and shut the door behind ya. I’ll explain things once ya get inside.

There’s no signature or name at the bottom, just like last time, but this time he’s feeling far more apprehensive at the command. Enter the closet and... and shut the door behind him? B-but... but that doesn’t... that doesn’t sound particularly smart, now does it? In fact, it sounds pretty freaking stupid, if you asked him! 

But... well... he’s already come so far, hasn’t he? In for a penny, in for a pound...

With a soft inhale of breath, Kiyotaka steels himself up and jerks open the door, eyes assaulted by the darkness inside. Curious, he takes a half step in, trying to see if he can see through the oily black. 

He startles when he sees movement through the dark, his legs halting as his eyes strain to see through the all-encompassing nothing. It takes a second, but finally his eyes meet another, which he instinctively knows— despite not being able to see them very well— are the most beautiful shade of pale lavender he’s ever seen. 

He should turn around. He knows he should, knows this is a bad idea, knows that he’s probably about to be beaten, and humiliated, and harassed... but...

But the memory of the previous week suddenly assaults him. The memory from before he’d jerked away, fear and discomfort making themselves painfully known. The memory of the still air around them as the two teenagers drifted slowly together, the world around them fading away like drifting snow...

Unbidden, he feels his body drifting forward now, too, the magnet inside of him helplessly pulled towards that gruff, harsh exterior with a mysterious interior. 

He’s almost inside the room, hand just about to let go of the doorknob and enter the room entirely, when all of the warning bells in his head go off all at once, too loud for him to ignore. 

Warning bell the first: why is it pitch black in the closet? If Owad- the other student wanted to meet with him, why would he purposely be standing in a pitch-black room, looking like a miscreant up to absolutely no good?

Warning bell the second: why is the hallway so utterly and completely still and silent? Sure, that’s not completely unusual, this is a less travelled hallway, but still. Usually there would be some sounds, either echoing down the corridor or sounds from other parts of the school drifting over. Now, it’s almost entirely silent, like the school itself is holding its breath for whatever is about to happen. 

Warning bell the third: now that his eyes are finally starting to adjust to the dark, he can see more of the room before him, including the student within. It’s with confusion that he realizes that Owad- the other student is staring at him with confusion, his eyebrows furrowed, and his lips pulled down in a frown. If the other student was the one to call him here, then why does he look so confused to see him? Why is his mouth opening, angry scowl on the lips, if he had been the one who had arranged this clandestine meeting? 

And, finally, warning bell the fourth: why does he now— several seconds after he’d frozen in place, mentally checking through the warning bells he cannot ignore— feel someone moving quickly behind him?

Instincts on overdrive, heart racing, Kiyotaka lashes out at the person he can feel approaching him rapidly, his arms grabbing the— surprisingly smaller— frame and dragging them out of the doorway, pinning them to the wall outside the small closet. He hears a soft ‘eep!’ as he does so but is unable to focus on it when he feels movement to his left, the door he’d just been in the doorway of slamming shut with a resounding *THUNK*, leaving him and the mystery person standing outside, Kiyotaka stunned silent.

Well. Well, he thinks, staring wide eyed at the suddenly closed door. That hadn’t been what he’d expected. 

Not at all. 

Chapter Text

Stunned silence echoes through the hallway for one split second, the whole world seeming to hold its breath as... whatever has just happened settles into the empty air. 

The silence is thoroughly broken less than a second later though, by the sound of furious thumping that bursts from the recently closed (and locked, he realizes, when he hears the telltale sound of someone trying to rattle a locked doorknob) closet, an angry voice cutting through the previously silent hall. 

“Hey! What the fuck is the fuckin’ meanin’ of this goddamn bullshit?! I swear ta Christ, Ishimaru, if you don’t open this fuckin’ door in the next five fuckin’ seconds-!”

Kiyotaka blinks at the angry words, offense rising in him after a moment. Well! He never! It’s not like this whole thing is his fault! He hadn’t been a part of any of this, thank you very much!

“Excuse you! I am just as confused as you are, so I would thank you if you would cease hurling abuse at me!” he calls out, interrupting the diatribe, voice stronger than it’s been all day. The angry ranting cuts off, only to be replaced by a muffled curse. The thumping just redoubles, Kiyotaka imagining that the irate biker is probably now slamming his body against the door, trying to bust it down. Oh, dear... school vandalism is very much against school rules! And with how many detentions the biker has gotten recently... hm...

Deciding to ignore the noise coming from inside the closet, realizing he’ll have to deal with that one later, Kiyotaka turns his eyes down to the person he still has in his grasp, eyes widening when he realizes that he’s holding— not harshly, but definitely firmly— poor Fujisaki. By her shirt! Right over her chest!! Oh no!!!

Face flushed red hot, he immediately lets the smaller girl go, stammering apologizes immediately.

“F-Fujisaki-kun! I- I- I am so sorry!! I hadn’t realized it was you, and I was just- just going on instincts! Please accept my humblest apologizes! I- wait,” Kiyotaka pauses, suddenly remember why, exactly, he had grabbed the young girl and dragged her away, mind struggling to keep up with the influx of information. “Why were you trying to shove me into the closet?!” 

Because she had been trying to do that, hadn’t she? He still feels like he’s missing quite a few pieces to a million-piece puzzle, but he’s starting to connect some of the dots. 

Or maybe not, he thinks again, when he looks up at the sound of awkward shuffling and sees... sees... practically their entire class standing there, varying degrees of shame on their faces! He... what?! What exactly is going on here?!

“K-K-K-Kiyotaka-san! I- I- I’m so sorry! W-we were just... we were just worried! A-about you, and Owada-san! P-please don’t hurt me!” he hears Fujisaki peep, making his stomach drop. Oh, no! She... did she truly think he would hurt her?! How terrible!

“I would never dream of such a thing, Fujisaki-kun! Not in a million years! Now, depending on what, exactly, you have done, I may have to issue several detentions, but that will be all! Now, please! Explain yourselves!” 

Silence echoes around the students, even Owad- the student in the closet going quiet as they wait for a reasonable explanation. After several seconds pass and no one seems inclined to offer anything, he can hear a muffled curse from the closet again, accompanied by one more, loud thump. 

“Alright, ya assholes! Ya’ve had your fun! Now get me the fuck outta here! I can’t see goddamn shit!”

That spurs Kiyotaka into action. Hands on his hips and standing to his full (admittedly not that tall) height, he levels his best, most forceful stare to the boy he sees standing— frozen— outside the closet door, key held tightly in his hands. Ahhh, Naegi. He should have known he’d have been behind all this! The Ultimate Lucky Student sure does have a knack for getting into such baffling situations! 

Thankfully, Naegi snaps out of his stupor and flushes brightly, before darting forward and shoving the key back into the lock. He pauses before he turns it, though, and looks nervously at the closed door. 

“U-u-um... I- I’m gonna open the door now, o-okay, O-Owada-san? P-please don’t... please don’t hit me!” 

Without waiting for a response, Naegi turns the key and removes it, before promptly fleeing to the other side of the hallway, practically hiding behind Ogami, who kindly just steps further in front of him to shield him from view. Probably for the better, as even the strongest of men (or women!) would feel a bit daunted by seeing an overly irate, highly muscular biker gang leader burst out of a tiny closet, practically breathing smoke out of his nostrils. Kiyotaka feels the same numbness that he’s been feeling since the previous afternoon fill him at the sight of the angry teen, before everything almost whites out when his eyes meet smoldering lavender...

The glance only lasts a fraction of a second before the eyes move carelessly on, settling on each of their classmates in turn. A-ah... t-that was...

“Okay. Great. Now, someone explain the fuck’s goin’ on in the next fifteen seconds, or I’mma start knockin’ heads.” A second passes in silence. “Well?!”

That spurs his fellows into motion, several students talking at once, a cacophony of noise that only works at making Kiyotaka’s head ache, not explaining anything. This lasts for a few seconds before Owad- the other- oh, whatever. Owada growls again, pointing an angry finger at Naegi, who actually ‘meeps!’ at the gesture. 

“Alright, alright, all a’ you shut the fuck up! You! Naegi! Explain, now!” 

A second of tense silence passes, before Naegi does as ordered, his voice far higher pitched and shaky than usual. If he weren’t so utterly confused, he’d feel bad for the boy. As it stands, he barely has the presence of mind to keep standing, let alone focus on empathy. 

“O-oh! I- I- I, u-um... okay. S-so! Please don’t hit me! B-but uh, I— I mean, we— thought that, uh... w-well, we didn’t like how, uh, angry you a-and K-Kiyotaka-san were at one another, a-and so, w-we, uh... w-we...”

A burst of sympathy finally cuts through Kiyotaka’s fog, now, and he winces sympathetically at the boy’s obvious discomfort. However, there’s not much he can do to help the boy. He made his own bed, after all. 

Thankfully, the boy is saved from his awkward stammering, from probably the most unlikely (or maybe not...?) of sources. 

“I can take it from here, Naegi-san,” a cool, collected voice calls out, one that takes him a moment to place, as infrequently as he hears it. His eyes widen as he sees a young girl step out of the shadows she’d previously been hiding in, her short yet tasteful uniform billowing behind her as she moves. Of all the students he’d have been expecting to be involved in such an asinine plot, Kirigiri was not one of them!

“O-oh! T-thank you, Kirigiri-san!” Naegi stammers, looking relieved to no longer be the center of attention. Kirigiri just nods subtly once, before moving her cool eyes to look at the still angry biker. 

However, now faced with a girl and not a guy, he sees Owad-Owada deflate a little, his arms crossing and a peeved but not quite furious expression crossing his face. Huh. Interesting... 

“Very well. Following the events of the previous Saturday, the majority of our year has been very concerned regarding the feud that has sparked between two students, Mondo Owada and Kiyotaka Ishimaru. The details regarding the case are scarce, but from what I can gather, Ishimaru’s financial situation was revealed, quite abruptly, by Owada-san in a technology store that five students had visited. Those five students are, of course, Mondo Owada, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, Chihiro Fujisaki, Leon Kuwata, and Sayaka Maizono. The event occurred roughly at 1:47 on a Saturday afternoon, during a slow period at the store.”

Kiyotaka blinks owlishly at the almost clinical way that Kirigiri is explaining the events. Like... like it’s just a story she’s telling, not actual events that happened! In real life! To him!! He’d feel offended at the overly calm depiction, but he doesn’t have time to when Kirigiri continues, her cool eyes glancing over at him, looking at him almost like he’s a specimen she is examining. It makes him want to shiver, but he suppresses it and just listens to her calm recounting of events. 

“Shortly after Owada-san verbally assaulted Ishimaru-san, Ishimaru-san exited the store hurriedly, leaving his remaining classmates behind to stare after him. There had been a brief discussion between the remaining students if they should follow him or not, but it was ultimately decided to give him some time to collect himself, so as to not humiliate him further.”

His cheeks flush at the clinical way she describes one of the most humiliating days of his life, and adverts his eyes to the ground, shame filling him. She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, as her calm voice echoes through the halls once again. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard her speak so much up to this date. Part of him— rather meanly— wishes he still hadn’t. 

“The recounts of the following events are very scarce, unfortunately. From what I can gather, Maizono-san, Kuwata-san, and Fujisaki-san all remained in the technology store, speaking softly with one another about the events that had just occurred, while Owada-san went off on his own. There is no account for what happens next, but several minutes later, Ishimaru-san was seen running out of the general store, like he was running a marathon, with Owada-san following moments later, the biker gang leader storming off into the opposite direction as Ishimaru-san. Shortly after that, the three diverging groups at the mall coalesced together and the events at the technology store were revealed to the group at large. This caused concern among the students who had not been present, everyone wondering if Ishimaru-san and Owada-san were alright.”

Kirigiri pauses here, and Owada takes the time to butt in, voice low and deadly. 

“Yeah, we fuckin’ know that, ya goddamn idiot. The fuck does that have ta do with lockin’ me in a fuckin’ closet?!” 

Kirigiri slides her cool eyes over to Owada, a look of mild disapproval evident in the purple eyes. He can see Owada flush, which just makes the biker look angrier, if anything. 

“I was getting to that, Owada-san. Patience is a virtue,” the girl reprimands, making Owada flush deeper, a vein in his forehead beginning to bulge with his mounting rage. 

Luckily, before he explodes, Kirigiri continues, voice as emotionless and clinical as it has been her entire speech. Kiyotaka will give her credit, it’s fairly impressive that she can keep so calm in the face of such an irate biker. Men (and women!) far larger than her would be cowering in fear if they were in her position, he’s sure. 

“As I was saying. The diverging groups came together and began discussing the events of that afternoon. No consensus was reached at the outdoor mall, but the group quickly returned back to the school, unanimously deciding that the excursion was, officially, over. 

“Back at the school, it became quickly apparent that things had changed. Both Owada-san and Ishimaru-san were suspiciously absent at dinner that night, but the reason for concern had not been fully realized just then. The next day, however, the change in school dynamic between Ishimaru-san and Owada-san was painfully clear. It is around this point that I got on the case, digging into the information to get to the heart of it all. 

“From what I could tell, the anger was caused by a major disagreement between the injured parties. I was uncertain what, exactly, had caused the disagreement, other than what had occurred at the technology store, though I have my doubts that that is the only cause for such an intense feud. Still, Hope’s Peak 78th class was now hopelessly split, two of our members seemingly irrevocably at odds. As the days passed, it became very apparent that this would not, as it were, blow over. Something drastic had occurred, and it would not be fixed just by leaving it alone and letting it peter out. No, it was decided. More intensive measures would need to be taken to correct this feud.”

Kirigiri pauses here, taking a deep breath as she gathers her next statement. Kiyotaka can see that Owada is still very angry, but he doesn’t try and interrupt again. He just stands, shoulders hunched, cracking his knuckles every few seconds. Kiyotaka doesn’t even know if the teen realizes he’s doing it or if it’s just a nervous habit. 

“It was then, Tuesday night at roughly 5:37 pm, that Naegi-san called for a group meeting with the entire class, excluding Owada-san and Ishimaru-san. Most of the class appeared, excluding Byakuya Togami, Toko Fukawa, Makuro Ikusaba, and Junko Enoshima. I, myself, would normally not be bothered to attend such meetings, the everyday going ons at this school not interesting me overly much, but I must admit I was very curious as to the mystery surrounding the events on Saturday, and thus I decided to show. 

“The majority of the meeting was spent discussing the events of the day, Naegi-san very distressed that such a thing occurred during an outing he had organized. Fujisaki-san was also very distressed, emotionally expressing how they believe that it is their fault that the entire event occurred. There was a lot of back and forth around this time that I will not go into, but by the end of the meeting it was decided that something had to be done to rectify this situation.”

Kirigiri pauses here, again, and frowns. Seeing as this is the first show of emotion the girl has expressed the entire night, it takes Kiyotaka aback, blinking as he watches her cross her arms, an almost peevish look crossing her face. 

“I would like to state for the record that I was against the plan from the start. I did not think that it would work and was vocal in my disagreement. However, there were no other ideas that had been brought up, and I could not come up with a plan of attack until I had gathered more information. The class decided to go against my advice to wait, regardless, and chose to proceed with the plan, feeling that it was better to do something than nothing. And, personally, I understood the reasoning. With the rate Owada-san was going, he likely would have been asked to leave by the end of the week had there not been intervention. After all, my father has been getting very irate at the biker gang leader’s sudden flagrant disregard to the school rules. Thus, it was decided that something had to be done, even if the likelihood for failure was almost certain. Still, I was intrigued by the events, and, despite my misgivings, decided to offer my expertise to try and elevate the margin for success.

“Thus, all day yesterday was spent preparing for this plan of ours. Ishimaru’s abrupt shift in emotional reasoning was a bit of a hinderance, but I estimated that it would not change the plan too much. I spent the day studying each of your handwriting, assuming— correctly, I might add— that you both would respond better to a note you assumed was written by the other than a note written by a complete stranger. After all, despite the feud that was occurring, it was painfully clear to me that abject hatred was not the only emotion either of you felt for the other.”

Owada snarls at the insinuation, but miraculously quiets when Kirigiri glances at him, eyes cool and judging. Kiyotaka must admit that he is extremely impressed. Hm... maybe he should ask Kirigiri to teach him how she does that...?

“I also did my best to mimic your speech patterns, which was admittedly harder than I had anticipated, but was adequate enough for such a short note. Then, today, at roughly 3:36 in the afternoon, following the disastrous shouting match in the dining hall, our plan was put into action. Naegi-san took the note I had written to Ishimaru-san, while Fujisaki-san brought the note to Owada-san. They were instructed to ring the doorbell once, wait a few seconds, and then slide the note under the door, before promptly vacating the premises so that they were not caught. The margin for success for this part of the plan was fairly high, and as such I was not surprised that it went off without any troubles at all. But that led us to the part of the plan that had the highest margin of error, with no guarantee that either of you would even agree to meet at the requested time.”

Kirigiri pauses, again, and smiles softly. Kiyotaka is starting to realize that the girl is enjoying the attention, being able to explain everything calmly and collectedly to a captivated audience. He doesn’t know what her Ultimate Talent is, but he would bet (if he were a betting man) that it has something to do with crime. She seems like the sort to like that kind of thing, having a similar clinical way of speaking that his father has. He just has no idea what side of the law she would be on, unfortunately... 

“And yet, like I had expected, you both showed up. It was simply the final part of the plan that had fallen apart, in a way that even I, admittedly, had not anticipated.”

Kirigiri looks over at him, then, head tilted as she turns critical eyes on him. The sensation of being scrutinized makes him want to squirm uncomfortably, but he doesn’t look away from her eye contact, and instead just stares calmly— if confusedly— back. After all, for all the words she has said, she hasn’t exactly explained anything, has she...? 

“I hadn’t expected you, Ishimaru-san, to be so aware of your surroundings. It was a miscalculation that I shouldn’t have made, but regretfully did. You have taken self-defense courses, haven’t you?” 

Kiyotaka blinks at being addressed after so long of just listening, and stammers out his response, feeling awkward now that all eyes are on him, instead of Kirigiri. He truly doesn’t understand how she can be so calm under such intense scrutiny!

“A-ah... yes! I have! I have taken Jiu Jitsu and Taekwondo since I was a young child! I also have some training in the art of Kendo!” he explains, eyes darting around the group as they all stare at him. His eyes land on Kirigiri again when she nods calmly, like she’d expected as much. 

“Yes... yes, I could tell, based on how aware you were of Fujisaki-san approaching you, not to mention how swift you were in your removal of her and yourself from the doorway. I had, perhaps naively, assumed that Owada-san would be the more likely of the two of you to notice such a thing, and had organized for you to be delayed in your arrival at the meeting, to give Owada-san the chance to arrive first. I see now that I should have done the opposite. It is a mistake I will not make again.” 

Kirigiri stops talking here, and silence descends upon them yet again. He waits, for several moments, for her to continue. When she doesn’t, he— hesitatingly— asks the question that has been running through his head this entire time. 

“A-ah... that is all well and good, Kirigiri-kun! But... well, that doesn’t exactly explain why you tried to have Fujisaki-kun push me into a closet, and instead locked O-Owada-kun into it by himself!” 

Kirigiri hums softly there, but she doesn’t get a chance to explain, since Owada suddenly speaks up, his voice dark and growling. 

“I think I’m startin’ ta understand. You fuckers were tryin’ ta lock Ishimaru an’ I inta the closet together, weren’t ya? Ta force us ta, I dunno... overcome our differences by force?! Huh?! Fuckin’ Christ... how fuckin’ cliche can ya fuckers be?!” 

The majority of the students— who had been listening intently— flinch backwards, afraid of Owada’s rage. The only students who don’t flinch back are Ludenberg (who looks only mildly interested, like this is a television show that she isn’t particularly interested in but is watching anyway because she is bored), Hagakure (who is just blinking into space, looking like he’s not aware of much at the moment), and Ogami (who just raises an eyebrow at Owada’s outburst). Kirigiri also doesn’t flinch back, the girl just staring calmly at Owada, and neither does Kiyotaka, though that’s more because he’s more confused by the words Owada had said than anything else. Because… what???

“Wait... what?! But... why?! Where is the logic in such a thing?! Would it not be more likely that we would simply harm one another if we were enclosed in a small, dark, claustrophobic space than anything else?! D-did you all... o-or- or was that what you all were hoping for...?” 

Owada snorts, turning unamused eyes onto him. But, for the first time in days they... they don’t look angry. Well, no, they still do... very much so, in fact. But, well... they don’t look angry at him, he means. Which is... something. 

Instead, the look Owada levels at him is almost... conspiring. Like they’re in this mess together. Which, in a way... he supposes they are, aren’t they? The look only lasts a moment, Owada smoothly looking away a moment later, but that doesn’t change the way his chest is compressing, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. Hm. That’s probably something that he doesn’t want to dwell on, so he doesn’t. 

“Don’t fuckin’ ask me. I think it’s a fuckin’ stupid plan that they’re lucky didn’t work, or else they would all hafta be on the lookout tomorrow fer me an’ my fists.” 

There’s a collective gulping from the students who still look on edge from Owada’s earlier outburst, but they aren’t given the chance to dwell on it long before Kirigiri begins to talk again, her voice as calm and collected as it has always been. 

“As I said, I didn’t think the plan was a good one, not at all. However, I thought it might have some merit, whether it worked or not. If it did work, then at least you two would be forced to confront the other, whether you wanted to or not. In the dark, as well, which was my idea, to prevent any possible distraction. And if it didn’t work... well, then at least I would be able to talk to you both honestly. And that is what I will do now,” Kirigiri explains, turning her body to face Owada fully. 

Owada flushes at the attention, a scowl rising on his face as he looks at the wall, seeming to be unable to meet the girl’s intense stare. 

“Mondo Owada. I am not privy to my father’s work, given that such a thing would be a breach of confidentiality that not even my father would allow. However, I know him well enough to know that he is very frustrated over the recent events. If you keep going the way you are, there is no doubt in my mind that you will be asked to leave Hope’s Peak Academy. Do you understand what I am saying? I know you want to be here, otherwise you’d never have accepted the invitation to attend. Is this feud of yours, whatever its cause, truly worth what you could potentially lose, should you keep on this path?”

Owada flushes brighter, turning to glare at the girl. He doesn’t make any menacing overtures to her, though, just settles on glowering. 

“Hey, don’t ya pretend ya know shit ‘bout me,” he snarls, only to be quelled by Kirigiri raising an eyebrow at him. 

“I don’t need to know everything about you to know you, Mondo Owada. And I assure you, I know more than you would think. I know that you are not all that you pretend to be, and that this is an opportunity for you that you do not want to screw up.”

Before Owada can splutter out a denial, his eyes wide and angry, Kirigiri turns to Kiyotaka, freezing him with a single glance. Dear lord. How she can manage to be so tiny, and yet so utterly terrifying, he has no idea...

“And as for you. Kiyotaka Ishimaru. Has your behavior over the past week been befitting of your status? You have been handing out detention slips for infractions that do not, in fact, require such a reprimand. Not to mention your absolutely childish sniping that you have partaken in prior to the previous day. It is not a thing I would expect from a man of your discipline, I will tell you that,” Kirigiri explains, her words somehow cutting deep into the heart of him, making him feel so utterly ashamed. Oh... oh, she... she’s right, isn’t she? He’s been acting like a child! Not at all befitting of his status as Hall Monitor! How shameful!

Before he can even hope to stammer out an apology, let alone an explanation (not that he knows how he could explain his inexcusable actions these last several days), Kirigiri continues. And this time, her words make him freeze with something more than just shame. 

“After all, we both know that such a thing is not befitting of an Ishimaru, don’t we,” Kirigiri states calmly, like she hasn’t just said something that has completely and utterly destroyed Kiyotaka’s entire world. 

Staring at the girl with absolute and complete horror, only one thought enters his mind as she just continues to stare calmly. 

She knows.

She knows, doesn’t she? His secret. Who he is. Who his grandfather is. What the man had done. The shame that is Kiyotaka’s responsibility to overcome. The burden that has been placed on his shoulders to fix the entire mess all on his own. She... she knows. And if... if she knows, then...

“Your secrets are your own, so you don’t have to worry about me revealing them. All I mean is that you have bigger things to worry about than Owada-san, don’t you, Ishimaru-san? Is your petty feud with him truly worth the potential of ruining all that you have worked so hard to build? You are not sleeping and are barely eating. It is obvious just by looking at you. If you keep this up, you will fall behind on your schoolwork and your other duties. Do you truly want that? Is this all worth it? That is something you must decide for yourself, Ishimaru-san. All I ask is that you take it into consideration.”

Kirigiri looks away from him, then, and settles her eyes on the rest of the students milling around the hallway, landing on each of them briefly in turn. She puts her hands in her pockets and shrugs, beginning to walk down the hallway casually. 

“Now, I believe that we have achieved what we intended to here, so if you do not mind, I will be going now. We have roughly an hour before curfew, so if there is anything any of you still need to have done before then, I recommend you do it now. I hope you all have a pleasant evening.”

And then, with that, the girl is striding away down the hallway, and vanishes out of sight as she turns the corner. 

A thick silence descends over them after her departure, the group staring wide eyed at one another as they wonder what to do now. The silence is broken about a minute later by Naegi, who sounds very nervous, but does not back down as he says his piece. 

“S-so. Uh... yeah. What, uh... what Kirigiri-san said. B-but, uh... we’re- I mean, I’m... I’m sorry! None of us had any right to get involved and I understand if either of you are angry with us-!”

Naegi’s words are cut off, yet again, by a low growl. 

“Look here, dipshit. I ain’t exactly pleased ya all decided ta waste my fuckin’ time like this. But if ya don’t wanna get beat, I’d recommend leavin’ right the fuck now without a single fuckin’ word more. That goes fer all a’ ya, got it?!” 

With a soft ‘meep’ of fright, Naegi nods his head frantically, before practically fleeing down the hall. He’s technically running, but Kiyotaka is too distracted to really notice, so the boy gets away with it. 

With his departure, the rest of the group dissipates as well, though not without several worried, backward glances. Fujisaki in particular is glancing at them frequently, tears in the young girl’s eyes. He feels bad for having frightened her earlier, but he’s too emotionally numb to really have the presence of mind to say anything. 

He does hear, distantly, as Ludenberg comments to Yamada, “well. That was highly entertaining, now wasn’t it?” as the pair walks away, before giggling. Ugh. He knew he’d never liked the girl… 

Eventually, all of his fellow classmates have vacated the hallway, which he is definitely relieved by. He’s gone through so many emotions this past day— heck, the last hour alone— and he just... he doesn’t think he’s ever been so exhausted before, either emotionally or physically. Well... other than maybe last Saturday, but he’s still trying to not really think about that day, to be honest… 

It’s just as he’s about to relax fully that he gets reminded, painfully, that he’s not, in fact, the only one in the hallway, actually. 

Because of course he wouldn’t be. Why would he ever expect such a thing? 

“So, uh... Ishimaru. I guess we should... I dunno. Talk, or some shit. I mean, so our fuckin’ stupid classmates don’t try an’ pull any other stupid schemes,” he hears Owada mutter, the teen sounding as awkward as he feels. If he had any energy left in him whatsoever, he’d tense up at the words, but as it stands, he just tiredly looks over at Owada, nodding tightly in lieu of verbally replying. 

He can see Owada frown at the action, but the teen doesn’t comment on it. He just looks away, hands in his pockets, scowl deep on his lips. 

“Okay. Look. I ain’t gonna fuckin’ sugar coat it. I can’t stand your fuckin’ guts. Even the sight a’ ya makes me blindin’ly angry, an’ I wanna punch somethin’ then an’ there,” he states bluntly, making Kiyotaka’s stomach clench painfully. Owada continues quickly, though, before he could even dare hope to say anything. Not that he has any idea what he possibly could say. Not to something as very clear as that... 

“But... well, much as I may think she’s totally full a’ shit, that little detective does have a point. This... you an’ me... it’s fuckin’ pointless. An’ I may be an idiot, but I ain’t self-destructive or whatever. Not anymore. This... well. I don’t gotta explain anythin’ ta you, but I ain’t exactly gonna throw this shit away over nothin’ like you. So... I dunno. Truce? I leave ya alone, ya leave me alone? An’ I guess... ugh. I guess I can try an’ follow the rules better. Ain’t makin’ no promises! But... I dunno. Don’t exactly wanna be expelled.” A pause. “So? What do ya say?”

Kiyotaka blinks at the teen before him, eyes unseeing as he looks at the hand that Owada extends to him. For a second, he contemplates ignoring it and leaving right now, with a hint of pettiness he didn’t even know he possessed rising within him, but... well. He’s not stupid. Not really. And he just... he just wants this day to be over with already, to be perfectly honest. 

And so, nodding tightly, Kiyotaka erases the few feet of space between them with two long strides, hesitating only for a split second before gripping Owada’s strong, rough hand in his own, shaking it firmly once. 

(He resolutely pushes down the heat that flares in his belly at the contact. It’s stupid to feel such a thing, so why bother focusing on it?) 

Before he can let go, the contact lingering the appropriate amount of time his father had taught him handshakes are supposed to go, he feels himself get yanked forward, a spike of fear and something else flooding through him. He doesn’t have a chance to even shout in shock, however, when he feels warm lips touch his ear, making him shiver unconsciously. 

“But listen here, got it? Ya cross me again... an’ I do not fuckin’ care what consequences I’ll face. I’m bringin’ ya the fuck down, ya fuckin’ tightass. Ya got me?” 

Kiyotaka wants to shake his head and scream, wants to snarl and sneer and all those ‘sn-’ words that describe how he feels inside, but...

But he’s so very, very tired. 

He never did get any rest earlier... 

“I understand, Owada-kun. I understand perfectly.”

A beat passes between them. 

Then he feels Owada squeeze his hand tight, the teen nodding tightly beside his ear. 

“Good. Good. Now, get the fuck outta my sight.”

With that, Owada lets him go and pushes him back, not exactly roughly, but not exactly gently, either. Hating his weakness, he just nods tightly and marches away, eyes blinking with the exhaustion he’s feeling. 

Once he gets back to his dorm, he doesn’t even bother removing his uniform like he always does. 

He just faceplants right onto his mattress and is out like a light in a matter of minutes. 

It’s probably for the best. 

Dwelling pointlessly on such events would only make things worse. 

Chapter Text

It really is remarkable what a good night’s sleep and a few days of relative peace can do for a person, truly. Kiyotaka sits in his literature class, copying down notes from the board, feeling better than he has in... well, weeks, probably. 

It’s a marvel what having a truce with Mondo Owada can do for your mentality, his mind whispers to him softly. He pushes it aside. It’s not helpful, here. 

Still… now that he and the biker are no longer sniping at one another (and are not really interacting much at all, in fact, now that Owada has actually been true to his word and is not really breaking many rules, a fact that he definitely is not disappointed about, not at all, why would he feel disappointment at all, really?) he can focus on the actually important things in life.

Like his literature teacher discussing a short English story they’d been assigned the previous week, talking about symbolism of all things.

His favorite topic, truly…

“Now, can anyone explain to the class what the author meant by describing the room as blue?”

Ah, now that is an easy one! Metaphor and allusion sadly do not come naturally to Kiyotaka, let alone symbolism and all of that, but he’s fairly certain he knows the meaning behind the author’s color choice. It’s a fairly common symbol in English literature after all! At least, if the internet is to be believed…

However, though his hand— and several other hands— are raised, the teacher slides her eyes over the usual suspects and settles them onto another student, who is currently hunched over in his seat and is staring at the wall, appearing very bored. Not that Kiyotaka is looking! N-not at all! Aha!

“Owada-san! Can you please explain the meaning behind the blue walls?” 

Almost against his will, Kiyotaka feels his eyes dart over to the biker, who is currently flushing lightly at having been called out. Since their... truce, the teen has, in fact, been on better behavior, actually following the rules as best he can. They’ve done as they said and have avoided one another for the most part, but Kiyotaka cannot help how his eyes are drawn to the teen while in class, eyes intent despite himself. He truly doesn’t know why he can’t seem to look away… 

Yet, despite the fact Owada is doing better, it still doesn’t seem like he is putting that much effort into his class work. This is evidenced by the fact he gets a kind of clueless expression on his face, his hand coming up to awkwardly rub at the back of his neck. Like he usually does when nervous. N-not that-! Not that Kiyotaka notices such a thing! Aha! Ha…

“Aw, shi- I mean, uh... shoot. I dunno. It’s his favorite color or somethin’?” 

The teacher gives Owada a disappointed stare as some of the other students titter, which makes Owada look even more embarrassed, the biker sinking down in his seat as he crosses his arms. 

“Owada-san, did you do the reading?” the teacher asks, to which the biker— surprisingly— nods his head jerkily. The teacher nods back. “Well, then I’m sure you noticed the emotional state of the narrator during the story. Symbolism is big in literature, particularly in English classics. Tell me, can you not think of a single reason why the author would specifically say that the walls were blue as compared to, say, red?” 

Kiyotaka bites his lip— a nasty habit that he cannot seem to break no matter how hard he tries— feeling kind of bad for the biker as the teen hunches his shoulders, looking almost miserable with the focus on him. Kiyotaka has made sure, over the years, to study hard so that he never was forced into such a position without at least knowing the answer, but he knows what it feels like to be hopelessly lost as to what is expected of him in a situation. After all, he feels it every time he has a conversation with anyone, not understanding social interaction whatsoever, books not helping him figure it out much. He hates feeling sympathy towards Owada, of all people, though, so he quickly looks away, back to the front of the class. 

“Uh... I dunno, it matched the carpet?” 

More titters of laughter echo across the classroom, though they are silenced quickly by a quelling look from the teacher, who sighs tiredly as she looks at Owada again. 

“No, Owada-san. Think. Color choice is a big part of symbolic expression, especially in written works. Think of yourself. You usually wear black and white, yes? Why do you wear those colors as opposed to gray? Or orange? Or yellow? Color has meaning, it expresses something. Now, try again. Why were the walls blue?” 

Kiyotaka can’t help but sneak a glance at Owada once more, curiosity getting the better of him, and has to bite his lip again at the pissed off look he sees on Owada’s face. Oh, dear. And he’s been doing so much better these past five days, too... 

However, instead of cursing the teacher out or getting angry, Owada just shakes his head, tossing his hands up in exasperation. 

“Look, I don’t know, alright?! What does it even matter why the walls were blue?! They’re just fu-fricken blue! An’ I wear black an’ white ‘cuz it’s the colors a’ my gang, obviously. I got yellow on here, too, but it ain’t got any fricken meanin’! It just... it’s just what I wear. I really don’t know what ya expect from me here, Teach.” 

The teacher gives Owada a hard stare, but the teen just stares back, frown on his lips. He looks extremely uncomfortable, but he’s not storming away so that’s... something? 

“It does have meaning. Think back to the story. The narrator had just learned that his brother had died, yes? What was he feeling?” The teacher pauses for a second, waiting for Owada to reply, but the teen just scowls, shrugging while shaking his head. The teacher sighs again. “Sorrow, Owada-san. He was feeling anguish. By saying the walls were blue, the author can express that anguish without having to say it outright, something that would take time out of the piece to say, when the author doesn’t have to. By saying the room is blue, the audience gains insight into the mentality of the narrator without having to be expressively told. Do you understand what I’m saying, Owada-san?” 

Owada scowls, shaking his head. 

“Not really, ta be honest. But whatever, I’ll take your word on it.” 

Another sigh from the teacher, but she doesn’t seem inclined to give up. Kiyotaka is starting to feel uncomfortable. Why isn’t the teacher leaving Owada alone? Is she trying to embarrass him? He squirms in his seat, still looking at Owada, who is just glaring at his desk angrily. 

“What don’t you understand, Owada-san? Explain to me what you’re thinking.”

Owada looks up at this, eyes blazing, mouth scowling. He half stands, almost like he doesn’t mean to, and slams his hands onto the desk. Oh dear...

“I don’t know, alright?! I don’t fuc- I mean fricken know! I’m not tryin’ ta be stupid, alright?! I just... why go through all that effort, huh? Why not just say that the narrator was sad his brother died? ‘His brother died, an’ he was sad.’ There. Easy. ‘S what I’d do. Then there wouldn’t be any, I dunno... ambiguity or anythin’. ‘Cuz how can ya know the walls mean he’s sad? What, did he paint ‘em after his brother died or somethin’?! Sometimes, walls are just blue. Ain’t gotta mean shi- I mean. Ain’t gotta mean nothin’. Why bother usin’ wall color ta try an’ explain how a character is feelin’, instead a’ just sayin’ it? Sounds like lazy writin’, ta me.” 

With that, Owada plops back down into his seat, face red and bitter scowl on his lips. His arms are wrapped tightly around himself, looking less like they’re crossed and more like he’s almost hugging himself. Kiyotaka wonders, absently, if his mental walls are currently red. 

Still, despite how angry and embarrassed he is, he still doesn’t storm out, like the teen had done plenty of times the previous week. It’s... progress? 

The teacher doesn’t look like she thinks so. Her face is pinched and angry looking. Honestly, Kiyotaka doesn’t understand why. She got what she wanted, didn’t she? Owada had analyzed and expressed opinion over the text, even if it wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. Why does it matter if the teen doesn’t quite understand the symbolism of the piece? At least he’s interacting with it for once, which is good, right? Especially for someone who has never expressed any sort of opinion over class work at all before? People have never made sense to him... 

“Please see me after class, Owada-san, so that we may go into this in more detail. Now, after the narrator goes home after the funeral, who can tell me...”

Kiyotaka continues to listen to the teacher as she asks her questions, raising his hand to answer and getting called on a few times. He keeps an eye on Owada, despite himself, and can’t help but feel bad for the teen. He knows what it’s like to be picked on by teachers and it always feels awful, even when he had known the answers. He doesn’t think their teacher was trying to pick on Owada, was just trying— erroneously— to make him understand, but he guesses it wouldn’t feel like that to the other teen. Especially with the whole ‘meet me after class’ thing looming over him. He does his best to force all thoughts of the biker out of his mind as he continues to work, but it’s a narrow thing…

Eventually, the class winds to a close and the teacher tells them their assignment for the following class, which is to interpret another translated English short story that sounds needlessly tedious and dull. Not that he’s particularly complaining! He likes tedium, it eats up a lot of the hours of the day. As he is tidying up his space, neatly putting his materials away as he gets ready to leave for his next class, he hears the teacher call his name. 

“Ishimaru-san, will you please come to see me before you leave? I have something to request of you.”

Hm. Well, that’s not ominous...

Nervous, afraid he’s done something wrong (even though he has no idea what he possibly could have done), he hurries to put his things away, wanting to see what the matter is. His pace slows when he gets to the front and sees Owada standing there, the teacher giving him a considering look as she speaks to him. 

“-did a good job finding meaning in the piece, even if it wasn’t entirely what I had in mind. However, it’s imperative that you understand symbolism, Owada-san, if you want any hope of understanding the American novel we’re about to read. Fahrenheit 451 has a lot of symbolism and I would hate for you to fail simply because you do not understand what the author is trying to say, do you understand me?” 

Owada scowls, putting his hands in his pocket as he looks down. Kiyotaka feels awkward as he slowly inches towards the desk, hoping that the teacher will finish her conversation with Owada quickly, so he doesn’t have to unintentionally eavesdrop any longer…

“Still don’t see the big deal. Why can’t authors just say what they mean? An’ why we gotta read American stuff anyway? We’re Japanese.” 

The teacher sighs again, shaking her head.

“American and English literature is a large part of literature in general, Owada-san. We will be reading plenty of Asian, African, Central American, and other similar literature as well throughout the year. And as for the point of symbolism, I’m afraid that is not something I can explain to you in this short amount of time,” the teacher explains calmly, before looking up at Kiyotaka as he approaches, realizing that this conversation was not going to end anytime soon. She smiles at him kindly, inclining her head politely in greeting. He can feel eyes staring holes into him, a sensation he’s gotten unfortunately used to, so he just ignores it as he clears his throat, bowing slightly back. 

“Ah, Miyamoto-sensei, was there something you wanted from me?!” Kiyotaka questions, his nerves making his voice forceful. He’s not yelling, though, so at least there’s that... the teacher smiles kindly again, nodding once. 

“Ah, yes, Ishimaru-san, you’re right on time. I have a favor to ask of you. You have been doing very well in this class, behind only Fukawa-san in grades, and I know you have experience with tutoring. As such, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind assisting Owada-san with understanding the meaning of symbolism in literature? I’m afraid I do not have the time to go over such a thing with him, and we are starting our novel next week. I would be incredibly grateful if you could assist me, Ishimaru-san, and help bring Owada-san up to speed. I will put in a good word for you with the headmaster if you do.”

A-ah... ah! 

Kiyotaka flushes bright red as he realizes what the teacher is asking, resolutely not looking at Owada, not wanting to see his reaction to such a request. Such a ridiculous request, obviously! Him, tutor Owada?! No! Definitely not! That’s a recipe for disaster if he’s ever heard one!

Ignoring Owada’s indignant spluttering, Kiyotaka turns wide eyes to the teacher, shaking his head firmly once. However, seeing her confused frown, he realizes he has to be careful. After all, he doesn’t want to have to explain his childish feud with the biker to the teacher... how mortifying!

“A-ah, Miyamoto-sensei-! Is there no one else who could tutor Owada-kun?! I- I’m fairly busy this week a-and I’m not sure I’d be the best person to explain this to Owada-kun... w-wouldn’t Fukawa-kun be a better choice? O-or Yamada-kun? They both likely know more about literature than me!” 

The disappointed look the teacher gives him makes him feel terrible. Oh no! He hadn’t wanted that! Before this year, he’d never had teachers who actually seemed to like him, despite how diligent of a student he knows he is, so disappointing the ones who seem to appreciate his work ethic feels terrible! But... but, well... it’s not like he can actually tutor Owada! They’d kill each other! 

“Yeah, an’ I don’t need no fricken tutor! Particularly not a goody-two-shoes like Ishimaru! Come on, Teach-”

Owada is cut off by a sharp look from the teacher, who is standing as tall as she can to look the teen in the eyes. It’s not fair that she can look so intimidating, really… she is a fairly small elderly woman, barely coming up to Kiyotaka’s collarbone with almost entirely silver hair. Not exactly a ferocious looking woman; more like a kindly, old grandmother. However… in that moment, she looks so intimidating he doesn’t fault Owada for how he shrinks, scowling lightly to himself as he looks away, cheeks dusty pink. 

“You do not have any right to say anything, Owada-san, considering your grades in this class. I know this school does not prioritize you Ultimates doing well in your general classes, but as long as I am your teacher, I will not stand by while one of my students fails. Especially not when I know that you could do better if you only tried. Is that understood, Owada-san?”

Kiyotaka watches as Owada nods minutely, looking chagrined for once. Huh. He supposes miracles do happen... the teacher nods back and then continues.

“Now, you are a bright young man, and I have full confidence that you can understand the work if you just put the effort in. I truly believe having a tutor will be of benefit to you. Now, Ishimaru-san...” the teacher says, looking back at him with a frown. He can’t help how he squirms under her critical gaze, the woman looking almost disappointed in him. Oh, he hates disappointing people, teachers especially... “I suppose if you are, indeed, too busy, there is not much I can do about it. Could you not spare an hour or two, however? While Fukawa-san and Yamada-san are, indeed, good at literature, I do not know how well their temperaments would work with tutoring. I suppose I can ask an older student, but it would be more of a hassle. I can offer you extra credit as well, if that would help, to sweeten the deal?” 

Nnnn... argh! Curse him and his inability to say no to authority figures!

“A-ah! Of course, Miyamoto-sensei, I am sure I can find the time! You needn’t offer me extra credit; it would be an honor to assist you! I-if Owada-kun is willing, I will not mind tutoring him!” 

That’s a lie, but he only stumbles on the words a little as they come out, so he doesn’t think the teacher notices. And at least now the ball, as it were, is in Owada’s court! Surely the biker won’t want Kiyotaka to tutor him anymore than he wants to tutor Owada... right???

“Aw, come on! There seriously no one other than this nerd, Miyamoto-sensei? I fuc- uh, fricken hate him!”

Unbidden, Kiyotaka feels his cheeks heat, looking at the ground. Well! He didn’t have to put it so frankly! He can hear the teacher let out a soft noise of annoyance, and he can imagine the unimpressed stare the woman levels on the biker.

“I do not see why such a petty thing should matter, Owada-san! Ishimaru-san is a very excellent student and is one of the best tutors this school has to offer! You should feel honored that he is willing to offer his time to help you,” the teacher reprimands firmly, but not harshly. “I will not waste my time looking for another tutor for you if your only complaint is that you do not like him. Of course, you don’t have to accept tutoring, but I will tell you that with the way you are going, you will fail this course if you don’t, which is a shame. You have the capability to do more if you just applied yourself. I know you do. Or do you simply wish to fail?”

Kiyotaka is shocked— when his eyes dart back up despite himself— to see Owada flush, the biker looking at the ground, that chagrined expression back on his face. Wow. He wouldn’t have expected Owada, of all people, to care about his grades... 

“Aw, shit- I mean, uh shoot. Ugh. Fine. Fine! Whatever, I don’t fricken care! You,” Owada growls, pointing at Kiyotaka with a forceful finger, not looking at him, “tomorrow, after class, library. You're late, I ain’t gonna hang ‘round. Got it? Good. Now I’m out. See ya later, Teach.” 

With that, Owada storms away, his back tense and awkward, black duster billowing behind him as he goes. Kiyotaka blinks, shocked at the abrupt words. Owada... is accepting his tutoring help?? Somewhat willingly????  Ha! What alternate universe has he stumbled into...? 

“Ah, I’m sorry for this Ishimaru-san... I know that Owada-san can be very... prickly, but I honestly believe there is more to him than that and if he were to just apply himself, he’d surely succeed. However, if it’s too much, I will not force you to continue tutoring him. All I ask is that you do your best, alright? Do the one session and, if it doesn’t work out, I can try and find someone else for him. Do you have any questions?” 

Kiyotaka shakes his head slowly, smiling shakily at the woman. 

“No, sensei. I- I’m good! I will admit, Owada-kun and I... do not get on very well-” understatement of the century- “but I will do my best to help him with the course material! I have tutored plenty of people who I have not been on the best of terms with and have managed just fine! You need not worry!” 

And he does mean that. He’s actually tutored some of his bullies before, the kids hating it but knowing that Kiyotaka was one of the best tutors available. He’s very efficient and is ironically good at explaining things in a simple, succinct way, which is beneficial to have in a tutor. He’s even been paid for it, once or twice, though he usually just does it either as a favor to a teacher or for extra credit. Or, a few times, because he had hoped it would make kids like him more, to disappointing results. 

However, something tells him that this particular tutoring job will be the hardest of them all...

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~ 

It’s 3:24 on a chilly, Wednesday afternoon in October. The weather is overcast, the threat of an upcoming storm looming over the school like a dark omen, promising biting rain and bitter chills. A day like this is perfect for curling up in the library, book in hand and worries miles away. 

So, why is it that Kiyotaka is finding himself frozen outside the entrance to one of his favorite rooms, hand outstretched as it hovers uselessly over the library door handle?

Okay. Well, he knows why, of course he does! But it’s, quite frankly, ridiculous! He is Kiyotaka Ishimaru! He does not back down from anything! He fights through his fear and uncertainty and always comes out on top! Always! He is determined to get through this too, to prove to the world— and to himself— that Mondo Owada will not get the better of him!

He knows this. He feels this. He breathes this.

And yet, all the determination in the world cannot seem to get him to breach the last few centimeters between his hand and the door. 

Gah! Argh! Phooey! This is ridiculous!

Alright. Alright, alright, alright.  Okay. Think of this rationally. 

It’s just Owada, right? While the biker is, admittedly, very explosive, he knows the teen. Regrettable, yes, but still. He knows how quick to temper the teen is, and as such he should be able to figure out how to be as unassuming as possible to get through this meeting. He’d spent over an hour yesterday preparing for this session, even! He’d organized the material in a very logical, easy to digest way that even Owada couldn’t find offending. Sure, he’ll have to wait until after gauging Owada’s current level in literature before he can make a personalized tutoring schedule, but he has a plan— a good plan!— onto how to best engage Owada without, hopefully, offending the overly irritable biker. As long as he can keep his own temper, he should be fine! 

But, well... maybe that’s what’s concerning him the most. The fact that he’s not sure if he can trust himself to keep his cool. 

Which is ridiculous! Completely and utterly ridiculous! He is Kiyotaka Ishimaru! Ultimate Moral Compass! He should not be afraid of losing his temper! He should be able to keep his head in any situation, no matter who he is speaking to! He needs to stop being so ridiculous! 

Okay. Okay! Okay. He can handle this. Owada... means nothing to him. This is just a job, just like any other. Focus, Taka. Don’t lose yourself. 

Unbidden, a flash of that day enters his mind. Heart stopping closeness and aching warmth. Lavender eyes looking at him like he actually means something. A thumping heart, shaky breath, a second away from almost making the worst mistake in the world. 

A fervent wish that he hadn’t stopped himself in time. 

He-

No! Stop!! Bad!!!

Argh!!!!

Okay! Okay! OKAY! 

Ugh. 

Kiyotaka lets out a breath, shaking his head to clear it of all thoughts and— before he can talk himself out of it— grabs the door handle, pushes with all his might, and quickly strides into the room. Ha! There. He did it. 

…Now what?

Well, he supposes he should go try and find Owada... assuming the other teen is here already. He’d realized soon after the teen had left the previous day that they’d not set a specific time (after class is very nondescript, after all), so he’d written Owada a note and left it on his desk this morning before home room, telling him to meet him in the library at 3:30 sharp, a half hour after school ended. He knows the biker read it, as he’d been surreptitiously glancing in the direction of the teen’s desk, eyes intent when the biker had finally shown up and saw the note. He’d briefly panicked when Owada had immediately looked up and had met his eyes but had calmed when the biker had just nodded jerkily and sat down. 

Presently, it is 3:29, which means that Kiyotaka is one minute early. It’s pushing it, by his standards, but he had just spent the last five minutes standing outside the door, trying to psych himself up to enter, so... 

That’s what makes him think the other teen wouldn’t be there yet, since he hadn’t seen him try and enter within the last five minutes, and unless he’d come straight from class, he probably wouldn’t have arrived first... right? 

Wrong. 

Kiyotaka blinks as he finds Owada sitting at a table near the back, a more secluded one than Kiyotaka usually goes for, but probably works better for their purposes. The teen actually has his literature textbook out, and from what he can see, it’s actually open to the right page, too. And if Kiyotaka isn’t mistaken he seems to be... reading?? Willingly???

Okay. Well, that’s not that surprising, considering why they’re here, yes? It’s just... unusual, he supposes. He’s never actually seen Owada doing any work, the teen usually spending his days lounging in the general rooms or playing games in the rec room (which he only knows because of his patrols, not because he’s stalking the teen, thank you very much!). Or else outside, riding his motorcycle through the city. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Owada so much as open a book, let alone read one... and it’s... strange...

Owada looks focused when he reads, Kiyotaka thinks absently, eyes roving over the teen unbidden. And he does, oddly enough. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his lips are turned down, but his eyes are focused fully on the text before him, flicking back and forth as he reads. Sometimes his lips will move, like he’s trying to figure out the feel of a word, testing it out mentally. It... it’s really distracting... 

Kiyotaka gets jolted out of his weird reverie when Owada looks up abruptly, the teen’s focused look fading into annoyance as soon as he catches sight of Kiyotaka, a harsh scowl replacing the soft, almost gentle frown from a moment before. Kiyotaka pushes away the stab of pain at the look and hurries to take a seat. 

He freezes, halfway seated, when he hears Owada growl at him. 

“You're late,” Owada growls, sounding annoyed. Blinking, Kiyotaka looks up at the teen, frowning when the words register. He finishes sitting, shaking his head emphatically. 

“What?! No, I’m not! I’m never late!” 

Which is true! Punctuality is of vital importance! He’s never late for anything, ever! 

Owada just raises an eyebrow and looks over to the clock on the wall pointedly. Kiyotaka look over as well and finds that it— to his utter shock— reads 3:32. 

Grk!

Kiyotaka flushes as he realizes he must have been staring— er, looking, very casually— at Owada for a bit longer than he’d realized... so, technically he hadn’t been late, but how exactly could he explain that without confessing that he’d been star- looking at Owada for almost three whole minutes? He could imagine that going over well... Well, Owada-kun, you see, I got here perfectly on time! It was only because I was so distracted watching you read— a look of such intense focus on your face that I didn’t want to break— that I was regrettably made late! So, in a way, my tardiness is your fault, not mine!

Ha. He bets that would go over well. 

Still... he can’t just admit that he was late! That would be like admitting he’d murdered someone! He can’t do that!

So, flush on his cheeks, Kiyotaka starts removing his supplies from his bag, muttering out a semi-plausible excuse. 

“W-well... my watch must be a few minutes slow, is all. I’ll have to fix it later. N-now!” Kiyotaka hurries on, ignoring Owada’s snort of disbelief, which is understandable since Kiyotaka doesn’t even have a working watch anymore. “I believe we are here for tutoring, not idle chit-chat! Have you done the reading?”

Ha. Like he doesn’t already know Owada has. He watches, insides squirming, as Owada rolls his eyes, nodding tightly. 

“Yeh, just got it done. Fuckin’ sucked, made abs’lutely no sense, but I read it. The fuck is this gonna go, anyway? I ain’t gonna sit here bein’ lectured by ya, tightass, so don’t go gettin’ any ideas...” 

Kiyotaka clenches his jaw at the foul language, glaring lightly at Owada, his temper rising. He tries to push it down, knowing it won’t help him here, but he can’t help it when he barks out, “language! We are in a library; such crude language is uncalled for! We are still on school grounds, after all!” 

He didn’t really mean to, honest! He had told himself he wouldn’t, if the biker chose to curse, like he is wont to do. But not even a minute in and he already broke one of his promises to himself. 

This truly is going to end in disaster, isn’t it...? 

Judging by how Owada glares at him, scowl deepening even further, he has a foreboding feeling go through him. Great. Wonderful. Just peachy...

“Alright, listen here, fuckwad. I already don’t wanna be here, got me? Either deal with my shitty language, or I’m out. I’ll try an’ watch myself, but I ain’t makin’ no promises, so if ya can’t handle that, then you're free ta leave now!” 

Kiyotaka wants to bite back, to say that he’s the one doing Owada a favor, not the other way around. He’d had to rearrange his patrol schedule to come to this meeting that Owada had set up without asking him, after all! 

But... 

He keeps the words in, knowing it will just make things infinitely worse if he lets them out, and takes a deep breath instead, steadying himself. 

It’s been two minutes. 

This is going to be a long hour. 

“Alright. Fine! Whatever, Owada. Now, I have some things prepared for you, but first I need to know what you know and what you are less certain on. I can either verbally quiz you, or you can take a written quiz I have prepared. Which would you prefer?” 

Kiyotaka is impressed with himself. Not only was he able to keep his cool, but he had managed to keep himself from being overly forceful like he normally is. Huh. Small miracles, there... 

Owada gives him an incredulous look, though, snorting and shaking his head, breaking Kiyotaka out of his thoughts. What? What had he said that Owada was incredulous over? 

“The fuck? No one said anythin’ ‘bout a fuckin’ quiz! What game ya playin’, Ishimaru?”

Ahh. So that was what had stumped the teen. Perhaps he should have been clearer...

“Ah! No, of course not! I apologize, I should have been clearer! This is less of a quiz and more... well, like a benchmark! I simply need to know what you already understand and what you need help with, so that I can be of the most assistance and don’t waste either of our time. Does that make sense?” Seeing Owada’s blank stare, he figures he should tell the teen an example. Biting his lip, he continues. “Like... here’s an example. What do you know about symbolism, in general?”

Owada blinks, that soft frown back, eyebrows furrowed as he thinks. His hand rises and rubs the back of his neck, which makes Kiyotaka know that he’s unsure or nervous. He has to look away after a moment, something about the almost uncertain expression on the biker’s usually confident face making his face flush most unpleasantly. How peculiar... 

“Uh... not much? I mean,” Owada continues quickly, seeing Kiyotaka’s frown, cheeks flushing red and scowl returning, “I dunno! It’s, like... metaphor, yeah? Describin’ somethin’ but meanin’ somethin’ else?”

Ahh... not... not quite...

“Hm... is that all you know?” 

Owada flushes further, hunching his shoulders, looking almost miserable. Oh no! He hadn’t meant to embarrass the teen! He may not like the biker much, but he doesn’t want to make him upset! Hm, maybe he should take a different approach... 

“That’s okay! No need to worry! We can just start going over what symbolism is, in general, and work from there. Now, it is interesting that you mention metaphor...”

Kiyotaka continues on, doing his best to explain what symbolism is in a simple, easy to understand way.

After about five minutes, Owada is looking very frustrated, and he isn’t faring much better himself...

“What?! But why! Just fuckin’ say what ya mean! Man, why the fuck does this gotta be so fuckin’ confusin’?! ... am I just an idiot? Shit, no, don’t fuckin’ answer that!” 

He feels a pang of sympathy for the biker, understanding what he means. Truth be told, symbolism is kind of tricky for him, too. It had taken him several days of studying only symbolism, multiple hours dedicated to it each day, for him to even start understanding it better. Even still, he gets tripped up sometimes, certain turns of phrases confusing him, particularly those revolving around emotions or popular references. Personally, while he gets the point of symbolism, he’s kind of with Owada here. Which is something he’d never expected to say! 

Clearing his throat, he pushes past the frankly terrifying realization that he and Owada agree on something and tries to reassure the teen. Which is another strange thing... 

“Owada-kun, I do not think you are an idiot! This is simply confusing! I had a similar problem myself, once! But I know with some hard work and effort, from the both of us, I can help you understand it!”

Owada glares at him, scowling again. Great. Seems he said the wrong thing, then. Ugh, why is this so hard?!

With a soft sigh, Kiyotaka shakes his head, looking at the teen sideways. 

“Didn’t... didn’t you ever learn about this in middle or primary school? Perhaps if we can go over what you were taught back then, we can figure out where to go from there?” 

Owada flushes again, looking down at his hands on the table. He clenches them, looking uncomfortable, but not angry, at least. Well, other than the default anger he tends to always have… but it’s better than before, so he’s tentatively calling it a win. 

“Shit, man, ya think I ever learned this shit at school? Like hell. Never really went ta school, not really. Was always suspended or expelled or shit. Then there was the time I was in juvie... an’ even when I was in class, ain’t like they ever cared if any a’ us knew shit. So, it ain’t like I had a chance ta learn any a’ this shit. It never made sense an’ it’s not like it’s gonna matter. Ain’t… ain’t like I’m ever gonna do anythin’ with my fuckin’ life… fuck, man. This is fuckin’ hopeless... shit. Goddamnit. Just... just fuckin’ go. I’ll figure somethin’ out on my own. Always fuckin’ do…”

Kiyotaka can’t help the way he is staring at Owada, blinking at the information the biker had just revealed. It seems Owada has reached his limit, then... but... biting his lip softly, Kiyotaka shakes his head slowly. 

“No, it’s not hopeless, Owada-kun. You just have some catching up to do, that’s all! But I believe that you can do it! A-and I’ll do my best to help you, I promise! I just... I just might need some time to figure out how to best explain this to you clearly... there may be some books on the subject that can better explain this than I can. I’m not the best with symbolism myself, after all! But I know you can figure it out! With hard work, anything is possible!” he enthuses, eyes practically sparkling with determination. It’s his life’s motto, after all. Anything is possible as long as you work hard for it! It’s what he tells himself every day! 

Owada, it seems, is not as impressed with his mantra as he is, if the derisive snort is any indication. Kiyotaka frowns over at the teen, who is rolling his eyes and smirking at him. 

“Ya don’t really believe that crap, do ya?” Owada questions, rolling his eyes again when Kiyotaka firmly nods, opening his mouth to explain in more detail. He is halted when Owada holds up a hand, a smirk on his lips. “Okay, alright, shit. Don’t need a lecture, goddamn.”

Owada pauses again, seeming to collect his thoughts, before sighing, his shoulders loosening from the tense knot he’d been holding them in, a look of— is that... resignation? Yes, yes, it is resignation— passing on his face. It makes him, somehow, look both years younger and years older at the same time, defying all logic. He looks tired and worn, and there’s a tiny, self-deprecating smile on the teen’s face, so contrary to how he usually looks that it just feels so very... wrong to see. Kiyotaka has never seen such a look on the teen’s face before and... and he... he has to admit, he kind of hates it. Like... really kind of hates it. 

Like... despises it. 

He wants to make it go away...

“Look, Ishimaru. I’m gonna be honest with ya. I... I ain’t exactly smart, ya know? I ain’t like you. This stuff... it makes no sense. Readin’ makes my head swim, the words all tiny an’ blurry an’ shit. An’ what’s the point a’ tryin’, anyway? Like I said, ain’t like I’m gonna need any a’ this shit in my life. I’m a fuckin’ biker, fer Christ’s sake. Ain’t like I need ta know why walls are blue. Don’t wanna let Teach down, but... well, it’s her fuckin’ fault fer thinkin’ I’m better than I fuckin’ am! ’Ve never pretended ta be anythin’ I ain’t! I just... I just ain’t cut out fer this school shit, man. So, thanks, I guess, but there ain’t no point in this shit. No point draggin’ ya inta this mess too, huh? So, it’s fine. We ain’t gotta do this again. I’ll figure somethin’ out myself.” 

Owada says the words plainly and nonchalantly, like they don’t matter at all, but Kiyotaka can see the way his eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth downturned into a bitter frown. Over the past month, Kiyotaka has (somehow) gotten good enough at reading the teen that he knows, instinctively, that while the teen may say he doesn’t care, in all actuality, miraculously... he does. 

A lot. 

Huh. 

But, based on the words, it seems like he’s about ready to give up. On himself, on school... he’s about ready to... to quit...!

(The idea of it... of giving up... of Owada giving up, when he has so much potential, when he has that soft, raw, bloody interior that Kiyotaka has seen only glimpses of but desperately craves to see more of... the thought that Owada cares, that he wants to do better, but that he just can’t figure out where to even start... the thought of Owada just... just giving up...

Well. It shifts something inside Kiyotaka, breaks through something he’d thought he’d closed up long ago, and lets it break free. If he were paying more attention, if he weren’t so focused on trying to help Owada, a person he hates (and yet, also, doesn’t), then maybe he would have been able to stop it in time, to prevent it from taking over him and causing the havoc it always did when he was a child. 

But he wasn’t careful. He wasn’t paying attention. He was too focused on Owada, too focused on his sympathy— his empathy— seeing himself as a child, so close to giving up on all of his goals if it weren’t for his determination and drive... and his... his passion...)

Kiyotaka’s eyes snap up, a fire in them that had once gone out years ago— a fire he’d put out himself to keep himself safe—now rekindled, as bright and as brilliant as ever. 

Because no! He won’t let Owada give up on himself! Not on Kiyotaka Ishimaru’s watch!! Not when he can see that the teenager does, actually, care! Quitters never prosper, and he will not let one of his classmates— no, he won’t let Owada— give up on himself! Not now, not ever!

Standing with his enthusiasm, Kiyotaka stares down at Owada with that fire in his eyes, pointing at him passionately, not even thinking of how rude such a gesture is. Owada just looks up at him dumbly, his mouth hanging open in bafflement, looking completely lost at Kiyotaka’s abrupt change in temperament. But Kiyotaka doesn’t see that, not with how his mind is racing, plans and ideas flying around, too fast for him to capture, too fast for him to focus on, but all so incredibly important...!

“No! That’s quitter’s talk! I will not let you give up so easily! Quitters never prosper and you will get nowhere in life if you refuse to work hard for it! This may be a challenge, but you will get through it, Owada-kun! I will help you get through it! I guarantee it!”

In his mind, Kiyotaka is already starting to draft ideas and plans on how to go about this, to help Owada not just understand symbolism, but to understand the importance of school and a good education in general. After all, education is the one thing you can build for yourself that others cannot take away from you! He- he needs to explain this to Owada, he just- he needs... 

As engrossed in his impassioned planning as he is, he loses track of where, exactly, he is. School, the library, his room, Mars... what does it matter when he’s planning?! But, as such, he jolts somewhat when he sees Owada stand before him, sneer harsh on his face, the biker starting to look pissed off. But Kiyotaka is so engrossed in his planning that he forgets to feel afraid and just frowns at Owada with confusion. Why... why is he glaring? 

“What, the absolute fuck, are ya talkin’ ‘bout, ya fuckin’ psycho?! The fuck?!”

Ah! He’s confused, of course! He must explain!! Emboldened by his sudden passion, forgetting himself entirely, Kiyotaka strides forward and places his hands on Owada’s shoulders and looks him deep in the eye, letting his sincerity shine through. He’s loves feeling passionate about things! It’s exhilarating! 

“I promise you, Mondo Owada, that I will not let you give up on yourself! We will get through your problem together! We can figure this out! You do not have to give up on yourself, not with me here! I will help you! I promise!!”

Kiyotaka removes his hands a second later as an idea strikes him, which is probably a good thing because— if he were in his right mind and not so focused on his impassioned plans to help Owada— he’d have noticed the vein bulging on the biker’s forehead, as well as the angry flush that is rising on his face, his eyes going dark with rage, a telltale sign that he’s starting to get seriously pissed off, in a bad way. 

But, as focused as he is, he doesn’t notice. He just picks up the textbook, holds it relatively close to Owada’s face and points to a random sentence, his racing mind picking up on something Owada had said, something that had stuck out to him and needs further investigation, right away!

“Now! Tell me, what does this say?!”

He looks at Owada expectantly, watching with wide, steady eyes as Owada’s mouth opens and closes, the other teen at an utter loss as to what is going on. Kiyotaka doesn’t remove the book, though, and just continues to hold it steadily, focus unwavering. After a moment, Owada does as he is told and looks at the book, angry bewilderment all over his face. Kiyotaka doesn’t notice. 

“Uh, what? Shit, I dunno... u-uh... somethin’ ‘bout a raven... or, shit, what...” Owada trails off, squinting his eyes and moving farther from the book, likely to see better. Aha! Just like he expected! 

Excited, Kiyotaka closes the book with a snap, not noticing Owada’s indignant ‘hey!’ and instead points to a nearby sign, one that has big letters. It looks a bit blurry to him, as his far vision is not exactly 20/20, but he can see it well enough to read it. And so should Owada! 

“Perfect! Now, what does that sign over there say?!” 

Again, he doesn’t notice the rage that is steadily building on Owada’s face, the teen’s face now entirely red as his hands clench tightly into fists. Still, the biker does as is asked, glaring at the sign, but not squinting like he had been earlier. 

“Why the fuck does this fuckin’ matter?! It says, ‘books aren’t just made of words, they’re also filled with places ta visit and people ta meet,’ which is the stupidest fuckin’ shit I’ve ever fuckin’ read, the fuck-”

Kiyotaka doesn’t give Owada the ability to finish his sentence, instead laughing happily, throwing his hands up with his excitement at figuring out the puzzle. Aha! It’s so simple, truly! How wonderful!!

“Perfect! Owada-kun, I think you may be farsighted! That might explain why you have such a hard time reading! But it’s an easy fix, I assure you-”

“The fuck did you just call me, you fuckin’ piece a’ shit?!” 

Kiyotaka blinks, head tilted as he looks at Owada, still not quite recognizing the look of rage on the teen’s face, so excited that he’s solved the puzzle. Aha! This all makes perfect sense now!

“Farsighted! It means that you have trouble reading words when they are close to your face, the words appearing blurry, but can see them just fine when they are far away! It is a very common ailment, I assure you! And it can be very easy to fix! You may need to visit the school’s nurse and see if you can’t get an appointment with an optometrist, but with the school’s insurance plan, it should be easy for you to get an appointment, and then you can get glasses-”

“What?! I ain’t fuckin’ wearin’ nerdy fuckin’ glasses! The fuck are you-”

“-which should help with your reading immensely! This will not help with the symbolism problem, sadly, but it may make it easier for you to learn to enjoy reading! And the more you read, the easier it will be-”

“Hold on one fuckin’ second you goddamn, motherfuckin’ psychotic piece of absolute shi-!”

“-language! As I was saying, the more you read, the easier it will be to pick up on the symbolism in the books you read! I imagine that, as hard as reading is, you do not do it often, which makes you lag behind! But do not worry! You can catch up! I belie-”

A growl is all the warning Kiyotaka gets before he gets grabbed by the shirt and slammed, quite painfully, into a pillar. And, as his head hits the hardwood, the manic determination that had filled him suddenly floods out, and cold realization settles in. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Oh, dear God. 

Oh sweet, dear God, heavens above... no!

!!!

“Listen here, you goddamn piece of fuckin’ shit! You ain’t got a single fuckin’ clue about me and my life! Ya fuckin’ understand me?! I don’t know what this goddamn ‘farsighted’ bullshit is, but I sure as hell ain’t it! Not if I gotta get fuckin’ glasses! I ain’t no goddamn nerd! So, I don’t fuckin’ care what you fuckin’ say, I’m fuckin’ done! This shit is fuckin’ impossible and I ain’t gonna bother puttin’ in the effort, not if it means I gotta be fuckin’ stuck with a piece a’ shit like you! Ya fuckin’ hear me, you fuckwad?!” 

Owada’s words are hissed, low and angry, his eyes practically all black with his rage, his chest heaving. And Kiyotaka...

Kiyotaka is absolutely terrified. 

And not just because of the irate biker in front of him. 

In fact, that’s currently the least of his worries. Ironic, he knows, but… but he… h-he-

He did it again. He actually did it again. After all of these years...

He can’t believe he did it again! And in front of Owada to boot! Oh! He’s so mortified!

He has spent years carefully controlling himself so that people don’t see this side of himself. Years and years and years of careful regulation of his emotions, of keeping his raging passion in check. As a child, he’d used to let it run rampant. He’d passionately rave at his classmates, would lecture them in the halls, would show his determination, his enthusiasm, not caring who saw! He was a passionate person, why would that be something shameful, he’d felt! And his mother had agreed!

But... but the other children... they... they didn’t see it that way. They never did. 

And after... after his mother died... after he lost his one biggest supporter, the one person who saw him at his most passionate (if that’s even the right word, he doesn’t even know what to call what he gets, passionate doesn’t seem strong enough but it’s the best word he’s got so it’s what he uses) and didn’t judge him, didn’t hate him for it... after she was- was gone, he...

His father never understood him when he got like this. Never understood him, period, but especially when he was like this. He tried, of course he did! But after... after his mother... his father was too tired to keep trying. 

Kiyotaka still remembers the day his father had finally snapped, had yelled at him, “Kiyotaka Ishimaru! No one cares about this goddamn insignificant festival! Your classmates aren’t going to magically change their minds about you, not even if you make it the best festival ever! They hate you, and there is nothing you can do about it! Accept it and move the fuck on!” 

It was the first time he’d ever heard his father curse, and he thinks that was what had hurt the most, knowing he’d driven the usually collected and composed man to such intense anger with his... his passion. He’d been so ashamed, had felt tears in his eyes, but he hadn’t let them fall. He’d just deflated— like the balloon he’d been trying (and failing) to inflate— and had nodded dully. His father had apologized, later, had held him close and whispered how so, so sorry he was, that he’d never do it again (and thus far he hasn’t), but the damage had been done. And what was said could never be unsaid... 

He’d realized then that his ‘passion,’ his... his determination...? No one cared about it. The children didn’t. They called him names, made fun of him, taunted him for how stupidly focused he got over little, insignificant things. His father didn’t, the man too tired to deal with Kiyotaka’s silly little quirks. And Kiyotaka...

Kiyotaka was tired of being such a burden.

So, he’d learned to contain it. To keep it inside. To ignore the feeling when it came, even if it choked him, which it often did. When he was alone, when it was a personal project that he could do by himself… then he’d let it out. Let his passion drive him into a mad frenzy of movement and action and determination. It helped him get through the monotony of his actions, helped him keep motivated and energized. It, in all honesty, is what helped him get here, to Hope’s Peak in the first place. It was helpful when it was just him who had to experience it. 

However, whenever he was in public... whenever there were other people around, his father included... he’d learned to keep it in. To keep it locked up, tight, tight, tight, putting it in a box and refusing to let it out, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he desperately wanted to let it free. It... no one cared, no one wanted to be burdened with his ‘passion.’ No one liked it when he got so frantic and determined and... and... he doesn’t even have the words for what he felt, but no one liked it. No one. No one. 

“You just care about things so deeply, my love,” his mother would coo to him whenever he’d cry about a bully mocking him for his enthusiasm. “You care about everything so very much. But that’s a good thing! It’s good to be passionate, to have drive! People always attack what they don’t understand, but please, my little Taka, don’t let anyone take that light from you, okay? You will be the best and brightest of us all, one day, I promise you, my darling. Don’t let anyone steal that from you. No matter what, okay?”

He’d nodded, at the time, clinging to her words like the child he was, wanting to believe them so bad. His mother knew everything, back then, and it had been easy to let her soothing words ease his heartache and pain. It always had been, back then. 

But she... she didn’t understand. She couldn’t understand. He wanted to be liked. He wanted it so, so bad. He knew it was stupid, that he should accept himself as he is, but, well... he didn’t really like himself much, to be perfectly honest, so why shouldn’t he change? And maybe... maybe there was something wrong with him that he got like this, something his mother just... hadn’t seen, too blinded by her inherent kindness and goodness. I-it never felt like it, never felt like it was wrong, or bad, or- or anything like that. It felt helpful, and fiery, and bright! It made him feel emboldened, made him feel powerful and confident. But if it wasn’t... if it wasn’t a burden, wasn’t a nuisance... then why did people hate him so much for it? Why did... why did his father... why did they... 

So, he’d learned to change himself, despite what his mother had said. Sometimes... sometimes, when no one in the world likes you, not even yourself, you had to change. Right? I-it wasn’t quitting it was... it was just bettering yourself! He’d be stupid to think he was the pinnacle of perfection! Because he- he wasn’t! He strove to be perfect, but he never actually was! In order to be perfect... in order to be the absolute best... he’d have to make some changes. And that was okay. That was fine. That... that was fine. 

He was okay with it. 

But now. Now, here he is, staring wide eyed into angry eyes, realizing with a sinking heart that he had failed. He was supposed to keep this all inside, keep it to himself and never burden anyone else with it, ever, ever, ever again. And yet... a-and yet...

Why does he bother trying? What is the point of any of this? 

Why does he keep burdening people with his stupidity? 

“Oh, an’ now you're fuckin’ cryin’, like a goddamn fuckin’ child again! Goddamn it, how fuckin’ pathetic are you?! Tryin’ ta make me feel bad?! You're the one who doesn’t know when ta fuckin’ quit, who- who is tryin’ ta say ya actu’ly fuckin’ believe in me, l-lyin’ ta me... I know ya hate me, I’m a piece a’ shit, why the fuck would you care if I flunked out?! Ya’d prolly be happy if I did! S-so stop... stop cryin’, ya fuckin’... s-shit...”

Kiyotaka closes his eyes, trying to stop the tears he hadn’t even felt begin to fall. Another failure, tonight. Pathetic. Worthless. Absolute nothing. Why bother trying? Why keep doing this when all he does is hurt other people? Pathetic... so... so pathetic... even Owada sees it... everyone sees it... why...

“Aw... shit, Ishimaru, would ya stop... s-shit, I didn’t mean-”

“I’m sorry,” Kiyotaka gasps, his voice rough and ragged, eyes opening to look into Owada’s once more. They’re no longer black with rage but soft lavender again, still looking pissed off and confused, but no longer apoplectic. He wishes he could feel relieved about that. He can’t. His chest aches again and he suddenly can’t keep the words inside, feeling them come out and while he tries to stop it, he can’t. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t. 

Yet another failure. 

“I- I overstepped my boundaries. I- I let myself- myself get carried away and I... I... I was so stupid! Y-you are right to hate me! I- I just got so enthusiastic! Y-you have such potential, and I couldn’t... couldn’t stand to see you- y-you... you throw it away! L-like I- I almost— a-ah… b-but I... I shouldn’t... I shouldn’t have burdened you with my passion, it was deplorable of me! I’m so sorry! P-please, do whatever... do whatever you want to me, I will not stop you! I deserve whatever you do to me! I deserve-!” 

“Ah, god fuckin’ dammit, not this shit again!”

Kiyotaka flinches back drastically, the exasperated words sounding angry and forceful to his ear, another reprimand, for another failure he’s done. O-oh dear... oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! He... he messed up again, didn’t he? Oh no... ohhh no.....

He cringes back against the wall, turning his face away from the biker, wishing the ground would swallow him up so that he never has to face Owada’s anger and hatred and disgust ever again. H-he... he deserves to be punished, to be beaten, black and blue and bloody, h-he... b-but he can’t ask Owada again, the teen hates it when he asks, so he can’t... he- h-he can’t… 

“I- I’m sorry. I... I’m sorry,” he mutters, looking down, heart clenching in pain. God, he hates being like this. So weak. So pathetic. It’s... it’s unbecoming... how will he ever be Prime Minister if he keeps doing this... how...? Unbidden, his lips keep moving, and before he can stop himself, he hears himself say, in a voice so small he barely recognizes it as his own, “please don’t hate me...” 

Well. If he had thought to ask himself earlier ‘can you get anymore pathetic,’ he’s happy to report back that, yes. Yes, he can get more pathetic. At least he’s good at something!  

He flinches at the choked sound Owada makes and closes his eyes again. He... he can’t see the disgust and hatred he knows he’ll find there. He just... he can’t... 

“Goddamnit. I... okay. Ya know what? Okay. Fine. You tell anyone I ever fuckin’ said this, I’m gonna fuckin’ knock your lights out, ya understand?! But... shit. I- I... I don’t know what your fuckin’ deal is, okay? It’s like ya’ve got two fuckin’ people in ya. One of ‘em is the biggest fuckin’ asshole I’ve ever met, like, fuck, I hate ya when you're like that.” 

Kiyotaka flinches at the words, eyes opening against his will, and he watches as Owada sighs, shaking his head, grimacing lightly. 

“Shit. Sorry, but, like... it’s true. Ya drive me fuckin’ batty and I just get so angry at ya. Don’t even fuckin’ know why, shit... but then... then, sometimes you're... you're actu’ly half decent. Ya... fuck, I dunno, I’m shit with words. But you just... shine, I guess. Shit, no, that’s fuckin’ gay... ugh! I mean, you... you're different. Weaker, I guess, but also not. I just... I hate seein’ ya like this, but I also don’t know what the fuck is goin’ on with ya, an’ I feel like I’m in over my head, so I try an’ stay away from ya. But I can’t stop, you're every fuckin’ where and I can’t get away from you. I can’t... I just... I dunno why. You just...”

Owada trails off, a look of concentration on his face, and after a moment of silence, he sighs. And then... then he...

He leans forward. And he... he... 

He presses his forehead against Kiyotaka’s, minding his hair, the gesture soft and intimate and gentle. 

And Kiyotaka...

He’s fairly sure his mind has imploded… 

“I don’t get you, Ishimaru. You just... you don’t make sense. I try and figure you out, but I can’t... can’t understand a single fucking thing about you. You drive me absolutely insane, and I wanna do things I’ve never wanted ta do before. You make me... shit. I dunno. Wanna do better. Be better. But I can’t, I fucking... I can’t. I’m a fucking goddamn hot mess, and I think you might be too, so where the fuck does that leave us, huh? Blind leading the goddamn blind? Shit, man. I just...”

Owada sighs again, the puff of air hitting his lips, the scent of cinnamon overwhelming. Kiyotaka forgets how to breathe. It’s not important. Not when Owada is so close to him, is pressing closer, his body pressing so tight to Kiyotaka’s that he can feel every line, every crease, every single-

Who needs to breathe anyway? Useless bodily function, really… 

“Why do I wanna be so close to you... why can’t I stop fuckin’ thinkin’ ‘bout you... you’re in my head, and I can’t get you out. I wanna rip you outta here, but I just… I can’t. Did you put a spell on me? Are you secretly a wizard? ‘Cuz shit, man, that’s the only thing I can think of... I ain’t makin’ any fuckin’ sense, shit, ya prolly think I’m nuts... it’s your fault! I didn’t ask fer this, I didn’t-!”

There are hands on his hips, now, holding him tight, tight, so tight he thinks it will bruise, but he doesn’t care. He’s never been less concerned about getting a bruise in his life. 

“B-but... but... shit. Ta answer ya, Ishimaru... no. I… I don’t... I don’t hate ya. I wanna. I wanna hate you so fuckin’ bad. I try and tell myself I do, every fuckin’ day. But, really... I don’t know. I don’t like you. Not at all, not really. But I know hatred. And it ain’t that, either. So... yeah. Ya can stop lookin’ at me like that now, okay?”

Looking at him? Like what? He has no idea what he looks like at all, certainly not what look he’s currently looking at Owada with. But, not wanting to offend the teen, he closes his eyes, which honestly makes it all worse. With his eyes closed, his other senses heighten, and all he can sense is Owada’s overwhelming presence. Practically every part of him is being pressed into by the biker and he... h-he can’t handle this... g-god...

And then. Then, like it had never happened at all, Owada is gone. And Kiyotaka...

He’s never felt so acutely bereaved. 

He hears Owada sigh again, and slowly, like coming out of a dream, Kiyotaka opens his eyes, blinking rapidly at the light assaulting him. It’s disorienting, but when he looks over at the biker, his eyes drawn like magnets… things start to feel right again. As long as he’s looking at him... as long as he can see O-Owada... well. 

This is dangerous, isn’t it? Oh, yes. Yes, it is. He should run away before he gets burned. Again. A smart man would run and not look back. 

He’s always been such an idiot... 

“Okay. Shit, shit. I’m gonna... I gotta go punch some shit right now, ‘fore my balls fall off. So, I’m gonna... leave. But...” Owada pauses here, looking so uncomfortable Kiyotaka can feel it. But then he sighs, a wry smile on his lips, like he’s just learned that he’s insane, but realizes he is actually okay with it. “Shit. I’m prolly gonna regret the shit outta this, but what the fuck. Ain’t like my life can get any fuckin’ weirder. So, uh. If that offer is still on the table... ta, uh... help me. Then fine. I- I’ll try. I’ll go see that opt... whatever the fuck ya called it. Fer my fuckin’ eyes. See if I can’t fix the blurry shit, which I always just thought was normal, but I guess not? Shit, whatever. An’ I can do whatever the fuck else ya were talkin’ ‘bout, if ya... want... wait. Oh, wait, shit, I didn’t ask if ya... I- I mean, if ya don’t wanna, anymore, I ain’t gonna force ya-!”

Owada’s eyes have widened as he says the words, looking at Kiyotaka with something akin to horror in them, and Kiyotaka finally snaps out of his stupor at the sight. 

Eyes impossibly wide, he nods frantically, his brain still so sluggish he can barely think about anything, let alone his next words, but he knows he has to say something, something to take that panic out of Owada’s breathtaking eyes. 

“Yes! I! Yes! I wouldn’t mind at all! I- I’ll get started on a- a tutoring schedule, a-and... u-uh... I- I could go with you to the- the nurse...? I-if you’d want me to, I mean! Ahaha!” 

He’d feel more mortified by his surely tomato red face if Owada’s face wasn’t just as red, the other teen looking at the wall, his shoulders so tense it’s making Kiyotaka’s shoulders hurt just by looking. Usually, this is when Owada would hurl an insult, would do something to maintain his cool and collected image. Kiyotaka is expecting it so much, in fact, that he almost doesn’t register the fact that Owada starts to smile, small and crooked but there, nodding his head a little while rubbing his neck awkwardly. 

“U-uh, yeah. I mean, uh... if ya wanna... I just! Don’t uh. Know what the fuck that thing ya said was, an’, I uh... I dunno. Y’ain’t gotta, but I mean-”

“I don’t mind!” he rushes to reassure the other teen, only a little frantic. Owada coughs, covering his mouth with his hand, but Kiyotaka sees a glimpse of a large smile and it shorts his brain out again. 

“U-uh, cool! I, uh, I mean... whatever, ya fuckin’ nerd. N-now, I really gotta fuckin’ bounce. Only so much a’ this shit I can fuckin’ take, goddamn. Feel like I’m losin’ my goddamn mind, but whatever. I’ll let ya know when I’ve got time ta see the fuckin’ nurse. But uh... yeah.”

Owada pauses, once more, before looking up, a dark, frantic look in his eyes as he points a finger at Kiyotaka menacingly. 

“If you fuckin’ tell a single person about what happened here today, I’m gonna make you regret you were ever born, got it?! We never talk about it, never mention it, nothin’, is that fuckin’ understood?! This never happened, right?!”

Kiyotaka blinks at the abrupt change, but instead of afraid, he feels, almost... fond. 

Well. It’s official. 

He’s insane. 

(He should care about that, right?)

(…)

(He doesn’t.)

(Aha…)

“My lips are sealed!” Kiyotaka promises, miming locking his lips and putting the key in his pocket, something he and his mother used to do when he’d been young. Owada snorts at the action, smirking, but he says nothing else. He just nods tightly, once, points his finger at him one last time, before striding away, leather duster billowing behind him as he walks. 

Kiyotaka stares after him, not moving for long, long minutes. 

And then, after an undetermined amount of time, he returns to the table and pulls out a sheet of paper and a pen and begins writing furiously. 

After all. 

He has a new student to tutor! 

Chapter Text

Kiyotaka is going to go insane. Absolutely, without a doubt, certifiably insane. If he isn’t already, that is!

Because no sane person would be able to handle dealing with the absolute nightmare that is Mondo Owada without wanting to take a knife and stab the absolute nightmare in the back twelve hecking times-

He can feel his heart pounding, his breath ragged as he glares at the absolutely infuriating teen before him. 

“They! Are!! Glasses!!! Just!!! Wear them!!!” he grits out, thrusting his hand out towards the worst person he’s ever met, about five seconds from bashing his head against the wall. When he sees that absolute heathen scowl and cross his arms, shaking his head firmly, he almost does just that. 

ARGH!!!

“No! I ain’t no fuckin’ nerd!” Owada yells back, glaring like he was born to do it. Luckily, so was Kiyotaka! If glaring were a competition, he is sure he’d win!

“Just! Wear them! The doctor says you need them! You don’t have to wear them all the time! Just when you’re reading! Stop! Being an idiot!”

“Me?! I ain’t no fuckin’ idiot, you’re a fuckin’ idiot! If ya think I’m gonna wear that shit, you're outta your goddamn mind! Now get that shit outta my face, ya fuckwad, or I’m gonna bash your head in!” 

“Like heck you will! You’re all bark and no bite, Owada! Now just! Wear! The! Glasses! You said you were okay with them when you bought them! I will force you to wear them, don’t think I won’t!” 

“Oh, you motherfuckin’-!”

“U-uh, g-guys?”

Kiyotaka and Owada turn, as one, to glare at the intruder on their private conversation. Yes, so they happen to be having it in the middle of the hallway outside of their dorm rooms, but that doesn’t matter! Privacy is still important, and eavesdropping is a nasty habit! 

“Shut up!” the pair shouts in unison, before turning to glare at each other again. 

If Kiyotaka had thought that whatever had happened between them in the library would make dealing with Owada any more doable, he’d been sorely mistaken!

It’s been almost two, absolutely horrible, incredibly long weeks since that day, and at first, things had been fine. They’d been great, even! He and Owada had gotten along well, and while they weren’t really friends, they were, well... friendly. Kind of. And he’d been hopeful that maybe... just maybe... they could become friends. In time. And while it had terrified him— the fear of Owada abandoning him when he found out the truth still very present— he’d actually had hope that maybe... just maybe...

But then... then! Owada! It was him! He just... just... kept flip-flopping on his emotions! Kiyotaka thinks that it’s called running hot and cold, in the common vernacular, and it is very, very, annoying! 

At first, Kiyotaka had actually, naively believed that everything would be fine. He had thought that they were getting along great, that things were finally, finally okay, after days and weeks and months and years of it not being okay. And yeah, he kept getting these weird sensations in his stomach when he was around the other teen, kept feeling like the ground was about to drop out from under his feet whenever he saw the biker, but he had been fine! He’d been handling it well! 

After all. He’d realized, that first night, not sleeping a wink as his mind endlessly went over what had happened— from the fact that he’d broken his long-time promise to himself, to the fact that Owada hadn’t told him to leave him the heck alone because of it, to the fact that they were now kind of, sort of, maybe... friends?!— he’d realized that he’d have to keep whatever it was that was going on inside him hidden from Owada. Because if the biker found out... if he knew just how much his proximity earlier had affected him... if he knew the thoughts that Kiyotaka had had that night, breath hitching, remembering being so close to Owada, remembering what it was like to be pressed against the pillar by him, every sense engulfed by him, wanting to get somehow closer, wanting more, more, more, more-

The words, ‘get the hell away from me, you f*g!’ rang through his head, and he knew. He knew. He knows-

He. He isn’t. He’s not. Not... not. But, well. He supposes it doesn’t matter, really, what he is and what he is not. Because if Owada found out... if he ever had any idea at all... well. It wouldn’t matter what, exactly, he was or is. Because it would be all over. He knows that more than he knows anything else. 

And he just... he couldn’t handle that. 

So, he’d stuffed it down. He’d kept it inside. It burned him, scalded him, made his insides flare with what he now knows is called butterflies (thank you, internet, for explaining that one, even though this is decidedly not a crush), but he’d kept it firmly to himself, and for the first few days it had been good. It had been fine. Great, even. Owada would smile at him, looking happy and relaxed for once, and it was good. He could handle whatever was going on inside him, knew that the internet was wrong, he didn’t even know why he’d bothered using it to look anything up, it was such a liar-

And then Owada had changed. Like a switch was flipped. Kiyotaka hadn’t even done anything!

One minute, things had been fine. They’d been close, sitting pressed together on his couch while Kiyotaka read Owada one of the stories their teacher had assigned, realizing that it was easier for the biker to focus on while they waited for the nurse to contact an optometrist, since yeah, Owada’s close up vision was a little off... and things had been fine. They’d been relaxed, in Kiyotaka’s room (he’d flushed brightly when the biker had awkwardly offered that they go to his room to study, furiously stuffing the nonsensical reaction to the words down as he’d nodded almost maniacally, strangely excited to have his first guest over to his room), Owada looking calmer than he’d ever seen him before. The biker had even let his head fall onto Kiyotaka’s shoulder, eyes closed and looking so peaceful it had made his heart clench, but he’d made sure to keep his voice steady and even, which he’d done perfectly. There was nothing, at all, to indicate anything. Not that there was anything to indicate! Because there wasn’t!

But then, without any warning, Owada had tensed, Kiyotaka looking down at the biker with a small frown on his face, mouth open partially to ask if he was okay. Before he had any hope of doing that, however, Owada’s eyes had shot open as the teen scrambled to his feet, cheeks bright red, stammering out something that made absolutely no sense about his bike, before storming out of the room, leaving Kiyotaka to stare after him in bewilderment. He had supposed, at the time, that Owada just... didn’t like Edgar Allen Poe...? 

He’d done his best to put the weird event out of his mind, but he couldn’t stop how sick his stomach had felt all night long, no matter what he’d tried to do to settle it. He told himself it would be better the next day, that Owada probably just had a prior engagement that he’d forgotten about, that it was fine. That Owada couldn’t possibly know, there was nothing to know, he’d been so careful, he couldn’t possibly have figured anything out-!

But then. The next day, when he’d approached Owada after their first class, like they’d taken to doing, Owada had snarled at him to ‘get the fuck away from me, freak!’ before running off, leaving a wide eyed Kiyotaka staring after him, no idea what had just happened or what he’d done to deserve it. 

After a minute, he’d been approached by Naegi and Fujisaki, both of them asking if he was alright. He’d snapped out of his daze, then, and had just smiled tightly, nodding once. They’d not looked convinced and had insisted they walk with him to their next class, which he’d reluctantly acquiesced, trailing the two as they tried to involve him in idle conversation. He’d attempted to participate, but his heart was in it even less than usual, and he had been secretly relieved when he’d arrived at their next class.

And then he had promptly felt sick again when— following the teen storming into class five minutes late— Owada had refused to look at him, glaring at the board the entire class. And then, as soon as the bell rang, had stormed out of the room, not needing to clean anything up since he’d never taken any of his supplies out. Kiyotaka could only stare after him, eyes wide, heart aching so strangely in his chest.

And that was how the rest of the day had followed. 

It wasn’t until Kiyotaka— feeling very confused and very hurt— had cornered the biker outside his room that night, forcing the teen to talk to him, that they’d managed to resolve things. Sort of. Maybe. They’d had a huge shouting match that had garnered the attention of nearly their entire class, even Togami gracing them with his presence as he watched their fighting with a single raised eyebrow, but by the end of it, they’d managed to reach a tentative truce.

In that Owada had screamed ‘fuckin’ fine, ya goddamn bastard! I’ll fuckin’ meet you and do that goddamn fuckin’ assignment tomorrow! Now leave me the fuck alone!’ before storming into his room and slamming the door shut so loud his ears were still ringing several minutes later. And then Kiyotaka— heart hurting and mind so very, very confused— had hastily retreated to his own room, feeling very awkward at the concerned stares his classmates were giving him. 

And he had then proceeded to spend a restless night dreading the meeting, wondering what, on Earth, had possessed him to force the angry biker to meet with him, knowing that it would only end in tears, most definitely his own. 

He’d actually wondered, after the third sleepless hour, if maybe he was, in fact, a masochist. Because that was the only reason that he could think of for why he kept doing this to himself. 

But then. Then. Kiyotaka had gotten up, barely an hour of sleep under his belt but still having to somehow eat breakfast and head to class without passing out, mind a complete mess worrying over the pain that seeing Owada angry at him would bring, wondering what he’d done wrong, if he’d somehow failed at hiding his non-existent feelings, knowing he hadn’t because he’d come to that conclusion after the fifth sleepless hour, everything roiling and boiling and aching and breaking and horrible and-

Only for Owada to be completely fine again.

The biker had walked into home room, had given Kiyotaka a sheepish smile, and had spent the rest of the class doodling absently in the notebook Kiyotaka had helped him pick out at the school store. Owada had then waited for him after the class ended, talking to him nonchalantly, like nothing had happened, saying that the nurse had finally gotten in contact with an optometrist and that he had an appointment to see the doctor the next day at 3:00, asking if he wanted to come with. And Kiyotaka... Kiyotaka, absolutely flummoxed, had stammered out an acceptance, his stomach churning when Owada had turned to smile at him, the little one that made everything in him short circuit, and he’d been so flustered that he’d forgotten that he was supposed to be mad at Owada. 

And then. The next day, after his optometrist appointment, which had confirmed that Owada would need prescription reading glasses, which Kiyotaka had helped him pick out, a very smart pair that Kiyotaka personally felt looked very fetching on him-

Owada changed mood. Again. And they’d had another fight. Again. And then they’d made up. Again. 

Over. And over. And over. 

Kirigiri had even come up to him at one point, asking him calmly what had happened, and he’d just given the girl a helpless look, having utterly no idea, Owada an absolute mystery to him. 

And now? Now, Kiyotaka is holding the glasses that Mondo freaking Owada had picked out and had said he’d kind of liked, even if he did look a bit like a nerd, wanting to slam his head into the wall until he no longer has to deal with frustrating bikers or meddling, overly concerned classmates. 

Is this... is this what having friends is like? Is this what it feels like, to have a friend? If so, he wishes he could take it back, because god, is it awful! He’s not missed out on anything, really!

The worst part is, they’re probably not even friends. Even if he really, really wants to be. How… h-how terribly pathetic… 

“Look. Owada-kun,” Kiyotaka spits, heart clenching, wanting to crush the stupid glasses in his hand but knowing he won’t, “I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this! You picked them out! You said they were fine! Why! Why have you changed your mind?!”

“I ain’t changed shit! I never fuckin’ agreed ta wear fuckin’ glasses, now get the fuck outta my face!” 

Eugh!!! How! Dare!! He!!! He’s lying, they both know he’s lying, and yet he is still doing it! When Owada tries to storm away, to leave the hallway like he’d originally planned on before Kiyotaka had accosted him, Kiyotaka feels his hand shoot out, grabbing the biker’s muscular arm and holding tight, preventing him from moving. His arm nearly gets yanked out of the socket with how hard Owada pulls at the appendage, but he doesn’t let go, his other hand still carefully holding the glasses case. 

“You-! You are the most infuriating, pig-headed, arrogant... jerk I have ever had the misfortune to meet! If I never saw your face again, it wouldn’t be long enough!”

“Oh, I’m so wounded, please don’t call me anymore fuckin’ names like that, how the fuck am I ever gonna recover?!” Owada snarls, sarcasm so thick even Kiyotaka has no trouble picking up on it. “Grow the fuck up, ya cock suckin’ assfucker! Learn some better fuckin’ insults or don’t even bother tryin’ ta play!”

“Just because I am too sophisticated to resort to such foul language does not mean anything! You may be a lowly, classless heathen, but I, for one, refuse-”

“Oh, so now ya think you're fuckin’ better than me?! I told ya already, y’ain’t goddamn shit, Ishimaru! Ain’t no shit at all!”

“I am one hundred times the man you will ever hope to be! And if I’m not... feces, then you’re not even worth anything at all! Y-you’re... you’re an amoeba, so tiny and insignificant that it’s a miracle you think you’re relevant at all!”

“What the fuck did ya call me, ya son ofa bitch?!”

Kiyotaka opens his mouth to fire back, his chest heaving, barely an inch of space between the pair, Kiyotaka still holding onto Owada’s arm, almost like his life depends upon it, barely able to think he is so mad, and angry, and hurt-

But before he can say the— utterly witty, he assures you— rejoinder, the other voice pipes up again, less hesitant this time. 

“Aw, come on! I thought you guys resolved things already, do you really have to do this?! Please!” 

Owada turns to their eavesdropper, eyes dark, snarling at the woefully average boy. Naegi—to his credit— despite looking very pale, doesn’t cower down from the glare Owada gives him, for once. If he were capable of feeling any positive emotion at all at the moment, he’d feel proud of the boy. Instead, he’s just mindlessly furious, and that kind of blocks out everything else. 

“I told ya ta stay the fuck outta this!” 

Naegi frowns, but he doesn’t get a chance to say anything else before Owada turns back to Kiyotaka, eyes practically spitting fire, staring so deep into his own it’s almost like it’s a physical touch. It takes Kiyotaka’s breath away for one single, solitary second, the light reflecting off Owada in such a way to make him look almost... almost… well.

Ethereal.

Otherworldly. 

Beautiful. 

But he promptly pushes the thought out of his mind (though he can’t quite push the way his gut roils with the lingering sensation away). There’s no beauty to be found in anger and rage. Only death and destruction and anguish. Despair. Things that Kiyotaka, moral as he is, firmly detests. 

He can hear Naegi sigh softly, even as Owada opens his mouth to snarl at him, and he takes a moment to be glad that— despite how loud they’re being (though he’s managed to control his volume enough to not, technically, be yelling, as he still refuses to break the ‘no yelling in the halls’ rule)— they only have one witness at the moment. It’s progress...??

Or maybe most of their classmates have just given up caring about them, content to let them tear each other apart into little pieces until there is nothing left…

(He can still hear Togami’s bored, drawling, droll tone as it floated down the hall during their previous fight, stating that ‘will you two just sleep together already? Your explosive foreplay is getting very tiresome to be subjected to, I think I can safely say for all of us.’ He hadn’t, at the time, actually known what that meant, but by the way Owada had snarled that he ‘ain’t fuckin’ gay, ya fuckin’ pansy ass motherfucker,’ he realized pretty quick it wasn’t something wholesome. And when he’d, stupidly, looked it up later, he’d blushed so hard he was extremely glad that he’d been alone in the library at the time. Did- did their classmates really think that they- grk! He’d been so mortified, resolved to not think of such a detestable thing any longer but, to his great displeasure, he’d not been able to get the thought of it out of his head, his mind wondering... wondering...) 

“You think you're so perfect, don’t ya, Ishimaru? Think you're better than me? Well... well, you're not, an’ I can fuckin’ prove it. I bet I can beat you, hands down, any day of the fuckin’ week. Y’ain’t better than me, ya shit fuck. Y’ain’t nothin’,” Owada hisses, dragging his attention back to the biker, the words making something deep within him ache something fierce to hear. But, despite his distraction, he does his best to mask the pain by glaring. He can feel pressure behind his eyes, a telltale sign that tears are building up, but he absolutely refuses to even let them even gather. He won’t give the biker the satisfaction. 

“What?! Y-you guys aren’t going to- to fight, are you? Guys-!”

Owada breaks his menacing glaring contest to shoot Naegi a single, solitary sneer, before turning back to Kiyotaka, chest heaving with the strain. 

(He really is breathtaking like this...) 

“Nah. Ground floor, there’s a sauna. Ya know it?” 

Kiyotaka blinks, sluggish, before nodding slowly. Ah, y-yes? Yes, he does? He has no idea why a school, of all places, has such a room, but he’s actually used it once or twice— when it had been empty, of course. It takes him a moment for his brain to catch up, but once he does, he realizes what Owada is talking about. And he grins, realizing that this is, in fact, a competition he has a good chance of winning!

After all, who has better endurance and dedication than him?! 

“Aha! A simple endurance challenge! If that is your gauntlet, then I happily accept! I will wipe the floor with you!” 

Despite his anger, the tiny uptick of Owada’s lips at his words make something flutter in his chest. Not... not butterflies, the internet was wrong about that, but... but... maybe, possibly... some moths? 

“You're fuckin’ on. And you,” Owada points to Naegi— who ‘eeps’ at the gesture— not looking away from Kiyotaka for a single second, “will be our witness. Got it?!” 

Kiyotaka doesn’t look away from Owada either, but he can hear the way Naegi splutters, the boy clearly not as enthusiastic about the idea as Owada and himself are. 

“W-what?! Now?! B-but it’s so late... g-guys, are you sure this is a- a good idea-?!”

“Yes! It is an excellent idea!” Kiyotaka exclaims, eyes bright and feverish, while Owada snarls, at the exact same time, “yes, ya fuckin’ moron, it’s a fuckin’ great idea!” 

Uncomfortable at them agreeing on something, he just watches (feeling only slightly bereft) as Owada finally tears his eyes away, the biker storming off in the direction of the sauna. Kiyotaka— never one to be outdone— hastily follows, head held high as he marches determinedly towards the room, keeping pace with the larger teen. Naegi— seeming very reluctant— follows after them at a much more sedate pace. 

By the time they get to the bath house— a relatively short journey from their dorms— nerves have taken root in Kiyotaka’s stomach, but he firmly ignores them as the trio enters the bath, which is thankfully deserted this time of night. Owada puts out a sign that reads ‘closed for repairs’ in front of the entrance to the bath house which, under normal circumstances, would offend Kiyotaka and his Hall Monitor sensibilities. 

But, in this scenario, with how many emotions are roiling through his gut, he figures it’s probably for the best. Better that no one (other than poor Naegi) be witness to this shameful display of machismo... 

With that taken care of, Owada turns to Kiyotaka and points a finger at him. 

“Alright, here’s the fuckin’ terms. First ta tap out is a fuckin’ bitch ass loser who ain’t worth shit. The one who lasts the longest is the official winner. We ain’t allowed ta touch the other or do anythin’ ta them directly, this is strictly an endurance challenge. Oh, an’ we’re gonna do this fully clothed. What do ya say?!” 

Kiyotaka feels his eyes widen at the last term, shaking his head sharply once. He may not spend much time in the sauna, finding it delightful but also regretfully a waste of time, but even he knows how foolish trying that last rule would be! It would practically be suicide! 

“I do not agree to that last term, but I agree to the rest!” 

(Because the other teen is so flushed with anger, he doesn’t notice the embarrassed flush that fills Owada’s face.

It’s probably for the better.)

Sneering, Owada nods tensely, storming over to the water cooler in the corner. 

“Alright, whatever, fucker. Ya got five minutes ta prepare. Then, we’re fuckin’ doin’ this shit.” 

With that, Owada grabs a paper cup and downs some water, so impossibly tense. Kiyotaka can’t help the way he stares but is spurred into action when he hears Naegi shift awkwardly beside him. A-ah... he should be getting ready-! 

With only a hint of embarrassment, Kiyotaka carefully removes his pristine uniform, his stomach clenching with the knowledge his scars are on display, but not caring about it overly much. Both of the teens in the room have seen him shirtless, either while in the gym changing room or in the exercise room, so it’s not like they’ve never seen them before. 

Still, while he isn’t a particularly shy person, nudity not much of a hinderance for him (it’s just a naked body, what’s the big deal?), he doesn’t remove his briefs. It... probably would be better to leave these on, wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t want any, er... problems... occurring otherwise! Biting his lip, he carefully wraps a towel around his waist, puts his belongings (including the glasses case he is still, for some unknown reason, holding) into a locker, and turns abruptly to face the water cooler, where Owada is still lingering, fully clothed. 

He can feel himself heat up as his eyes meet intense lavender ones, the sensation lingering even after Owada hastily looks away, the teen straightening up and storming over to a locker himself, where he busies himself with putting some of his things away. Kiyotaka is frozen for a split second, before stiffly marching over to the water cooler himself, realizing he’s going to need to be well hydrated for their upcoming challenge. But… well. Owada hadn’t been... watching him undress... had he...???? 

Ha! Haha! Hahaha! What a foolish thought!!!! 

He pushes the thought away, but still can’t quite manage to make the heat in his belly at the idea go away. It’s... it’s a good thing he has his briefs and the towel on... grk! 

Finally, after the five minutes have passed, both teens are ready. 

Or… so he thought.

“Owada-kun, you cannot seriously be considering entering the sauna fully clothed! It’s suicide!” Kiyotaka hears himself exclaim before he consciously thinks to say it. But, even if he had taken the time to think about it, he’d probably say the exact same thing. After all, while he is still feeling the residual anger from their fight, enough time has passed in relative peace that some rationality has crept back in. And the part of himself that does, in fact, care about Owada (platonically!!! Strictly platonically!!!!) is starting to get concerned. Because— despite what he had thought the teen was doing while he’d been drinking his water— it seems that Owada is, in fact, planning to enter the sauna fully clothed. 

Owada just sneers at him, crossing his arms stubbornly. 

“Just ‘cuz you're a fuckin’ pansy ass bitch don’t mean I am! Now, ya ready ta do this, or are ya a fuckin’ chicken?!”  

Face flushing, Kiyotaka doesn’t even bother to answer, just yanks open the door and enters the sauna stubbornly. 

This has got to be, hands down, the stupidest thing he’s ever done. 

And yet... here he is. 

It’s all stupid Owada’s fault. 

The heat of the sauna blasts him immediately, causing sweat to form a thin layer over his skin. Gooseflesh is already starting to rise, even as he strides over to the bench, taking a seat stiffly. His eyes can’t help being drawn to Owada as the other teen stiffly marches in, sliding the door shut behind him, taking a heavy seat on the bench a foot away from him. 

The time, currently, is 8:50, which gives them an hour and ten minutes until curfew to do this challenge. That should give them plenty of time before curfew for him to win this contest and make Owada eat his words! Nothing will make him give up!! He will never back down!!! He settles into the sauna, trading jabs with Owada, feeling very confident in his abilities indeed!

By the tenth minute, Kiyotaka is starting to feel... a little woozy... but he can handle it! He laughs at Owada, who taunts that he should just give up now. Hahaha! Kiyotaka Ishimaru is not a quitter, thank you very much! He says as much to Owada, who just glares back.

After half an hour, that woozy feeling has expanded and is now... kind of making him feel sick... b-but he is fine! Ahaha! Perfectly fine! He tells Owada this fact, the biker glaring at him, face flushed so... so beautifully...

After the fifty-minute mark, Kiyotaka is starting to feel... cold... that’s... that’s probably not good… right? Owada says as much, his lavender eyes looking at him with what he thinks may be... may be concern but... but that’s... ridiculous! That... Owada wouldn’t be concerned about... about him...

“Y-you can take off your uniform... if you w-want... I- I won’t judge...” he hears himself mumble, the exhaustion he’s feeling making it hard to think, let alone produce words. Owada tries to snort but seems to not have much strength for it. 

“N-nah... I’m... I’m... I’m good,” the biker mutters back, looking at him intensely. Kiyotaka has to look away, but only because his head is swimming far too much for this, nothing else... Owada says something else, and he thinks he replies back, something about being born with a red face, but he... he can’t quite remember...

After an hour and five minutes, Kiyotaka can hear the warning bell for curfew go off, but he’s never cared less about the rules. Rules... who... who needs them? Not... not him... not when he’s... so close... to winning...

“U-uh guys? It’s almost curfew, shouldn’t you... stop? I know you both want to prove how big of badasses you are but... don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

Kiyotaka blinks as he looks towards the window of the sauna, the muffled words reaching his ears easily. When the meaning actually reaches his brain, he feels his anger flare again. Give... up...?! Who does that heathen think he is?!

“Shut up!” he barks, at the same time Owada does, making him blink at how they’re both on the same page again. 

Naegi replies back to them, saying something about it being nighttime, and a tie... he replies back, words he can’t quite hold onto but knows they’re important... something about competitions and... and winning... he thinks Owada then maybe says something about... the gates of... of hell?

Eventually, Naegi leaves (probably the smartest thing any of them have done all night), leaving Kiyotaka and Owada behind, steadily baking their brains out, hot, and cold, and aching all over. 

And then… it’s just a waiting game for which of them will break first.

The time slips away from him, then. As such, he doesn’t know how much later it is, but at one point he feels himself close his eyes. He’s just so... so tired... not even just physically, but mentally... this entire time he’s been pushing himself to his max... his body, obviously, but his mind... he...

He’s not built to sustain so much built-up anger and rage. He’s not made for such feelings to linger and fester within him. He hates anger for many reasons, but the biggest one is how it makes him feel inside. It makes him want to lose control... to give up his control, to let go and not care so much... to just... just...

Give up entirely...

“Hey... man... are you... are you okay...? Ya don’t... don’t look so good...” 

Kiyotaka lets out a soft laugh, which is more like a forceless puff of air, and somehow finds the strength to loll his head over to face Owada. It takes a lot more strength than it probably should, but he manages to flutter his eyelids open and realizes he can’t quite breathe anymore. 

At some point over the last hour and some odd minutes, Owada’s hair had been knocked out of that horrible (wonderful) hair style he usually keeps it in. The surprisingly long strands of hair dangle limply in front of Owada’s face, making him look... look...

“I- I’m... I’m fine, I...” 

Is he saying words? He isn’t... isn’t too sure... all he can see is... is Owada... his face, red, his... his eyes... lavender... his… his lips...

“Shit... man... no, y’ain’t. I know my... my limits. I’ve got some time... left in me... but you... shit. Just give up, dude. Just... just give... up...” 

Despite the fact that he’s fairly certain there is no water left in his body, he can feel tears well up in his eyes for reasons that are too stupid to mention. Give... give up? No… n-no… he… h-he can’t... give up... he has to... has to...

“Hafta... what? What... is so important... ta ya?”

Oh... had he been... speaking? He hadn’t... hadn’t realized...

“I can’t... give up... must... restore... honor... family... f-family name...” 

Owada furrows his eyebrows, his lips... his lips... turned down...

“Your family... name? What… what about it?” 

Kiyotaka blinks, the words hazy in his mind as he thinks about everything. His family name... what isn’t it about?

“I must... fix his mistakes. I must... I must bring honor t-to... to our name... my grandfather...”

“What? The fuck... the fuck ya talkin’ ‘bout, man? Shit... Ishimaru, you're ‘bout ta... ta fuckin’ pass out... why can’t ya just... just give up, man?” 

Kiyotaka doesn’t hear him. He’s lost, lost in his memories, lost in the world that plagues him every night, trapped in the place he’s made for himself there. Fear... inadequacy... the burning knowledge that it’s all up to him to fix it, to make it better, to make it- it right-! He can’t give up, he’s… he’s not allowed to give up, giving up is wrong, and immoral, and- and he’s not wrong! He’s not... not immoral... he’s better... better than his grandfather... better than himself... better... than...

“Fuck, dude, you- you're scarin’ me... what the hell does… does any a’ that even… even mean? You're the fuckin’... Ultimate Moral Compass... ‘course you're not- not... immoral...” 

But he is, he is... he’s worthless, he’s nothing... his grandfather... he’d done so many terrible things, had hurt so many people... he’d ruined... ruined Japan... everyone hated him... hated Kiyotaka... he has to do better... to be better... to fix... his grandfather’s... mistakes....

“Dude... y’ain’t... ain’t your grandfather... you're your own person... an’ frankly... I kinda... kinda like... s-shit. Just... stop this, man. Just admit it. Admit it’s... too much...” 

Nnnn- n-no! H-he... he can’t... can’t admit... weakness... god he’s so... so weak... pathetic... the children, they’re right about him, they’re all so... so right... he’ll never... amount to- to anything... he’s worthless... pathetic... scum...

“Ishimaru... Ishimaru, stop... s-stop! Y’ain’t... none a’ that is... is true... you're the best... goddamn person I ever... ever met, ya... ya never gave up on me... no matter how horrible I treated ya... ya just... wouldn’t leave... I tried ta make ya leave, why... why wouldn’t ya leave...” 

Him... leave? Why? Where would he... go...? He’s n-never... had a friend... if this is... is friendship... then what else can he... do? He doesn’t... w-wanna... be...... alone.......

“Fuckin’... shit, man. You're not... alone... I’m here. Ishimaru... Kiyotaka... I’m right... right here...” 

No... no... he’s alone, he’s alone. Everyone... always leaves... his mother... his grandfather... even his father would leave... if he could... he’s never... never understood him. No one... understands him... he doesn’t... even... understand...... himself.......

“I... I understand ya. You... you're like me... ain’t ya? Shit. We gotta... gotta stop this, man... what are ya... tryin’... ta prove?” 

Everything. Everything. Every… everything… 

He has to prove them... wrong. He has to prove... that he can do this. If he... if he gives up... i-if he lets himself give up... then he fails. He fails, he fails, he fails, he fails, he fails. He c-can’t... fail, he can’t... g-give up... or else... what is... the point... of him...?

“Ain’t gotta... have a point man... ya can just... be. Be... Kiyotaka. What’s so wrong... with that?” 

Everything. Everything. Everything. 

E-everything... is wrong with... Kiyotaka... h-he’s too... too much. T-too passionate... too vibrant... h-he hurts... hurts his own eyes... he hates... l-looking at himself... hates... b-being himself... if he could... be someone else... h-he would... gladly...

“I wouldn’t. Want that. You... fuck. You're somethin’... somethin’ special... I thought I... I hated that ‘bout you, but... man you... you shine... I don’t deserve... someone as... as wonderful... as you...”

H-he’s not... wonderful. He’s not... anything. T-the children... they hated him... t-they all... hated him. His f-father... hates him. His mother... if she could s-see him... now... s-she’d hate him... too. Why... w-why does he bother... trying...? W-why... why doesn’t he just... g-give up... 

“Kiyo... Kiyota- Taka. Kiyo... Taka. Just... ya don’t hafta... give up... but you... you're gonna kill yourself if ya... keep this up... s-shit...”

Kill... himself? No... he’s not- not that weak... not anymore... not… n-not again... but maybe... maybe… m-maybe it would be better. If he weren’t... weren’t…

Alive... 

“What?! Dude... no... god... fuckin’... dammit! Ya can’t be... serious... Kiyo... Taka, ya can’t...”

He is. He is. H-he is. If he weren’t... so weak. If he weren’t... s-so afraid. He knows... k-knows how to fix it... a-all of it. How to… t-to make it better. His father... would be happier. The children... w-would be happier. And he... he...

He’d be...

He’d be...

Dead...

“Okay. That’s it. This ain’t... fuckin’ worth it. If y’ain’t... gonna quit... then I! I fuckin’... I fuckin’ will. Ya... ya win... Kiyo... Taka... ya... ya win. Now, c’mon, man. Let’s… let’s get outta here.”

Suddenly, Kiyotaka gets snapped out of the daze he’d entered when he feels strong arms wrap around his back, pulling him up, up, up. His eyes are so dry, they sting, but he blinks anyway and tries to struggle against the body that is now dragging him away. What... what is happening... who...

The first blast of cool air hitting him is like a shock to his system. He gasps, his legs buckling, but whoever is dragging him barely stops. They just adjust themselves and take more of his weight, dragging him over to a bench in the corner. He gets practically thrown down onto it, his legs tangling under him, and he would have fallen over if those warm hands weren’t there, holding him steady. 

“Goddamn shit. Ya look... fuck man. Why didn’t ya just... dammit. Ya need water... I’ll be right back.”

And then the hands are gone, and he feels... he feels... he wants to cry, but his eyes are so impossibly dry... how… h-how pathetic...

He misses the hands... he wants them to come back... but they won’t... they won’t, they won’t, they won’t... he’s alone, again... all alone... everyone has left... everyone leaves him in the end... why would he expect anything different... why would he expect-

“Shit, Kiyotaka, I’m here. I just... had ta drink myself, shit. Now c’mon. Drink this. Please, man. Fer me. I can’t... ya can’t fuckin’ die on me, man... f-fuck...” 

He startles when he feels a warm pressure press against his neck, lifting his head up, up, up, so high it hurts, he hates it, he struggles, but he’s too weak, weak, weak, why is he so weak, he needs to... to be stronger... to be... better...

“Shh... hey, it’s okay. Y’ain’t fuckin’ weak, man, you're goddamn incredible. Now c’mon. Stop fightin’ me. Let me take care a’ you. You... you’ve been so strong fer so long. Let me... let me help you...” 

He feels something get pressed against his lips and, instinctively, he wants to fight against it. Wants to push it away. He tries to, feeble and weak, but he tries. But he can hear words in his ear, humming softly, shushing him, telling him that it’s okay, that they’re here, that he’s not alone... he’s not... not alone...

“Open up, Kiyotaka, shit. P-please... I’m beggin’ ya man... just... drink some water...” 

That gruff voice, he... he knows it... he... he trusts it...

Against his better judgement, Kiyotaka opens his lips, and startles again when he feels something cold and wet touch his tongue. He almost gags, but then the thing against his lips is gone and he feels a warm hand touch his back. It’s… it’s the- the hand... it… it’s back...

“Aw, shit. Slowly, man, slowly. That’s it, nice an’ easy... I’m gonna try that again, okay? Go slow this time. Idiot.”

Before he can really process the words, he feels the thing press against his lips again, the warmth against his neck back. Ah... it’s that hand, isn’t it? It’s holding his head... how queer...

This time, when the voice asks him to open up, he does so immediately. And this time, when the cool liquid touches his tongue, he doesn’t panic. He just... sips it. He feels his throat working, moving, swallowing the liquid, and suddenly... suddenly, he realizes that he is so very, very thirsty. He lets out a noise, desperate and needy, and tries to lift his hand to force the water (because that’s what the liquid is, it’s water, that’s right) down faster, but the voice stops him. 

“Aw, shit man, stop! Ya gotta go slow. You're dehydrated, ya can’t drink it too fast... trust me, man. I got you. I won’t let you down. Not again. I… I promise.”

Well... he does... does trust the voice...

The thing (cup, it’s a cup) is back against his lips and the water is back too, and this time he drinks steadily. He wants to gulp it down, can’t get enough of it, but the hands and voice (they belong together, the same person, he knows this person) don’t let him. They make him go slow, easy, not too much. 

Soon, the cup is empty, and he’s still thirsty. Still needs more. The hands leave, then, and he cries at their disappearance. They return quick, and he hears the voice in his ear, saying, “aw, shit, I’m just getting more water, alright? I’ll be right back, I promise,” and when the hands leave again, the voice doesn’t. It keeps talking, saying that it’s right there, it will be right back, it promises...

And then the hands are back. And the cup is back. And the water is back. And he drinks. And he drinks. And he drinks. 

He doesn’t know how long this goes on, but eventually, his head starts to clear of the fog that has descended over it. He blinks, rapidly, and realizes that he’s still in the bath house. His body is shaking, chill attacking him since he’s half naked, why is he half naked?! Oh, right, the contest, he and Owada- wait, Owada? Oh, right, they were angry, and they’d challenged each other to a battle of endurance and they’d gone to the sauna and it had been so hot and he’d felt so tired and had he been saying things he thinks he had been saying things but he can’t remember what he’d said but how did he get out he doesn’t remember and where did Owada go and what-

It’s around that time that almost everything floods back, and he feels himself sit up straight, startling the body (OWADA!!!) that is sitting, hunched over, beside him. The body— Owada!— shifts, looking at him with wide eyes. 

“Oh, shit. Are ya back? Ya really fuckin’ scared me there, dude, the fuck...? I was ‘bout ta take your ass ta the nurse, consequences be damned. Shit, should I still do that...? Kiyotaka?” 

Kiyo... Taka?! What?! Why is Owada... why is he... he calling him by... his first... name...

And there. That is when everything comes back. Well… for the most part.

Would it be considered overly dramatic to drown himself in the bath?

“Aw, shit! Fuck, man, what the hell!”

He blinks and realizes he had just stood, his body shaking and his legs about to collapse. They don’t, though, and he just turns wide eyes onto Owada, who stares with wide eyes right on back. 

“W-w-w-what... w-what... h-h-happened?! I... I didn’t... oh god...” 

Kiyotaka feels weak and he can feel himself begin to sway. Before he can fall, Owada is there, his warm hands (hands) grabbing his shoulders tightly, his voice (voice!) saying words. 

“What the fuck... aw, shit, y’ain’t better. Okay, that’s it. I’m takin’ ya ta the fuckin’ nurse. Goddamnit...” 

When Owada tries to move him, though, he finds some strength and resists. He pulls as harshly as he can away from the bruising grip and— since Owada hadn’t been expecting even his meager strength— actually manages to pull away from the biker. Unfortunately, since his legs are still far too weak, he can’t catch himself and tumbles harshly into the row of lockers, letting out a noise of pain as his arm slams into the metal, collapsing to the ground immediately after. Ow...

“Shit! Kiyotaka, are you fuckin’ alright?! What the hell, man?! Stop bein’ an idiot and let me take ya ta the nurse, fuck!” 

Kiyotaka glares (well, tries to glare, he’s still a little out of it and can’t quite put his usual strength behind it) at the biker, warning him without words to not come any closer. Owada ignores the silent message and kneels down before him, eyes bleeding concern. Kiyotaka has never seen the biker look so worried before, and it’s that— more than anything— that cuts through the fog. He blinks, and his racing mind starts to put things into place...

“W-wait! I don’t... dang it. I don’t need to go to the- t-the nurse! I’m just... confused. Give me... give me a moment to... collect myself!” he says, chest heaving with the effort of speaking. Owada looks at him firmly, the look lasting several seconds, before he nods stiffly. 

“Alright... shit, fine. If ya say so. But ya gotta drink some more water, alright?! Slowly. I should drink more too, fuck...”

Owada stands, then, and heads to the water cooler again. He fills up two paper cups before heading back. He hands one to Kiyotaka and then, apropos of nothing, takes a heavy seat beside Kiyotaka, so close they’re touching, and drinks his own water calmly. It’s around then that Kiyotaka realizes that the biker had taken off his leather duster at some point. He hadn’t seen him do that... so… when...? In the sauna or...

“Dude. Drink. Or I’m draggin’ ya ta the nurse, kickin’ an’ screamin’. Don’t think I won’t,” Owada rumbles, a moment later, startling Kiyotaka out of his reverie. He glares half-heartedly at the biker but doesn’t challenge him, knowing the validity of the command. Instead, he just brings the cup to his lips and drinks the cool water slowly, his mind racing as he tries to place the events of the last hour plus into a logical order, trying to figure out what is real and what isn’t real... 

It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to start feeling somewhat normal again. Owada doesn’t rush him, just sits silently beside him, drinking his own cup of water carefully. Neither of them says a single thing more until both cups are empty, Kiyotaka staring blankly into his own, barren cup. He... he remembers pretty much everything that had happened in the room, now. The sauna. But he... had he actually been...

“O-Owada... back in... in the, uh, sauna... I didn’t, um. Say anything strange. Did I?” Kiyotaka eventually manages to bite out, feeling cold all over. He vaguely remembers his lips moving, words coming out, but the words themselves... they’re like smoke. He can only remember feelings, flashes of memories; he doesn’t remember what he actually said. He does remember Owada’s replies, though... but he’s hoping against hope that maybe he’s misremembering those, too... 

Owada doesn’t say anything for an awfully long time. Kiyotaka is about to give up, to take it back, when Owada finally speaks, his voice low and rumbling. Like thunder...

“That depends. What do ya remember?”

He bites his lips carefully as he contemplates the question. He… he could lie. Could say he doesn’t remember anything, anything at all. But... he glances over at Owada, heart clenching at the blank expression he sees there, far different from the open concern from a few minutes before and he... he’s too weak...

“I’m… I’m not sure. It’s all... fuzzy. I can’t quite tell... what is real or not. I have no idea what I said during that last part, though... just fragments of old memories and thoughts.” He pauses, hands shaking. He looks at the ground. He can’t look at Owada during what he’s about to say. He can’t bear to see the rejection… “But I... I remember you... you said... things. About- a-about me. Y-you... you called me... wonderful. Special. H-heh! H-how r-ridiculous! I must... must have been- been hallucinating! Aha!” 

Halfway through his sentence he loses his nerve, his heart clenching painfully as his throat gets thick. He tries to play it off, to play it cool, but he can tell by how tense Owada is that he fails miserably. Oh... oh god... h-he... he’s been doing so well...

Before he can descend into panic, he hears Owada sigh, the tension in his shoulders relaxing. From the corner of his eye, he sees Owada turn to look at him, a wry smile on his face. His heart starts racing...

“Nah. That, uh. That happened. You really don’t remember what you said?” Owada asks casually, head tilted, like he hadn’t just said something that makes Kiyotaka’s entire world tilt sideways. Feeling numb, Kiyotaka shakes his head weakly, staring down at his hands. This entire situation is so very, very strange indeed...

“Heh. Makes sense. Ya weren’t exactly all there, ya know. Kept mumblin’ bits a’ nonsense. Could barely make sense a’ ya myself, tell the truth. Somethin’... somethin’ ‘bout your grandfather. ‘Bout needin’ ta right his wrongs. An’ then there was somethin’ ‘bout other kids? An’ hatred? Ya mentioned how your da don’t understand ya, how he hates ya, or somethin’. An’ ‘bout how... how ya... ya hate yourself. Which I think is fuckin’ bullshit, ya shouldn’t fuckin’ hate yourself, you're incredible, but whatever. There was a lot a’ other stuff too. ‘Bout not givin’ up, ‘bout havin’ ta prove people wrong. Some other shit, too, but I don’t really ‘member it all, sorry. But... shit man. Is that... is that real? Did ya... did ya really mean alla’ that?” 

The silence turns oppressive as Owada stares at him, lavender eyes boring holes into him, straight into the heart of him, and Kiyotaka... Kiyotaka, he... h-he...

“Aw, shit,” he hears Owada mutter, which just makes him cry harder. He tries to stifle them, tries to push them down but he... he can’t! God, he’s so weak... so pathetic-! How could he have said those things, how could he- could he have told?! Oh, God. Owada knew. Owada knows, he knows, he knows about his grandfather, about his shame, his secret, oh god-!

“Please, man, don’t cry, shit, I’m sorry! I... aw, fuck it. Come here.” 

He startles when he feels an arm wrap around him, pulling him to a warm chest, firm and tight, and he begins to struggle, panic filling him. Oh, god, Owada is going to kill him, he’s going to hurt him, he messed up and now everything is ruined and he’s sorry, he’s sorry, he’s sorry, he’s sorry, he’s sorry, he’s sorry, he’s sorry, he’s sorry, he’s sor-

“Shhh. Shh, c’mon. It’s okay, Kiyotaka. I’m here. Y’ain’t alone. I got you. Ain’t got nothin’ ta ‘pologize fer, ya got it? You're okay. We’re both okay.” 

The arms around him don’t release, they just keep on holding him, touching him, and after a minute... after a minute, he... he stops struggling. His chest is heaving, and his eyes are leaking, and everything hurts again. His head is all fuzzy and he all he wants is to curl up and sleep for a thousand years, to never have to deal with this moment and his no-longer-secret shame. 

But Owada is there, and he’s holding him. Arms tight, wrapped around his torso, holding him. Hugging him. It... he hasn’t been held— hugged— in so long... his father never has time, he doesn’t have anyone else who cares, who’d want to do such a thing, and... and it- it feels... it feels so nice...

Kiyotaka buries his head into the warm chest in front of him and he just... lets go. All the tears and anguish and pain inside of him. He lets it go and cries, and cries, and cries, in a way he hasn’t allowed himself to do in years. He cries for himself and all that he has lost, and all that he fears he will never have, despite all his plans and goals and hard work. He cries for his mother, her absence an aching hole within him, her memory hurting as much as it helps. He cries for his father, the man a living ghost, working so hard to try and keep them afloat but unable to in the most soul crushing of ways. He cries for his grandfather, the man losing everything, everything, everything, and while it was entirely his own fault, he can’t help the pain he feels when he thinks of the man, his memory and legacy tainted beyond repair. And he cries for the world, for all the wrongs he wants to correct, all the flaws he wants to fix, if only he were stronger, braver, better...

He cries, and he cries, and he cries. And Owada... Mondo... 

Mondo just holds him and he lets him. 

He doesn’t know how much later it is when he finally stops, the tears finally slowing, his body relaxing more and more until there’s not an ounce of tension left. He... he hasn’t let himself cry like this for... god. Years. Not since before... before his mother. Since then, he’s always forced himself to keep it in. To hold it inside. To keep moving, keep marching, keep... keep going. Endlessly, onward, forever. He was so ashamed of his tears when they would come. He’d hate himself for his weakness, his shame. He’d force them away, force them down, force himself to never allow himself such a moment of weakness. Not even during his mother funeral, meager as it had been, had he let himself cry unrestrained. He’d cried, yes, but he... he’d forced himself to keep it to himself, not wanting to bother his father, who was in so much pain he couldn’t possibly handle dealing with Kiyotaka’s pain too...

But now that he finally let it out... let it all out... there’s a calmness inside of him that he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before. It’s something like... like peace. Like tranquility. Like something inside of him, something that has been out of place and broken and jagged within him for years has finally been removed. And no, he’s not one hundred percent better, he knows that— feels that— but… still. It’s one less thing. One less... less pain...

“Ya feelin’ better?”

His eyes dart up, a spike of anxiety radiating through him, only to settle when he sees the soft, sympathetic look on Owa- Mondo’s face. The biker is smiling softly at him, looking at him like he... like he’s... precious, like he... like he matters...

“Yes. I... yes. M-Mondo... t-thank you. I... I’m sorry...”

He jerks when he feels a warm hand grab his face, heart skipping a beat when intense eyes bore into his own, galaxies he has no hope of ever understanding swirling within them. A-ah... w-well...

“Don’t. Thank me. Apologize. Ain’t nothin’, got it? I... I didn’t mind. At all. So, don’t... don’t apologize. It’s alright. You’re... you’re alright.” 

The part of him that usually tells him to not believe this, to be doubtful and cautious just… isn’t there this time. And so, instead of flushing and looking away, embarrassed, he just... smiles. Wide. Unrestrained. And Mondo... Mondo just smiles back. Small, at first, until it takes over his whole face. Wider and brighter than he’s ever seen it and it... it... it’s...

It’s glorious…

“Shit, man. The fuck we do now? I... I don’t wanna go back ta how it was. I... shit. I was a goddamn monster ta ya these last few weeks... since we met, shit… I… goddamnit,” Mondo mutters, the smile fading as a look of pain fills his face, which makes Kiyotaka feel pain, too. He shakes his head, frantic, but Mondo just glares at him. Lightly, but it still stings. “No, don’t deny it. I was a fuckin’ moron. I just... I ain’t ever... I don’t get you, Kiyotaka. What I feel... when you- you look at me...” 

Kiyotaka’s heart begins to race at the muttered words, his eyes widening, something about the wording of that sentence catching his attention in the most peculiar of ways, making everything in him stand at attention. And it... it makes him wonder if... if maybe... maybe he...

Maybe he’s not alone...? In his... his... his feelings...? In the… the strange feeling he gets inside when he looks at Mondo, when Mondo looks at him. In the way his stomach seems to want to implode whenever they’re in the same room, no matter how innocuous or even furious their interaction may be. In the way that… that he… he wants… he has no idea what the feeling is, what it means, but maybe... maybe Mondo feels it too... and maybe... m-maybe... 

Mondo sighs again, a wry smile on his lips as he presses somehow closer. They’re now extremely close together, one of Mondo’s hands loosely around Kiyotaka’s waist, the other gently cupping his cheek, with Kiyotaka’s hands lightly resting on Mondo’s chest. They’re facing each other, kneeling on the tile floor, but it isn’t uncomfortable. Kiyotaka is still bare chested, wearing only his thin briefs to hide his manhood, while Mondo wears only his wife beater and a pair of slacks, but they might as well both be completely bare for how exposed he currently feels. Their chests are touching, Mondo’s heat intoxicating, and his body is like a live wire, every nerve ending open and flayed and bleeding, but he doesn’t care. God, he doesn’t... doesn’t care…

Mondo opens his mouth, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips, and Kiyotaka is enthralled, watching it as it moves, and he... he wants... God, h-he wants...

“It’s like you're my brother or somethin’. Like... my nerdy, dorky little brother. Someone I gotta take care of. Protect. Keep safe, from all harm. I never... shit. I had my brother, but he... he’s gone now. I can’t... I couldn’t protect him, fuck. An’ I… f-fuck. I can’t protect you, either, can I...?  No, I… I can’t... I can’t... a-and why the fuck would you want a fuck-up like me, anyway? You... god, you could do so much better... why would you want someone like me as your brother, s-shit...” 

Kiyotaka stiffens, his mind— which had been racing with thoughts, and feelings, and hope, hope, hope— abruptly halting. It’s like everything in him is frozen, like he’s been engulfed in crystal, like he’s... like he’s been turned to stone. He doesn’t even really know why, but he… he just… Mondo called him a… a…

Brother...? 

Brother. 

Brother. 

Mondo views him like... a brother. 

The word keeps repeating in his head, again and again, like a tiny missile, attacking every last inch of him, his body stiff as a statue still. He can feel Mondo stiffen too, his eyes looking wild and frantic at Kiyotaka’s lack of response, and Kiyotaka hates it, wants to move, to reassure, to do something but-

Brother. 

Mondo views him... like a brother...

“Shit, I was right, goddamnit, aw shit! J-just forget I said anything, I- fuck!” 

Feeling Mondo rip himself away from him, his hands coming up to pull at his hair, which is still hanging limply from his head, his chest heaving as he shakes... it hurts something primal inside of him. And that is what breaks Kiyotaka out of his stupor, his mind catching up.

Brother. 

Brother.

Yes, yes... brother! Aha! Brothers! Ahahahaha!

T-that must be it! Haha! H-he’s... he’s never had a brother before, not even a friend, s-so of course h-he would- would get confused, wouldn’t understand, of course, of course! T-the internet was wrong, of course! Of... of course! Ahahahahahahaha!

He l-loves Mondo... like a brother! Ahahahaha! Yes! Of course! That makes total, perfect sense! That’s what he’s been feeling! Familial, b-brotherly love! N-nothing... nothing else. He’s never felt like this before because he’s never had a brother! That’s why it’s so foreign! Why he hasn’t been able to figure out what it is he’s been feeling! That’s all!

That… that’s all…

(He’s such a goddamn liar-)

Jolting forward, he touches Mondo, feeling frantic inside, flinching only a little when the biker looks up at him with wild, manic eyes, his mouth pulled down into a bitter grimace. His eyeliner has been long since rubbed off and that— coupled with the way his hair hangs limply from his head, down from its intense style, framing his face— makes him look so… so…

(Beautiful.)

Young. Innocent. Not like a battle-hardened biker gang leader. Not like a criminal. But like a normal teenager. Like- like his-

Like his brother. 

His brother.

(Maybe if he says it often enough it will feel more like the truth...?) 

Pushing aside his own inner pain, knowing that it’s his turn to be the strong one, to help Mondo like Mondo has been helping him, he smiles softly at the other, hoping that it, for once, looks normal and not terrifying. 

Judging by the desperate way Mondo looks up at him, he thinks that maybe... maybe he finally succeeds. 

For once…

“N-no! Don’t worry! I was just- not expecting that! But I- I feel- the same. I feel- the same! I would be honored, Mondo Owada, to be considered your brother! I’ve never had a brother, never even had a friend, but I couldn’t imagine a better one than you! Y-you... you’re incredible...” 

He can feel his face flush, and he feels so sick inside, the words burning his throat as they come out, but it’s worth it for how Mondo is looking at him. Like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Like it’s the best news he’s ever been told, but he can’t quite accept it as gospel truth. B-but it is- it is true. It is! Kiyotaka, he... he...

He loves Mondo. Like a brother. Loves him... like a brother. 

They’re brothers. 

Soul brothers. 

That’s all.

“Ya can’t mean that, Kiyotaka... I’m a goddamn mess... and you... you are... shit. You’re goddamn perfect and I’m hot dog shit, ya can’t... y-you can’t...”

Mondo’s words keep switching between proper grammar and his strange laid-back way of speaking, and there’s something so endearing about that to him that he has to take a second to breathe deeply to contain the way his heart lurches with his brotherly love. It sure- sure is brotherly love. But Mondo’s words... what he’s saying...

“Mondo... I- I’m not perfect. I... I’m not. B-but that’s okay! I do my best, but so do you! I can see how hard you try and sometimes that’s all that matters! You’re not... dog feces! You... you’re so much more, Mondo...” 

Part of him wants to insult himself. To elevate Mondo by putting himself down. You’re so much better than I am, Mondo. You are strong, and confident, and surprisingly caring, and yes you have your quirks, your flaws, but I guarantee they’re better than mine! You shine and you sparkle and from the minute I met you I knew there was something so gosh darn important about you, something that matters so very, very much, that made you valuable to me, and I- Mondo I-

But he’s not stupid. He knows that would just make Mondo more distressed, make him worry about Kiyotaka, make him feel pity, and he doesn’t want that. He wants to be strong, for once, and he wants to help. God, he... he wants to help. Help his brother through... through his insecurities…! Aha! Ahahaha!

“No. N-no, I ain’t shit, goddamnit, I...” Mondo looks away, conflict on his face, before he sighs. All the tension melts away, everything floods out until the only emotion on Mondo’s face is... is...

Cold resignation...

“I hate myself. Always fuckin’ have. Heh. There, I... I fuckin’ said it. I love the gang, don’t get me wrong. I love bein’ with ‘em, bein’ a part a’ somethin’ bigger than myself. I love leadin’ ‘em, ridin’ my hog, wind in my hair... I fuckin’ love it. Even bein’ here, unable ta lead directly, I still like callin’ the shots from behind the scenes while my second in command implements it an’ shit. Means somethin’, ‘least. But... I dunno. Sometimes I’ll be in the middle ofa fight and I’ll just... wanna stop. Quit. Do somethin’... do somethin’ else fer a change. But I… heh. I can’t. I promised my bro... Daiya, I... I promised him I’d keep the gang together. He built it from scratch an’ I... I can’t leave that. I made a promise, a man’s promise, ta keep us together. So, I... I gotta keep doin’ that. Can’t stop. Ever. Not ‘til the gang is dead an’ shit, all the members movin’ on ta do better shit with their lives. An’ me… heh. Not much use fer me after that, is there?”

Mondo pauses, and then looks down at his hands, a small, sad smile on his face. 

“But you? You're gonna go places, man. Shootin’ fer the moon. Prime fuckin’ Minister, shit, man. Never met anyone with such high goals, really. Never met anyone who wanted ta do that sorta shit, change things from the inside. Heard ya in class, talkin’ ‘bout your plans an’ shit. Wantin’ ta make the world a better place, havin’ such hope for this garbage planet. Ya... ya’ve got drive. Determination. An’ I know you're gonna do it, ya know. Succeed. More than any a’ the other chucklefucks we go ta school with, ‘least. You're just so... determined. Got such passion. I... I admire that ‘bout ya, always did.”

Mondo pauses again, and he… he laughs. It… it sounds sad… and Kiyotaka, he…

“But that… heh. That ain’t me, Kiyo. Ain’t me. I ain’t got plans, ain’t got any fuckin’ clue a’ what I’m gonna do after school ends. They got me takin’ fuckin’ leadership classes an’ shit, but the fuck am I gonna do with that bullshit? I can lead a gang, yeah, but that… heh. That’s ‘bout it, Christ. An’ ya… you're gonna see that one day. And you're gonna leave me. And I’ll be happy fer ya, ‘course I will, but... sh-shit. God... goddamnit...” 

Mondo sighs, then, and looks back up at Kiyotaka, his face more open and honest than he’s ever seen it and he... he’s...

Stunning.

Incredible.

Perfect, god he’s so perfect-

Something. He sure is... something. 

“I’ll just hold ya back. Ya don’t want someone like me, Kiyo. Ya don’t want someone like me at all. So... I ‘ppreciate your words. But it may be best ta leave this here. Ta... ta forget ‘bout this all and just... move on. I’ll leave ya alone and ya won’t hafta-”

“No!” Kiyotaka yells, shooting up, still kneeling but now upright and straight, his knees aching from how hard he’s pressing them into the tile. But he doesn’t care, doesn’t care, doesn’t care at all, because Mondo is trying to tell him that they should forget all about this and he can’t- h-he can’t-!

“Mondo, please! I just... look. I- I try to be perfect, but I... I’m not! And I know you aren’t either! But... but maybe that’s okay! Maybe... m-maybe... maybe we can learn to be not perfect... together? I, ah. I don’t know! A-all I know is... I want to be f-friends with you, Mondo Owada. I don’t care about your flaws; I don’t care that you’re in a gang! I just... I want... w-we can be brothers. If you want... we can be brothers. I want... I would want nothing more than to be your brother! Your kyoudai!” 

Brothers. Brothers. Just... just brothers. 

And he’s okay with that. 

(It’s better than nothing. God, it’s so much better than nothing-) 

Mondo looks up at him with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open. Kiyotaka just keeps looking at Mondo, trying to keep the anxiety and fear off his face. He is terrified, god is he terrified, but he has to try and keep his cool. He needs... he needs to be strong; he has to... has to be strong... 

Finally, after what feels like eons, Mondo smiles. It’s small at first, before it widens, larger and larger, until it fills up his whole face. With his hair down, his eyeliner gone, his eyes soft and sparkling, the silver undertones coming out, his smile wide and happy and-

Kiyotaka feels such intense brotherly love towards the other teen it’s not even funny. It... it sure is brotherly love... 

“Ya... ya really mean that, Kiyo?” 

Kiyo. This is the third time that Mondo has called him that. Is it... a nickname? He... wow. Wow. No one has ever…o-only his mother…

But he can’t focus on that now, so instead he pushes it to the side and grins back, nodding with as much enthusiasm as he can muster. It feels off and wrong, but Mondo doesn’t seem to notice. Good... g-good...

“Yes! Of course! I always mean everything I say! I would not lie to you, Mondo, I promise you that! We shall be the best kyoudai! You’ll see! Aha! This is fantastic!”

And honestly... it kind of is. The shock of it all has started to wear off and Kiyotaka is starting to come to grips with it all. And the thought of it... of him and Mondo, two kyoudai, two brothers, two... friends. It... it’s wonderful! Perfect! Everything he has ever wanted! He’s always wanted a friend, someone to rely on, to confide in, to trust! And now! He will have one! 

Oh, he’s never been happier! To think, that Mondo sees him in such a way... sees him like family... it’s incredible! Wonderful! Stupendous!

(And the small bit of hurt inside of him, raw and aching and bleeding? It doesn’t matter. It just… does not matter. Not at all. He pushes it away, until he can’t feel it anymore. Until all he feels is euphoria at the prospect of having a brother, someone to rely on and confide in and cherish. So what, it’s not quite what he, maybe, possibly, truly wants? So what? It… it’s enough. No... it’s better than enough! It’s! It’s incredible!! It... it...) 

(He shoves the ache down. It’s not helpful. It’s stupid and useless, and he refuses to let it ruin the best gift he’s ever been given. And that? Is that.)

Mondo grins at him and laughs, and then he’s being pulled into those strong arms again, endless warmth, being held so tight there is no room for pain at all. And it... it feels...

Like coming home. 

“Okay. O-okay. Kiyotaka, I... I’ll do my best. I can’t promise ya anythin’, know I’m a goddamn fuck-up who ruins everything, but... but for you? I’ll try. That... that’s all I can offer... heh…” 

Kiyotaka wraps his arms around Mondo— his kyoudai— and holds the teen as tightly as he, himself, is being held. And it feels so… g-god…

“That is all I could ever ask of you, my kyoudai! Y-you’re not a- a screw up! And- and your best is more than enough!”

Funny. All his life, he’s told himself that your best isn’t enough. That you have to do better than your best. That you have to be...

Perfect. 

And maybe... maybe that’s still true, to some degree. When he thinks of himself and his goals and the places that he wants to be... but when it comes to Mondo?

Anything is good enough. He’ll take... anything. Anything at all. 

After a minute he feels Mondo pull back and he feels himself resist, unbidden. He flushes when he hears Mondo laugh, slightly embarrassed at his clinginess (people hate it when you’re clingy, Kiyotaka, god, stop being such a child and grow up already, you pathetic-)

But Mondo doesn’t go far. He pulls back only enough to press his forehead to Kiyotaka’s, eyes liquid silver, the palest lavender, his lips smiling so softly and-

“I’ll be good. Fer ya... I’ll be good. Promise, Kiyo. And ya can hold me ta that, got it? This is a promise between men. That means I gotta keep it.” 

Grk- a-ahh. This man... this boy... this... wonder. He will surely be the death of him, won’t he…?

But oh... what a beautiful death… 

“Likewise! I- I will do everything I can to be the best brother I can be! I promise! We shall be the best kyoudai in the world! That’s a Kiyotaka Ishimaru guarantee!” 

Mondo laughs again, and pulls away, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and ruffling his hair gently. Kiyotaka’s hair is longer than it usually is, since he’s not had much time these past few weeks to think about cutting it, so Mondo’s actions make it fall into his eyes. This makes him let out a noise of surprised annoyance, which just makes Mondo laugh again. 

“You're the absolute, goddamn best, kyoudai. Kiyo. Hey, uh... is it okay if I call ya that? Kiyotaka’s just a bit of a mouthful, s'all. Ya got any other nicknames I could use?” 

Nicknames? Well. There is...

“A-ah! Kiyo is fine! If you’d like! B-but... well... m-my mother. She called me... Taka. Y-you could use that, as well! If you’d like...” 

Mondo smiles at him, soft and gentle, and nods carefully. 

“Taka... heh, I like it! Alright, Taka. Mondo ain’t exactly got any good nicknames fer it, fuckin’ hate people callin’ me Mon or Mo or shit like that, but ya can call me by my name, if ya’d like.”

Kiyotaka— no, Taka, he’s Taka now, isn’t he?— blushes lightly, his heart clenching to hear himself get called that name again. One he’s not heard in so long, since his father has always disliked nicknames. His mother only really called him by a nickname since she spent the first thirteen years of her life in America, where nicknames are overly common, used as a way to show affection, usually. So, Mondo calling him this, this ancient nickname of his… a name he always related to and even liked, but has since learned to dislike, if only because of his father’s disgruntlement with such things… it… well. It is something.

But now, with Mondo calling him it… hearing it more often (he hopes, god), perhaps… maybe…

He can find himself getting used to it again.

Taka... Taka. He... he’s Taka.

How perfect. 

But how… how can he return the favor, how can he... how can he show Mondo how this feels, to have something that is theirs, a name shared to show the world that they… t-that they are…? Ah. Mondo is right, his name doesn’t really shorten much, but… but... perhaps…

“Oh! I can always call you kyoudai!! That way the whole world will know our manly bond!” 

Mondo laughs again, harder, and ruffles his hair again. 

“Alright, Taka. If ya’d like. Now, it’s fuckin’ late. I ain’t even gotta look at a clock ta know that. Come on, kyoudai. Let’s get ya ta bed.” 

Heart clenching, he watches for a moment as Mondo stands, the teen stretching as he gets out of the scrunched-up position that they’ve been huddled in for the past... who even knows how long. Kiyotaka— no, Taka— stands as well, only just now remembering his state of undress. A-ah! He really just had that entire conversation... in only his underwear! How embarrassing!

Mondo glances at him, not noticing his embarrassment, and smiles. His eyes then glance down, and he looks at his chest, pausing there, before a frown rises on his lips. Taka freezes at the look, wondering what, exactly, is wrong. He... he isn’t... regretting anything... is he…?

“How’d ya get that? The... the scar?” Mondo asks softly, his hand raising absently to trace something on Taka’s chest. Taka feels himself stiffen at the unexpected question and touch, before he looks down, even though he knows full well what scar Mondo is talking about. After all, it’s fairly large, the largest he has, running from the base of his sternum all the way up to his collarbone, right over his heart. 

“A-ah... that...” Taka mutters, flushing lightly. It’s... not a pleasant memory. Mondo frowns, picking up on his resistance, and removes his hand hastily, looking embarrassed. 

“Aw, shit! Taka, ignore me. Y’ain’t gotta talk ‘bout that shit. Uh, shi-shoot, I mean... stuff? Sorry… heh, know ya hate swearin’ an’ sh- stuff. Heh…” 

Taka blinks, watching as the other teen’s face blooms red with an embarrassed blush, before smiling at Mondo softly. 

“I... I don’t mind! It’s not exactly a pleasant story, but I trust you, kyoudai! And... I don’t mind you cursing! Much! It... it’s what makes you, you! Just as long as you don’t do it in class or in the halls!”

Mondo stares at him dumbly for a moment, before he laughs again, cheeks a rosy pink. He nods, though, smiling at him gently. 

To give himself something to do (other than stare at Mondo, smiling like an idiot), Taka walks over to the locker he’d put his things in earlier, carefully putting on his uniform at last. As he dresses, he tells his tale. 

“It was one of my middle school bullies. I, er... wasn’t well liked, as a child! They never liked how I would get them in trouble, not to mention... ah. M-my, well. My grandfather,” Taka mutters, glancing at Mondo to see his reaction. The teen is frowning, but he doesn’t seem angry at the reminder, which is something, he supposes. He continues. “One day, one of them was... particularly angry. I’d gotten him suspended, you see, for a week. It was his own fault, he was the one who had scratched profanities into the headmaster’s car, I’d just been the one to report it! Still, he was... angry. So, after school, he had his friends hold me down while he cut this into my chest. A reminder, he said, to mind my own business. I think he was going to do more but was interrupted by something. It was most unpleasant!” 

Unpleasant is a vast understatement. It had been very painful at the time, and very terrifying. This was back at the start of middle school, back when he had been smaller, less physically able. Not to mention that the bully was a year older than him, held back for obvious reasons, and was almost twice his size. He hadn’t been able to defend himself, even if he’d wanted to, and he’d been afraid that… that the bully wouldn’t have limits that time. This is the same bully that had broken his arm earlier that year, after all, and he’d not… not known if… well. It was a big reason as to why he’d built himself up the way he had, honestly. Going passed basic exercise and onto… onto building muscle mass. So that he’d never be that helpless again. And it’s worked! It… it’s worked…

He startles when he hears a strangled noise, eyes wide as he looks at Mondo, who looks almost... apoplectic. Oh... o-oh no! H-he shouldn’t have said that! Now Mondo’s going to know how weak he is, and he’ll hate him, and he won’t want to be kyoudai and he-!

“They fuckin’ what?! What the goddamn shit?! Please tell me ya got those fuckers expelled!” 

Taka blinks, a confused frown on his face. W-what? Expelled? N-no...

“A-ah! N-not exactly! I... I never reported them! I rarely ever did, to tell the truth... it wouldn’t have mattered, see! The teachers didn’t like me much either; they only ever believed me if I had proof, and even then, only half the time! And they never much cared when I got hurt... b-but it was okay! I persisted and never let them break me down! My struggles made me stronger! Aha!” 

Stronger... yes. That’s one word for it... 

“Y-you... what?” Mondo whispers, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands shaking. Taka doesn’t understand why Mondo is looking so... so horrified. 

“I mean... that’s just... how it was? I handled it, though! I never gave up! They... they did not break me!” 

They almost did, of course. Almost... 

“Goddamnit... that’s why ya keep tellin’ me ta... ta punish ya, ain’t it? Taka, please tell me ya don’t actu’ly think ya deserved that shit?” 

Deserved...? Well...

Taka looks down at his jacket, the last piece of his uniform he’s yet to put on, frowning gently. Had he... deserved it? Well... he...

“I- I... I suppose so... I mean-! I... I don’t know. They all hated me... s-so... they must have had a good reason... r-right? To... to hate me. I... I must have deserved it... right?” 

Taka startles again when he sees sudden movement in the corner of his eye, looking up with a racing heart, fear filling him. But all he sees is Mondo, wonderful, sweet Mondo, who is staring at him with such... such anguish in his eyes, a simmering anger in them but Taka knows... he knows it’s not directed at him...

R… right? 

“No. Fuckin’ no. Y’ain’t deserved any a’ that shit, goddamn, man… and I promise ya, Taka, I’m gonna make sure ya see that one day, even if it takes the rest a’ my goddamn life. And that’s a man’s promise.” 

Taka’s heart swells at Mondo’s impassioned words, his breath stuttering in his chest as he sees the determined look on his friend’s (!!!) face. He smiles softly, the horror of the past fading from mind. It doesn’t matter, not now. Not here, with Mondo looking at him like that, like he matters, like he’s precious. Who cares what had happened back then? It has all led him here, after all, to this exact moment in time. 

And he wouldn’t trade this for the world. 

“T-thank you... thank you, kyoudai. I... thank you.” 

Mondo smiles gently at him, erasing the final foot between them and putting an arm around him, squeezing gently.

It feels like heaven…

“Ain’t gotta thank me, bro. Now, we really should head ta bed. Got school tomorrow an’ I don’t want my bro ta be tired! Come on, kyoudai. Let’s get goin’.” 

Taka nods quickly, and hurriedly pulls on his jacket, buttoning it with practiced fingers. He then turns back to the locker and frowns when he sees one last thing within it, sitting innocently inside the metal container. Reaching his hand out, he carefully picks the glasses case up, turning it this way and that as he contemplates it. Huh. To think, this tiny little thing had sparked this whole experience...

He adores it. 

Before he can do anything— like stick it into his pocket so he can treasure the things forever— he feels the little box get plucked out of his hand, causing him to let out a noise of surprise. He then turns, wide eyed, as Mondo opens the container and-

And-

Puts the glasses... on...

“Huh... I guess they ain’t that bad... tell me, kyoudai. How do they look?”

How do they... look...

Grk!

Fighting down the furious flush in his face (and decidedly ignoring the tightening in his trousers, which is completely inappropriate), he smiles a wobbly smile, giving Mondo a shaky thumbs up. 

“You look amazing, kyoudai! They suit you well!” 

Ha... amazing... what an understatement... he’s mainly glad he was able to get through that sentence without stammering! 

And to make matters worse, Mondo... Mondo smiles, his hair down around his shoulders, eyeliner gone, the pair of thin, purple and silver glasses framing his eyes and Taka... Taka just about self-destructs. 

Being friends with Mondo sure is going to be a workout for his heart... because! Of all that brotherly love!!! Ahahahaha!!!! Hahaha.... ha........

Right...

“Ah, cool. I guess. Now, c’mon! Bed! Ain’t gonna be the reason ya can’t focus in class tomorrow, ya nerd!”

Oh, yes you will, Taka thinks to himself mildly, though he says nothing of the sort. 

Instead, he just follows Mondo— who picks his jacket up off the bench he’d apparently placed it and shrugs it on his shoulders nonchalantly— and finally exits the bathhouse. 

Chapter Text

There’s something strange, Taka thinks idly, about walking through the school after curfew. 

It’s silent, almost eerie, and very, very dark. There are only a few emergency lights on, which casts harsh shadows over the usually beautiful and lively school. If Taka were still afraid of the dark, he’d be terrified! Luckily, while it does make his shoulders tense, he can handle it. He’s grown up quite a lot from the child he had been, terrified of his own shadow! Aha...

Despite his total lack of fear, he does find himself startling greatly when he feels an arm wrap around his shoulders, his heart racing as he wonders what fiend is attacking him, mind conjuring up several grizzly images. He relaxes almost immediately, however, when he realizes it’s just Mondo... which, in hindsight, is kind of obvious, aha...

“Heh. Didn’t mean ta frighten ya, kyoudai,” Mondo mutters in his ear, causing him to shiver. He has to swallow thickly before he can have any hope of replying, trying to dislodge his heart from his throat. 

“A-ah! I was not afraid! I...” he clears his throat, cheeks warm again. Realizing it would be futile to argue, Mondo snickering lightly, he decides it would be best to just change the subject. “Anyway... we should be quiet. It’s so late... I’d hate to wake anyone up! Remind me to write us each up detention slips when I get back to my room!”

In the dim glow coming from the emergency lights, he can just about make out Mondo giving him a weird look, before the teen snorts. 

“Of fuckin’ course you're gonna do that. Ya nerd.” 

Taka does not have much time to come up with a response— a very witty one, obviously!!— before they’re in front of his dorm, Taka blinking up at it in surprise. Oh... right. The baths are close to the dorms... he... he’d forgotten...

“Uh... guess this is where we say goodnight, yeah?” Mondo mutters in his ear, causing him to shiver again. Is it just his imagination, or does the biker sound... disappointed...???

“A-ah... y-yes. I suppose so...” he replies back, equally as soft, equally as disappointed. While he knows they would have had to part at some point, he hadn’t quite realized it would have to be so... so soon...

Silence descends around them as they stand, side by side, Mondo’s arm a wondrous warmth around his shoulders. It’s just as he’s about to stammer out a hasty goodbye— knowing that one of them has to if they actually want to sleep that night— that Mondo’s arm tightens around him, the teen turning to him with wide eyes. 

“Ya wanna... shit. Ya wanna sleep over?!”

What?!

Taka stares at Mondo, eyes like saucers, wondering what the heck the biker had just meant. Sleep... over...?! As in-! In each other’s... room??? That-!

Grk! 

“Y’ain’t gotta! Heh, s-shit, I was just-! Uh-!”

Mondo’s face— from what he can kind of see from the side and in the dim lighting— is bright red. His mind is still reeling, wondering what Mondo meant by that, if he truly means it, if it would be a good idea... but then, before he can fully settle his racing thoughts, everything a jumble in his brain, he feels Mondo moving his arm, the wondrous warmth disappearing, leaving him feeling very, very cold. Panicked, too busy mourning the loss of that wondrous warmth, he blurts out words before his mind can think about them, debate them, weigh the pros and the (numerous) cons...

“Y-yes! I would love to! Hahaha!” 

Mondo stares at him, eyes equally wide, and laughs too, a little too loud for the silent school. 

“Haha! Great! Let’s, uh! Get in!” 

Hastily, Mondo storms over to his dorm, one room over, plunging his hand into his pocket to pull out a keycard. He then presses it to the lock and opens the door quickly. He rushes inside, movements jerky, but pauses before entering fully, looking back at Taka with a soft blush on his face. 

“W-well? Ya comin’?”

W-well then! 

With bright red cheeks, Taka follows, stomach churning furiously. But, you know. In a good way. 

“Heh, shit. Dunno why I’m so fuckin’ nervous. We’re bros, right? Bros sleep together all the time. Shit,” Mondo mutters, voice kind of absent, like he’s not exactly talking to Taka but instead is talking to himself. Mondo turns on the light as he passes a lamp, flooding the room with a soft, yellow glow. 

Taka doesn’t mention Mondo’s muttering, too embarrassed and nervous to even dream of doing such a thing, and instead just looks around the biker’s room, frowning absently at the mess he sees. He’s been in the biker’s room before, during the past two weeks of their tentative ‘friendship’, but Mondo had gotten very offended when Taka had absently offered to help him clean the mess up. That had actually sparked one of their fights, which Taka had ended up having to apologize for, despite the fact he still doesn’t see how it was his fault. He’d just been trying to be helpful! But... people have often hated his way of ‘helping’... you’d think he’d have learned better by now... 

“Aw, shit... fergot it was such a mess... heh. I can. Uh... clean it up, don’t worry...” Mondo mutters again, noticing where his gaze is settled, before bending down to pick some of the litter up. His hands are twitching as he goes, his face turning hard and his jaw clenching, which is how Taka knows Mondo is getting anxious. Usually, this is an indicator that the biker is about to explode, his anxiety usually quickly followed by his explosive anger...

Wanting to spare both of them the trouble, Taka walks forward and places a gentle hand on Mondo’s shoulder, smiling softly when the biker looks at him, eyes still wide. 

“Kyoudai... it’s okay! I don’t mind! Maybe tomorrow... maybe tomorrow, after class, we can clean it up together? But for now, we should probably sleep... it’s after midnight, after all!” 

And it is! He’s never stayed out so late before! How thrilling! And terrifying! 

Mondo clears his throat, nodding tightly. He drops the trash he’d been picking up back on the floor (Taka does his best not to wince, the mess making his inner clean freak want to cry) and lets out a short laugh. 

“Yeah... you're right. Fuck. So goddamn nervous... been a while since I had anyone sleep over,” Mondo admits, his hand coming up to rub his neck. Taka can’t help but find it adorable. 

“Well... I’ve never slept over before! So, you’ve got one over on me! Aha... but...” Taka pauses, frowning softly. “Are we allowed to do this? The rules say-”

“The rules say we gotta sleep in a dorm,” Mondo interrupts, smirking at Taka. He’d said it so fast, too, like he somehow just... knew that Taka was going to say that... “An’, last time I checked, this is a dorm. Rules ain’t say shit ‘bout whose dorm ya sleep in. S’long as it ain’t a chick in a dude’s dorm, or shit like that. We’re two bros. It’s cool.” 

Well... if that’s so...

Nodding tentatively, Taka looks around, wondering where exactly he could sleep. Hm... if he moves some of the rubbish over, he could probably make himself a nice place to sleep...

“Uh... bro, what’re ya doin’? I thought ya said we’d clean it in the mornin’?”

Taka looks back up at Mondo, frowning when he sees Mondo frown at him. He would have thought it was obvious...

“I’m... clearing a space? For me to sleep in? Is that... wrong?” 

He’d always thought sleepovers entailed sleeping on the floor... right? 

Wrong, apparently, if the weird look Mondo is giving him is to go by... hm...

“Uh... yeah? Shit, I thought we’d just, ya know. Share the bed. It ain’t exactly small. Plus, we’re bros! I used ta sleep with my bro all the time. Ain’t nothin’ weird ‘bout it...” 

Ah! Sleep! In the same bed! As Mondo!! 

Of course! Ahaha! That makes perfect sense!! Right! Very logical! Nothing- nothing weird about that! Not at all!

Flushing, Taka nods, the smile he gives Mondo just a bit strained. 

“Right! Of course! My mistake! Like I said, I’ve never... never slept over before! Aha!” 

The pair stare at each other for a long moment, eyes wide, before Mondo looks away, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

“Shit, uh. Sure. Whatever. Don’t make it weird, dude. Anyway... I’m gonna, uh. Take a shower. Make yourself comfortable,” Mondo mutters, before grabbing some clothes from his basket and heading into the bathroom. Taka stares after him with wide eyes, before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. 

Okay. Alright. So... this is a thing. That is... happening. 

AHHHH!!!!

How is he supposed to sleep beside Mondo?! How is he supposed to keep his... his... brotherly love contained while sleeping?! He’s a particularly active sleeper, at least he had been when he was a child and would sometimes sleep beside his mother, and he knows that he tends to be a bit... clingy, in his sleep. It’s why he usually sleeps with a few pillows, so that he can have something to hold onto during the night. What if he... grk! What if he tries to cuddle Mondo in the middle of the night?! Oh! How embarrassing! His new kyoudai would hate him for sure!

But how can he deny Mondo without offending or embarrassing the teen? He clearly seems to think it’s a perfectly normal thing for two young men to do, to sleep in the same bed, and rejecting that would probably be offensive! Or maybe even... weird!! He doesn’t want to do that!!

Oh dear... oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! 

Should he... tell Mondo? About his cuddly nature? Should he ignore it and hope it doesn’t become a problem?? Or should he just man up and spend the entire night awake, eyes wide on the ceiling, refusing to sleep in case he embarrasses himself in his sleep?! Or should he just smother himself with the pillow and save them all the hassle?!

AHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Okay! Okay, okay, okay.

He can do this. He can think about this, rationally. He and Mondo, they’re... they’re brothers now, yes? And brothers... they tell each other things... yes?? Without judgement? So, he should just... tell Mondo why them sleeping together might... potentially... be a problem. Mondo couldn’t possibly get angry at him about something over which he has no control... right??? Especially if he tells him before anything happens?????? Right???????

Or maybe he’ll just be offended, not believing Taka, thinking he is telling a lie to get out of sleeping together, and then he will stop talking to him, and they won’t be brothers anymore, and then he’ll be all alone again-!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

OKAY! This is ridiculous! He is sixteen years old, he should be able to handle something as simple as sleeping in the same bed as another man! Girls do it all the time! It’s not weird, it’s fine, and if he happens to accidentally cuddle Mondo then- then he can handle it later! M-maybe if he... if he held a pillow...? No... no, he can’t guarantee that would work, what if his body gravitated towards the heat? Hnnnn, this is so pointless! 

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-

“Uh... kyoudai? You, uh... you okay?” 

The voice— hesitant and soft and yet so achingly familiar— makes Taka startle so badly that he actually falls off the chair he hadn’t even realized he’d taken a seat in at some point in his endless obsessing, hitting the ground with an ‘oof’.

“Taka! Shit, y’okay?! The fuck, man?!” Mondo shouts, rushing over to him and kneeling beside him. Taka is about to stammer out that he’s fine, he had just fallen, but the words die on his tongue when he looks up at Mondo and, with wide eyes, stares at the sight he is met with. 

Because oh dear god, his hair is in a ponytail.

This... this isn’t fair... Taka can feel his heart racing and his blood singing as he takes in the sight of Mondo kneeling on the floor next to him, eyebrows knitted in concern, glasses still on his face for some reason, with the blonde part of his hair— still damp from the shower!— pulled up into a high ponytail, the rest hanging limply down around his shoulders. Clearly, some god up there hates him, because his brotherly love is starting to make him feel very... very flushed... 

“Shit, Taka, speak ta me, man. Did ya hit your head?” Mondo questions after a moment passes, Taka just staring at the biker dumbly. He starts when he feels warm fingers touch his head, the biker carefully checking every inch for a bump. Grk-!

“I- I’m fine! Hahaha! I was just- nothing! Haha! Fell!! Clumsy me! HAHAHAHAHA-!”

“Uh... dude, are ya... shit. Are ya actu’ly okay? I’m like... seriously gettin’ concerned... y’ain’t still feelin’ woozy from earlier, are ya? Shit, should I take ya ta that nurse? Taka-”

“N-no!” Taka interrupts, feeling hot and cold and weird all over. Mondo is still touching him and it’s hard to breathe, let alone think, and he knows he’s being an idiot, but he’s so confused, and he and Mondo are brothers but then why does he feel like this, what is wrong with him, why can’t he just be happy with what he has, he’s such an ungrateful child who doesn’t deserve anything ni-

“Hey. Breathe, kyoudai, breathe. You're panickin’. Ain’t a big deal, we can handle this. Deep breaths... that’s it, Kiyo, ya got this... breathe with me, okay, let’s do this together...”

Taka does what he is told, without consciously thinking about it, just doing what his kyoudai tells him to do. Mondo’s hand slides down to his back, rubbing soothing circles, and he focuses on it while he follows Mondo’s breathing as best that he can.

Finally, after a minute or two, he manages to stop the rushing panic and feelings of inadequacy, as something a great deal calmer takes its place. Huh... that was... a lot faster than usual...

“Ya feelin’ better, kyoudai?” Mondo mutters softly, head tilted as he looks at him with worry. Taka can feel his face flush, but he nods carefully, smiling shakily. 

“Y-yes, k-kyoudai! I... I’m sorry, I don’t... I don’t know what came over me...”

He watches as Mondo shakes his head sharply, a soft scowl on the teen’s face. 

“Hey, what’d I say ‘bout apologizin’ ta me? Y’ain’t gotta do it, bro. Not ‘bout things like this. We’re brothers. Brothers take care a’ each other. When I was young, I’d get like that sometimes, ya know. My head would get all jumbled and it’d be hard ta think. Daiya, my bro, he’d help calm me down, like I did ta ya. So... don’t worry ‘bout it, ‘kay? I’m happy ta help my bro. Now, why don’t ya take a quick shower, huh? Know it’s late, but I find a warm shower can help shake those bad thoughts loose. Y’ain’t gotta, but... I dunno, heh...” 

Mondo’s cheeks are pink, but he doesn’t try and run. He just looks at Taka, his eyes somehow more intense with the glasses, and Taka knows he is screwed. Absolutely, positively, screwed. 

With a shaky smile, he nods stiffly, and stands up. Mondo stands with him, hands hovering to make sure he’s okay, but backing off once it’s clear he’s able to stand just fine. He walks over to the bathroom, figuring a shower would help settle his head, but has to pause at the door, mind realizing something. 

“A-ah... I don’t have anything to change into... t-that’s fine! I can just shower in the morning-”

Taka gets cut off when he feels something soft hit his head, with a gentle ‘thump!’ Blinking, he takes the thing off and sees-

“U-underwear?!”

It is! It’s a pair of boxer shorts and a white wife beater! Grk-!

He looks up with wide eyes when he hears Mondo laugh, the sound loud and boisterous in the previously silent room. Well! He never! 

“BWAHAHAHA! Ya should see your face! Ahahaha!!! Ya look like I just threw shit at ya! Hahahaha!” Mondo guffaws, tears gathering in his eyes. Despite the (rather significant) disgust he still feels, he can’t really stay mad... not when Mondo looks so happy, like a gleeful kid who got away with a harmless prank...

After a moment, Mondo calms down, but he’s still grinning, wide and happy, so large his eyes are squinting with it. He- he looks-

Grk!

“They’re clean, ya nerd. Somethin’ fer ya ta change inta. I ain’t an idiot, ya know, I thought ‘bout it. You're a little smaller than me, but they should fit ya decently. Now go on. Shower.” 

W-well! Well then! That settles that!

Face impossibly warm, Taka escapes into the bathroom, heaving a sigh of relief at the relative safety, grateful to have a moment alone to collect himself. 

Okay. Sharing clothes. Sharing— grk!— underwear! That’s... that’s normal brotherly stuff, right?! Ahahaha!!! Right!!!!!

Taking a deep breath and shoving all thoughts out, not wanting to have another panic attack, Taka quickly strips and enters the shower, firmly not thinking about how mere minutes ago Mondo was naked in this shower and turns the tap as hot as it can go, the scalding water helping clear his head. He firmly refuses to think about anything as he lets the water wash over him, the warm tattoo soothing him greatly. 

He does have a brief moment of panic— about a minute in— when he realizes he’ll have to use Mondo’s soap and shampoo, but he quickly tells himself to get over it and washes himself off as militantly as he usually does. The scent is overwhelming, some kind of manly, musky scent that Taka usually dislikes but now is made vaguely dizzy by, but he deals with it as best he can. He cleans himself off as quick as he possibly can and exits the shower the second that he is done. 

He has another moment of panic when he realizes that he doesn’t have a towel to dry off with, but that problem is solved easily when he opens a cabinet and sees the few extra towels the dorms come with still neatly folded inside— clearly never before used, since he highly doubts Mondo has ever folded a single thing in his entire life. It’s a great relief, though, and he dries himself slowly, trying to psych himself up to putting on Mondo’s clothes...

Eventually he cannot put it off any longer and has to put the clothes on. Okay... he can do this... he... he can...

His boxers have tiny cartoon dragons all over them.

Grk-!

Okay! 

He resolutely doesn’t think about it as he puts the clothes on and marches over to the vanity, knowing he has to at least rinse his mouth out before bed or else he will regret it. 

He does his best to not snoop, honest, he does, but he can’t help the way his eyes linger on the mess that is Mondo’s bathroom counter. There are bits of trash and garbage tossed around, empty bottles knocked on their sides carelessly. Taka isn’t even thinking when he picks the bottles up and settles them upright, flushing when he realizes what he’s done. A-ah... well then... 

In addition to the trash, there’s also a lot of hair care products scattered around, which he supposes makes sense when he thinks about it. Taka only needs to use some hair gel and scissors to maintain his typical spiky hair style (though he’s accidentally been letting it grow a bit longer recently, due to his distraction with everything going on with Mondo), but clearly Mondo would need a lot more to maintain his pompadour. (Which, by the way, he’d finally learned the proper term for after curiously asking Mondo during one of their better days earlier that week). 

Still, it’s a little surprising just how much the teen has. He’s fairly certain there’s more product here than you’d find in a typical teenage girl’s room! N-not that he’d know that by experience...! 

Ahem. There’s also some makeup strewn about. Eyeliner, obviously, but there’s also some other products that Taka doesn’t know the name of. Some powdery stuff, some with color and some without. Bigger containers and smaller ones. It’s kind of... strange, to think about Mondo wearing makeup, but it’s not that strange, when he truly stops to think about it... and when he lets himself think about it for too long... grk-!

Ahhh, okay, enough snooping!!

He quickly finds the toothpaste and spreads some on his finger, carefully scrubbing his teeth as best he can. He would have to do this sometimes, when his previous toothbrush would break, and they’d have to wait a little while to head to the store and get a cheap new one. It’s not the best, but it’s better than nothing, at least. He rinses his mouth out and— once he rises and realizes he’s out of things to do to stall— freezes as he looks at himself in the mirror, eyes roving his face for a lack of anything else to do. 

With his hair still damp from the shower— the gel he keeps in it washed away— the strands are beginning to curl around his face, longer than he usually keeps it but it doesn’t... doesn’t look too bad... if anything, it makes him look… younger. Less severe. He can’t say he particularly likes it, but... but it’s not... bad? He stops his eyes before they flick down to look at the rest of his body, not wanting to see himself wearing Mondo’s clothes... 

Ahh. Okay. He... he has to get out of here. 

Taking a deep, steeling breath, he marches over to the door with intense determination, opening it just a little too forcefully. He blinks as he looks around the bedroom, heart freezing when he notices that Mondo is currently lying on the bed, glasses still on his face, a book in his hands-

Grk!

“Oh, hey. Ya took less time than I thought ya would. Figured I’d pass the time readin’ some more a’ this stupid ass book, ya know? Ya were right, though! ’S a lot easier ta read now! Ha!” 

Mondo is grinning over at him, wide and happy and almost proud, and Taka... 

Well. He figures there are worse ways to die...

“A-ah...! I’m! Glad! That they’re working out for you!! Aha!” 

Mondo gives him a strange look, smirking lightly over at him. 

“You're such a dork, kyoudai. Now come on, get your ass over here. I’m beat an’ I know you're the type ta wake stupidly early, so we should try an’ get as much sleep as we can. Turn off the light ‘fore ya get in, would ya?” 

Ah! Yes! Sleep! In the same bed! A-as Mondo-!

Should he... should he explain his problem now...? N-n-no... no he’ll just... just stay up all night, it’s fine, he’s done that before, he’ll just have to drink coffee instead of tea in the morning, that’s all-! 

Not wanting to worry Mondo any more than he already has that day, he stiffly marches over to the bed, dutifully turning off the lamp like asked as he goes. There is still some light coming into the room from the window, since Mondo has the blinds open a crack, so it’s not pitch black. It’s still fairly dark, though, which means he doesn’t have to look at Mondo as he shakily gets into the bed, his heart racing a mile a minute. 

A-ah... he’s fine... perfectly fine... he’s just... platonically sharing a bed... with someone he feels brotherly love towards... he’s fine... totally... fine… ahahahaha!!!!

Once he’s in bed, he lays as stiffly as possible, his every sense heightened as he lays there, listening to Mondo shuffle around. Sometimes the biker will brush against him, an arm or a leg, and Taka will think he’s about to spontaneously combust with how tightly wound he is. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes, but sometime later he hears a soft sigh, and both hears and feels the bed move as Mondo shifts around. 

“Dude. Relax, would ya? Can’t fuckin’ sleep with ya stiff as a fuckin’ board,” Mondo mumbles sleepily. There’s enough light that Taka— when he looks over at Mondo in panic— can see one eye open, looking at him with exasperation. Urg! 

“A-ah! I- I’m sorry, I’m just-!” Taka says, too loud in the silent room. He winces at the noise, his stomach starting to knot up with anxiety. Mondo sighs again and turns on his side to face him, lifting himself up on one arm to see better. The hair that is not in a ponytail hangs down to the side limply from his scalp and Taka... Taka can’t seem to look away...

“Ya nervous ‘bout sleepin’ in another dude’s bed? Or ‘bout sleepin’ in my bed? Which one?” Mondo questions, a hint of agitation in his voice. Ah! Oh no! This is exactly what he had wanted to avoid! How awful!!! 

“N-neither!” Taka lies, earning himself a soft growl from Mondo. He flinches, before looking down at the comforter he’s under, his hands clenching and unclenching nervously. Well, perhaps telling the truth would be better... “Nnnn... alright. I- I guess both. B-but! It’s just because I’ve... I’ve never done this before, kyoudai! I don’t want to mess up and make you hate me again!” 

Ah! He hadn’t meant to say that last part!!! Oh no!!!!!! Curse his big fat mouth!!!!!!!!!

“What?!” Mondo growls, shooting upright, glaring down at him on the bed. Taka cowers, feeling utterly miserable. Oh no, now Mondo hates him! He knew it! Why couldn’t he just close his stupid mouth, he’s such an idio-

“Kiyo, ain’t a goddamn thing ya could do ta make me hate ya! Like I told ya, I ain’t never hated ya! What could ya possibly do in your sleep ta make me hate ya at all?!” 

Taka looks up at Mondo, taking in his scowl, but also recognizing the confusion in his eyes... oh, no, he... Mondo has no idea... he... he’s going to have to tell Mondo, isn’t he...?

“I- I just...! I don’t know, kyoudai! Just... I...” Taka bites his lip, looking down at his hands again, not able to look up at Mondo as he explains himself. “I... a-ah. It’s been a while since I last shared a bed with anyone, b-but I know that I can get a bit... er... cuddly in my sleep! And I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable! I’m so sorry!”

Ah! There! He said it! Oh, please don’t hate him, please don’t hate him, please don’t hate hi-

“BWAHAHAHA! Is that what you're worried ‘bout, Taka?!” Mondo guffaws, laughing loud and boisterous again, like earlier. It’s startling, in the previously quiet room, and he has a minute to be grateful that the rooms are soundproof! But then he realizes that Mondo is laughing at him, and he feels a spike of hurt flood through him. W-what? W-why is he... why is he laughing...

“H-hey! I- I...” Taka protests, his voice far weaker than he’d intended it. That shuts Mondo up, the teen looking down at him with a sheepish smile, but also looking so... s-so... 

Fond...

“Shit, didn’t mean ta laugh at ya, ya dork. Just... ain’t somethin’ ya gotta worry ‘bout, dude. It happens, ya know? In fact, if it worries ya that much, here-” Mondo states, before moving, laying back down and shuffling around the bed a bit. Taka has a moment to wonder what, exactly, the biker is doing, before he feels himself get roughly yanked off to the side, very abruptly.

Grk! 

“Ah! M-Mondo!” Taka exclaims, struggling a bit. He doesn’t mean to, not really, but he’s just very, very confused as to what, exactly, is going on. He goes still, however, when he hears Mondo growl softly, something that he can tell is not meant to be threatening, but just a warning. 

“Quit thrashin’, I ain’t gonna hurt ya,” Mondo murmurs, his hands gentling as he carefully adjusts Taka, who just limply complies this time. After a moment of awkward fumbling, Taka finds himself laying down again— on his stomach, this time. With... with something hard underneath him... something warm and... and familiar......!!!!

“A-ah!” Taka exclaims, stiffening as he realizes that he is now lying on Mondo, oh dear lord, why do you hate him?!

“Shut up, dude. Seriously, it ain’t a big fuckin’ deal. Bros do this sorta shit all the time,” Mondo murmurs into his ear, his arm tightening around Taka’s waist, safe and secure. 

Oh? Do they, Mondo? Do they really?! Taka thinks frantically, heart pounding, so tense he doesn’t know what to do. Part of him wants to cry, but he’s still cried out from earlier, plus that would add another level of humiliation to this and he just- he can’t- he doesn’t understand-

He hears Mondo sigh again, before his hand moves, going to his back again, rubbing warm circles, and it... it feels... nice... his mother used to do this when he... when he couldn’t sleep... but Mondo... Mondo isn’t...!

“Shh, hey. L-look. If it bothers ya that much, I can sleep on the floor. I, uh… I’ll be honest, I asked ya ta stay over ‘cuz I didn’t want ya alone, not after earlier. Not when y’ain’t a hundred percent. But I don’t wanna make ya uncomfortable. An’ I know this ain’t exactly somethin’ you're used ta. I’ve slept in worse places than the floor, I’ll be fine. Just... this really ain’t a big deal, alright? Not ta me. It don’t bother me a bit. But I get it if y’ain’t the same. You're an only, yeah? No sibs? Ya don’t know what it’s like. Don’t worry, though, I’ll teach ya. Just... ain’t gotta happen all at once.”

Mondo’s voice is so soft and soothing and it... it’s making him feel... Nnnn.... grk!

“N-no... I-it’s okay, k-kyoudai... I’m just... nervous... it’s my first time, after all...” Taka mutters back, his face impossibly flushed. He hides it in Mondo’s chest, the scent of his cheap body soap overwhelming, and yet... underneath that... there’s the lingering scent of motor oil... and it’s so... so soothing... 

“Y’ain’t got nothing ta be nervous ‘bout, Kiyo. I’ve got ya. An’ I’ll take good care a’ ya, okay? Ya don’t gotta be afraid... I’m here...” 

O-oh... he’s never... never had someone tell him that before... he feels... feels so...

“T-thank you, kyoudai... I’m so... so happy to have you...” he mutters, his eyelids fluttering shut. He shuffles closer unconsciously, his heart leaping when he feels Mondo shift to allow him, his other arm coming over and holding him, like a hug... and it’s so... warm... and... and comfortable... and Taka... Taka is so... so tired...

“Yeah. Y-yeah. Me... uh, me too. Now, get some sleep, kyoudai. We can deal with the rest a’ this shit come mornin’. But now, ya can rest. I’ll keep ya safe. Y’ain’t ever gotta be afraid again, Taka... I’ve got ya now. And I ain’t... I ain’t gonna let you go... I won’t fail you... promise...” 

Taka doesn’t know if Mondo says anything else after that, because before he knows it, he’s fallen fast asleep. 

It’s the best he’s slept in years.

He wishes they could do this every night...

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~ 

(Bonus) 

Taka wakes slowly, the next morning, feeling more sluggish than usual. His head hurts a little and his eyes feel uncomfortably dry, and there’s an all-around grungy feeling within him that he cannot say he likes. He shifts slightly, making soft noises as he tries to bury himself in the wonderful warmth he’s engulfed in, wanting to never, ever leave it... it feels so nice... he doesn’t remember a time he’s felt so safe before... he...

“Mornin’, kyoudai,” he hears a rough voice whisper into his ear, making him shudder quite pleasantly. O-oh... that... that feels... so good... and he... he knows that voice...

“M-Mondo...” he mutters sleepily, not quite fully awake yet, stuck in that moment between sleep and wakefulness. When he feels something rumble under him, the sound of soft chuckles filling the air, he scrunches up his face, wondering what he is laying on that is moving like that... it feels hard... and... and warm... and it… it smells like...

!!!!

Taka’s eyes shoot wide open as he remembers, very suddenly, where he is. And more importantly, who he is with-

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god! M-Mondo is gonna kill him, h-he’s gonna... gonna...!!!

“Shhh... shh, Kiyo, it’s okay... relax, bro, it’s okay,” that soft voice rumbles in his ear, somehow... somehow making him... making him comply... how...?

“Yeah, that’s better. We gotta get up soon. ‘S almost 6:30. Ya wake up ‘round then, yeah? Recall ya mentionin’ that a bit ago, heh. But we got some time. Rest. I’ll wake ya when it’s time ta get up, don’t worry.”

O-oh... w-well. When you put it like that...

Taka is sure that, later today, when he’s fully awake and not beyond exhausted, too exhausted to fight the warm and comforting embrace he has found himself in, he will panic. He will overthink, like he always does, and freak out, and wonder what he was doing, how dare he think that he deserves something as wonderful as this, how dare he think that Mondo would actually care about him, etcetera, etcetera, blah, blah, blah...

But now? Now, being held by Mondo, who is humming softly under his breath, some tuneless lullaby he’s never heard before but absolutely adores, feeling warmer and more content than he has in years... feeling— for once— safe, and wanted, and loved, loved, loved... here, in this moment between sleep and wakefulness, dozing as he waits for his alarm to ring and to be brought back into the real world... 

It doesn’t matter. 

None of it... none of it...

None of it matters. 

And god does it feel good. 

(And, tired as he is, he doesn’t notice Mondo staring at him, the biker looking down at him as he rests, staring at Taka like he’s the teen’s entire universe. He doesn’t notice the way Mondo’s breath hitches as his own breath puffs out, fanning over the biker’s partially exposed chest, goose flesh breaking out where it lands. And he doesn’t notice how Mondo holds him just a little bit tighter at 6:29, the teen knowing he will have to let Taka go soon, to wake him up and let him get about his day, but something in him telling himself to hold on just a little bit tighter, to keep this moment from ending as long as he can... 

It’s probably a good thing Taka doesn’t notice this, to be honest. 

Hope is a very dangerous thing, after all.)

(And later still, when Taka finally manages to tear himself away from Mondo’s room at 6:45, knowing he has to head back to his own room if he wants to get ready for the day, he’s too distracted to realize he’s still wearing Mondo’s wife beater and boxer shorts. He is painfully reminded, however, when he comes face to face with another student, who just takes one look at him and raises a single, solitary eyebrow, a knowing smirk upon his lips. 

“Took you two long enough,” Togami drawls, before sauntering away, heading off to wherever spoilt, rich businesspeople go in the morning. 

And Taka then enters his room, heart pounding, wondering what, exactly, the billionaire had meant by that...) 

Chapter Text

Taka sits— his back relaxed and mind blissfully blank for once— with a non-fiction book about Gandhi in his hands, a soft smile upon his face, and a warm weight in his lap that he is doing his absolute best to not focus on too closely or else he’s going to lose his composure completely...

“Shit, man. Somethin’ kinda fucked ‘bout a bunch a’ kids bein’ forced ta kill each other, ya know? Suzanne Collins is a sadistic fuck...” a musing voice mutters from below him, causing him to stiffen just a touch. A-ah...

Despite himself, he can’t help how his eyes dart downward, his heart stuttering as he sees the quietly focused teen that is lying with his head in his lap, glasses perched on his nose, looking up at the first book of the Hunger Games trilogy. 

Grk-!

“A-ah! Yes, I would imagine so! Are you... enjoying the book, kyoudai?”

Since the previous week— after they had finally overcome their differences and became kyoudai— Taka has been trying to introduce Mondo to new books, to help him better understand symbolism and other literary concepts. Fahrenheit 451 is fine and all, but the biker has a lot of catching up to do if he wants to pass their class. Plus, he knows that the biker is not a big fan of the classic, finding it very dull and confusing, even with Taka’s help. They’d briefly tried other classics, both translated English and traditional Japanese ones, but Mondo had quickly grown annoyed with them, claiming that the old-fashioned language made his head hurt. He also didn’t seem to like a lot of Japanese young adult novels, finding them very dull. 

They’d managed to stumble upon the Hunger Games books by accident, actually, Mondo seeing a translated version in the library and finding his curiosity piqued. So far, he’s managed to read more of it than he has of any of the other books they’ve tried, so Taka is hoping that that is a good thing...? 

“Ehh... I dunno yet. Kinda dull at first, but things are startin’ ta pick up, ya know? They just started the Hunger Games thing, and now all the kids are tryin’ ta kill each other. Like I said, kinda fucked, but eh. Seems interestin’...” 

Taka tries to hide his smile as Mondo absently turns a page in the book, eyes focused even as they speak. He isn’t wearing his coat at the moment, is only wearing his wife beater, and the look is very distracting for Taka. 

His heart had almost leapt out of his chest when Mondo— who apparently doesn’t understand the concept of personal space— had decided to flop down on his back on the couch in the rec room, not seeming to care that his head had landed firmly on Taka’s lap. He’d just settled in, held his book up, glasses firmly on his face, and had started to read, letting out little comments or snorts every few minutes. 

Taka— his heart doing a funny little tango— had done his best to just... go along with it and not make a big deal out of it, even though it is now slowly driving him insane. One thing he had learned very quickly over the past week, after all, is that Mondo seems to be a big fan of, well... physical affection. It wasn’t unusual for the larger teen to put his arm around Taka, or to ruffle his hair (to Taka’s professed annoyance), or to grab his wrist to pull him somewhere, excitement bright in his lavender eyes. Or— on quite a few occasions— to grab Taka around the waist and pull him into a tight hug, for whatever reason the biker had that time. 

It is, in all honesty, all kinds of wonderful and incredible and Taka absolutely adores it and yet-

It makes his feelings of brotherly love switch into overdrive, which makes him just a bit embarrassed. 

Mondo insists that it’s normal. That ‘bros always are so close, kyoudai!’ The biker doesn’t seem to have any problems with it at all, the actions coming very naturally to him. And from what Taka can see when he sees Mondo interact with Kuwata (who he still is not the biggest fan of, and vice versa, but is learning to tolerate for Mondo’s sake), casual touching does seem to be a big part of their interactions. 

However...

However, from what he has observed, the physical interactions between Mondo and Kuwata are distinctly more... violent, he supposes, than the physical interaction between himself and the biker. Mondo and Kuwata will often tussle or roughhouse when together, both teens fighting (playfully, he assumes) for the upper hand. They often will laugh while doing it, which is why it doesn’t concern him too much, but it is distinctly different to the gentle, almost reverent way Mondo will touch him, a soft look in the biker’s eyes...

And it makes sense! Of course! His friendship with Mondo is different to Mondo’s friendship with Kuwata! They are kyoudai, after all! Obviously, their interactions would be different! I-it’s not like Taka thinks that Mondo would have any ulterior motives for his closeness...! Aha! That would be madness! Ahahahaha! Ahahaha! Haha! Ha!

Ha...

Still...

It’s slowly driving him insane! The casual touches, the soft looks, the gentle handling... it’s all so much and it’s making Taka slowly lose his carefully maintained control. But what else is new, honestly... Mondo has always had such an effect on him, why would that change now that they are kyoudai, right??? Ha! Haha!

Ha...

W-well! He can handle it! What he feels for Mondo is clearly brotherly affection, nothing more. Yes, it feels like he’s being electrocuted with every touch, and he has to spend more time pushing undesirable thoughts away, and his trousers are often distinctly tighter than they should be for reasons he refuses to think about— but it’s fine! Absolutely fine!

Because, Taka thinks, looking down at Mondo— eyes softer and gentler than he ever thought his bright red eyes could go... his heart warm and full and alive... feeling more positive emotions than he’s ever felt before— well... it’s all worth it. All of it. Any amount of discomfort or confusion or heartache is instantly discounted when considering just how happy the teen on his lap makes him. He’d almost forgotten what happiness felt like— tasted like— before Mondo had come along and rearranged his entire universe. Any amount of possible confusion and heartache is forgotten in light of the warmth and joy he is currently basking in. 

He... he...

“You're starin’ at me. What, I got somethin’ on my face?” a gruff voice breaks through his thoughts, causing him to flush brightly. He glares lightly at Mondo, who is looking up at him with a smug grin, his pompadour sticking straight up in direct spite of the laws of physics. Taka doesn’t even deign the comment with a verbal response (especially since he knows that anything that he could say would just come out lame and pathetic). Instead, he just huffs indignantly and turns back to his book, hoping to complete his assigned reading for his morality class quickly, cheeks unfortunately pink. 

He still can’t quite force himself to completely ignore Mondo, especially with how surprisingly vocal the biker is as he reads but, well...

He doesn’t mind. 

Not one single bit. 

(He’s doomed...) 

The pair remain like that for several minutes more, both quietly (well, mostly quietly) reading and enjoying the other’s company. 

It’s right when Taka has maybe a few more pages of his book to go that the door to the rec room opens, causing Taka to tense as he looks up, worrying about who, exactly, is entering. He’s not exactly made any enemies here (other than the teen in his lap, but he’s quite obviously mended that relationship), but some of the older years are not overly fond of him and he doesn’t want Mondo to get into (yet another) fight on his behalf.

The tension drains out of him when he sees the familiar faces of Ogami, Asahina, Maizono, and Naegi, with Asahina excitedly talking about some swimming competition that Taka vaguely recalls the girl mentioning that she was going to attend recently. 

“-it was so totally awesome! The way she cut through the water, like nyoom! I wasn’t even mad she got a slightly higher score than me, it was so freaking cool!! She said she’d teach me the move, too, if I teach her my signature move, so I’m so pumped! Oh! Hey Taka and Mondo! How’s it going???” 

Asahina looks over at them with a wide smile, not seeming phased to see them in such a position. It is almost funny, seeing as how ‘freaked out’ she had been the previous week, claiming that their manly bond was ‘weird’ and ‘gross.’ The words had honestly kind of offended him, but he’d been too focused on his euphoria of having a friend to really care about it too much. However, as the week has progressed, it seems that the girl has come to terms with their bond, the swimmer going as far as to smile at them brightly whenever she sees them together, like she is currently. 

In fact, most of their classmates have gone through similar journeys, going from varying degrees of discomfort and-or confusion, to varying degrees of acceptance, though some more begrudging than others (Togami, when he isn’t smirking knowingly at them, alternates between sneering and grimacing at their behavior. Quite rudely, he might add…). None of their classmates, not even Kuwata (who is the most disgruntled by it) are outright opposed to their newfound brotherhood, though. Which is a relief, honestly! At least they have no one to try and change Mondo’s mind about him...

“Heya, Hina. Readin’ this weird ass book ‘bout kids murderin’ each other. Ya had that competition then, yeah? Do well?” Mondo questions casually, sitting up and taking his glasses off with only a hint of a blush, pulling Taka back to the present. The biker’s actions make him frown a little, though. Taka has been trying to convince Mondo that the glasses don’t make him look ridiculous, like the biker is convinced of, to varying degrees of success. While he seems fine with wearing them when it’s just the two of them, he tends to take them off pretty quick around other people. 

(It didn’t help that Kuwata— the first time he’d seen Mondo wearing them in class— had burst out laughing, earning himself a detention from the teacher. Taka had been furious at the redheaded boy and had lectured him for a while after, which hadn’t really improved his tempestuous relationship with the baseball star slash up-and-coming musician, but he hadn’t really cared. Not when any and all confidence Taka had managed to build up in the biker had been destroyed with his friend’s cruel laughter, which had infuriated Taka greatly. He’s been spending days trying to fix the damage, to minimal avail. Oh well... at least he is willing to tell others that he’s actually reading now, which is something...?)

“Oooh, that sounds scary! Is it any good? And yup! I just got back! I narrowly got first overall but was beat in a couple of the side contests. But that’s okay! I’ll just train extra hard and next time I’ll get it! If either of you guys wanna join me in the pool some mornings, we can train together if you’d like! I’d always love to have an extra swimming buddy!” 

Mondo smirks, shrugging his shoulders casually as he stretches out on the couch. Taka fights down the blush that wants to rise on his face when he feels Mondo’s arm curl lazily across his shoulder, the touch barely there but still electrifying. 

“Nah, I’m good. Not much ofa swimmer, ya know. Taka may be up fer it, though. He’s got more ofa swimmer’s build and always does those ridiculous exercises in the mornin’. Congrats on the competition, though! Representin’ us right, hell yeah!” Mondo grins, giving the girl an enthusiastic fist pump, which makes her giggle softly. 

The biker then shrugs again, looking over at the book he had tossed to the side, considering. “As fer the book... yeah, it’s pretty tight. Ain’t exactly scary, more weird than anythin’. Not sure how I feel ‘bout it yet. Writer’s an American, though, so no accountin’ fer quality, heh. Called the Hunger Games or somethin’.” 

Asahina gasps excitedly, bouncing as she takes a seat in the chair in front of them. The others head over to the pool table, Ogami smiling at Asahina indulgently while Naegi and Maizono talk softly together. 

“Oooh, I’ve heard of that book!! I watched some of the movie on the plane to a competition once, it was pretty good! It made me sad though... poor Rue!” the girl cries, frowning dramatically. Mondo frowns back, looking at the book critically. 

“Aw shit... somethin’ happens ta the kid? Aw man. Kinda figured, but still was hopin’, ya know? Hate when kids get hurt in stuff. Shit sucks.” 

“Oooh, sorry! Didn’t mean to spoil! It’s a good scene though, so while it is sad, I still liked it. Oh! But if you like that book, you should try Harry Potter! A friend of mine convinced me to give it a try a little while ago and I love those books! There’s, like, seven of them but they’re sooo good that it doesn’t seem like it! Let me know if you decide to give them a try, okay??? I’d love to have someone to talk to the books about!! Anyway, Taka! Wanna swim with me sometime??”

Taka blinks as the girl’s rapid-fire speech turns to him without any preamble, Asahina staring at him with wide, inquiring eyes. It’s still a little strange for him to be included in conversation like this... Mondo is a lot more natural at it, the biker seeming to slot into conversation with their peers very easily, despite his tough-guy act. Well… recently, at least. Since they became friends, it seems a lot easier for Mondo to relax his image and let himself converse naturally with their peers, for whatever reason. Taka is, in all honesty, immensely proud of the teen. 

Now, if only the same could be said for himself...

“O-oh! A-ah, I’m not sure, Asahina-kun! I tend to spend most mornings exercising in my room, and-”

“Ya kidding? He’d love ta join ya, right Taka?!” Mondo shouts over him, drowning the rest of his sentence out. His heart skips a beat when he feels Mondo’s arm tighten around his shoulders, the biker giving him a significant look that Taka can’t— for the life of him— decipher. Still, considering the teen’s emphatic words, he can’t find it in him to go against it...

“A-ah-! I mean! Of course! I would love to, Asahina-kun! I suppose I can make the time some mornings if that is agreeable with you!” Taka exclaims, feeling only slightly awkward. He’s never been a big fan of swimming, to be honest, his apartment not having a swimming pool and the price of admittance to the public pool too high for him. He only knows how to swim thanks to swim class in middle school and— considering how often the other kids ‘pretended’ to drown him while the teacher turned a blind eye— it wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience! B-but...! If Mondo wants him to try it-! 

“Oh, yay!! I mean, you don’t gotta if you don’t wanna, but it’ll be a lot of fun, I promise! Sakura is great to have as a training buddy, but she’s not a big fan of swimming. But that’s okay! We can be swimming buddies now! Awesome!!” the swimmer bursts out happily, grinning at him from ear to ear. She frowns a second later, though, pouting at him overdramatically. “I’ve told you to call me Hina, though. No need to be so formal, right? We’re all friends here!” 

A-ah! Friends! Asahina— or should he call her Hina...?— considers them... friends??? How queer! Or is that just a phrase he’s not aware of...? Or is it because they’re now ‘swimming buddies’ apparently? Social interaction is so weird!

Still, he doesn’t want to offend the girl... and she has taken to calling him ‘Taka,’ the swimmer picking up on Mondo’s usage of the nickname and adopting it for herself. Without asking, he might add... n-not that he minds! Too much...

(Well, it had been nice, he supposes... having Mondo being the only one to call him by his mother’s old nickname for him... ah well. At least he and Mondo still have ‘Kiyo’...) 

“Ah! I’m so sorry, H-Hina! I- I will keep that in mind!” 

The girl beams at him, over her bout of petulance quick. 

“It’s okay! Anyway, what would be a good time for you to meet me for swim practice?? I’m good pretty much whenever to swim, not just morning! Morning, afternoon, night... you name it!” 

Taka considers it as he looks over at their other classmates, watching absently as they set up the pool table, Ogami smirking gently as Naegi messes up the cuing with a sheepish grin. What time would be best...? Hm...

“Perhaps... ah, Saturday or Sunday mornings? That way we wouldn’t have to worry about classes or my patrols!” he professes after a minute, smiling as nicely as he can. Judging by how As- Hina beams, nodding furiously, he supposes it doesn’t look too offensive...

“Yup! Sounds totally cool! Wanna meet up tomorrow outside the pool, at like... 8:00 or something? We can do some laps to get you warmed up! How familiar are you with the pool?” 

It’s a good question, one that makes sense logically and was asked innocently enough. Taka feels himself freeze, however, as an obvious problem comes to mind now that he’s thinking about it. Flushing, he looks down at his hands, a worried frown rising on his face. 

“A-ah... I’m so sorry, As- Hina! I just remembered that I don’t have a swimsuit! I am so sorry!” he cries, his heart clenching as he mentally berates himself for his folly. Idiot! Of course, he doesn’t have a swimsuit, he’s not gone swimming since middle school, and he’s grown quite a bit since then! And their class isn’t starting their swimming module until Spring, two quarters from then, so he figured it would be best to buy a new swimsuit closer to the start of the Spring quarter! Oh! How embarrassing! He’s such an idiot! Why did he bother trying to do anyth-

“Oh! That’s no problem, Taka, the school store sells all kinds of swimsuits! Maybe I can take you over there now and we can pick one out together?” Hina states innocently, cutting through his self-deprecating thoughts. But then he comprehends the words, and that only makes the thoughts even worse. B-buy a swimsuit...? But he... he can’t afford something like that... he knows how expensive swimming gear can be, that’s why he’s yet to replace his old suit... oh dear...

“Nah, y’ain’t gotta do that. Ya can borrow my swimsuit, kyoudai, ain’t like I’m gonna use it. Plus, it’s a bit small fer me, so it’ll prolly fit ya well enough,” Mondo cuts in casually, before Taka’s thoughts can spiral downward any further. A-ah-! Use Mondo’s swimsuit! That’s-! Aha!

Grk! 

“Oh, yeah, that could work too! Okay, sweet! I’m so pumped right now! This is gonna be awesome!” Hina bubbles, bouncing in her seat. Mondo chuckles beside him, arm curling a bit tighter around him, making him feel safe and secure, like he always does when Mondo touches him like this... a-ah... 

“Hell yeah! Hey, Ogami, Naegi! I’m up next, alright? I’ll take the winner,” Mondo calls to the pair, who are now playing pool, though Naegi appears to be holding his cue stick improperly. Taka hasn’t had much of a chance to play pool (or billiards, as he’d called it until Mondo had snorted at him and told him ‘dude, it’s fuckin’ pool, c’mon’), but Mondo had showed him the proper grip the other day, despite the biker professing not being a big fan of the game. Still, when he thinks of Mondo teaching him how to play, it makes him flush bright red, the phantom sensation of Mondo standing behind him overwhelming. He bitterly remembers the feel of arms around him, adjusting his grip so carefully and gently and- grk!

A-anyway! He knows the proper grip, and Naegi does not seem to have it. But the boy doesn’t seem to mind, just smiles sheepishly at Mondo and nods quickly. 

“Y-yeah, okay Mondo. You’ll probably be up against Sakura, though... I’m not that great at pool, heh...” Naegi claims, rubbing his neck awkwardly. Ogami looks over at him, soft frown on her face. 

“You should give yourself more credit, Makoto-san. You’re not doing too bad. You got that corner pocket earlier,” the martial artist calmly says, giving the boy a level look. Naegi smiles gratefully at her, before turning back to the table with a look of concentration on his face. Taka can feel as Mondo removes his arm, the biker standing to watch the game better. 

Taka tries not to feel bereaved and stands as well, hoping that his blush isn’t that noticeable. Judging by the way Hina is smiling at him, he’s not so sure...

“So, guys! Are any of you planning on going to that Halloween themed Fall Festival next week?? It sounds like it’s gonna be so freaking cool! You’ve done a great job with it, Taka!” Hina gushes a minute or two later, during a lull in the game. Taka feels his face flush as all eyes land on him, uncomfortable at the praise. A-ah... it’s not like he’s the only person helping plan the festival... he’d just volunteered like he always does when the headmaster had set out a list asking for people to help with the festival, that’s all...

“Oh yeah! There’s going to be a haunted house and costume contest and everything, right? Sounds neat!” Maizono giggles, smiling at him kindly. “And, of course, my band will be playing a couple of songs! Thanks for thinking to ask us, Taka. Headmaster Kirigiri said it was your idea.” 

A-ah... his face turns a brighter shade of red, now even more embarrassed! He’s always secretly wanted praise for helping organize festivals and school events and whatnot, but he’s never actually had such a thing happen before! And now that it is, he… he doesn’t know what to do… a-ah…

“Hell yeah! That’s my kyoudai, always got the best ideas!” Mondo exclaims, grinning over at him too. O-oh... somehow, that praise is the most overwhelming of them all! And it is nice, yes, but also… hm. He doesn’t know…

“Ah! T-thank you! B-but I’m not the only one planning it! There’s a whole committee!” he explains, feeling strangely uncomfortable with all the compliments. Strange. He’s wanted this for years, and now that he has it, he feels... so weird inside...

“But ta answer ya, Hina, yeah, prolly,” Mondo continues, though he’s looking at Taka with a soft frown. A-ah... had he noticed his discomfort...? “Not usu’ly my scene, but eh. Free entertainment’s free entertainment, an’ all that. ‘Sides. Leon bet he’d beat me at that crappy ball throwin’ game all festivals seem ta have. Ain’t gonna let that fucker beat me!” 

“Uh, Mondo...” Naegi chimes in, frowning at the biker cautiously, looking uncomfortable, “isn’t Leon the Ultimate Baseball Star or something? S-so...” 

Mondo stares at Naegi blankly for a second, before snarling and punching the wall (without too much force, to Taka’s relief). 

“Aw, that goddamn motherfucker! I’m gonna kill him!” Mondo exclaims, making the girls in the room giggle and Naegi laugh nervously. 

Even Ogami is chuckling softly, though she quickly turns back to the game and lines up a shot, calling “eight ball, corner pocket,” before sinking the shot, effectively ending the game. Naegi grimaces at his remaining four balls on the table, but congratulates the martial artist, nonetheless. 

“Great game, Sakura!” he expresses, holding out his hand for the muscular girl to shake. Ogami bows slightly as she takes the proffered hand, smiling kindly. 

“Likewise, Makoto. You did better than last time. Keep practicing, and I am sure you’ll get there,” the girl assures, before turning to Mondo. “You’re up next, then, Owada-san.” 

Taka watches in silence as Mondo pushes off against the wall he’d been leaning against, the biker grinning as he grabs the cue stick out of Naegi’s hand— just a little too roughly, the biker smirking at Naegi’s soft yelp of alarm. He then taunts the boy about his horrible pool stance, saying that he should ‘take a look at how a professional does it, nerd.’ 

It makes Taka smile softly to see, something in him so happy to see Mondo getting along so well with the others, even if he likes to taunt them to a certain degree. Taka knows he doesn’t mean it seriously and he’s fairly certain the others notice it too, if Naegi’s small smile is anything to go by. 

As he stands there, watching as the game is set up, the atmosphere in the room jovial and cheerful, Taka can’t help the strange emotion that is swirling within his chest. After all it’s just so… so strange... he went from having absolutely no friends the previous week, to suddenly having a kyoudai, and now to having the possibility of another friend, with several other people who— at the very least— appreciate the effort he’s putting into things... it’s all he’d ever wanted as a child, honestly! It’s so utterly strange, but... but nice...

And it’s all because of Mondo. He’s sure of that fact… 

“Hey, Taka? Can I talk to you in private for a minute?” he hears someone ask him softly a minute or two later, causing him to jump in surprise, his attention on the surprisingly intense pool match broken abruptly. He frowns softly at Hina, the uncharacteristically serious look on the swimmer’s face making him feel a bit nervous. 

He nods hesitantly, though, straightening from the casual lounge he’d accidentally allowed himself to slip into. A-ah... that’s strange, he usually holds himself so stiffly... 

“A-ah, sure! Is something the matter?” Taka asks Hina, pushing aside the thought of his unusual stance for the moment. Hina shakes her head quickly, a warm smile finding its way on her face. 

“Nope! Just wanted to talk to you about something! Nothing to worry about, promise,” she smiles, before practically skipping out of the room. His nerves not quelled by her assurance, Taka follows at a more sedate pace, his stomach churning. He makes sure to smile back at Mondo, though, who he notices frowning over at him, saying he’ll be right back. Mondo doesn’t stop frowning, but he nods once before turning back to the game. 

He exits the room and quickly finds the bubbly swimmer, who smiles at him from across the hall in a secluded alcove. Stomach churning again, he marches over to her, worried frown on his lips. 

“Are you sure nothing is the matter, Asah- ah. I mean, Hina?” he asks nervously again, unable to help it. Hina giggles softly, shaking her head. 

“No, silly. I just wanted to tell you something, since I’ve been dying to tell someone, and I know you’ll understand! So, you know how Sakura and I have been really close since school started? Well, she asked me out the other day, after I got back from my competition!! She’s going to take me to the Fall Festival for our first date!! I’m so excited!!!” Hina enthuses, her eyes bright as she jumps up and down with her excitement. 

Taka stares at her for a long moment, his jaw open ridiculously, the words taking a while to process. Ogami had asked Hina out... as... friends??? No, they’re already friends, why would that make her look so overwhelmingly happy? Plus, hadn’t she called it a... a... date...

Oh! 

OH!!

OH!!!!!

Cheeks flushed red, he does his best to hide his shock and smile at the swimmer, though he knows it’s not one of his better smiles. At least Hina doesn’t seem to notice, since she just beams back at him, seeming far too happy to notice his momentary stiffness. 

Because it’s not like he has any problem with it! He’s never had a problem with people who are... that. He just... he hadn’t realized that Hina was...

But that shouldn’t matter! Shaking himself out of his shock, he smiles wider at the girl, his eyes lighting up, her enthusiasm infectious.  

“That’s wonderful, Hina! I am so happy for you and for Ogami-kun! I hope you two have a wonderful time!!” he enthuses, so surprisingly happy for the girl. He still isn’t quite sure if they’re friends or not, but he’s still happy for her, nonetheless. She nods frantically, grinning so wide that it almost makes Taka’s cheeks ache in sympathy. 

“I know!!! I can’t wait!! Ahh, this is so exciting! I’ve never been on a date with a girl before, but I’ve always known I don’t have a preference for gender, you know. And while I didn’t realize Sakura felt that way for me, or even that I felt that way about her, when she asked me, I was just so happy! A-and I know that not everyone accepts that sort of thing, which is why I wasn’t sure who I could tell, but I knew you’d be okay with it! And I really wanted to tell someone! I’ve been practically bursting with energy since she asked me! Ahhh!!” 

Taka feels warmth fill his chest at the swimmer’s kind words. She really thinks that he is someone she can trust with such a secret...? How wonderful! He is so happy that she thinks so highly of him, even though they don’t know one another that well! 

“Of course! I’ve never had a problem with people who are- er, you know! And when I’m Prime Minister I will ensure that equal rights are obtained for all, I assure you, so you’ll never have to feel unsafe!” Taka promises, making the girl giggle happily. And then she... she darts forward and… and hugs him tightly-! A-ah-! 

“Oh!” he exclaims accidentally, not expecting the enthusiastic hug. He’s only been hugged by Mondo— recently at least— and this is quite different to those hugs, he knows that! For one, Hina is far smaller than him and is pressed under his chin tightly. For another, she’s still bouncing a little, forcing him to bounce with her, which is somewhat disconcerting. He does find the presence of mind to wrap his arms around her after a second, though, rather than continue to hold them stiffly at his sides like he had been. But still! It’s so strange!

“Thank you, Taka! I- I know that there’s nothing wrong with it, you know, but it’s so nice to hear someone else say it. It... it means a lot to me,” she mutters into his chest, pressing even tighter. He feels something in his chest soften at the words, with something that is almost protective coming over him. Huh. Strange! 

“You needn’t thank me at all! I mean it whole-heartedly! And if anyone tries to bother you and Ogami-kun about anything, tell me right away and I will ensure they are dealt with promptly!” 

Hina giggles at his words, pulling back a little to look him in the eyes, her own blue eyes sparkling with her happiness. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Taka! Though I’d doubt anyone would be stupid enough to try anything with Sakura! And you can call her that, you know. Sakura. She won’t mind!” 

A-ah... being invited to use another classmate’s first name...! Not by the classmate herself, no, but still!

“Ah! Thank you! I shall-”

“Think about it, I know,” Hina giggles, pulling back fully to pull a face at him. His cheeks flush, but he just smiles sheepishly back, sensing (hoping) that she isn’t mocking him but is rather just... teasing...! A-ah, he supposes he does say that a lot, doesn’t he...? 

“Anyway, I cannot wait! Ooooh, I wish there were a machine that could speed up time!” Hina exclaims a second later, pulling his attention back to the girl again. He smiles gently at her, happy with her excitement. 

Only for his smile to freeze on his face a moment later, ice forming in his heart as the girl continues, her tone as bubbly as usual, but her words...

“Are you and Mondo going to the festival too, then? Oh, I know! Maybe we could go on a double date! You and Mondo, and me and Sakura! I mean, since you guys are dating and all! Then no one will dare bother us at all!” 

...

...

...

-!

H-he... what?! She... what?! 

Taka cannot tell how long he stares at Hina, the girl continuing to talk with excitement, talking about the things they could do together, not noticing how stiff and petrified Taka has gotten, all the blood drained from his face. It’s only when she finally trails off and looks at him that she notices anything, her excited expression fading into confusion as she finally notices the almost horrified look on Taka’s face. 

“U-uh... Taka? You okay, buddy?” she asked tentatively, reaching out and touching his hand gently. Taka flinches back harshly, the daze he had been forced into at her words breaking abruptly, leaving him cold and afraid. 

She... s-she thinks that h-he... that h-he and… a-and Mondo are… a-are... 

Shaking his head, Taka backs up slowly, only stopping when his back hits the wall of the small alcove they’re in, eyes wide and scared. Hina— now realizing that something is very wrong— stares back with wide, worried eyes. 

“W-w-what... w-what did you say?” he questions hoarsely, heart beginning to race as his body begins to shake. She... no, she can’t... can’t think that he...

“I- I... I’m sorry? What do you mean? Taka, are you okay? Should I get Mondo?” 

Taka looks up abruptly at that, eyes— somehow— even wider as he shakes his head frantically. No! Absolutely not!

“N-no! Don’t get him!” he practically shouts, wincing at the volume. Hina jolts back, looking almost scared. Oh no... oh dear...

Swallowing thickly, he tries to smile shakily, but he doesn’t even have to look at Hina’s face to know he fails. He has to... has to correct her, she... he has to...

“Y-you... H-Hina... Mondo and I, we- we’re not- we are not... n-not... we’re just friends. Just... just friends,” he stresses, hoping that she doesn’t try and debate him on this. However, judging by her shocked expression, he doesn’t have much hope there. Oh... god...

Did she really think...?

Did... did anyone else...

(Was he really that bad at hiding it...?) 

“W-what?! B-but... but you guys have been so close this last week! I was... I was so sure that...” she trails off and frowns, looking down, her brows furrowed as she thinks. Taka just focuses on not passing out. 

Oh. She really did... did think that... h-he and... and Mondo-

Oh god. 

Oh god. 

Oh god!

“I- I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have assumed!” Hina cries after a moment, startling him, making him flinch back into the wall again. She grimaces at the action, looking acutely miserable. Oh... he hadn’t wanted that... “You guys just... just were so close! And Mondo, he... he’s always touching you! And the way he looks at you, I- I thought it was weird at first, but then I realized why you guys were like that, and then I thought it was so brave of you guys!” 

Taka can feel tears rise in his eyes, nausea churning in his stomach. He shakes his head, frantic, and looks at Hina desperately. 

“W-we’re brothers, H-Hin- Asahina-kun. Just... just brothers. Kyoudai. N-nothing... nothing more, I assure you! Nothing... nothing more...”

He doesn’t mean for his words to be as soft as they are. He doesn’t mean for the pang of pain that fills his heart at the thought to be so obvious. He had thought he was doing a good job at hiding it, and pretending it wasn’t there, but when he hears Hin— Asahina, they’re not friends, she won’t want to be his friend after this— let out a soft sound of sympathy, her eyes looking at him sadly, knowingly, he... he...

“But you want more... don’t you?” she whispers, eyes bleeding sorrow and sadness and pity, she pities him, oh god-

He shakes his head, pressing back against the wall as hard as he can, part of him hoping that if he presses hard enough, he’ll vanish into it and never have to deal with this moment ever again... 

“Hey... hey, it’s okay if you do! There’s no shame in it, okay?” Asahina asks, taking a step closer. Taka looks down, feeling ashamed. He... he...

“He wouldn’t want that,” he whispers, almost inaudibly. Then, realizing what he had stupidly said, the pseudo confession burning him, he looks up, feeling panicked. “N-not that I care! Y-you’re wrong! I don’t... I- I’m not- n-not…”

“... what... gay?”

Eugh! 

Taka feels his heart clench so painfully at the word that he’s almost afraid he’s having a heart attack. Though, maybe... maybe that would be for the better, since at least then he wouldn’t have to deal with... with...

“N-no... n-n-no...” 

Because he isn’t. Isn’t... g-g... he’s not...

Gay. 

He isn’t...

Gay.

He can’t be. 

There’s nothing wrong with people who are... w-who are... gay... but he... he’s not. He...

Taka remembers, suddenly, a moment from his childhood. It was a long time ago, before his mother had died even, before the bullying got so bad that he’d begun to fully retreat into himself. He couldn’t have been older than seven or eight, really. It’s a moment he’s pushed so, so far down that he wouldn’t ever remember it again. 

*There was a boy, in his class. He doesn’t remember the boy’s name, not anymore, it was so long ago (he’d forced himself to forget it). He’d been new that year. And he had been... kind. Nice. Friendly. He never really spent time with Taka, but he would at least smile when he was around, which was more than anyone else did. He hadn’t had the context as to why everyone in his town hated Taka and he hadn’t really seemed to care about the gossip. Taka enjoyed being around the boy, even if they never spoke. This went on for most of the year, the boy not joining in on mocking him, but never really spending time with him, either. 

But one day... well, it had been quiet, at the school. All the other kids had gone on a field trip, but he hadn’t been able to afford it, so he’d been left behind with a single teacher who seemed to resent having to ‘babysit’ the few kids who couldn’t go. Taka knew the truth, though. She resented having to be left behind with him. 

But the boy... he- he also had stayed behind, since his family didn’t have much money either. And so, with no one else their age around... the boy, he... he spoke to him. He’d smiled and they’d spoken, and it was... was nice. 

Taka had almost messed up, of course. He’d been so passionate, back then. He’d rambled about his hobbies, which of course included studying and learning about ethics, of course! It was back when he still hadn’t realized why it was so bad, when he’d known that the other children hated him, but they hadn’t really assaulted or harassed him yet, so he hadn’t realized that it was wrong; that there was something wrong with him. And the boy, he...

He hadn’t seemed to mind! He’d just listened, carefully, patiently, and had even asked some questions! It was like a dream come true!

After that, he and the boy would talk. Not in public, not where other people could see them. But alone, in private... they would talk. For hours and hours and hours, sometimes. His mother would smile indulgently when he’d talk about the boy, holding him close afterwards and saying she was so happy he finally had a friend, looking so happy for him even with how wan she had been getting, her cancer already taken hold deep within her. 

It all had been going well for about a month. The pair growing closer together, enjoying the time they spent together. 

And then it was Valentine’s Day. 

And the boy...

It’s traditional for girls to give boys chocolate for the holiday. Cheap, inexpensive chocolate for boys they are not particularly interested in but feel obligated to give something to, with expensive, higher quality chocolate for boys they are interested in romantically. Homemade chocolate is valued even higher, no matter the quality involved. As long as it is personal, well. That’s all that matters. 

Taka had never gotten chocolate before. Either the obligation chocolate or the romantic chocolate. Perhaps, maybe once, during his first year of school, back Before he’d gotten one or two obligations chocolates. But After... not a single one. 

That changed that day. 

It was before school. He and the boy had been sitting together, like they usually did, Taka talking about whatever nonsense he’d been interested in that day. It had been cold, but not frigid, the sun shining lazily overhead, one of his favorite kinds of day. One that never failed to make him smile. He’d looked over to the boy, smiling happily, and had seen the boy looking back at him, a peculiar look upon his face which left almost as soon as he’d noticed it, like it had never been there at all. 

And then, without any preamble, the boy had held out a bag, wrapped in pretty bows and iridescent cellophane, smiling softly. 

“For you,” the boy had muttered, looking him in the eyes shyly. And when Taka had opened the bag, his heart beating fast, he saw...

A single chocolate. Inexpertly crafted, clumsily wrapped, but clearly handmade. And Taka...

He’d never felt like that before. Not towards the girls, not even Katsumi, the prettiest girl in his class that all the boys had crushes on. He hadn’t known what it felt like to have a crush, had always thought himself too busy to worry about things like that. But at that moment... at that moment, he... well. His heart had been racing, and his face had been flushed, and everything was swirling within him, hot and cold and just... wonderful. 

He’d only been a child. He hadn’t known what it meant, not really, just that he’d liked it. Liked the feeling. Liked... liked the boy. 

He hadn’t known people thought it was wrong. Hadn’t known why it would be wrong at all. Hadn’t had any idea why something so nice and warm and pleasant would be bad, would be immoral or disgusting. He hadn’t... he hadn’t known.

And so, with trembling hands, Taka had accepted the chocolate, smiling brightly at the boy. Happy, and content and in love. Or, as much in love as a young child could possibly be. He hadn’t known what love was, but in that moment, he knew. Knew what he felt so sharply it burned. 

And then, when the boy had leaned in, slightly, not much, well... well, Taka had seen that before, had seen his mother and his father do that, and in his mind it had seemed simple. He knew what love meant. He knew what crushes were. And he... he knew what it meant to kiss someone. And in that moment... he... he’d wanted...

So, he’d leaned in, too. He’d never been subtle, it was always a fatal flaw of his, and so he’d leaned in too quick, too obvious, his intention clear and very apparent. His lips had met the boy’s, just a brush of skin, nothing special, not really. But to Taka... to Taka it had felt...

Like magic. 

Like everything made sense. 

Like things would be okay. For once... they’d finally be okay. 

He had felt so much hope in that moment, bright and shining and beautiful. He’d never felt happier, wanted to stay in that moment forever, to never have to leave, finally knowing what he was and who he was and what he wanted and knowing... knowing...

But time doesn’t stop just because you want it to. And after that one, solitary, perfect moment had passed... after he’d finally realized who and what he was, understood why he never really looked at girls but would rather look at boys, why he was different— after... a-after...

He was on the ground. 

And there was the sound of laughter. 

And of someone gagging, pretending to throw up. 

And he... he...

“Ewww! I can’t believe he actually kissed me! Ya see, I told ya, Daichi! He is a freak! You so owe me that game now! That was disgusting!” 

He didn’t cry. Not at first. He was too shocked, too confused, not understanding what was happening when the other boys— four from his class— climbed out from behind the trees, gathering around him and calling him names. Calling him things like freak and disgusting and fairy and poof. Calling him... calling him...

Gay...

He’d started to cry, then, slowly realizing that this was real, that his friend- that the boy... that it was ruined. That he’d ruined it all, that the feeling he’d gotten was... was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, and he... he’d cried. He’d cried, and he’d cried, and he’d cried, not knowing why. Why.

And they’d mocked him for that too, calling him worse names, cruel and harsh and hurtful. He’d begged the boy to stop, calling him a friend, asking why he was doing this, why... why... and he’d watched, heart shattering, as the boy sneered at him, towering above him, face far crueler than he’d ever seen it before. 

“Why?! I’ll tell you why! Because you’re such a little freak! You actually thought I enjoyed spending time with you, listening to you ramble about stupid things?! I hadn’t understood at first why everyone hated you, but the more time I spent with you, the more I understood! I hated you, you were so annoying, but you were such a freak that you couldn’t tell I was laughing at you! Daichi didn’t believe me when I said you were a little fairy, but I could tell. You kept looking at me, you obviously wanted me! He bet me I couldn’t get you to confess you liked me, but I knew I could. I didn’t think you’d kiss me! You’re so disgusting! At least now I don’t have to ever pretend to not hate you anymore! There’s something wrong with you, you disgusting freak!” 

The boy had kicked him, then, hard in the stomach, before walking away and stomping his supposed ‘gift’ into the mud while laughing cruelly with his actual friends. 

And as Taka laid there, crying in the mud, he knew. He knew, he knew, he knew. There was something wrong with him. Something disgusting about him. Something... something... 

Something immoral. 

Taka had run home after that, skipping school for the first and only time. His parents hadn’t been home, too busy working, and he’d not had a key back then, so he’d just curled up on his doormat and cried until he’d fallen asleep. When his mother had come home, frantic since she’d been told he’d not shown up for class that day, she’d been so worried, asking what had happened, if he was alright. And he... 

He hadn’t told her. He’d never kept anything from her before, but this... this... 

She’d always stressed the importance of being upright and moral and stalwart and good. She expected this of him, expected him to be the best person he could possibly be. What would she think if he... if he told her... he didn’t think she’d hate him, ever, ever, ever, but then...

He hadn’t expected what the boy had done either. 

So, he’d kept it in. He’d never told anyone. The entire class knew what he’d done (or tried to do, the boy had told them, not wanting to admit he’d actually kissed another boy, how disgusting), but he’d never told anyone. Just kept it inside and bottled it up, and when the kids would tease him and taunt him and torment him about it, calling him names, calling him wrong and disgusting, and a freak, he... 

He vowed to do better. To be better. To never be... to never allow himself...

And when his mother had died a month later, Taka waking up one morning but she hadn’t, his father shutting down entirely, he’d pushed everything down, down, down, knowing he was alone now and that he had to… had to be- b-be better…

And he has no problem with people who are like that. He doesn’t fault them for their supposed immorality, thinks they deserve equal rights and fairness and to be treated with kindness. After all, he knows firsthand how horrible it is to be on the other side of that horrible discrimination, and he isn’t even gay, so how much worse is it for people who actually are... a-are-

Because he wasn’t. He wasn’t and he isn’t. 

He couldn’t be. 

He can’t be. 

He won’t let himself. 

(What would Mondo think if he ever found out? If he knew he’d not only kissed a boy but that, for a split second before his world was destroyed, he’d liked it? What would... what would Mondo say... 

Oh, who’s he kidding? He already knows. 

The words ’get the hell away from me, you f*g!’ ring through his head. And he... he knows.) 

And he’s okay with that. So, what, he’s never felt anything even slightly romantic towards any girls? That doesn’t matter, such things are just distractions from his goal, regardless. Relationships just- just distract you and make you stupid and slow you down and h-he... Taka, h-he... he doesn’t need that. He’s sure that, if the time comes, he’ll be able to be in a relationship with a woman and be happy about it. Just because the thought makes his stomach clench to think about, the very thought foreign and wrong means nothing. He’d be able to do it, he knows he would. He knows he can, he... he...

He doesn’t... he isn’t... he’s not...

*“T-Taka...? I... I’m sorry... I didn’t...”

The soft, regretful words make his head jerk up, and his eyes meet overly wide, sad, blue ones. There are tears falling down the girl’s face, she looks so upset and Taka knows it’s his fault, knows he did this, knows...

“N-no...” he mutters, closing his eyes, a tear falling despite himself. He tries to smile, but it feels wrong. It always does. “Y-you... it’s not your fault. But... I’m... please. D-don’t... don’t call me that. E-especially not... not t-to... to Mondo, he can’t know, he can’t... h-he’d hate me, and I can’t... I can’t lose him, Hina- I- I mean, A-Asahina-k-kun... please...”

The girl lets out a soft, sad sound, and then, all of a sudden, he’s being attacked. Taka lets out a noise of panic, his body tensing, trying to shield himself, but he realizes after a second that he’s not, actually, being attacked. He’s... he’s...

“I won’t, Taka, I promise. I won’t ever tell anyone, okay? You can count on me,” the swimmer promises, her head pressed tight to his chest, arms tight around his waist. Taka is breathing a little heavier than normal, his heart still racing from all the emotion, but after a few moments where the girl doesn’t leave, he hesitatingly puts his arms around her, loose and easily dislodged, not wanting to trap her. She... she wouldn’t want...

“But you can still call me Hina, okay?? I really would like to be friends with you, Taka... I- I’m sorry I messed up, I just... b-but I realize I just- just, um... made a mistake. Heh! Because I know that you... that you’re not... s-so, if you think you can forgive me, I’d still like to be friends. Can we... can we still be friends?”

Be... friends? But why would she want to be friends? No one likes Taka... he’s too much, too bright, too fiery... she wouldn’t want... she doesn’t...

“You wouldn’t want to be friends with me,” he mutters softly, closing his eyes to try and hide the pain. “I’m not worth the effort.” 

He hears the girl let out a noise of protest, her arms squeezing him tighter, before— just as sudden as they’d arrived— they’re gone. Taka closes his eyes tighter. Oh... he shouldn’t have said that... she... she’ll hate him now... if she doesn’t already... 

“No! That’s wrong, Taka! You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met! You’re so kind and caring, and you helped me a lot with my homework and stuff! You’re really cool, you know? I really, really wanna be friends with you, I promise I mean that! I- I’m sorry if I ruined things but... but please don’t think that I don’t want to be your friend! Because I do, Taka. I really do! Okay?” 

The girl is holding his shoulders, her grip strong, and when Taka opens his eyes, he sees her eyes are wide and open, and... and... honest...

But she can’t... she can’t...

“Y-you... you really would want to be my... my f-friend?” he mutters softly, grimacing on the last word, his heart clenching painfully. Oh... that sounds pathetic doesn’t it... she’s going to hate him, going to think he’s weak and pathetic and-

“Of course!” the girl— Hina...?— exclaims, the determination that he’s come to know her for back, any hint of uncertainty vanished like it was never there. “I really, really do! You’re cool, and nice, and kinda funny sometimes! And you like to work out and are willing to try swimming with me! Oooh, I know!! Maybe you can join Sakura and I during our workout one day! Sakura likes to do her exercises outside sometimes so one day you can join us! Oh, this is the best! I love being friends with you, Taka! I-if you want to be friends with me, that is...”

Seeing the swimmer’s downtrodden expression at that last sentence, her eyes losing some of the sparkle he’s come to associate with her... it makes his chest hurt. And well... he’s always been the type of person who does anything he can to try to make other people happy, hating to see them with the same ache and sorrow that he all too often feels inside... 

“O-of course I would love to be friends with you, Asa- I mean, Hina! I-if you want to be friends with me, well... then I would be honored to call you a friend!” 

And— strangely enough... he truly does mean that. 

If she means it, of course, and isn’t just trying to lull him into a false sense of security so she can tear him down into teeny, tiny little pieces, like-

“Oh!! Yayayayay!!! I’m so happy, Taka! Ooh, tomorrow is gonna be so much fun! I’m going to show you the best swimming moves, and you’ll be a pro in no times! Eeeee!!!” Hina exclaims, her arms around him again, jumping up and down with her obvious excitement. Oh... she... is she really so excited at the prospect of being friends with... with him...? 

Despite himself and the doubts that are still swirling in his heart and mind, he can’t help the small but happy smile that rises on his face, her enthusiasm infectious, spurring on his own natural enthusiasm. And yes, maybe she’s lying. Maybe she’s only doing this to tear him down later, to break him apart and shatter him like worthless glass. 

But maybe... maybe she means it. Maybe she really does want to be his friend. Maybe this time... now that he has Mondo, has someone to trust, someone to lean on... maybe this time it will be different. Maybe... maybe this time he can actually be happy. 

He always has been the world’s biggest idiot... 

But maybe...

“Aha! Yes! This is... this is going to be great! We’ll be the greatest of friends! You’ll see!” he exclaims, hoping that the waver in his voice isn’t too noticeable. If it is, Hina doesn’t mention it. She just giggles, looking up at him with a huge smile and wide, happy eyes. 

Her smile dims a little a moment later and she looks off to the side, biting her lip gently. When she looks back, there is still determination in her eyes, but it’s less... forceful. It makes Taka’s stomach clench to see, and a spike of fear fills him...

“Oh, and Taka? You don’t have to worry about me telling anyone about anything we said here today, okay? Not even Sakura. I know a lot of people see me as kind of flighty and a bit of an airhead, but I promise that I’m really good at keeping secrets! No one will ever have to know! But...” Hina pauses, biting her lips harder. She then looks at him, straight in the eyes, completely and totally serious. The spike of fear grows... “But Taka. I know that you- you aren’t, you know. B-but if you... if you were... I’d still want to be friends with you, okay? Nothing will ever change that, no matter what! And if you ever need someone to talk to, about anything... well. I’ll always be here to listen. Okay?” 

A-ah... s-she...

Feeling numb and cold and wrong inside, Taka nods stiffly, his breath turning ragged and harsh against his will. S-she... she doesn’t... she can’t...

Hina— like the moment of seriousness never happened at all— bounces up, squealing again. She gives him yet another hug, which he returns a lot faster this time. H-ha... good, this is... is good... 

(Why doesn’t he feel anything when he holds her? She’s a beautiful young woman, isn’t she? Any normal boy would be over the moon to hold such a beauty. So why... why doesn’t he-) 

“Yay! Okay, we should head back now! I wanna see who won!” Hina exclaims again, pulling him out of his thoughts. He smiles, the look only slightly strained, and nods stiffly once more. 

“Y-yes! We... we should! Aha!” 

With that, Hina pulls back and grabs his hand, hers so much smaller than his, but still pleasantly warm and nice in his own as she squeezes tightly. 

He feels nothing as she does it. 

Still bouncing slightly, Hina drags Taka over to the rec room door, opening it with the hand not holding Taka’s, grinning at him brightly as he grabs the door and holds it open for her with his free hand. He smiles back. It’s less strained this time. He thinks she notices, because she giggles, twirling somewhat as she bounds into the room, pulling Taka after her. 

“Ah, Hina! There you are. Did you and Taka have a good talk?” Ogami — or should he call her Sakura?— asks, looking up from the pool table as the pair comes over, their hands still clasped. Hina nods enthusiastically, smiling brightly. 

“Yep! Got everything all sorted! Now, who’s winning??”

“We’re both tied. Whoever can sink the eight ball will be the winner, and it’s Mondo’s turn next. Right, Mondo?” Sakura (?) replies, looking over at the biker with a raised eyebrow. 

Taka looks over to the teen as well, curious as to his response, and blinks when he sees Mondo turn his head quickly away, a bitter scowl on his face, his eyes dark. He looks very... pissed off. Was he... was he just looking at him...? If so, then why does he... he look so...

“Yeah, right. Eight ball, side pocket,” Mondo mutters, his back stiff and eyes tight as he looks at the table, practically glaring a hole into the wood. Taka watches, feeling very confused, as Mondo bends over and— far too forceful for the easy shot he has— hits the cue ball and sends it flying, not coming anywhere close to hitting the eight ball that Taka knows he could have sunk easily had he wanted. 

Back still stiff, Mondo straightens, sneer on his face, as he storms to the wall and leans against it in a would-be casual stance, if not for the clear anger radiating off him. What...? Why is he so... so angry? What had happened while he’d been outside...? Or was it something that he... that he had done...

But no. Surely Mondo couldn’t possibly know what he and Hina were talking about...

R-right...?

Sakura (Hina said he could call her that, right?) gives Mondo a calculating look, a soft frown on her face, but goes to hit the ball when Mondo barks at her to do it. She lines up her shot and, with an even tone, says “eight ball, side pocket,” before sinking the shot with ease, ending the game then and there. 

“Good game, Mondo. You were a worthy adversary. We should play again sometime,” the martial artist claims, looking at the irate biker steadily. Mondo scowls back, shrugging angrily. 

“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters, stalking over to the couch and taking a heavy seat, waves of tension practically billowing off of him. Naegi and Maizono— who are currently standing by the wall, having previously been watching the game— shoot confused glances at each other, clearly not understanding what is wrong with the biker any more than he does. 

“Oh!” Hina suddenly exclaims, like she just figured something out, before dropping his hand immediately. Oh, he... he hadn’t even noticed they were still holding hands...

“Anyway, Taka, I’m so glad we’re friends now!” Hina exclaims, putting an odd amount of emphasis on the word friends. Taka gives her a strange look, not understanding the pointed look (so pointed even he can pick up on it) she gives in return, especially not when she shifts that pointed look between him and Mondo. Is she... trying to get him to... realize something? 

When she sees that he is clearly not understanding what she is trying to say, she sighs softly and mutters something like ‘boys’ under her breath, which just makes Taka even more confused, honestly.  

“Yep! Sure is nice to be friends and only friends, right Taka?” Hina tries again, her look so pointed that he thinks people could see it from space. And he gets that she’s trying to tell him something, he’s not that stupid! But he cannot, for the life of him, figure out what...

“U-uh, I mean... yes? It’s nice to have... a new friend?” he tries in return, hoping that he says something that makes the girl stop looking at him like that. 

No such luck, since now she’s just sighing and shaking her head sadly... o-oh...

“You two friends now or somethin’?” Mondo’s voice cuts through the slightly awkward silence in the room, causing Taka’s eyes to dart up and over to the biker. Said biker is currently looking at Hina intensely, his expression a mystery to him, an emotion he can’t for the life of him figure out swirling in his eyes... what...?

“Yep! Friends and only friends! Swimming buddies! Taka was just giving me some advice for a date I’ve got at the festival next week, he was sooo helpful. He’s the best friend a girl could ask for!” 

Okay. He’s lost. He has absolutely no idea what is happening right now. Hina is staring at Mondo with intense eyes and Mondo... Mondo is...

Smiling...? 

“Oh, uh, yeah. I mean, yeah! Hell yeah, he is! Best fuckin’ friend!” Mondo exclaims, the irritation gone like it had never been there at all. And then, all of a sudden, Mondo is looking at him with... with his eyes shining and his mouth grinning and he... Taka, he...

Grk! 

“Uh huh! Totally!!! Anyway, sorry we missed the game! It sounds like it was an intense one! You guys should play again sometime,” Hina mentions, skipping over to Sakura and resting her head gently against the martial artist’s shoulder. Sakura looks down at Hina with such tender fondness that it makes Taka ache inside to see... a-ah... it’s too much to hope that anyone would ever look at him like that...

He starts somewhat when he feels an arm drape over his shoulder, his eyes wide as he looks up at the biker that he hadn’t seen move, Mondo looking at the other pair with a grin. 

“Hell yeah! Taka an’ I should be headin’ out now, though. Gotta do some fuckin’ homework or some shit. Hit me up fer a rematch, Ogami, I ain’t gonna lose that easy next time!” 

“You’re on, Owada-san. I’ll let you know when a good time will be,” Sakura replies evenly, bowing slightly with a small smile on her face. Mondo pumps his fist at her, before heading to the door, arm still around Taka, pulling him along gently. 

“Fuck yeah! C’mon, Taka. I got your stuff. Let’s head ta the library or shit. Heh. Never fuckin’ thought I’d say shit like that...” 

With that, the pair exits the room, Taka’s face impossibly flushed while the occupants of the rec room watch their departure with soft smiles. 

And Taka... Taka just tries to focus on breathing...

“Heh, bad luck ‘bout Hina, huh bro? Don’t worry, though, plenty a’ other fish in the sea,” Mondo claims, a few minutes later, as they enter Taka’s room to get his study materials. 

Taka looks up at his friend, frown deep on his face. 

“What... what do you mean, kyoudai?” Taka questions, the turn of phrase not one he’s heard before. What do fish have to do with anything... or is it a joke because Hina is the Ultimate Swimming Pro...? 

“Uh... ya know, chicks,” Mondo explains, badly. At Taka’s blank stare, Mondo frowns. “‘Cuz she has a date or somethin’? An’ how she kept callin’ ya ‘only friends?’ Kind ofa bitch move, but eh. Ya can do better than her, Taka.” 

Better than... what? But he... they’re friends... right? 

“I have no idea what you are talking about, kyoudai! Hina is a wonderful friend!” 

Mondo gives him an odd look, and Taka starts to feel nervous. He’s missing something here, isn’t he...? Oh dear...

“Yeah, but she’s hot,” Mondo explains, once again uselessly. What does her temperature have to do with anything...? “Ya know... sexy? Cute? A bombshell? Sucks ta be friendzoned, but ya’ll find someone, bro. Heh, maybe I can help ya! Not that, uh... that I’m that great with chicks myself... always get so nervous an’ yell at ‘em, heh...” 

Oh. Oh. Oh!

Mondo means... he thinks that...

Of course! Hina is... an- an attractive woman, he certainly has noticed that! She has many features that boys his age would find... er, appealing, he is sure! 

A-and he notices that too! A-appreciates that too! Heh... h-heh...

Hmmmmmm........

However...

“A-ah! I understand, kyoudai! B-but you needn’t worry about me! I am too focused on my studies to be bothered with such matters! The only job a student should have is to study hard and do well in school!! P-perhaps, after school is over... but! I am not interested in such things! Not at the moment! And besides! I view Hina in a strictly platonic light! I hope that she and I will become great friends!” 

Mondo is still frowning at him. W-what had he said wrong there...?

“Yeah, but ya can still wanna have sex with a chick, right? I mean... don’t all guys? ‘Specially one as hot as Hina?” 

...

...

...!

Grk! 

A-ah! Mondo, he is- is talking about-! S-sexual intercourse-!

How improper! 

“I would never dream of such a thing! Sexual intercourse should be reserved for two individuals who are deeply in love! They should be in a long-term, committed relationship, at the very least! I would never be as improper— as- as immoral— as to think of a friend in such a way!”

Yes! That is it! Of course! That’s why he doesn’t feel anything for Hina; he respects her too much and wouldn’t wish to be improper! Aha!

A-aha... 

He just... doesn’t want to objectify his friend...! S-surely... surely Mondo would understand that... surely, it’s not that unusual for a guy to... to not...

Taka startles when he hears Mondo snort, before the biker starts laughing, his loud and boisterous laugh that Taka usually likes but now is feeling very queasy to hear. O-oh... o-oh no... he doesn’t... he- why is he laughing, does he... does he...

(Does he know? Does he... has he figured it out? Oh god... is he going to hate him now? Did he just ruin... ruin everything??? He’s so stupid... so pathetic... how could he dare to-)

“‘Course ya’d say that, kyoudai! You're such a nerd! Noble an’ all that crap. Forget sometimes you're the Ultimate Moral Compass, heh. Well, that’s cool then. Hope ya an’ Hina become good friends, then. Ya need more friends, nerd.” 

Mondo strides over to him and wraps his arm around his shoulder again, looking down at him with soft eyes, and a soft smile, and Taka-

Taka feels-

Grk! 

“Now c’mon. Let’s get this fuckin’ homework bullshit over with. Eugh. Bein’ friend with ya sure is hard work, ain’t it? Totally worth it, though,” Mondo smiles, squeezing Taka’s shoulder gently before pulling away and gesturing for Taka to hurry up and pack his things. Brain short-circuited, he can do nothing else but comply. 

Things are fine... perfectly fine, Taka tells himself, his heart definitely not leaping out of his chest every single time Mondo brushes against him as they walk, the biker seeming to always be bumping into him or touching him or... or something. 

Everything is fine, he chastises himself that night, heart pounding for unrelated reasons, when Mondo mutters softly to him, asking him if he wants to sleepover again that night, something they’ve not done since that first night. 

Perfectly, perfectly fine, he thinks desperately, heart stopping entirely as Mondo pulls him close, his head nestled comfortably on Mondo’s broad chest, the biker’s hands absently running through his hair, humming that soft, tuneless lullaby he refuses to admit he absolutely adores until he eventually drifts off. 

It’s all so, so fine, it’s ridiculous to think it could ever not be fine! Aha... ahahahaha! Ha... ha...

Ha...

(God, he’s so screwed-) 

Chapter Text

Taka is having a hard time keeping his eyes open, his heavy lids wanting to drag down, down, down, and not open back up. His head is leaning heavily on a broad shoulder, a warm arm wrapped firmly around his waist, holding him tight to a gentle warmth. He tries to stifle his yawn, to no avail, wincing in embarrassment when he hears that warm chuckle he has come to absolutely adore right by his ear. 

“Tired, kyoudai? Then let’s get ya ta bed. Don't want ya ta be tired during the Festival, bro,” Mondo murmurs gently, the biker pulling back and looking down at him with shining eyes. Taka is helpless to look away, heart racing as he drinks in every inch of the biker’s face, his hair down from its intense pompadour, instead cascading in wild ringlets around his face, making him look... look...

“I don’t want to go to sleep, kyoudai... t-the movie...” he mutters back but is forced to stop when a large yawn splits his face in two. He smiles sheepishly at Mondo when the biker chuckles at him again. He feels warm, gentle fingers trail against his temple, moving the hair he’s been leaving down more and more often after Mondo had said ‘ya look good like this, Kiyo. Your hair down, not all spiky,’ a few days before, during another lazy moment like this one. The sensation makes him flush horribly, but Mondo doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Kiyo. We can finish it later. Ya need your sleep. C’mon.” 

Mondo stands, then, pulling Taka up gently, his hands warm brands on his sides as he helps steady him. Taka goes easily, mouth slightly open as he tries to get enough oxygen to his brain to not pass out. But the way Mondo is looking at him, all soft and gentle and sweet and wonderful...

“You're beautiful, ya know that, kyoudai? Just... fuck...” Mondo mutters softly, leaning in close to press his forehead against Taka’s temple, the sensation so close to a kiss that Taka just... he can’t... 

Mondo clears his throat awkwardly as he pulls away, his face bright pink, but he doesn’t try and flee. He just smiles shakily, punching Taka lightly in the arm. 

“Ya know, in a manly way... heh. We, uh. Should get ta bed. C’mon...” 

He watches with fond eyes as Mondo shuffles to the bed, getting in awkwardly, not looking at Taka as he does so, the biker forgoing his shower that night since he’d wanted to watch one more movie earlier (and Taka had wanted to keep leaning blissfully against the biker). After a moment Taka moves, turning off the lamp as he goes, as is becoming their routine. This is only their fourth ‘sleepover’ since they became friends two weeks prior, including that first time, but some things have already started to become routine in Taka’s mind. 

“So. Ya excited fer the festival tomorrow?” Mondo mutters as Taka settles into bed beside the biker, his head resting on Mondo’s chest (another routine, though this is one they don’t talk about. Not verbally). 

Taka— a bit distracted by the sensation of bliss that overtakes him as he settles against the biker— can only nod his head absently, eyes focused on his fingers as they trace nonsensical patterns on Mondo’s chest. They still only when Mondo’s hand— so much larger than his— comes up and captures it, pinning it gently to the biker’s chest. O-oh...

“Y-yes. I suppose,” he mutters back, hoping the way his heart is racing isn’t too obvious. He tries to focus on Mondo’s question, forcing himself to think of the Fall Festival that is taking place tomorrow. Is he excited? Well... he has been helping plan this festival for almost a month now. He guesses that it will be nice to see all his hard work finally pay off, honestly... and not to mention the fact that he and Mondo are planning to... 

“Ya still gonna dress up with me? Y’ain’t gotta, if ya changed your mind...”

Taka smiles, nestling further into Mondo’s warmth, his heart full as he hears the worry in the biker’s voice. He’s always so concerned about him, it makes him... makes him feel...

“I wouldn’t dream of it, kyoudai! Besides! It will be interesting, dressing up as a ‘greaser’,” Taka muses, saying the word ‘greaser’ like it’s foreign. Which— he supposes— it kind of is. He and Mondo recently watched the American movie ‘Grease,’ which the biker had absolutely hated (though Taka had thought it to be kind of cute, if cheesy), but he’d kind of liked the style the men in the movie wore. He’d even joked to Taka that they should dress like that together for the festival. 

Taka, face bright red, had immediately agreed, not realizing at first that Mondo had been joking, just wanting to please his friend. Mondo had looked at him with wide eyes, then, before chuckling awkwardly and saying ‘y-yeah, ‘kay. We, uh... we can do that...’ 

The biker had then proceeded to procure two stylized leather jackets and jeans for them both, as well as the other accessories they’d need to dress as a 1950’s American greaser. Taka had stammered, embarrassed at accepting something that couldn’t have been that cheap, but Mondo had insisted, saying he’d cashed in favors for most of it anyway. And Taka wouldn’t dream of wasting such a precious gift! Even if the thought of not wearing his uniform does make him a little uncomfortable...

“Oh, sweet! Awesome! So, uh... g’night, Taka. Sleep well, okay?” he hears Mondo mutter, pulling him away from his thoughts. Smiling gently, he nods, his hand still trapped under Mondo’s but not minding it one bit...

And as he... 

As he starts to drift off to sleep...

...

...

“H-hey... kyoudai? You, uh... you still awake?” a voice mutters by his ear, causing his eyes to shoot open immediately. Shifting so he can look up at the biker, he nods, throat thick as he sees the mysterious look on his friend’s face, something he’s seen before but has never been able to understand...

“Y-yeah... is something wrong, Mondo?” Taka mutters back a minute later, when Mondo doesn’t continue, just keeps on staring. Still, even then, the biker says nothing, just keeps on... staring...

“M-Mondo...?”

“God, just... you're so beautiful, kyoudai... I just... I can’t...” 

Taka’s heart begins to race, his breath puffing out in stuttering pants. Mondo... M-Mondo thinks he’s... he’s... beautiful? Yes, he’d said it before, but Taka had discounted it then, knowing the biker didn’t truly mean it, but now... here...

“Y-you really mean that, kyoudai?” Taka stammers back, voice so quiet in the still air that he wonders if Mondo could even hear him. But Mondo did. Mondo does. He always... always does...

“Y-yeah... god, yeah. You... you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, Kiyo... I... I don’t know why I feel like this when I look at you... you... you make me feel...” 

Taka’s breath is stolen again when he feels Mondo shift, the pair moving until suddenly Taka is lying flat on his back, staring up, up, up, eyes wide as they meet Mondo’s dark and blown ones, the biker looking down at him... at him like... like he...

“You drive me out of my goddamn mind, Kiyo... I can’t stop thinking about you, you’re everywhere. I know I shouldn’t... I know it’s wrong, but I... I can’t stop. Am I crazy? Or do you... do you feel the same?”

Taka gasps again, every nerve in his body open and raw, his head nodding rapidly before he can even consciously tell it to. 

“Yes... y-yes, kyoudai... Mondo... I... yes,” he breathes, eyes so wide as he stares up, up, up, lost in the oceans that are Mondo Owada’s beautiful eyes... and then, after the biker comprehends his words, lost in the sight of his utterly gorgeous smile...

“Really? You really... h-hey Kiyo, I... I wanna try something, okay? Promise you won’t hate me if I do...”

“Never!” Taka exclaims, heart aching at the hesitant look on his biker’s face, one hand shooting up to gently grasp his cheek, needing to touch him so desperately he aches with it. “I could never, in a million years hate you, kyoudai... M-Mondo... I could never...” 

Taka can feel Mondo’s smile press against his palm, the biker’s eyes happy and sparkling and just... just so...

“Good... good...” Mondo mutters, as he... he slowly leans down and... and...

“O-oh...” Taka breathes, his lips tingling as warm, rough ones brush against his own. He feels his body surge up, needing— needing— to make contact with something before he floats away. Luckily, Mondo is there, his body pressing down, down, firmer, and firmer, until all he can feel is Mondo, Mondo, Mondo...

“Mmm, fuck, Kiyo... ya taste... taste so good, I... f-fuck...” Mondo moans several moments later, lips pressing more firmly down, the pressure so incredible that Taka... Taka is about to... to...

“Mondo... M-Mondo... ohhh, ohh god... yes, I,” Taka replies, mind barely functioning as he presses back, lips clumsy, his groin so full he aches with it. He can’t help the breathy moan he gives when Mondo grinds down, his- h-his cock jolting at the sensation, his body instinctively grinding up, needing friction, needing... needing more... m-more... “S-should we be... be doing this, k-kyoudai...? It feels... i-it feels...”

“Incredible,” Mondo interrupts, punctuating his words with another downward thrust, twisting in such a way that it sends stars shooting through Taka’s system. Taka moans again, his mouth desperate against Mondo’s, craving the grin he finds there. “Y’ain’t gotta worry, kyoudai... bros do this kinda shit all the time, okay? Don’t... don’t worry... I got you... Taka… Kiyo... I... I got you...” 

Taka is going to go insane... no, he already is insane, he’s lost his goddamn mind, there’s nothing left, but he doesn’t care. God, he doesn’t care. Not when Mondo... when Mondo is looking at him like that and he feels... he feels...

“God, you're perfect, Kiyo, goddamn perfect... I love you, shit, fuck, I love you... I want only you, no one else... you're the only one for me, I love you so much... T-Taka...” 

The words make him gasp, as lips start trailing down his neck, biting hard and yet feeling so good. He’s never... never felt like this, has never... never wanted this, he’s always... always told himself that... that he was too busy... had too much work, that he couldn’t... couldn’t want... couldn’t...

“Mmm... Taka... Taka, come on bro... it’s time ta wake up... Taka...”

Taka feels his brows furrow at the words, confusion filling him. Time to... wake up? What?

“W-what? I don’t-“

“C’mon man, it’s 6:30, ya got those festival things ta go over... plus you're kinda, uh... humpin’ my leg, so uh...”

He... he’s doing what?!

Wait... hold on a second... this isn’t... this...

Taka’s eyes shoot open, his heart pounding as ice cold wakefulness washes over him, his mind still fuzzy as he tries to make sense of what is going on. He can feel something warm and hard under him, can feel his groin throbbing painfully, and can feel his mind start to race, confusion and the beginnings of fear washing over him. W-wait... he, where is he... he had thought... but... he- he a-and Mondo, they... but now...

Hold on... wait a second... 

That was... that was...

That was just a dream.

With that realization, his body stiffens, his breath punching out of him with a painful jolt, horror and terror and regret, regret, regret flooding his mind. 

Oh... my... god...

Taka jolts again as he feels a tentative hand touch his back, a voice (that he can’t hear since his heart is beating too loud in his ears) saying something... something he can’t make out. Terrified, he scrambles away from the touch, his body shooting up and away as he tries to avoid the warm sensation touching his ultra-sensitive skin, his heart racing somehow even faster as he tries to get away. 

Sadly, the bed he is on isn’t that big and— with a soft yelp— he finds himself tumbling out of the bed and onto the ground with a painful *THUD*.

“O-ow...” he mutters softly, blinking as he stares at the rumpled sheets that sit at his eye level, seeming to mock him for his fall. He blinks again as he sees a worried and frantic face peer up over the side of the bed, long, wavy hair falling in soft cascades...

“Taka! Shit, dude, are you okay?! Fuck, that looks like it fuckin’ hurt...” Mondo exclaims, grimacing as he sees Taka sit, absently rubbing his behind as a dull ache begins to radiate through his tail bone. Well... it’s not the worst pain he’s ever been in, he will say that... 

And it is absolute peanuts compared to the overwhelming shame that floods him as everything slots into place in his mind, his eyes filling with tears as he finally realizes what had just occurred.

God above, please just strike him down... please don’t make him live with this shame... please-

“Taka? Bro, c’mon, talk ta me here... did ya hit your head? Shit, dude...” 

Taka flinches back at the concerned sounding words and he can’t help but look up at Mondo, terror flooding him as a flash of his dream assaults his mind suddenly, causing him to gasp harshly. Oh... god...

“I-! M-Mondo! I am so... I AM SO SORRY! OH MY GOD, PLEASE DON’T HATE ME, I’M SO SORRY, I’M SO SORRY, I’M S-SO SORRY, I’M S-SORRY, I’M SO- S-SO SORRY, I’M S-SORRY, I’M SOR-”

“Holy shit! Dude, the fuck?!” 

He flinches back when he hears a loud thump, gasping harshly when he feels a rough arm grab his shoulder, making him cry out in panic. He tries to jerk away from the hold, which only makes the hands clench tighter, a frustrated growl sounding from in front of him. That, honestly, just makes him fight even harder...

“Okay, dude, calm the fuck down! I ain’t gonna hurt ya, I ain’t fuckin’ mad, but I am startin’ ta get pissed at ya not listenin’ ta me! Taka, kyoudai, stop fuckin’ fightin’ me!” he hears a familiar voice growl, making him gasp again, his shoulder tensing. He feels his body listen to the words, though, despite himself, his limbs freezing and going limp as all the fight goes out of him. He can’t see, his eyes too blurry, but he can still feel, and everything is still so heightened that he doesn’t know what to do. 

He’s shaking, he realizes suddenly, his body trembling with the aftereffects of his dream mixing with the horrible terror that is still flowing through his veins. He is trying to breathe, to calm his heart rate, but it’s hard, what with the flashes of his dream assaulting him the second he thinks he’s got a handle on it all. He can’t breathe and he’s still confused, and he just wants... he wants to...

“Shit, c’mon man... look at me, shit, c’mon... Taka, look at me, okay?” he hears Mondo mutter, but he’s shaking his head before he can even fully comprehend the words, shutting his eyes tight, realizing that he can’t- he- he can’t.

Another soft growl, and suddenly he feels a warm hand grasp his jaw gently, a careful palm sliding along his jawline to cup his cheek. His eyes open unbidden, but his eyes are still not focused, tears making everything blurry. 

“Shit, Taka... man, it’s okay. It’s okay, ya hear me? I ain’t fuckin’ mad at ya, so if that’s what’s worryin’ ya, y’ain’t gotta be, okay? Now c’mon, man, look at me. Actu’ly look at me, c’mon kyoudai... I want ya ta see I’m serious ‘bout this.” 

Taka takes a couple, shaky breaths, blinking a few times as a few tears fall, some of the blurriness fading with them. Taking another breath— not as deep as he’d like but still somewhat steadying— he turns slowly to face Mondo, heart stuttering as he does. And when he finally, finally faces the biker...

“Heh, there we go, kyoudai. There’s those pretty eyes a’ yours... that’s it,” Mondo mutters, smiling gently at him. His face is still lined with sleep, his eyes free of his eyeliner, his hair loose and wavy, and Taka... Taka, h-he...

“Now, listen up, okay? Ain’t shit ya can do ta make me hate ya. Ya hear me? Not a single, goddamn thing ya could do. Hell, ya could prolly kill a guy and my first instinct would be ta say, ‘where ya wanna hide the body?’ So... Kiyo, ya can stop askin’ me ta not hate ya. Okay? ‘Specially over somethin’ y’ain’t got any control over like, uh... that. We’re teenage dudes. Shit happens. Ain’t awkward ‘less ya make it awkward. An’ it’s not like ya can control what ya dream ‘bout, anyway, right? I ain’t that big ofa asshole ta hate ya over a stupid thing like that, got it? So... we’re good. Right? We uh... we’re good?” 

Taka is helpless to do anything other than nod, more tears falling with the action, his breath hitching when he feels a warm thumb move to gently wipe them away. He is reminded, then, that Mondo is still cradling his face tenderly, the biker kneeling before him, looking at him with such caring and devotion that he just... he just can’t...

(This isn’t fair... this isn’t fair, why does he keep doing this to him? Doesn’t he know... doesn’t he know what he’s doing to him? How can he not know, Taka is so obvious, he’s so obvious, he’s so obvi-)

“Yes,” Taka says out loud, his voice only slightly shaky. He tries for a smile, and though he knows it’s very weak, with the way Mondo beams at him, you’d think it was the most incredible smile in the world... “y-yes, kyoudai. We... we’re good. Aha, sorry for freaking out on you... again...”

Taka lets out an unintended sound of surprise when he feels himself get tugged forward, Mondo growling playfully. He then squawks out an indignant “hey!” when he feels himself get pulled into a headlock, his head getting roughly rubbed, Mondo cackling as he gives Taka a ‘noogie,’ as the teen calls it.

Argh! How utterly undignified! 

“Mondo! Unhand me this instance! This is highly undignified!” Taka yelps, struggling against the hold uselessly. He may be strong, his body highly muscled, but he’s no match against Mondo, not when the biker has the upper hand like this. So, he’s helpless to fight the hold, forced to endure it while Mondo cackles freely. Eventually, a few moments later, Mondo finally lets him go, though he’s still grinning smugly, even when Taka glares at him with faux anger. 

“You are a horrible person,” he says flatly, causing Mondo to cackle again. It takes the biker another few more moments to calm again, but when he does, he’s looking at Taka with such tender fondness that Taka’s heart aches with it. 

“That should teach ya ta stop apologizin’ ta me. Y’ain’t gotta, bro. Not fer things like this. I know ya got your stuff ta work through, I ain’t gonna mind when ya freak out. Just as long as ya don’t shut me out, I ain’t got any problems with helpin’ ya through whatever shit you're goin’ through. Okay? That’s what brothers are fuckin’ for. We help each other an’ shit.” 

Taka bites his lip at Mondo’s gentle words. God, who would have thought such a gruff looking biker would ever say such sweet and tender things like that... 

“I... of course. Thank you, Mondo. I... thank you...” 

Mondo gives him a half smile, before he stands, stretching his arms over his head. 

“Sweet. Glad that’s settled. Now, I’m gonna take a shower since I didn’t get a chance ta last night. Ya can hang ‘round here if ya wanna, so I can help ya with your hair fer the costume. Feel free ta relax if ya want,” Mondo states, smiling down at him. A strange look then passes over his face, before the teen is smirking, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Or maybe ya can finish what ya were doin’ earlier. After all, seemed like a very nice, uh... dream ya were havin’.”

Taka turns bright red, his mortification from earlier returning. It reaches a paramount when Mondo- Mondo freaking winks at him, before the teen practically saunters away, his hips swaying with his cocky arrogance. 

With a bright red face, Taka calls after the biker “you are the worst person alive, Mondo Owada!”, trying to not smile when he hears Mondo cackle from the bathroom. 

Taka continues to sit on the ground for several minutes after that, his heart and mind slowly starting to calm down as the memories from the dream settle, his face flushing as he regretfully remembers it...

And it... it’s not like this is the first time such a thing has happened... well, kind of. The dream part is new. Taka doesn’t usually remember his dreams in general, the memory of them fading like smoke with the morning sun. He sometimes remembers flashes of his dreams, but it’s rare he can fully recall a dream. Especially not like this...

But this is not the first time he has had an, er... nocturnal emission. Or almost had one. H-he is a healthy teenage boy, after all! And while the first time had been highly mortifying, since he’d had no idea what had happened, thinking he’d somehow wet the bed at thirteen, he’s since come to learn that it is not only normal, but means he is healthy. And, luckily, he doesn’t usually remember the dreams that cause such, er, occurrences, so he doesn’t usually have to feel morally wrong for such a thing. 

This time, however? This time is very, very different. The only even slight positive he can think of is that at least he didn’t, er... conclude. But... the rest of it... the dream...

Where... where had it even come from? The first part of the dream, now that makes sense. It was the memory from the night before, the events in the dream occurring almost exactly as they had in real life, though it was a bit fuzzier and more bizarre, his dream memory not quite as sharp as it had been in real life. But that part... that part made sense. 

It was the second part... the second part that... that...

He was confused. Clearly! Something in his brain just... it just got mixed up. Some wires got crossed in his head and made him dream about, well... that. As Mondo had said, you can’t help what you dream about! Taka doesn’t dream often enough to know what normal dreams are even like, truthfully. Most of his dreams are about memories, anyway, usually traumatic events and things like that. Sometimes his mind will alter things about the memory, make locations seem larger or smaller than in reality, or making things seem somehow worse than they had been, or adding extra bits that make him feel worse about everything. This... this probably was something similar. Just his mind picking up on his brotherly love for Mondo and- and interpreting it improperly! The human brain is highly flawed, after all! He just... he just was confused, that’s all... t-that... that’s all...

(At least he’s getting better at lying to himself. He almost managed to fully convince himself that time.)

With that settled, Taka stands and walks over to the closet, where Mondo has their jackets stored for the event. They’d figured that it would be easiest for Taka to dress while in Mondo’s room, so that the biker can help him with getting the foreign uniform on. As he looks at the twin leather jackets, hanging casually in the closet, he can’t help the spike of anxiety that hits him (as well as an emotion he firmly refuses to acknowledge when he thinks about him and Mondo matching). 

After all, he’s been wearing some form of a school uniform for... well, quite a while. His middle school had required uniforms and he’d made sure to always wear his, even when school wasn’t in session, for a few reasons. The main one is that he is a student and— as such— his main focus must be on school and his studies. While schools may take holidays, he will never take a holiday from his pursuit for knowledge and the future he desires! Thus, it only makes sense for him to show his dedication to himself by always wearing his uniform in pristine condition, even if he does sometimes feel envious of some of his classmate’s snazzy outfits... like Naegi’s unnaturally fashionable hoodie...

(Another reason, of course, is that it’s simply cheaper and more efficient. He can spend more money maintaining his uniform and less money on frivolous other clothing. But that’s a less glamorous reason and is not the one he usually tells people when they ask why he always wears his uniform.) 

The thought of wearing another outfit, even for one, singular day... especially when he hadn’t bought the outfit himself... it makes something in his gut churn furiously. He stares at the twin jackets, biting his lip gently for several long minutes, his mind lost in thought. 

That is why he finds himself jumping, a yelp of surprise escaping his lips when he feels someone touch his side gently, a warm heat not quite but almost pressed against his back, his breath stuttering with the acute knowledge of who, exactly, is standing behind him now. 

“Ya do know ya hafta put the clothes on, yeah? Starin’ at ‘em ain’t gonna do shit,” Mondo’s amused voice calls from behind him, snapping him out of his stupor. With a scowl, he puts his hands on his hips and turns to admonish the biker, only for the words to die, cruelly, on his tongue. 

Because Mondo... Mondo is... he’s-!

“...what? What? Whatcha lookin’ at? I fergot my outfit out here, didn’t think it would be a problem?” Mondo questions after a moment of Taka staring, wide eyed, at the biker’s naked chest-!

His words, once again, snap him out of his stupor and Taka quickly looks away, his cheeks bright red at the thought that he’s mere inches away from... from...!

“Dude... the hell is your problem? Ain’t like ya never saw a naked dude before, is it? An’ I’m even wearing a towel, so it ain’t like I’m just lettin’ it hang. Shit, if I knew ya’d be such a prude ‘bout it...” Mondo mumbles, trailing off as his hand comes up to rub at his neck nervously. That is what finally jolts Taka out of his weird... whatever this was, causing him to scowl. He looks Mondo in the eyes while crossing his arms stubbornly. 

“I have no such qualms about nudity, I assure you! In fact, I firmly believe that the best way to get a feel for a person’s character is to bare yourselves to one another! I just- I had not been expecting such a display, that is all! N-now! I suppose we should start getting ready, then?!” 

It’s not like he’s lying. Not really... he has always thought that baring yourself fully to another and having them bare themselves back is a good way to get a judge of their character. After all, it’s not like you can hide anything when all of you is on display, now can you?

However... he might not have been... entirely... honest with his reason for his, uh... hesitance with Mondo’s partial nudity... t-though-! What other reason would he have for- for being uncomfortable with his kyoudai’s bare chest?! None that he can think of! Aha! Ahaha!

(Smooth, Ishimaru... very smooth...) 

“Oh, really? Yeah, I’m kinda the same. Hey, maybe we can do that one day. Ya know, get a good judge a’ our character or whatever ya said. I’ve always been a mornin’ bath kinda guy. We should do that someday,” Mondo mentions offhandedly, shrugging like his words are meaningless, not like they’ve just made Taka’s brain implode. 

Mondo... wants to... take a bath...... with him...... n-naked-!

Grk!

Before he can get too distracted by that particular image, Mondo continues, giving him a significant look. 

“Now, though, we ain’t got time. Ya got that meetin’ at 7:30, yeah? An’ it’s gonna take me some time ta get your hair done. Your hair’s longer now, so it should be a bit easier, but I don’t think it’s long enough fer a full pomp. I’ll see what I can do with it later. Fer now, get inta the tee and jeans. We can save the jacket fer later, don’t wanna get any product on it, ya feel me? Maybe if we have time, I’ll do your eyes, too.” A pause. “Well? What’re ya waitin’ fer?” 

Taka blinks at Mondo, before looking around, trying to indicate without words that he’s kind of, uh... trapped. With Mondo standing where he is, Taka is cornered in the closet and, unless he wants to press up tight to Mondo (and his naked chest)- ah! Well. He’s kind of trapped. 

Luckily, Mondo seems to get his meaning, since he curses under his breath and hastily backs up, his cheeks pink. 

“Ah, shit, sorry bro,” Mondo mumbles, rubbing his neck again. Taka smiles shakily, striding purposefully to the chair Mondo has their t-shirt and jeans folded neatly on (Taka having folded them, obviously). 

Firmly not thinking about Mondo’s earlier offer (grk!), Taka hesitates for a second before quickly stripping. It’s not like he’s never been around Mondo while wearing only his underwear, but still... Mondo had been fully clothed at the time...

Trying not to dwell on it, not even when Mondo comes over a moment later, his underwear on but his chest and legs bare (!), he focuses on getting dressed as clinically as he always does. He only gets tripped up once or twice when putting on the jeans, not really use to wearing such casual wear. In fact, he finds himself staring down at the zipper in bafflement at one point, causing Mondo to snort at him. 

“What? Y’ain’t ever seen a zipper before?”

Taka glares, annoyed and a little embarrassed.

“Of course I have! My uniform does have a zipper, you know! These pants are just... particularly tight... are you sure you got the right size?”

Mondo snorts again, smirking. 

“‘Course I did, bro. They’re skinny jeans, duh. Just zip up caref’ly. Ya can do it, kyoudai, I believe in ya.” 

Glaring harder at the condescending tone— now able to look at Mondo without flushing since the other teen has somehow gotten dressed faster than him— he sniffs and turns back to his predicament. Well... maybe if he sucks his gut in... eep!

“Y’okay?” Mondo questions, more seriously this time, frowning at him in concern. Taka smiles shakily, trying to adjust the pants so they’re not... quite so... tight...

“Y-yes! Of course! I’m just... not used to the tightness! Do people really wear things like this casually? It’s highly uncomfortable!” 

Assured that Taka is fine, Mondo smirks at him, crossing his arms as he leans back against the wall, shrugging casually. His eyes trail Taka up and down slowly, like he’s... he’s drinking him in, or something, and Taka... he...

Grk!

“Yeah, sometimes. I ain’t the biggest fan myself, but regular jeans are alright, I guess. Figured skinny jeans would fit the look better, though. An’, uh... ya look good in ‘em, fer what it’s worth.” 

Grk! 

Coughing awkwardly, hoping (probably in vain) that his blush isn’t too noticeable, Taka moves over to the mirror to see for himself. Turning this way and that, he frowns softly at his reflection. Well... it’s not bad, per se... but it definitely is strange to see himself in something other than his uniform or a thin undershirt. While the shirt he’s wearing is white, it’s of higher quality than the cheap undershirts he wears beneath his uniform, made with a thicker cotton. And it’s not all ragged and threadbare. Thus, when it clings to him, it looks purposeful and almost nice, not cheap. And the jeans... well! They certainly don’t leave much to the imagination! They’re utterly indecent, accentuating his posterior, and Taka blushes at the thought of wearing them out in public. But, well... they are a gift... and his mother always taught him that it’s rude to reject a gift...

He turns, then, to the last part of the outfit (not including the jacket, of course), looking at the flimsy looking pair of ‘converse’ shoes with mild distaste. Hm... yes, they’re a gift, but...

“Kyoudai, are you sure I can’t just wear my boots? I don’t see how these... these... shoes will offer me any support at all!” Taka exclaims, nudging one of the shoes with his toe gently. They seem worn, so at least he doesn’t have to feel bad that they’re new... 

“Uh, yeah, Taka. Your boots are too big fer the costume, they’d clash with the jeans. ‘Sides, ya’d never be able ta ride a hog wearin’ shit like that. Converse ain’t the best, but they’re better than your boots.” 

Taka feels his brows furrow as he looks back at Mondo curiously. 

“I thought that the greasers rode in cars, not motorcycles? I recall you were particularly offended by that!” 

His frown deepens when he notices Mondo freeze, his face stuck in an awkward looking grimace for a second before he sees an angry flush rise on the biker’s cheeks, as well as a scowl, the teen looking a little pissed off. O-oh, he hadn’t meant to...

“That’s what I fuckin’ meant, dipshit! Your boots would be shit regardless the ride! Now, c’mon, ya nerd, let’s get your hair done with already. Ya can wear the fuckin’ shoes later, just leave ‘em the fuck alone.” 

Taka’s heart clenches as he watches Mondo storm into the bathroom, shoulders tense. Oh dear... he hadn’t meant to offend the teen...! See, this is why he should have just been grateful for Mondo’s kind gift! 

Feeling chagrined, Taka slumps into the bathroom, flinching back minutely when he hears Mondo slam some hair care products down on the counter without care. Mondo looks up at him then and— seeing his almost miserable expression— softens his harsh expression somewhat, his shoulders relaxing with his sigh. 

“Aw, shit... ain’t mad at ya, kyoudai. Now c’mere. This is gonna take a little while, since I gotta get a feel fer your hair, get me? Sit on the toilet an’ close your eyes. I’ll do the rest.” 

Doing what his kyoudai asks without complaint, Taka sits and closes his eyes, trying not to feel overly nervous. He’s not had someone other than himself style his hair since he’d learned to cut it when he’d been a child, his father far too busy to be able to help him maintain his cropped strands and having no hope at all of affording regular haircuts. The thought of someone else touching his hair for an extended period of time... moving it and styling it... it’s a strange one!

(Not like Mondo hasn’t had his hands in his hair multiple times already, though… running soft fingers through it, brushing his fringe aside, reaching out and tugging on a few strands teasingly when he wants to get a point across… a-ah…)

And so, the second that he feels rough, and yet strangely gentle hands touch his hair, the sensation strange and yet not bad at all, he can’t help how his eyes shoot open, looking up at Mondo, startled. Mondo blinks down at him, tilting his head curiously. 

“The fuck’s your problem? I barely touched ya!”

Flushing at the exasperated reprimand, Taka just shrugs helplessly, not really sure how to explain what had just happened. 

“N-nothing! I just... am not used to having my hair touched! I apologize, kyoudai! Please, continue!” 

Closing his eyes again, he fights hard to not react to the feeling of Mondo’s hands returning to his hair, a bit more hesitant— and thus gentle— this time. He has to bite his lip to keep in the practically obscene sounds his throat wants to make at the overwhelming sensation. He also has to press his hand harshly against the crotch of his jeans to- well! Nothing! Aha! 

He hadn’t realized his hair was so sensitive! Ahaha! Ha...

Grk...

“Tilt your head, kyoudai. Gotta get a better angle,” Mondo mutters after a few minutes, his fingers pressing against Taka’s chin to tilt his head carefully. Taka just follows willingly, pressing his hands to his thighs as he tries to calm his racing heart. It’s a good thing his eyes are closed... he truly doesn’t think he could do this if they were open! How awkward! 

Taka honestly has no idea what Mondo is doing to his hair at this point, to tell the truth. His internal clock tells him that it’s been about ten minutes, which is almost ten times the length Taka usually spends on his hair! Mondo has just been tugging at his hair and muttering for the past several minutes, too, cold gel and aerosol spray getting put into his hair every so often. 

It’s after Taka estimates twenty minutes have passed that Mondo finally steps back, grunting in satisfaction. 

“There... that should be good. Ain’t nothin’ like mine, ‘course, but it’s passable. Take a look, kyoudai.”

Taka blinks open his eyes at the instruction and turns on the seat to face the mirror behind him. And the sight he is met with is-

“A-ah! Is that... me?!” he exclaims, eyes wide as he turns his head this way and that. His hands cautiously come up to poke gingerly at the giant... thing... on his head. It feels very hard and doesn’t move an inch. Eep! 

Mondo snorts at his question, smirking at him through the mirror. 

“‘Course it is, ya dork. Who else would I waste twenty fuckin’ minutes workin’ on this masterpiece fer? You're welcome, by the way!” 

Flushing at the pointed words, Taka hurriedly stammers out a quick “ah, yes! Thank you very much, kyoudai!” before turning back to the mirror. Now that he’s over the shock he supposes that it doesn’t look... too bad... just very, uh... different! Yes! That’s the word! Different! 

“Yeah, whatever,” Mondo scoffs, rolling his eyes. The biker then turns to his counter again, picking up another item. Taka frowns when he notices that it looks something kind of like...

“Eyeliner?” he questions, looking up at Mondo quizzically. Mondo just grins, nodding sharply once. 

“Hell yeah! Look ain’t complete without some kohl. An’ we got a little bit a’ time ‘til your meetin’. Might even get ta put some powder on ya, maybe some color. We’ll see. An’ don’t worry, it’s fresh, know it ain’t sanitary ta share shit like this. Now, close your eyes, kyoudai. This may be a bit uncomfortable, but I promise I ain’t gonna hurt ya, got it? You're gonna hafta trust me an’ not flinch, or else this is gonna get a lot more unpleasant.” 

Hm... well, that’s not exactly comforting... but! He does trust his kyoudai!

With a bright smile, Taka nods once— the feeling of his hair moving all as one unit still very strange— and closes his eyes again like requested. This time, when Mondo gets close to him and touches his face, he does his best to not flinch, even with the strange feeling of something that feels an awful lot like a pencil getting applied to his eye. Mondo is so close to him that he can feel the biker’s warm breath puff against his lips, the cloying scent of the cinnamon breath mints Mondo likes to chew on not helping matters at all. And when he hears Mondo mutter at him, voice low and intimate, well...

“Open your eyes, Kiyo. Not a lot, just a little. Gotta get your lids. Look up, I find that helps sometimes.”

Obeying without question, Taka does as is asked, though he doesn’t know the point of it. He tries hard to not blink at the foreign feeling of something sharp and pointy pressing to his eyes, but it’s a hard thing. 

Thankfully, this does not take as long as his hair had, lasting only a handful of minutes before Mondo steps back, letting out another grunt of satisfaction. Taka is about to open his eyes fully when Mondo yells at him. 

“Hey, keep your eyes shut, ya asshole! Don’t fuckin’ ruin my hard work! They need ta dry fer a minute, shit, man. While they do, I’ll get some powder on your cheeks. You're a bit paler than me, but it shouldn’t matter too much. Might even make ya look a bit tougher! Ha!”

Ah... powder? Yes, he had noticed the powdery stuff in Mondo’s bathroom, but it is still strange to think that the biker actually uses it! Is it a daily thing for him...?

“If you say so, kyoudai! I hadn’t realized you were the type to wear makeup!”

The silence that follows his statement is deafening and it makes Taka feel strangely uncomfortable, wanting to open his eyes but knowing he can’t. A-ah, but that came out wrong, hadn’t it...? Oh dear...

“Aw, shut the fuck up, asshole! Ain’t nothin’ weird ‘bout it! Just gotta make an impression, ya know? Ta the rival gangs. Daiya always used ta do that shit. I only wear the rest a’ this shit when we got a bit ofa showdown goin’ and I gotta look my best, anyway. Sometimes lookin’ flashy matters more than the punches ya throw, got it? Ain’t nothin’ gay ‘bout it!”

The last few words make it feel like Taka has been doused in ice water, his limbs going numb at the angry growl the biker’s voice has turned into, far different from the casual and warm tone from earlier. A-ah... of course... because being such a thing is so... so bad...

(Ow...)

Clearing his throat, Taka scowls in the direction he believes Mondo to be, ignoring the radiating pain in his chest. 

“I never said it was! Not that there would be anything wrong if it were! The word ‘gay’ is not an insult, after all! I was merely surprised! I apologize if my words were offensive!” 

Mondo snorts, sounding closer than before. 

“Yeah, but I ain’t fuckin’ gay. Ain’t no fairy freak! Now c’mon. Gonna give ya some color, so hold still. Shouldn’t take too long.” 

With that, Mondo moves closer again, pressing some fluffy thing to his cheeks a bit rougher than he likely has to. In all honesty, it might actually feel nice, if Taka could feel anything at all other than ice cold numbness. The words reverberate in his mind, again and again, driving him slowly insane. ‘I ain’t no fairy freak!’ Mondo had cried, like it was something disgusting. Like to be considered... considered... that, would be the worst thing in the world. Like it... like it would be...

(What would Mondo think, if he ever found out the truth about him? Would he be able to move on, accept it because it’s his kyoudai? Or would he... would he reject...

Get the hell away from me, you f*g!

... well. He guesses he already knows the answer to that one...) 

“There. Done. Could put some rouge on ya, but I think we’re outta time. Ya can open your eyes now, if ya want. Whatever.” 

Stomach clenching at the dismissive tone Mondo is using, Taka does as is asked, frowning at the crusty feeling around his eyes and cheeks. Eugh... is this really what wearing makeup is like...? How in the world do girls (and some guys!) do it? 

Still, when he turns and looks in the mirror, the sight that meets him is... is...

“Oh,” he mutters softly, tilting his face this way and that again, trying to see it from every angle. It looks... he...

He’d never thought he could look so... so...

“Heh... did a fuckin’ good job, didn’t I? Ya look fantastic, bro. Almost like one a’ the guys. Shit, man... I gotta get ya out on my hog one a’ these days. I know ya said no, that’s it’s too dangerous, but seriously, man. Think ‘bout it. Wouldn’t let anythin’ happen ta ya, promise.” 

Mondo’s voice is soft and warm again, the tension that entered it earlier faded like it had never been there. And while the ice is still thick in Taka’s chest, he does his best to ignore it, smiling shakily at Mondo, hoping the biker thinks it’s just because the idea of riding a motorcycle makes him nervous and not- 

Well. 

“A-ah! I shall think about it, k-kyoudai! But thank you for doing my hair and makeup! I look particularly... er... kickbutt right now! I feel very energized!” 

That startles a laugh out of Mondo, like Taka had intended. While his sense of humor is still a little... er, rusty... he’s starting to get good at recognizing what will make Mondo laugh, which is all that matters to him. Who cares if no one else in the world laughs at his ‘jokes,’ so long as his kyoudai is laughing? He certainly doesn’t! 

“Yeah, guess ya do look pretty kickass, kyoudai,” Mondo smirks, eyes sparkling with his mirth. He then jerks his head to the door. “Now c’mon. Still gotta add the last couple a’ pieces ta the outfit. An’ it’s 7:10. Y’ain’t got that much time. I know how anal ya get ‘bout punctuality, heh.”

That makes Taka jolt, the last of his upset fading, his eyes wide as he looks at Mondo. 7:10?! Already?! How could the time have flown so much?! Oh no, he’s practically late!

Ignoring Mondo’s laughter as he hurries out of the bathroom, he marches over to the closet and opens it to get the last piece of his costume out, so that he can get to his meeting on time! 

With slightly clumsy hands, Taka grabs the jacket Mondo had gotten for him, a size smaller than its twin still dangling innocently on its hanger. Moving is harder with both his tight jeans and the giant mound on his head, but he manages to struggle into the jacket, even with all the useless buckles and buttons the thing has on it. He glares at Mondo, who is still laughing at him, snickering as he struggles with the jacket. 

“Did you have to get the most complicated jacket in the world?! How on earth do you deal with this nonsense on a daily basis?!” he exclaims, trying to properly adjust all the bits and pieces so that it doesn’t look ridiculous, to no avail. He freezes when he feels Mondo step up in front of him, the biker smirking as he swats his hands away and begins adjusting the jacket for him. 

“You're not one ta talk, Hall Monitor. Your uniform’s prolly the most complicated shit I’ve ever seen. These jackets are a bit more complicated than my coat, but they ain’t too bad. S’all I could find on such a short notice, though.”

Taka flushes at the offhand remark, reminded that Mondo had, after all, paid for this entire outfit...

“A-ah... and I am most grateful for that, kyoudai! I will find a way to repay you one day, I promise!” 

Mondo growls at him at his words, glaring up at him as he adjusts his collar a little rougher than he probably has to. A-ah... oops...

“Shit, Taka. I told ya already, y’ain’t gotta pay me nothin’. Was my idea anyway, you're just along fer the ride. Bros buy each other shit. Ain’t a big deal.” Mondo pauses for a second, before a smirk rises on his face, some mischief in his eyes as he looks down at Taka. Hm... that’s not a comforting expression... “However, if you're gonna be a tightass ‘bout it, I got an idea ‘bout how ya can ‘repay’ me. Come out with me on my hog sometime. Just you an’ me an’ the road, my baby purrin’ underneath us. Ahh, shit man, y’ain’t lived ‘til ya felt that. An’ I’ll even find ya a stupid fuckin’ helmet an’ shit like that, so ya can feel ‘safe’ an’ shit. Not like I’d ever let ya get hurt either way. ’Ve been ridin’ my hog since I was a kid, I know how ta handle her. But uh... yeah. Y’ain’t gotta, but uh... shit. Think ‘bout it, alright?” 

Mondo mumbles the last couple words, cheeks pink as he backs up, finished with adjusting the jacket, rubbing the back of his neck. He then looks Taka up and down, like he had earlier, a slow smile rising on his lips, even as the blush remains. And maybe even brightens...

“But shit, man... seein’ ya like this is plenty repayment enough. Heh. Never thought I’d see a tightass like ya lookin’ almost like one a’ the guys. You, uh... you look good... suits ya.” 

Mondo’s eyes are intense as they stare at him, the lavender eyes darting up and down over and over, the pupils widening as they go. Taka stays still as Mondo stares, his heart stuttering and breath shaky as he lets Mondo look his fill. W-well then...

“T-thank you, kyoudai...” he says softly, eyes falling to the floor, suddenly feeling shy. “For all of this. And I... I know I said I’d think about it but... I think I’ve come to a decision.”

Taka pauses for a second, gathering his thoughts. (And with his eyes on the ground, he doesn’t notice how Mondo freezes, the biker’s eyes boring holes into him, growing more and more intense as the seconds pass. Taka’s so used to the sensation by now that it doesn’t even faze him, really).

Finally, seconds later, Taka looks up, a determined smile bright on his face. 

“I will go out with you for a ride! I-it does make me nervous... but I trust you, kyoudai! With my life! Tell me when and where, and I will be there! You have my guarantee!” 

The look in Mondo’s eyes as he says the words... the way they light up, his entire face glowing with their silent joy...

“Really?! Shit man, that’s fuckin’ awesome! Shit, I’m so fuckin’ pumped! Hell fuckin’ yeah! Aw, shit, Taka, y’ain’t gonna regret this, I promise. How does tomorrow sound fer ya? I should be able ta find ya some basic gear ‘fore then. We can ride at sunset, maybe through the country. Shit’s beautiful in the autumn, bro, ya’ll love it, I know it. Fuck, Taka... can’t explain how happy this makes me, shit...” 

And Taka... Taka... 

W-well. 

Face likely bright red, even with the powder Mondo applied to him, Taka nods once, sharply, before he turns and faces the mirror that is in the corner of the room, hoping to disguise his fleeing as wanting to see how he looks. 

And it’s a very effective distraction! As he looks at himself, his hair up, his eyes made even more intense with the eyeliner, but somehow not terrifying... his face, a shade tanner than usual, his flush shining though it only a little... his body clad in the most casual, daring outfit Taka can ever recall wearing... 

A-ah. It’s, uh... certainly not bad! He might even go as far as to say he looks handsome, even! He looks daring, and dashing, and dangerous, and several other ‘d’ words that describe how the outfit looks on him. And... and it...

And it’s certainly not him.

(But maybe... maybe that’s not such a bad thing...) 

“Hey... y’okay, kyoudai? If it makes ya nervous, y’ain’t gotta go out with me, I won’t hold ya to it...” he hears Mondo mutter, the teen stepping up behind him, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, frowning at him with concern. Taka smiles shakily back, eyes turning back to his reflection, looking up and down. 

“N-no, kyoudai, you don’t have to worry! I never go back on my word! And I am looking forward to riding with you tomorrow, especially if you are looking forward to it so much! No... that isn’t... I just... well, you’re going to think I’m being stupid...” 

He bites his lips gently, eyes roving worriedly over his reflection. He watches, unbidden, as Mondo’s reflection gets closer to his in the mirror, a soft gasp escaping him when he feels a gentle hand brush against his side, the touch barely there and yet still electrifying. It’s not a new sensation, but somehow, seeing it in the mirror makes it feel so much more… intimate, somehow. He waits for Mondo’s gently mocking comment, for him to get offended, or any of the things Mondo usually does when he gets insecure like this...

But...

Instead, all Mondo says is, “I ain’t gonna think that. What’s wrong, kyoudai? Ya can tell me. I won’t judge ya. Promise.” 

A-ah... well then...

“I-it’s nothing much, just... it isn’t me, in that mirror. You know? And it’s stupid! Halloween is all about being someone you’re not for one day, pretending that you aren’t who you are, I know that! I do! But... I- I... I don’t know. Y-you like it, how I look now. What if... what if everyone does and I... when I go back, they don’t...” 

The presence behind him grows more intense, Mondo pressing firmly to his back, his hands moving to pull Taka close to him, holding him tight. His breath stutters as he feels Mondo’s hand worm its way beneath the jacket to rest warm on his abdomen, so hot and overwhelming even through the relatively thick shirt, making him feel... feel so safe... and secure... like... like always...

“That ain’t stupid, Taka. An’ I get what ya mean. But that ain’t gonna happen, bro. Not with me, at least, an’ not with anyone who matters. I like how ya look now, sure, but that’s ‘cuz it’s... I dunno, novel, or some shit. New. An’... I dunno. Feels like ya belong ta me, ya know?” Mondo’s eyes widen at the words, his face flushing with the implication. “N-not like that! Shit, fuck. I just, uh... I mean... we ain’t really inhabitin’ the same worlds, ya know? Ya got your studyin’ an’ homework an’ proper grammar an’ shit. An’ me? I got my gang. An’... that’s ‘bout it. So, seein’ ya like this... it feels like I can fin’ly touch ya, ya know? Like we’re, shit... I dunno. Even.”

Mondo pauses, and lets out a soft chuckle, pressing closer to Taka, his forehead resting gently on the back of Taka’s head, where his neck meets head, resting among the stiff strands of hair that reside there. And Taka... Taka...

“But it ain’t real, Taka. This... shit, man, this ain’t you. I know that. An’ I wouldn’t want it ta be! I like ya how ya are, not like how ya’d think I’d want ya ta be. Ya know... heh. It’s kinda why I hated that shit movie, ya know? In the end, the chick goes and changes herself fer that piece a’ shit. Shit’s stupid. If someone loves... uh, cares ‘bout ya, ya shouldn’t hafta change fer them. And I don’t want that from you, got it? I ain’t ever want ya ta change. Not fer me, at least. Heh, shit... I’m ramblin’... prolly made no sense, heh. Anyway. It’s just fer a day, ‘kay? Then ya can take it off an’ go back ta being Taka. My Taka. S-so... yeah.” 

Mondo’s face is still buried in his hair, so he can’t see the teen’s face, but Taka can imagine the beautiful blush he would be sure to find there, if he could see it. After all, its twin expression is mirrored on Taka’s own face. 

Mondo... he... he really does mean that… doesn’t he? No one has ever said that to Taka before... not even close. No one has ever wanted him exactly as he is, no change required... he’s always had to change some part of himself— some aspect or other— to even have any hope of fitting in, to not be despised as much as he always has been. Not even- even his father... not even his father could handle him as he was... he was always too much; too bright, too vibrant, too loud... no one wanted to deal with that… no one had the time to deal with that... but... but Mondo...

Mondo did. Mondo does. He... he wants him. Not like this, a mockery of himself, beautiful but so painfully false it makes him ache inside to see it. Not like this, dressed in the uniform for the world in which Mondo resides, something that would make them the same, make them even... equal… a-and Taka knows. He knows, if Mondo asked him for it, if Mondo wanted it, truly and deeply wanted it, even if he, himself, doesn’t...

Well.

He’s always been weak...

But... but Mondo doesn’t. Doesn’t want this pale imitation. Doesn’t want him brought down to his level. He wants him... he wants Taka... 

As he is. 

And he... he can’t...

“K-kyoudai... y-you can’t say things like that to me...! Not today! You’re going to make me cry! And I would hate to ruin the hard work you put into my makeup!” he cries, only half joking. As he feels Mondo shake behind him, his laughter sounding even sweeter as it reverberates through his body, he can’t help the smile he gets, his eyes misting, though he refuses to let the gathering tears fall. After all, what he’s said was true! He doesn’t want to ruin his eyeliner! 

His body freezes entirely, though, when he feels Mondo shift behind him, the teen moving his head from the back of Taka’s head to... t-to...

The side of his neck... the biker’s lips mere centimeters from being pressed against his skin... ghosting against him with each breath he takes... the feeling of warm breath rushing over him in gentle puffs of air... 

Oh... oh god...

Unbidden, a flash from his dream— which feels like it had occurred decades ago already, not nary an hour before— pops into his mind, making him shudder deeply. Oh... oh god...

“Heh, I don’t care, Kiyo. Shit, I’d say take the whole get up off of it makes ya so uncomfortable, but I think you're outta time, your meetin’ starts in ten an’ I know ya like bein’ early if ya can. But don’t ferget what I said, okay? ‘Cuz I meant it. I promise ya that. And that’s a man’s promise, understood? Means I can’t break that shit.”

Oh... oh, this wonderful man... this beautiful, amazing, incredible boy... 

(Taka has never loved anyone more... l-like a brother, of course…) 

Smiling, bright and happy, Taka reaches down, unable to help himself, and puts his hand over Mondo’s, whose hand is still pressed lightly to his stomach. And, almost against his will, he carefully tangles their fingers together, so that they’re connected— intertwined— fully and completely... and it... it…

It’s incredible. 

“T-thank you, kyoudai. My words... they cannot express how much that means to me. Truly,” he states softly, before his mind picks up on something Mondo had said, making him jolt upright with panic. “B-but-! It’s getting late! I need to head to my meeting! I can’t be tardy, I’ll be a disgrace! Mondo-”

“Go, ya nerd,” Mondo interrupts, rolling his eyes fondly. And when he pulls back, rubbing his neck awkwardly, the blush Taka knew would be there intensifying... well, let’s just say that, for once, Taka is seriously considering not caring about tardiness! How queer! “I’ll finish gettin’ ready myself and I’ll see ya later, after your meetin’, ‘kay? We can meet at the entrance hall. Leon’s gonna meet us there too. I know ya guys don’t get along, an’ I promise that if he doesn’t behave himself, I’ll kick him ta the fuckin’ curb myself. Just give him a chance, alright? He’s a bit ofa jackass, but so am I, ta be honest. I think ya’d like him, if ya gave him the chance. Though... maybe not, I dunno. Uh-”

Taka chuckles softly at Mondo’s fumbling words, smiling kindly at the biker. They’ve had this conversation already, honestly. He looks over his shoulder at the teen, eyes sparkling with the mirth he’d never realized he could feel before meeting Mondo. 

“You needn’t worry, Mondo! I will be on my best behavior! I’m a master at social interactions, after all!” 

Taka pauses, his stomach churning not unpleasantly as Mondo bursts out laughing, his ‘joke’ thankfully hitting its mark. He then looks over at the clock and lets out an ‘eep!’ of shock, seeing that he has less than seven minutes to get to his meeting. And the meeting is halfway across the school! Oh no!!!

“Now! I’ve got to get going, or I really will be late! I will look forward to seeing you later, kyoudai! Today is going to be a good day! I can feel it!”

With those words, he gets a brief hug goodbye from Mondo, like usual, before he’s putting on the ‘shoes’ and rushing out of the room, speed walking (not running! He would never run in the halls!!) to get to his meeting on time. It’s only ironing out the last few details, as well as meeting with the few venders and whatnot that they have contacted to show up, before heading to organize everyone who is providing a booth today. The festival booths are mostly run by the Ultimate students who elected to lend their expertise to the cause, such as Maizono, who will be performing with her band; Ludenberg, who will be running a game of chance booth; Yamada, who will be drawing caricatures and portraits; and Hagakure, who will be running a psychic reading table at a discount. And that’s not to mention the countless upper grade students who also volunteered. And all the reserve students who are also making several booths themselves, the various clubs and classes of the non-Ultimate students of Hope’s Peak working to create booths for all students to enjoy.

However, on top of all of that, they did contact some outside entertainment and venders, to make sure the event is as lively as possible. Nothing but the best for Hope’s Peak! They have food venders, and little tchotchke slash knick-knack artisans, and little game booths, and a haunted house, and some former alum of Hope’s Peak who are willing to return for the festival they have prepared... even a couple of carnival rides… it’s all a little over the top, to be honest, and a lot fancier than any other school festival he’s been to! But the headmaster had said it would be fine, since this would be their main big festival until the winter one. 

Taka is, of course, in charge of overseeing it all, as he is the one who has been organizing and enforcing that the students finish their preparations in time for the festival and contacting the venders with details on when and where to show up. Headmaster Kirigiri said that he didn’t have to put so much work into it, that Taka could relax if he wanted and that he could handle it all himself, but Taka honestly hadn’t minded. It had initially been a good distraction from his fighting with Mondo, and even after they became kyoudai, it was still a nice project for him to work on during his rare downtime. Plus, it had made the headmaster pleased with him! It is a win-win all around! 

The only downside is that now it all falls on him to make sure that it all runs smoothly. While he and Mondo will have the time to enjoy the festival together, after it starts at 10:00, he is sure to be expected to be on call at all times, to make sure things run as smoothly as possible. The reserve students will be at the festival as well, which means that thousands of teenagers will be milling about. That’s quite a lot! It also significantly increases the likelihood of disaster! 

But that’s okay! It’s nothing that Taka can’t handle!

Today is going to be a great day, he can just feel it! 

Chapter Text

Taka frowns at the panicked girl in front of him, his mind running through possible solutions and other ways he can possibly help the musician calm down from the almost manic state she has managed to work herself up into, the girl pacing back and forth in the tent they had set up as a ‘backstage’ of sorts. 

Needless to say, it has been a very, very long morning...

“Maizono-kun! I assure you, they shall be here soon! While punctuality is key, it is not your fault they are delayed! Working yourself into a panic is not going to help matters!” 

Taka winces back a little at the fierce glare the— admittedly tiny— girl in front of him shoots him, quelling him instantly. 

“That’s easy for you to say! Our performance starts in fifteen minutes and the girls and I still need to go over our set line up, let alone have the tech crew prep the stage! And I have no idea what the sound will be like, are these speakers up to date?! And my makeup still needs to be done, and my outfit is starting to deflate, and... and... oh! This is just a disaster!” the Ultimate Pop Sensation cries, looking like she’s about three seconds away from bursting into tears. A-ah! That would not be good! He has no idea how to comfort crying women! 

Awkwardly, Taka takes a step forward and pats the girl gently on the shoulder, hoping that it’s not as awkward as it feels to him. Judging by the odd look she gives him, he’s not entirely sure he succeeds... hm...

This morning seems to have decided to drag on, and on, and on! From one little disaster to another, Taka has been running around for the past two and a half hours, trying to ensure that everything gets set up and prepared properly. From the food venders, to the game booths, even to the haunted house! Every little detail has to be in place and Taka is personally responsible for overseeing all of it. It’s a very daunting task!

(Of course, technically speaking it hadn’t originally been his job. He’d simply assumed the role, assuring everyone that he can absolutely handle it. The headmaster had agreed, smiling at him strangely, before handing him the details and information he would need to complete the task. He’s fairly certain the headmaster is still overseeing everything alongside him, but he’s put it upon himself to make sure that everything runs as smoothly as possible, so the headmaster doesn’t have to worry about fixing any possible mistakes. That would be mortifying!) 

He hadn’t quite realized just how extensive planning a festival for a school as prestigious as Hope’s Peak would be, though! He’s helped organize festivals for his schools before, but those were much smaller scale, with booths created by each class and maybe a few parent volunteers. Plus, he hadn’t been the one ultimately in charge. 

Here, though... aha.

And he’s not complaining! He is actually enjoying himself, quite a lot! He just wishes that the disasters that seem to want to crop up would simply go away...

First, it had been a problem with one of their food venders. Apparently, the head chef had been arrested the night before on a drunk and disorderly charge, so he’d had to cancel their spot and rearrange some of the remaining booths, so the empty spot wasn’t too obvious. It wasn’t that bad a problem, though, so he’d handled it with ease. 

But then the Ultimate Dancer— who had graduated a few years before and had been intending to come back to the festival to showcase her talent— had twisted her ankle that morning and had called to inform them that she, regretfully, wouldn’t be able to make it. Taka had assured her it would be fine, telling her to rest up and focus on getting better, and had spent a few minutes rearranging the order of performances to make up for the loss of one, even calling a few of the performers to see if anyone would be able to do a longer show or an additional one to fill the slot. Luckily, one of them had, so he hadn’t had to worry about that for too long, thankfully! 

But then things just... seemed to keep going wrong. A problem with the equipment for one of the rides. One of the haunted house actors came down with the flu that morning and couldn’t show. The wind blew away their tarp for a tent and they’d had to spend several minutes chasing it... on and on and on the problems went! And it’s not like Taka hadn’t expected it, disorder is sadly a very common problem with the world, but it is still very stressful! Especially now, faced with one of his classmates who looks seconds away from bursting into tears, the one thing Taka is least qualified to handle! 

But! He refuses to give up! He took this responsibility onto himself and he will see it through! That’s a Kiyotaka Ishimaru Guarantee!

“Ah, Maizono-kun! I promise, things will be fine! I am sure they will arrive any second and we will get started on preparations right away-” Taka starts passionately, before getting interrupted in his impassioned speech by the tinny ringing of a cellphone. Maizono’s eyes widen as she grabs her pink cellphone off the counter that she’d left it on a moment before— after her last few attempts at reaching her band had fallen through— and puts it quickly to her ear. 

“Yes?! What’s wrong?” Maizono goes quiet for a minute, listening intently, before she goes ramrod straight, eyes wide and glistening. “What do you mean the bus has a flat tire?! How far away are you from the school? ... fifteen minutes?! But the show starts in fifteen minutes! How can we go on in fifteen minutes if you’re fifteen minutes away, with a flat tire? ... what?! Delay the show?! But we can’t! I... okay, but... ugh! Fine! Whatever! Just get here as soon as you can, goodbye!”

With that, Maizono angrily hangs up her phone… and promptly bursts into tears. 

Oh no!!!!

“A-ah! Maizono-kun!” Taka cries, hurrying forward to try and do... something to comfort the crying girl. She just shakes her head, taking a step back as she buries her face in her hands, looking all around miserable. Oh dear... oh no... he has to fix this! Quick! “Maizono-kun, please, do not fret! This is merely a set back! We will overcome this, I promise you! Tell me what the matter is, and I will find a way to adequately fix whatever is wrong! Let me help you!” 

The girl keeps crying softly, muttering things that he doesn’t have any hope of understanding into her hands. A-ah... oh dear... 

Carefully, hesitantly, Taka puts his hand gingerly on Maizono’s shoulder, not wanting to startle the girl and make everything worse. And then, to his intense surprise, Maizono... she...

She hugs him! 

Well. Sort of. More like she slams into him, her arms wrapping tight around his waist, while she buries her face into his chest. A-ah! How awkward! 

His arms stay stiff at his sides for a surprised moment, too shocked to do anything more than that. Taka gets spurred into motion when he hears the girl let out a muffled sob, however, his arms awkwardly coming up to pat the girl on her back, not wanting to make her uncomfortable but also not wanting to just... do nothing with his hands. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to mind, just buries her face further into his chest, sobbing quietly as she goes. His heart goes out to her, honestly. After all, he knows all too well how frustrating it can be when your plans don’t work out how you intend them to! 

He places his hands firmer on her back and— when she doesn’t object— he starts rubbing small, soothing circles, like Mondo will do for him when he cries like this. Forcing his voice to go soft, but no less passionate, he speaks to her gently, hoping that his social ineptitude won’t just make things worse. 

“Maizono-kun... I promise you, this is not the end of the world! This is merely a minor setback! This can be fixed, and I will do everything in my power to see that it is! Please, dry your eyes and tell me what the problem is, so that we can go about fixing it right away! I promise you that we will fix this. And that’s a man’s promise! A good friend of mine assures me that such a thing cannot be broken!” 

He isn’t sure what he said, exactly, that causes it, but he hears Maizono giggle softly against his chest, the girl’s face popping up a second later, looking at him with big, watery eyes. He feels his heart go out to her and tries his best to smile soothingly. Something about it just makes Maizono giggle again, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. 

“S-sorry, Ishimaru-san. I just am not used to you looking like this, that’s all. It suits you!” she giggles again, before the sad look returns, the girl looking down at her feet. “Okay... the bus the girls are on got a flat tire on their way up here, and they don’t have any extra tires, for some reason. They’re still fifteen minutes out, and I know from experience that it’s going to take them at least ten to twenty minutes to get a replacement bus, especially since it seems that traffic is particularly horrible today. They’re not going to be here in time for our performance and I just don’t know what to do! I- I... you probably think I’m being silly, but I wanted today to go perfectly, you know? I w-wanted to show all of our classmates my talent and show the girls my life here at Hope’s Peak... but now... now it’s all ruined...” 

Her face goes all sad again, her eyes big and watery, but she thankfully doesn’t start crying again. Taka’s mind is already racing with thoughts, though, coming up with ways to fix this. It shouldn’t be too hard, all he has to do is...

“Maizono-kun, do not worry at all! I believe this will be an easy fix! Why don’t you take a seat in that chair over there and try to calm yourself, while I make some calls to fix this, alright?” Taka states, still soft but with more enthusiasm than before, his mind racing with thoughts and solutions. Maizono looks at him for a second, before nodding, taking a seat carefully (so as not to ruin her dress) and grabbing a few tissues to dry her eyes. Luckily, she’d only been wearing light makeup, just foundation and basic blush, the girl claiming her makeup crew was going to get her ready for the show, so it doesn’t look too ruined. That’s good. 

(It also means the wet spot on his white shirt should, hopefully, dry clear, but that’s honestly the least of his worries right now!) 

Grabbing the cellphone that the school had provided him to help arrange all of the entertainment and venders, Taka starts making some calls, pacing as he talks to several different people. Maizono’s eyes track him as she starts calming herself down, slowly drinking a calming cup of tea Taka had asked one of the crew at the festival to go and get in between one of his phone calls. Taka doesn’t notice, though. He’s too focused on fixing this predicament! 

A few minutes later, Taka hangs up the phone and turns to Maizono with a bright smile. 

“I have good news, Maizono-kun!” he cries, causing Maizono to sit up straight, eyes wide as she stares at him.

“What?” she blurts, interrupting him unintentionally, “what is it?!” 

Grinning widely, he strides up to the girl and kneels before her, putting his hand on her shoulder enthusiastically. 

“I was able to switch your performance with a later one! The 11:00 am performance— a show by the Ultimate Juggler— has stated that they should be able to get their gear and supplies ready in time for the 10:00 am show! I just will have to find a way to stall for a little bit as they get their show set up. But that is nothing you need to worry about! I will take care of it! Do you think your band will be ready to perform by 11:00? If not, I can make a few more calls and try and get a later time-”

Taka is cut off when the girl practically flings herself at him, her arms tight around his shoulders as she lets out a happy squeal. 

“Oh! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!! You are the best, Taka! I am so grateful right now! I owe you so much, you are the absolute best!” Maizono cries right by his ear, her shrill voice making his ears hurt, but he doesn’t mind. He just puts his arms around her shoulders gently, quicker than the last time but still a little awkward. He’s not entirely used to hugs, after all. Well... not with people smaller than him, he supposes! 

“You needn’t thank me at all! I was just doing my job!” he replies, his cheeks only a little flushed at the praise. It’s the truth, though! It is, in fact, his job to make sure everything runs smoothly! 

Maizono giggles at his words again, even though he’d been entirely serious, pulling back and looking at him with shining eyes, her smile wide and happy on her face. 

It strikes him, then, that Maizono really is a pretty girl. And he realizes, his stomach churning, that any other boy in his place would probably be feeling... something, right now. Something very unwholesome and inappropriate. 

But he doesn’t. All he feels is happiness that he was able to help her out. 

Hm...

“Still, I owe you, Taka. If you ever need anything, anything at all, feel free to ask me! Oh! And the 11:00 am show should be fine! My manager assured me that they’ll be here as soon as possible,” she smiles, twirling slightly as she stands. Taka stands as well, grinning brightly, pushing passed the unease that has started to fill him at his previous thoughts. It... it’s not important, not right now. 

“I shall keep that in mind, Maizono-kun! Now, I should probably get going, I need to ensure that the Ultimate Juggler’s show is properly set up in time! Will you be alright on your own? Is there something I can do to ensure your happiness?” 

Maizono giggles again, twirling her hair as she looks up at him through her eyelashes. Hm... it’s a very peculiar look! N-not bad, no! Just... odd! 

“I should be okay, thank you Taka. But you know you can call me Sayaka, right? We’ve been in the same class for months now! Plus, I think I can safely say that this had made us friends! Unless... you don’t want to be?”

Her head is tilted as she looks at him, her eyes suddenly sharp as they look seemingly through him. Eep! It’s almost like she... like she’s reading his mind! How creepy! Maizono— or should he say Sayaka?— giggles again, for no reason he can ascertain. Pushing aside the unease (hadn’t he once overheard her telling Naegi that she’s psychic? He doesn’t believe in such nonsense, but perhaps...) he smiles brightly, shaking his head firmly once. 

“Not at all! It would be a great honor to be considered your friend, Maizo- ah! I mean, Sayaka! Now, if you are certain you will be alright, I really must be going! You should go and enjoy the festival since you have some free time! There is plenty of entertainment to be found! I shall see you later!” 

Raising his hand to wave her goodbye, Taka leaves the tent, the sound of Sayaka’s giggling following him as he goes. Taking out his phone again, he bites his lip gently as he opens the texting function, eyes darting around as he quickly writes a message. 

To: Mondo Owada:

Kyoudai! 

 

I am afraid something has come up with the festival and I will be unable to meet you at our scheduled time! I am so sorry! I should hopefully be finished with the delay soon, but in the meantime, I do not mind if you wander around the festival yourself! I will send you an electronic text message when I am done! I am looking forward to enjoying the festival with you!!!

 

Sincerely,

Taka

Looking over the message once, Taka sends it, feeling somewhat guilty for using the phone that the school provided him for a personal conversation. Yes, Headmaster Kirigiri had told him that the phone was his to keep, even after the festival ended, as an extra thanks for his hard work, but he knows he cannot accept such a fine gift! Though it has made things a lot easier for him... he’s never been able to afford a cellular phone, after all, not even those cheap ‘burner’ phones that general stores sometimes offer, with the expensive plans and all that. Not having to find a landline phone every time he has to make a call certainly is convenient! 

Taka is startled from his thoughts when he feels the phone buzz in his hands, his heart racing as he reads the— quite frankly appalling— reply. 

From: Mondo Owada: yh, ok. c u sn, bro. np.

Taka wrinkles his nose at the horrid grammar and spelling, ignoring the rush of fondness that floods him as he quickly types a reply, the Ultimate Juggler appearing before him to ask some questions about the change of plans. 

To: Mondo Owada:

Kyoudai,

 

I have no idea what that means! But I will assume it means you are okay with the change of plans! I must be going now, I will tell you more details later!

 

Sincerely,

Taka 

With that settled, Taka turns to the juggler and goes about fixing yet another problem this festival has managed to cause. 

He’s starting to think this all may be more trouble than it is worth!

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~ 

“Ishimaru-san, I assure you I can handle this on my own. I’ve been running these festivals for several years, after all. You have done a wonderful job with everything and I am very grateful for your assistance, but I can take over from here. Go enjoy the festival with your friends! You have earned it. And I already told you, the phone is yours to keep. I will not be accepting it back, understood?”

Taka stands before Headmaster Kirigiri, feeling awkward at the man’s light reprimand, his fingernails digging small indents into the palm of his hands. Oh dear... he hadn’t meant to imply that the headmaster couldn’t handle everything! He’d just wanted to help! Oh no! 

“I- I am sorry, Headmaster Kirigiri! I will, of course, do exactly as you say! I- I did not mean to imply that you could not handle it! I know full well that you can! I- I just... I wanted to-”

“Help,” the headmaster interrupts, smirking gently. “Yes, I know. And I am not upset with you. Quite the opposite! Your work here for this festival has been most impressive, and I know you have made quite the good impression on several of our former and current students. It is this quality in you exactly that impressed me most when reviewing your file. Your work ethic is highly enviable, I assure you. I have full confidence that you, out of all our students, will go the furthest.”

The headmaster pauses, and smiles at Taka gently, inclining his head slightly. 

“But you are allowed to take time off and enjoy yourself from time to time, Ishimaru-san. I know that you... have not had the easiest childhood, but my daughter tells me that things have seemed easier for you, here. Recently, at least. I hope for you to be able to find balance between work and recreation. Anyone can work themselves so hard that they risk burning out, ignoring all social and personal matters for work. It takes someone quite exceptional to be able to adequately balance both work and leisure. It is something that I, regrettably, am still trying to learn how to balance myself. I know that— should you allow yourself— you will be able to figure such a thing out with no problem. Just know that leisure and rest is just as important to a working professional as hard work and effort, understood? There is no point in working hard if all it does is burn you out, in the end.”

Headmaster Kirigiri looks down at his watch, then, and grimaces slightly before looking back up with a half-smile.

“Now, I believe I should be going, but I hope you think about what I’ve said, Ishimaru-san. Thank you again for all of your hard work and dedication. Enjoy the festival. I will see you later. Oh! But before I go, I wanted to tell you that I like your costume. It’s very... different, but it suits you. It’s good to see you trying out new things.”

With that, the headmaster gives him a small incline of the head before striding away, taking out his phone to make some calls. Taka stares after him for a second, processing the words the headmaster had said. Well... of course he knows that downtime is, in fact, important! He has read many articles about business professionals who, quite literally, work themselves to death, after all! But... but he knows he would be able to handle it, knows he would never let himself get to such a harried state! He knows himself and— despite what people may think— he does know his own limits. Yes, he has sometimes pushed passed his limits to get a task done, but it’s not nearly as often as people may think. He simply enjoys hard work and effort. Honestly!

But... but, Taka thinks, pulling out his phone (his phone, he thinks dazedly, a smile blooming on his face at the thought), perhaps the headmaster is right. Maybe he can allow himself to enjoy today, without worrying over the details and any possible problem that may crop up. He’s put in more than enough work to ensure the festival can run smoothly without him, after all. Maybe he can let someone else take over without obsessing over everything that may go wrong... 

Doing his best to not let the unease fill him, he sends off another electronic text message to Mondo, informing the biker that he is finished with his duties now. 

To: Mondo Owada:

Kyoudai,

 

I have finished with my duties! I apologize greatly for my delay! If you still wish to meet, tell me your location and I will meet you there shortly! Use full words this time, please!

 

Sincerely,

Taka

Looking over his message once for errors, Taka sends it and bites his lip as he waits for the reply. He blinks in surprise when his phone buzzes a few moments later, Mondo’s reply far faster than he had anticipated. 

From: Mondo Owada: entrance hall. right by the door. ya asshole. 

Taka smiles at the words, not minding the insult at all, knowing the biker means it affectionately more than anything. He begins to move towards the entrance hall, then, his mind picking up on the fact that Mondo is still at the location they had chosen to meet up at. Is he... he hasn’t been waiting this entire time, has he? It’s been almost half an hour! Oh dear... 

Sending out a quick reply, Taka pushes the thought out of his mind. He can ask Mondo about it later. 

To: Mondo Owada:

Kyoudai,

 

I will be right there!

 

Sincerely,

Taka

With that, Taka quickens his pace, darting around the milling students and staff.

Finally, only a handful of minutes later, the school’s entrance comes into view, making his heart start to race. Smile growing on his face, Taka speeds up more, not quite running (he may not be inside, but he still is at a school event! The rules still apply!), but definitely taking speed walking to the max. It’s worth it when— arriving at the open doors— he sees Mondo, the teen leaning casually against the wall, a look of mild restlessness on his face. 

And when Taka’s eyes take in the biker, his eyes trailing the other teen up and down...

Grk!

Okay... to be honest, the biker doesn’t look that different from his normal look. The skinny jeans, however, are tighter on his legs than his usual loose, black pants, and the white t-shirt clings to his muscles in a way his usual wife beater doesn’t. The jacket, too, is shorter, showing off more of his body than his long duster tends to allow. And his... his hair...

Taka’s face flushes as he takes in Mondo’s hair, the strands not up in their usual pompadour, like he would have expected. Instead, they are pulled up into an intricate hairstyle, similar to what Mondo usually wears when heading to bed, but also... different. More effortful. 

The top part, which usually is in the pompadour, is put up in two intricate braids (he believes they may be called French braids?) that converge in the center and are tied together with a hair tie, bringing the hair away from his face. The rest of the hair, the darker part that he knows Mondo does not dye, does not lie limply like usual, but instead is teased (he believes such a thing is called) a little, giving it some volume, in addition to his natural curls. The look overall— with the braids mixed with the teased lower hair— looks very elegant and purposeful, looking less like a greaser and more like a person going on a fancy date or something. There is a slight shine to the entire look, hair gel or mousse or something clearly having been used to keep it all in place, but it doesn’t look greasy, it just looks... purposeful, intentional. Elegant. 

Beautiful... 

Taka must let out an unintentional sound because Mondo looks up suddenly, his eyes sharp as he realizes he’s not alone anymore. The teen instantly relaxes, though, when he sees that it’s only Taka. A soft smile lights his face when he does, his eyes shining brightly, any hint of restlessness or tension gone as if they’d never been there at all. A-ah...

“Taka! There ya are! Shit man, I was startin’ ta get impatient, heh. Leon went on ahead, but I wanted ta wait fer ya. Ya spent so long workin’ on this shit that I wanted ta experience it with ya, ya know? Ya get everythin’ all sorted?”

Mondo... Mondo had waited for him... because he wanted... to experience the festival together? Because of how hard Taka has worked on it?

Grk!

Pushing aside the rush of absolute affection he feels for the biker, Taka smiles brightly, nodding quick. He notices dimly that Mondo is wearing makeup, too, his lips a brighter shade of pink than normal and his eyes made so much more intense with the smoky look, but he quickly dismisses that thought before his head literally explodes, thanks.

“Yes! There was unfortunately a delay with Sayaka’s band, the bus containing her bandmates getting a flat tire while fifteen minutes out! Since she was the first of our scheduled entertainment, I had to quickly figure out a replacement show, while also calming the hysterical girl down, all within fifteen minutes! I then had to ensure that the replacement act ran smoothly, since I did, honestly, put them on the spot and it was only fair I do all I could to assist! And then I had another problem arise, which I had to go take care of! Eventually, Headmaster Kirigiri arrived and told me that, er... that he could handle the rest and that I should enjoy the festival with my friends. So, I will!” 

Finished with his explanation, he looks at Mondo, waiting for his reply. He frowns when he sees Mondo looking at him strangely, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips tugged down in a sort of... well, grimace. How peculiar... what had he said that caused such a reaction in the other teen? He doesn’t get a chance to ask, though, before Mondo speaks, his voice tight for reasons Taka absolutely cannot fathom. 

“Sayaka? Since when are ya on a first name basis with that chick?” 

Taka blinks, head tilted in confusion. That... that was what Mondo had focused on? Hm... strange...

“Oh! Er... well, since today! After I helped her sort out the problem with her band, she hugged me and told me that this makes us friends! She then requested that I call her by her first name! Is that... do you have a problem with this?” 

Taka wouldn’t have asked the last question, but something about the way Mondo is decidedly not looking at him, the biker almost glaring at the wall, makes him feel a bit nervous. Mondo... Mondo doesn’t mind him making new friends, does he? The teen has been very supportive of his budding friendship with Hina (and Sakura, the martial artist often hanging around Hina, making him spend time with the both of them, not that he minds), so he doesn’t see why Mondo would. But... but the way the biker is acting...

“Huh? The fuck would I have a problem fer? So, ya two gettin’ close? Heh, lucky son ofa bitch. Most guys would kill ta be in your shoes. Havin’ the ‘Ultimate Pop Sensation’ hangin’ off ‘em... definitely a wet dream, fer sure.”

Mondo’s crude words make him flush horribly, for a number of reasons. Pushing aside the thought of his own, er... nocturnal emission (and the clear fact that the subject of said emission was certainly not the Ultimate Pop Sensation), Taka frowns, putting his hands on his hips indignantly. 

“You should not speak of her in such a way! It is highly disrespectful! Sayaka-kun is our classmate, not to mention my friend! I would not be crude enough to think of her in such a deplorable way!” 

Mondo finally looks at him at that, and the look on his face... Taka can’t really describe it, he just knows that it makes him sweat. I-it’s the truth! He’s not... not lying...

“Yeah, but ya can still see that she’s fuckin’ hot, right? Ya can’t tell me ya felt nothin’ havin’ her pressed up tight ta ya... right?” 

Ah! 

Oh no!

Taka does his best to not let the panic show on his face, though he can’t stop the way his heart pounds, his mind racing with thoughts and fears. Mondo... Mondo can’t... he can’t possibly think... he thought they’d settled this after the whole thing with Hina! Why... why is Mondo...

“O-of course I do! I- I- er. Well, clearly, I can see that Sayaka-kun is a very lovely and, er... attractive young woman! But, like I told you with Hina, I will not think of her in such a way! To obtain physical gratification from the thought of another person is... is... deplorable! And immoral! Particularly from someone who is a friend!”

(Yes, Taka. And that is why you keep thinking of Mondo like you do...

Grk!) 

Hopefully, he thinks almost hysterically, that settles that! The last time he’d said that Mondo had brushed it off and let the matter go. 

This time, though... the way Mondo is still looking at him... head tilted and frown still in place...

“Yeah, but ya said that ‘bout havin’ ‘sexual intercourse’ last time. This is different. Ain’t bad ta think ‘bout someone. ‘S natural. Ya can’t tell me ya never... ya know. Rub one out? So, if ya don’t think ‘bout women... what do ya think ‘bout?”

Gah!

Well! To be honest, Taka wouldn’t have realized what the biker was talking about— the turn of phrase Mondo used not one he’s familiar with— if he’d not made a quite frankly offensive hand motion with the words that even Taka could parse. Mondo... is Mondo seriously asking him about... about his... his masturbation techniques?! How-! How utterly mortifying!

Especially because... because this line of questioning is getting... getting uncomfortably close to... to... to the... t-to the...

(The truth). 

Face red and his back painfully stiff, Taka turns to face the wall, his face expressionless and tight, the discomfort radiating off of him in waves. In a low, hissing tone, Taka offers his curt reply. 

“I fail to see how that is any business of yours! S-such information is- is private a-and it is honestly rude to ask such a thing! E-especially in public! B-but...” Taka realizes he is shaking, so he forces himself to take a deep breath and clenches his fists tight to try and quell it. To, sadly, no avail... “But... to answer you, I... I do not... I-it is improper, and I... I cannot...” 

While that is true, he must admit privately that it’s… not the entire truth. The whole truth is that he’s just... never felt the urge. Not towards any of the female individuals he has met or seen, at least. 

And... and as for the male ones...

“Shit. You're seriously tellin’ me ya never... ya know. Not even once?” 

Taka closes his eyes, mortification flooding him. And, after a minute...  he nods. Just once, sharp, but he knows Mondo sees it when he hears a sharp inhale of breath, a low ‘well, shit’ being released. 

And it is the truth. He’s never... not about women. And... and with men...

(He refuses to allow himself to think about such things. He... he just can’t. He can’t.) 

“Well, fuck, man. No wonder you're always so tightly wound. If I didn’t, uh... ya know, every so often I’d prolly explode or somethin’. You, uh... you really take your whole ‘Moral Compass’ thing seriously, don’t you?”  

Taka can feel frustrated tears well up behind his eyes, but he fights them back. He can’t stop the way his lips wobble, though. He just... just feels so... so pathetic and stupid and wrong, wrong, wrong-

‘There’s something wrong with you, you disgusting freak!’

... yeah. Yeah, he knows...

“Fuck, shit... Taka, I didn’t... goddamnit,” he hears Mondo mutter, before he hears the sound of shuffling. And... and then...

Taka tries to jolt back when he feels arms wrap around him, but Mondo doesn’t let him. The biker just tightens his arms, refusing to let him go. 

“Listen, okay? I’m a fuckin’ idiot. Shouldn’t a’ said that shit ta ya. Just took me by surprise, ya know? But I shoulda realized. Y’ain’t like the other guys I know. You... you’re different. Special. ‘Swhat I admire ‘bout you. I didn’t mean ta make ya feel bad, though. If y’ain’t one ta think a’ people like that, ain’t a problem. You're just a fuckin’ better person than the rest a’ us jackasses. So, don’t... don’t feel bad ‘bout it, or think that I think you're weird fer it, ‘kay, Kiyo? ‘Cuz y’ain’t.  Ain’t a single goddamn thing wrong with ya. An’ anyone who says there is? Can have a nice long chat with my fuckin’ fists. Okay?” 

Taka bites his lip as he nods his head, doing his best to be careful of the pompadour Mondo had spent so long styling for him this morning, letting himself enjoy the embrace (even if he knows he shouldn’t). He pulls back carefully a few moments later to smile hesitantly at Mondo. 

“T-thank you, kyoudai... it- it means a lot to me to hear you say that... however! I cannot condone the use of violence, even if it is to defend my honor!” 

Hearing Mondo laugh at the ‘joke’ (well, kind of a joke) he’d made makes his heart swell, and just like that, the moment of tension is over as soon as it had begun. And as Taka pulls away from Mondo, still smiling softly, he feels a jolt of excitement rush through him. After all… now that they’re done with that mortifying conversation, they can go and explore the festival!

Grinning now, Taka darts forward and grabs Mondo’s wrist, his excitement too bright to worry about why, exactly, such a thing is a bad idea. 

“Now, let’s go, kyoudai! There are many things in the festival I wish to show you!” 

Mondo gives him a startled look as Taka begins tugging at him, but he lets out a snort before a bead of laughter escapes his lips. 

“Hell yeah, kyoudai! Lead the fuckin’ way!”

As the pair exit the school and join the throng of students attending the festival, neither teen notices that Taka never did take his hand away, instead just leaving it there, loosely wrapped around Mondo’s wrist. 

(Or… if they do, neither says anything about it.) 

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~ 

“Oooh! Taka! I’m so glad I found you!! How’s the festival been going for you???” 

Taka turns, a smile already forming on his face, just in time to catch the excitable girl who crashes into him. With a soft ‘oof,’ Taka steadies her, grinning down at the 5’3 swimmer (who he can see is dressed up as Tinkerbell), laughing softly at her enthusiasm. 

“Hello Hina! It is good to see you! The festival is going very well, thank you very much! How is your date going?!” 

He watches as Hina blushes, a bright smile blooming on her face as she bounces up and down. 

“It’s going amazing!” Hina squeals, her enthusiasm infectious. She buries her face in his chest, shaking with her excitement. “Sakura is absolutely amazing!! She’s so thoughtful and has been very sweet and she won me a teddy bear at the ‘test your strength’ booth! She’s the greatest!! I’m so happy, ahhh!!!!”

The words are slightly muffled since they’re spoken into his chest, but the swimmer is loud enough that he can make out what she is saying well enough. He laughs again, so happy for her his chest aches with it. But in a good way, for once!

“That is fantastic news! I’m so happy for you, Hina! You deserve all the happiness in the world!” 

Hina giggles at his words, pulling back to look up at him with shining eyes, her smile so wide it has to hurt. 

“Thank you!!! How about you, how has your day gone?? Also, I love your costume!!! You look so cute!!!” 

Taka blushes at her comment, feeling bashful at the compliment. A-ah... cute?? That was definitely not the comment he’s been getting from most of the people he has passed today! Most of them had said something along the lines of ‘freakin’ weird, but kinda cool, I guess,’ like Kuwata had, when Mondo and he had finally met up with the former Ultimate Baseball Star, current Up-And-Coming Musician. 

“A-ah! Thank you! You look very nice as well! You are... Tinkerbell, correct? Mondo has been teaching me about Disney!” Taka explains enthusiastically, remembering how offended the biker had been when Taka had explained he’d never seen anything by Disney before, though the biker denies being a fan. They’ve even managed to watch a couple of the movies, such as ‘Up’ and ‘Oliver and Company.’ Which were both very cute, he must confess! He particularly enjoyed the latter movie, to be perfectly honest... 

“Yep! Sakura recommended it, she’s going as Peter Pan! She was going to go as a martial arts movie character, but after she asked me out, I wanted us to match! And since I already had my costume, she said she didn’t mind changing! She sooo thoughtful!” Hina squeals again, looking super ‘pumped,’ as the girl often calls it. Hina then pouts exaggeratedly, hitting him gently on the arm. “Now come on, silly! Tell me about your day! What have you and Mondo been getting up to??” 

Taka blinks at her, realizing with a blush that he had forgotten to answer her question. Hm... well...

After he and Mondo had met up, they had spent several minutes wandering around the various booths, the mid-autumn day chilly, but not cold. They were lucky it wasn’t raining or— worse— snowing, like Taka had feared! There had been a backup plan if such a thing had occurred, of course, but it was nice to not have to use it!

Enthusiasm still high, Taka had dragged Mondo around the festival, pointing out booths that he thought the biker would find particularly interesting. It was as they were passing a booth selling miniature replica motorcycles, cars, and other automobiles (which Taka certainly hadn’t contacted simply because he had thought Mondo might enjoy the booth, not at all...), Mondo excitedly entering it and looking at their supply, that their hands finally parted and Taka had realized, with a jolt, that he’d been practically holding Mondo’s hand that entire time! 

He’d felt so embarrassed that he’d almost missed Mondo calling to him from inside the booth but had been able to snap himself out of it before he’d concerned the biker. He’d walked over to Mondo’s side and taken a look at the figurine that had caught the teen’s eye. 

“Look at this, kyoudai! Ain’t she a fuckin’ beauty?” Mondo had muttered, gesturing to a shining replica of some kind of motorcycle, which Taka had supposed looked nice, but didn’t look much different to him than the other motorcycle replicas around it. Knowing that saying such a thing would likely not be a good idea, he’d just smiled widely at Mondo, nodding his head enthusiastically. 

“Yes, of course, kyoudai! She, er... is very beautiful! Very... er... motorcycle-y?” 

He hadn’t actually meant that as a joke, but thankfully Mondo took it as one, the biker snorting and grinning at him as he straightened and looked for the booth’s vender. Locating the man, Mondo spent a few minutes talking enthusiastically to him about various motorcycle types, the words flying over Taka’s head, though he did his best to follow along. At one point, it turned out the man actually knew Mondo, though he’d not recognized him in his costume at first, and it was revealed that the bike Mondo had been looking at was actually modeled after his own bike. Taka could tell the attention both embarrassed and greatly pleased the biker, though he’d done his best to hide it. He’d even been given a really steep discount for the recognition, which Taka had thought was nice of the man to do!

Eventually, Mondo had finished his purchase, slapping the vender on the back and giving him a thumbs up. After that, he and Mondo left the booth, Mondo muttering a quiet apology for taking so long. 

“You need not worry, kyoudai! I did not mind the wait at all! Besides! It is the least I could do after making you wait so long!”

Mondo had smiled at him, bumping his shoulder gently, before the pair lulled into a comfortable silence as they wandered the remaining booths. After a few minutes, Taka blinked when something was thrust before his face, his eyes going cross as he looked to see what it was. And when he finally did...

“Here. Uh... fer you,” Mondo had muttered softly, his cheeks blushing a light pink. Taka’s cheeks had flared red as well, the powder he had on doing nothing to disguise it, as he looked at the bag containing the replica motorcycle that Mondo was stiffly holding out. 

“W-what?! But kyoudai, you bought that for yourself! D-do you mean you’d like me to hold it? B-because then I will gladly-!”

“No,” Mondo interrupted, cheeks turning red, an angry scowl rising on his face. Uh oh, Taka had thought worriedly, he’s starting to get upset... “I got it for you. Uh... ‘snot like it’s a big deal or nothin’... just some stupid trinket, shit...” 

Taka’s heart had practically beaten out of his chest at the muttered words, looking down at the bag with new eyes. Mondo... Mondo had bought the motorcycle replica for... for him??? How... how kind! 

But...

“A-are you sure, kyoudai? I- I know that it was not exactly inexpensive... a-and you’ve already spent enough on me for this festival... I- I would hate to inconvenience you more... kyoudai, I-”

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Mondo had growled then, glaring at him intensely. Taka did so immediately, his lip wobbling against his will, which Mondo (unfortunately) saw. Sighing, Mondo released the tension in his shoulders, smiling at Taka apologetically. “Shit, fuck man. Didn’t mean ta yell. Just... it’s a gift, alright? I wanted ta get it fer ya, so I did. Ain’t like I got a lot ta spend the school’s money on. ‘S just a stupid little thing. Somethin’... somethin’ fer ya ta remember me by. Or somethin’, I dunno. I- I mean, if ya don’t want it, fine, but-”

“N-no!” Taka interrupted, not wanting Mondo to think he was rejecting the kind gift. “I would love to have it! I just... I don’t want to be a burden to you, kyoudai. That is all.” 

Mondo had looked at him, then, halting in the middle of the pathway, not caring that they were blocking part of the aisle. Taka stopped as well, a couple paces ahead, looking back at Mondo worriedly. And the look he found on the biker’s face...

“Y’ain’t ever gonna be a burden ta me, ya hear me, Taka? Not fuckin’ ever. You're prolly the best goddamn thing ta ever fuckin’ happen ta me. So, when I get ya shit like this, little things that don’t mean shit... it’s not even close ta enough ta show ya how grateful I am ta have ya. Got it, ya nerd?” 

Taka had stared at Mondo for several long moments, eyes wide and heart pounding, looking for any hint of a lie. 

But he couldn’t find one. Not at all. 

“T-thank you... kyoudai, I... thank you. Then I happily accept the gift! I… I will find a way to repay you, one day. I promise, kyoudai.” 

Mondo had snorted at his words and continued walking, slinging his arm casually over Taka’s shoulders, not noticing the bright flush that Taka got at the action. 

“Whatever, nerd. Ain’t gotta repay me shit, but if it makes ya feel better, then fine. Don’t stress ‘bout it, though. Now c’mon. Whatcha wanna do now?”

Tension successfully dissolved, the pair wandered for a bit, before Taka noticed that it was almost 11:00. Realizing he wanted to support Sayaka and her band, he suggested they go to the entertainment stage and go watch her performance. Mondo had wrinkled his nose at the idea— not exactly keen on watching a show meant for pre-teenage girls— but had eventually agreed. 

However, as soon as they got there, they realized that the entire makeshift theater was completely full, even standing room overflowing. A lot of security guards (provided by Sayaka’s band, not the ones Taka had contacted for the festival) were doing their best to get the people crowding the area outside the theater dispersed. Taka, feeling regretful he hadn’t thought to plan for this, had been about to turn and leave, thinking he’d just apologize to Sayaka later, when one of the security guards walked up to them. 

“Excuse me, are you Kiyotaka Ishimaru and Mondo Owada?” the man had asked, looking at them critically. Blinking, Taka had nodded cautiously, making the security guard grunt. “Maizono-sama told us to keep on the lookout for people looking like you. Come with me, she’s got some seats reserved for you two.” 

Sharing a confused look with Mondo, Taka had followed the security guard cautiously, and found out that Sayaka had apparently set aside some seats in the front row for their classmates to sit, if they decided to show. Not all of their classmates did, but quite a few had, such as Naegi, Fujisaki, Kuwata, Enoshima, Ikusaba, and, most surprisingly, Kirigiri. When he’d looked at the girl strangely, she’d merely shrugged and said that her father had recommended she go. Figuring it would be rude to question her, Taka had accepted it, smiling brightly at the girl. 

(He didn’t see the way she looked at Naegi, a small frown on her face, her cheeks slightly pink. Even if he had, he still wouldn’t have questioned the girl. It’s not his business, after all!)

Soon after that, the concert began, Sayaka flouncing on stage with her bandmates, looking extremely cheerful and bouncy. More so than usual, even. The songs were... not quite his taste, but he had enthusiastically clapped at the end of each one, smiling brightly at the girl whenever she looked their way. 

After the concert ended, about forty-five minutes later, Taka had spent some time chatting with his classmates, Naegi and Fujisaki smiling at him as they complimented his costume. They were dressed as a skeleton and a famous female programmer he didn’t recognize, respectively, and he’d returned the compliments gratefully, before entering into a pleasant conversation with them while Mondo spoke with Kuwata. Taka had wanted to meet up with Sayaka, to congratulate her on her energetic performance, but she had apparently had to do some business with her band and was busy. This had disappointed Taka a little, but he resolved to speak with her at a later time, then. 

Following that, Kuwata began walking with them, the teen giving him strange looks for his outfit, but not saying anything cruel for fear of angering Mondo again (who had threatened to ‘punch [his] fuckin’ lights out!’ if he made any more negative comments, after the first one). 

It honestly wasn’t as bad as Taka would have thought, but he had felt kind of left out as Kuwata and Mondo talked enthusiastically together about topics that he had no prior knowledge on and thus couldn’t even hope to chime in on. Things like sports and movies and various automobiles...

It was right when he’d been starting to feel the sharp pain of being left out and forgotten that Mondo had put his arm around his shoulder, looking down at him casually as he brought up something about Disney, shifting the conversation to something Taka had actually been able to contribute to, if only a little. Kuwata had kept giving them strange looks from time to time, but he hadn’t said anything, just shrugged and went along with the change. 

After a while (and after a failed challenge for Mondo at one of the ball-throwing games, the biker scowling and cursing at Kuwata while the other teen cackled gleefully), Kuwata decided to split off from them, shoving Mondo as he said he’d see him later. Kuwata had then looked at him strangely for a long moment, before holding his fist out with a look of determination in his eyes. 

Hesitantly, Taka had bumped his fist against the musician’s lightly, knowing enough about his generation to know that such a thing was expected. Kuwata had laughed at him for it— which had made his stomach clench, thinking he’d done something wrong— before the teen punched him none too gently on the arm, smirking at Taka, but not unkindly. 

“Y’ain’t half bad, tightass. Can’t say I particularly wanna be best buds with ya, but eh. S’pose I can kinda see what that idiot sees in you. See ya ‘round, Taka.” 

With that, Kuwata had sauntered away, checking out some of the booths (and the women inside said booths) as he left. Taka wasn’t sure how he felt about the other teen, but he supposed it hadn’t been too awful of a time. Plus, it made Mondo grin at him, the biker happy that his two best friends at the school were getting along. Decently, at least. 

After that, Mondo’s stomach had started to growl, the biker snorting as he said it might be a good idea to grab some lunch, then. Taka had agreed, and the pair had begun walking to where the majority of the food booths were set up, chatting as they went.

And that had led them here, to this moment. Taka talking to Hina while Mondo is off getting the two of them some lunch (which he had insisted on paying for, glaring when Taka tried to weasel his way out of it, Taka trying to say that he could just get a late lunch from the cafeteria later. ‘Ain’t gonna fuckin’ make ya wait ta eat, dumbass. Let me buy ya some fuckin’ food, Jesus.’ Taka had flushed bright red at the words, but hadn’t continued to argue, knowing how futile it would be. Instead, he just said he’d find a way to repay Mondo... somehow. Someday. Mondo had rolled his eyes, bumped his shoulder, and said he didn’t have to, but whatever. Taka was starting to realize that this might be a common occurrence between them...)

Taka smiles down at Hina as he finishes telling her a condensed version of the events, blushing when the girl squeals at the end. 

“Aww!!! It sounds like you two are having a wonderful time! Yay!!” Hina gasps, looking up at him with wide eyes. “You should come with me, though! Sakura is finding us a table while I was supposed to go and get some food... oops... but! We can all eat together! It’ll be great!! Yay!!” 

Taka looks at the girl, his heart speeding up as her words sink in. A-ah... join them... on their... date...

Unbidden, Hina’s clearly wrong assumption from the previous week enters his head, remembering how she had asked if he wanted to go with her and Sakura on a... a double date...

Blushing and feeling distinctly uncomfortable, Taka looks at the girl cautiously, weighing his next words in his mind. 

“Hina... I appreciate your offer! Truly! But... b-but you do know that Mondo and I- that is to say, we are not- um... we’re not...”

“... on a date?” Hina guesses, head tilted to the side. Biting his lip, cheeks still bright, Taka nods curtly. Hina continues to look at him, a sad look entering her eyes, before she smiles brightly, shrugging carelessly. “Yeah, I know that silly! We can still eat lunch together! Sakura won’t mind. You don’t have to, but... well, I thought it would be nice! Sakura and I did miss the concert and all, so we couldn’t hang with you then... and I still feel really bad about that...” 

Taka bites his lip gently again, before sighing and nodding his head wearily. 

“I... ah. Very well then, Hina! We shall sit with you! If Mondo doesn’t mind, of course!” 

Hina smiles brightly at him, nodding happily. Taka takes out his new phone and sends off a message to Mondo, asking the biker’s opinion. Mondo messages back a moment later, saying ‘k. wtvr.’ Taka rolls his eyes at the reply, but he thinks he can kind of... maybe? Understand what the other teen means. 

Following Hina— who is busy texting Sakura with the update— he tries to not let the unease that is creeping in overtake him. He still is holding the bag Mondo had given him, the replica motorcycle sitting innocently inside it— as well as a small stuffed cat that the biker had won during his contest with Kuwata that he gave to him casually— and has to tell himself firmly that this is not a date. Mondo is just a kind, caring person. That is all. 

It takes them a minute, but they eventually find where Sakura is sitting, the martial artist waving a hand to get their attention, dressed in a tight green outfit with a green hat on top. The girl does not really look that much like Peter Pan, but it’s close enough, he supposes, to be recognizable. Especially when next to Hina’s Tinkerbell costume. The table she is sitting at is on the smaller side, a two-sided picnic table, but it seems like it might be big enough for the four of them... if they squeeze...

“Hey Hina. Taka. It’s good to see you,” Sakura states, a slight smile on her face. Taka smiles back, nodding as he takes a seat across from her. Hina bounds over and kisses Sakura sweetly on the cheek. 

“Sorry for not getting the food! I ran into Taka and we just started talking, ya know? I’ll go and get it now! An ahi tuna platter with extra protein, right?” Hina confirms, kissing Sakura’s cheek again when the martial artist nods once. “Great! I’ll see you guys in a mo’! Bye! Have fun!” 

With that, the girl bounces away, leaving Taka and Sakura alone together. 

The silence that surrounds the pair is not... awkward, per se, but it’s not exactly comfortable, either. Taka gets along fairly well with the larger girl, for the most part, but he tends to feel a bit uncomfortable when it is just the two of them alone. Not even mentioning his highly embarrassing blunder at the beginning of the year, there’s something about the girl’s reserved nature that just... is kind of off putting to him, he supposes. Not that there's anything wrong with it! Just... it’s like, whenever she looks at him, she’s looking inside him, judging him, seeing all of his flaws and weaknesses. It’s not that he thinks she’ll mock him for it, or even judge him negatively for it, no! It just... it makes him feel like he’s on display. And he hates that feeling. He always has. 

And when she turns to look at him after a few minutes pass, her pale blue eyes intense on him, he can’t help the way he squirms around her calculating stare. 

“Hina tells me you’re here with Mondo today. How is that going for you?” she asks at last, breaking the silence. Taka blinks, frowning at her as he tries to keep from squirming again. What, exactly, had Hina told the girl...? He knows that Hina promised to not tell Sakura anything that had spoken about, but... how can he be sure...

“Er... yes! We are! We have been wandering the booths together, as friends,” he replies after a moment, unintentionally putting unneeded emphasis on the last two words. Judging by the mysterious look Sakura gives him, it seems she’d noticed... “A-and it is going very well! He is... is getting us some food right now! He is very thoughtful!”

A-ah... perhaps that wasn’t the right thing to say... now Sakura is frowning at him, her eyes piercing, and Taka... Taka feels...

“That sounds very nice of him. You are lucky to have such a close friend as he. Not many have such a treasure. You should feel grateful,” Sakura says plainly after a moment, inclining her head to him. Taka flushes again. 

“A-ah! Yes! I am, very grateful! H-he’s my kyoudai, after all! And he... he was my first friend, so of course I am grateful to have him!” 

Sakura is staring again, and Taka can feel himself starting to sweat... heh, and to think he’d thought it was cold a few minutes ago... aha...

“I am glad to hear that. But he is not your only friend, anymore. I consider us friends, Taka, and I know Hina does too. So does Makoto and Chihiro. You are not alone here. I hope you know that.”

A-ah... her words...

Swallowing down the lump that rises in his throat, he gives the girl a shaky smile. He’s about to reply, to thank her for her words, but gets distracted when he feels someone slide onto the bench next to him, the seat so small that they end up pressed tightly together, from hip to shoulder, and Taka...

“Shit, place is fuckin’ crowded, bro. Didn’t even realize we had this many fuckin’ people who went ta this school, the fuck? Anyway, got ya some beef bento box that looked pretty good. ‘S pretty hot, though, might wanna let it cool down a bit first. Hey, Sakura. How’s it goin’?” 

Mondo looks across the table at the martial artist, grinning widely. Sakura stares evenly back, inclining her head in greeting. 

“Hello, Mondo. I am doing well. Taka was just telling me how you two have been wandering the festival together as friends. It sounds like you two have been having fun.”

Taka can’t help how he flushes, though he isn’t entirely sure why. The girl hadn’t said anything untruthful, after all, so why is he... he... 

“Heh, hell yeah! Festival fuckin’ rules! I usu’ly hate shit like this, the booths lame as fuck, but I gotta say, this shit is tight! Taka did a great job with it, huh?” Mondo exclaims, before wrapping his arm around Taka, grinning down at him, eyes sparkling. And Taka... Taka...

Grk! 

“Hm. I agree with you there. This festival is highly entertaining, Taka. Hina and I have been having a wonderful time together. Thank you for the effort you put into it. It is greatly appreciated.” 

Taka flushes yet again at the praise, looking down at the bento box Mondo had placed before him, grabbing his chopsticks, and poking at it to give him something to do with his hands. Mondo’s arm is still around him and his insides are squirming furiously. 

“Ah, thank you, Sakura! A-and thank you, for what you said earlier! Your words... they mean quite a lot to me!” 

He looks up at Sakura hesitantly, smiling when he sees the small smile that she is giving him. He can feel Mondo stiffen, the biker opening his mouth to say something, but he is interrupted when Hina comes bounding back, holding a tray with two boxes on it. As she places it carelessly on the table, she takes a seat, kissing Sakura’s cheek gently. 

“Hi guys! I’m back! Man, those lines sure are long, huh?? Thanks for letting me cut with you, Mondo! I’d probably still be there if you didn’t, jeez! So, what are you guys talking about???”

Sakura catches Hina up to speed as Taka frowns at the girl. Mondo had let her... cut?! How immoral! He’ll have to talk to Mondo about the importance of honesty and respecting the rules later... again...

(Unbeknownst to him, Mondo has stiffened beside him, Taka too absorbed in his thoughts to notice. Nor does he notice the way Mondo is watching Sakura and Hina, eyes narrowing more and more with the minutes that pass).

Together, the quartet eat their lunch, Hina and Sakura talking about some sports thing they’re interested in, Mondo chiming in every so often with his own opinion. It’s in a lull in the conversation that Mondo speaks, his voice loud and clear, causing everyone at the table to look at him curiously. 

“Yo, Hina. Got a question fer ya,” Mondo states, eyes intent on the smaller girl. With a frown, Hina looks up at him, before smiling politely. 

“Sure Mondo, what’s up?”

“Last week. Ya said ya had a date today, yeah? So, uh... where’s the lucky fella? Or did your plans change?”

The entire table freezes at his words, even Taka stiff as he looks at the two women across from him in shock. He... he hadn’t realized that Mondo... oh... oh dear...

Hina recovers first, shooting an anxious look at Sakura, before looking back at the biker. 

“U-um... what exactly do you mean, Mondo? I am on my date...” 

Taka can feel Mondo stiffening against him, the arm that is still, for some reason, around his shoulders tightening slightly. Oh dear...

“... what?” 

Taka bites his lip at the flat tone, not needing to see Mondo’s face to imagine the blank look he’ll find there. Oh, this is not going to go well...

“U-um... Mondo, I... I mean...” Hina starts, sounding very awkward, before she gets interrupted. 

“Hina and I are on a date together, Owada-san,” Sakura’s steady voice cuts in, slightly louder than usual as she stares intently at the biker, who has gone even more stiff against him. “I asked her out last week, and she thankfully said yes. Do you have a problem with that, Owada-san?” 

It seems like the entire world holds its breath at Sakura’s words, Hina glancing anxiously between the three of them while Sakura just stares at Mondo steadily, not breaking eye contact for a second. Taka is biting his lip nervously, hoping that things don’t go south. He’d known that Mondo wasn’t exactly... welcoming to the idea of other sexualities, but he had thought that... he hadn’t realized that... 

And Mondo... Mondo is just sitting, ramrod straight, staring blankly ahead of him, body so tense that Taka is almost concerned for the biker. He doesn’t say a word for several long, long minutes. And when he finally does open his mouth...

“... Nah. Uh... good fer ya two, I guess,” Mondo mumbles, before taking his chopsticks and stabbing it into his meal, some kind of seafood dish. 

The tension at the table doesn’t fade, the silence continuing for several seconds more. Eventually, Hina lets out a high-pitched giggle, too forceful to be natural, and strikes up a conversation with Sakura about their workout regimen, though the words they share sound somewhat awkward and stilted, even to Taka’s ears. Taka stays where he is, frozen, his eyes glued to his half-eaten meal, his stomach churning far too much for him to have any hope of eating. And Mondo... Mondo...

Mondo removes his arm from Taka’s shoulders quickly, his body still tense as he shovels his food into his mouth, not looking at anyone as he does so. 

This continues for several more minutes, until...

“‘M done. We should get goin’. If y’ain’t gonna finish that, I got a lid. We’ll see ya guys later.” 

The words are flat and cold, Mondo’s posture stiff as he quickly stands, slamming a lid for his food container down in front of Taka before heading for the trash can. And Taka... Taka...

“I- I’m sorry... I... I hadn’t realized that he...” Taka mutters, still looking down into his bowl, taking deep breaths to calm the roiling emotions inside of him. He can feel eyes on him, and he hates it. He... he hates it…

“... Taka... are you okay?” he hears Hina ask him hesitantly, causing him to stiffen. Is he okay? W-why wouldn’t he- they were the ones who- h-he... he- why wouldn’t he...

(Maybe if he deflects enough, it will stop the fierce aching that is radiating through his chest?) 

“I’m fine.” Taka says a moment later, his voice completely devoid of any and all emotion. He looks up, face blank, and nods jerkily at Hina and Sakura. “Thank you for inviting us to eat with you. I hope the rest of your day goes well.” 

Taka stares blankly between Hina and Sakura. He can still see the two girls glance at one another, concern clear in their eyes. Funny. Why would they be concerned for him? He’s fine. He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fi-

“Taka... are you sure you’re okay? I- I mean... Mondo-”

“Taka! What the fuck is taking you so fucking long?!” he hears a voice cut through the din, causing every conversation around them to halt as they look over at the cause of the commotion. Taka stiffens further, before jolting into action, his hands shaking as he picks up the lid Mondo had slammed to the table, putting it quickly on his half-eaten meal, before stuffing the container into the bag with the motorcycle and the stuffed cat. It’s a shame, it had tasted quite delicious too...

“T-thank you again. Do not w-worry about me. I am fine. Have a wonderful afternoon.” 

With that, he stands hastily, not waiting for the girls to say goodbye before he rushes over to where he can see Mondo standing, the biker’s entire body a stiff line. People are still staring at him, whispers breaking out as Taka shakily steps beside Mondo, which just makes the biker even angrier, his eyes glaring at anyone who dares look at them. Mondo storms off without a single look at Taka, a metaphorical storm cloud following the biker. And Taka... Taka does what he always does. 

He follows Mondo. 

The pair walks in silence for several minutes, Mondo not even looking at the booths as he storms through the festival, his anger so obvious that everyone is giving them a solid three-foot breadth, no one foolish enough to try and interact with the clearly pissed off biker gang leader. Taka just follows, like a silent ghost, his skin pale, not caring about the tightness of his pants for the first time that day. In fact, he doesn’t care much about anything at the moment, to be honest... 

Finally, however, as the minutes stretch on, Taka starts to come out of his shock at Mondo’s uncharacteristic (to him, at least) behavior. And a feeling of... of something begins to rise in his chest. Something hurt, and aching, and angry, and... and... and righteous.

“Mondo-” Taka finally manages to say, his heart racing, only to be cut off by the biker abruptly turning and snarling at him. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Mondo growls, his eyes darker and angrier than Taka has ever seen them. And Taka... Taka, he...

He gets fudging pissed off! 

Setting his jaw, Taka grabs Mondo by the arm and begins to drag him away from where they are currently standing, knowing that they are going to need privacy for the conversation they are about to have. Particularly with how angry Mondo looks, and how angry he is starting to realize that he, himself, is. To his surprise, Mondo follows easily, the biker not resisting at all, though he’s still glowering and stomping like a furious child. 

Finally, the pair is in a fairly isolated location, away from the festival enough that no one should hear them. As long as they don’t start yelling, at least...

“What, in God’s name, has gotten into you?! You don’t actually have a problem with Sakura and Hina, do you?!” Taka bites out, his voice shaking only a little as he glares at Mondo, his heart clenching as he sees the biker scowl, eyes dark as he jerks his head. 

“Fuck, I already said I didn’t, didn’t I?! What the fuck is your fucking problem?!” Mondo shoots back, his voice loud and angry. So much for them not yelling... 

Taka bares his teeth, standing straight as he looks Mondo directly in the eye, pointing an angry finger in Mondo’s chest— not caring how rude the gesture is— the biker snarling at the action but not hitting him away. 

“Then what the heck is your problem?! This isn’t like you! Mondo, y-you... tell me you aren’t-”

“Aren’t what?! What the fuck do ya think I fucking am, huh?!” 

Taka stares at Mondo for a moment, everything in him aching and bleeding and raw. But he can’t back down from this. He’s kept quiet on far too many things for far too long. He can excuse things people say and do to him, he always has. He and his feelings are not important. They never have been. 

But when people direct those things to other people... especially when those other people are his friends...

Lifting his chin high, Taka puts his hands on his hips, his face a cool mask of righteousness. 

(At least... he hopes it is...)

“Mondo Owada... are you homophobic?!” 

The word hangs in the air between them as Mondo stares at him, Taka’s chest tight and angry and in pain, waiting, waiting, waiting, needing to hear, needing to find out, needing to know-

“And what if I fucking am?! What does it fucking matter?! You ain’t fucking gay, are you?!”

Taka can’t help the gasp he lets out at the angry words, feeling like his entire world has just shattered apart. He closes his eyes as his lips begin to wobble, but he firmly presses his mouth closed, refusing to show any sign of weakness. Not here. Not... not to the likes of Mondo Owada. 

As the words reverberate through his head, his heart shattering so thoroughly he can’t breathe through it, he tries to find the words he knows he needs to say. He... he...

(For one brief, solitary minute, he thinks about telling the truth. The whole truth. The truth he hides even from himself. He thinks about shouting it, consequences be damned, his heart already so broken that he can’t see how it could get any worse, but... but he... he can’t, he... he can’t, he’s not... not strong enough. He’s too... he’s too weak…) 

When he opens his eyes, he wants to look angry. To look righteous, look powerful and in control. But when he looks at Mondo, the biker looking so angry it hurts him inside to see... he feels himself deflate. And all he feels is cold numbness as he begins his speech. 

“What I am and am not does not matter. A person does not have to be gay to see the inherent value in another human being. I do not care if someone is straight, gay, bisexual, asexual, or any other sexuality in between or outside. I believe they all deserve equal rights and should be treated fairly, regardless of who they love or are attracted to. B-but...” Taka pauses here, before looking at the ground, suddenly unable to look at Mondo, can’t stand to see the anger and the rage. He... he just... “But the one thing I do mind? The one thing that I absolutely cannot abide? Is someone who does not view things the same way. Who… who is cruel to others for reasons they cannot help. As such, I- I... I cannot abide by someone who is homophobic. I- Mondo... O-Owada-kun... i-if you are... if you are homophobic, then... then I...”

“Taka... w-what the fuck are you saying? You... kyoudai, you can’t...”

“Don’t,” Taka interrupts, eyes blazing as he looks up at Mon- Owada, his heart clenching at the look he finds there. Instead of the angry, closed off mask he expected, he sees... he sees... confusion. Panic. The cold sense of realization overcoming him. And Taka... Taka wants to stop, wants to take it back, take it all back, but... but he... h-he can’t... “Don’t call me that. I could never be kyoudai with someone who is homophobic.” 

It hurts him surprisingly a lot to say that, and he wants to take it back immediately. Especially when he sees the look of hurt and... and absolute heartbreak that rises on Mon- Owada’s face, the confusion giving way to understanding. He wants to... wants to do anything to take that look away, to say ‘I didn’t mean it, we will always be kyoudai, Mondo... nothing will change that, nothing,’ but he can’t. He... he’s the Ultimate Moral Compass. What... what kind of moral compass would he be if he... if he goes back on his morals for such a selfish, immoral reason? He supports gay and lesbian people. He always has, more so ever since he learned that such a thing was not accepted by the majority. How can he say that he does, but then turn a blind eye to his best friend, his kyoudai being... b-being... and he hopes it’s wrong, hopes that M- O-Owada is just- just lying, but the more time that passes... the more time that- that passes...

“Y-you can’t mean- kyo- T-Taka... Kiyo, you... t-this... this really means so much to you? You’d be willing... willing to...” 

Taka blinks at the words, the tears that have been steadily wanting to come to his eyes rising harshly at the shaking, almost terrified words, but he doesn’t let them fall. He doesn’t let them fall, he refuses to show weakness, he- 

He-

“Yes.”

The word hangs in the air between them, as Owada stumbles back, looking at the ground, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands clenching and unclenching. And Taka... Taka, he... he has to...

Has to explain, he... he has to. 

“Mo- O-Owada-kun... I... I want to become Prime Minister one day. I have plans— many plans— for what I will do should I- should I achieve my goals. And one of those plans include assuring that members of the- the LGBTQIA+ community... assuring that they are seen as equally as anyone else by the government. And by the people if I can. I- I... I saw... as a child, I saw many people get bullied and abused because of who they were. Who they... who they loved. And I never understood it. Understood what was wrong with people who- who happened to be attracted to people the same gender as themselves. And I can’t say that I am the most knowledgeable about p-people like that... but I have done research. And I know that I want to help people like that. How... M-Mon... Mondo... tell me, how can I say that, but be friends with someone... someone who... who is...”

“I’m not.” 

Taka looks up so quickly at the quiet words that his neck actually hurts, but he doesn’t care. He’s staring at M- Owa- M-Mondo (?), and he can feel... feel hope rising in his chest and he... he’s afraid, he’s so afraid, because what if he’s just saying that? What if he... he’s just saying what he thinks Taka wants to hear? What if he... what if...

He... he does look awfully sincere, though, a voice whispers in his ear, his eyes taking in Mon- Mondo’s face, the biker looking utterly miserable, but not... not deceitful. For a biker gang leader, Mondo is surprisingly bad at lying. About things that matter, at least. He’d learned that fairly early on in the year, honestly, even before they became friends.

Does... does that mean...

“Shit. Fuck. God fucking dammit!” Mondo cries suddenly, his hands going into his hair, his eyes slamming shut as he takes several deep, even breaths. Taka just watches and waits— heart in his throat— for Mondo to collect himself. 

Almost a minute later, Mondo opens his eyes again, a look of... of sadness, and heartbreak, and resignation in them as he smiles sadly at Taka. And Taka... Taka...

“I don’t know why I... why I said I was. I ain’t. I... I ain’t. I know I’m a fuckin’ piece a’ shit, but I ain’t that big of an asshole. In fact, I’ve beaten the shit outta people who are, ya know? People who hate on others fer things they can’t control. My... my second in command, Michi, he, uh... he’s queer, an’ I don’t think any less a’ him fer it. An’... an’ I can’t say I’m completely comfortable ‘round people who are, ya know... gay... but that don’t mean I’m gonna tell ‘em they ain’t got any right ta exist or shit. Or hurl abuse at ‘em, shit. My fuckin’ fucked up shit don’t mean shit ta anyone else.” Mondo pauses here, looking down at his hands, shaking his head slightly. “So, I don’t... I don’t know why I got so angry. Seein’... seein’ Ogami a-and Asahina together... I don’t know. I just... wasn’t expectin’ it. Ya know? An’ I know that’s a shit fuckin’ excuse, but... I just...”

Mondo pauses again, before looking up at Taka, with a look of... of desperation in his eyes, and Taka... Taka, he...

“They reminded me of us, ya know? Two people, so close. Ain’t related, ain’t datin’, but... still- still close. An’ I- I just... seein’ ‘em, together... an’ I didn’t fuckin’ see it comin’, shit, prolly everyone saw it, but I didn’t an’ I just... Taka, shit, I can’t... I can’t-” 

Mondo growls softly, tearing his eyes away and running his hand through his hair angrily. There’s anger in his eyes again, but it... it’s not directed at Taka, Taka knows that, he knows it. Instead, it… it’s…

It’s directed at himself... 

“An’ I fuckin’ understand if ya can’t forgive me for this. I understand... I know you can’t go against your morals and I wouldn’t ask you ta do that, I wouldn’t ever... ‘specially since I know this ain’t the first fuckin’ time I did shit like this, f-fuck... but... K-Kiy... I-Ishimaru-s-san... fuck. I- I can’t promise I won’t do shit like this again. I just... I just get so angry sometimes and I- I can’t control it, it burns inside me, and I can’t make it stop, and I say shit I don’t fucking mean, and it... it fucking terrifies me sometimes, I don’t wanna fucking be saying shit like that, but I can’t... I can’t... s-so I can’t promise I won’t be a fucking goddamn asshole like this again. I want to, but... shit. Just please... please fucking believe me when I say I ain’t fucking homophobic. I’m not. I’m not. At least... I don’t wanna be.” 

The last words are spoken softly, Mondo breathing heavily, his eyes on the ground as he shakes, his shoulders shuddering with his breaths. And Taka... Taka...

“I don’t know. If I can forgive you.”

The words hang in the air, and when he sees Mondo look at him, a look of such intense anguish on his face, he hurries to explain. 

“B-because it is not me you hurt!” (liar...) “Your actions, to Hina and Sakura... i-if... if you want me to forgive you, to forgive what you said... you have to apologize to them. An honest apology. And... and if they accept... then I will forgive you, M-Mondo... but... but you have to...” 

“I will,” Mondo breathes, his eyes wide as he looks at Taka, taking a half step towards him before he realizes what he’d done and jolts back, uncertainty on his face. “I- I will, I fucking- I promise. Shit, was prolly gonna anyway, I was a fucking asshole, I know... actu’ly, shit, no, that’s a lie, I fuckin’ suck at apologizin’ an’ shit... b-but I will this time! T-Taka, I swear I will, I promise. A man’s promise, I’m not- I’m not gonna break this, I promise, Taka, I- I promise, Kiyo-”

Mondo gasps, his eyes closing, and Taka watches as something akin to horror fills his heart, because Mondo... Mondo is...

Crying...

The ice that had filled his veins earlier melts entirely and Taka feels like himself again as he rushes forward, like a puppet on a string. He halts, motion jerking, as he stands in front of Mondo, suddenly uncertain of what he should do, but... but when Mondo looks up, water clinging to his eyelashes, misery drowning him...

“T-Taka...” Mondo mutters, before turning his face away, eyes closing again, fists clenching, body shaking. 

The action spurring something within Taka, he lifts his hand and— before he can talk himself out of it— gently touches Mondo’s cheek. The touch is feather light and tentative, but when he hears Mondo let out a shuddery sob, his eyes opening again and looking at him... he... he feels himself slide his hand up, along Mondo’s sharp jawline until the biker’s cheek is fully cupped in Taka’s palm, the biker letting out a shuddery breath as he turns into it, desperate and needy, and Taka... Taka...

“Taka... I... fuck. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, I- I... f-fuck...” 

Taka feels his heart— somehow— break a little bit more. And so, he doesn’t even try to stop himself as he pulls Mondo in, wrapping his arms tight around the biker, his heart aching as he feels the desperate way that Mondo clings to him, his face burying itself into his neck as warm liquid begins to gather in the hollow of his thin neck. He can feel every shudder Mondo gives, can feel every breath as it puffs against his neck and he... he can’t... 

“I’m so fucking sorry... I- I don’t know why the fuck I’m crying, shit... I don’t... I just… I can’t lose you, T-Taka. I can’t... y-you don’t know what the fuck you mean to me, I can’t bear the thought of losing you... T-Taka...” Mondo mutters against his pulse, his back shuddering as he breathes, his hands shaking as they clutch the leather jacket Taka is wearing. And when he hears Mondo’s next words...

“Please... please don’t hate me...” 

Taka almost wants to laugh. Or cry. Or both, at the same time. To hear his own desperate plea on Mondo’s tongue...

He closes his eyes as everything swirls within him and— when he opens them again— he feels as it all settles. And as he pulls Mondo back, just a little, a small smile on his face that grows wider the longer he looks at Mondo, his eyes roving over every inch of a face he’s come to know so intimately that he could perfectly recall it with his eyes closed... he knows what he wants to say. Knows what he has to say, and it makes him laugh, and it makes him cry, and it’s good. It... it’s good. 

“I could never hate you, Mondo. You... there is nothing you can do to ever make me hate you. I... I may be disappointed, or hurt, or... or something like that. But hate? ... I can’t hate you. K-kyoudai... I could never hate you, my dearest kyoudai.”

He lets out a gasp as— after several moments of stunned silence— he feels Mondo rush forward, both of the teen’s hands rising to grip his face, but not tight. Not painful. It’s tender, and gentle, and reverent, and then Mondo is pressing his forehead to his, firm and present and there, and Taka... Taka...

(Taka has never felt more in love before. He… h-he…) 

“Taka... Kiyo, I... thank you. Fuck, thank you... I will make this up ta you, I promise. I can’t promise I won’t do shit like this again, that I won’t get- get angry an’ say shit I don’t fuckin’ mean an’ shit like that, but... b-but I promise I will try my best not ta. Or ta... ta tell you, or leave the room, or somethin’ if I- if I feel like this again, I can promise that. That I will try. I- I’m sorry I can’t promise more than that, shit, Kiyo...”

“I-it’s okay, Mondo... kyoudai, it’s okay... all you can do is your best. I won’t ask any more than that from you. Your best is enough. It’s more than enough. I believe in you. I... I believe in you, kyoudai... you are not a bad person. I know that you are not. And I will help you. When you… should you feel like this again. I will always... always help you...” 

He gasps again when he feels Mondo press tighter to him, his body pressed fully to Taka’s, every last inch of one another touching. Mondo’s hands are touching his cheeks, and his thumbs are rubbing careful circles under his eyes over and over, and his forehead is pressed to his, and all Taka can see are Mondo’s lavender eyes, tears still making them shine like silver, and he… he can…. he can feel as Mondo leans forward. It’s subtle, it’s not obvious at all, but he can feel the way that Mondo’s breath gets shakier, can feel the ghost of a touch on his lips, can feel rough warmth brush against his lips with every exhale, and Taka... Taka...

Taka smiles. 

And he pulls back. 

“We... we should go back to the festival, kyoudai. Unless... unless you want to head inside? I understand if you do... but we’ve not seen the haunted house yet, and I know you wanted to see that. S-so... do you... want to go?” 

Mondo stares at him, a dazed and confused look on his face, before the biker blinks, shaking his head subtly. And then... then the biker smirks, and he looks like himself again, and Taka... 

Taka is glad. 

(Mondo was upset. He... he was upset, is upset. He isn’t in his right mind. If he was... if he were... he’d have never wanted that. Taka knows that. He knows that. 

It doesn’t stop the bitter pang of regret that fills him as he thinks of what could have been. Had he just... not... pulled back...)

“Heh, I... shit, yeah. I... yeah. I should prolly head to the bathroom first, though. Uh... eyeliner prolly looks like shit, heh... fuck, I really just fuckin’ cried like a fuckin’ infant, didn’t I? Shit, goddammit...”

Taka frowns and crosses his arms, a look of faux annoyance on his face. At least... he thinks it’s faux...

“There is no shame in crying, kyoudai! It just proves that you are human! And your eyeliner looks fine, but we can head to the bathroom if you’d like! It might be a good idea for us both to freshen up!”

Mondo smiles at him, a little shaky but there. The biker nods and then turns to leave without another word. Taka does the same, walking over to pick up the bag he must have dropped at some point, and turns to follow Mondo. 

He stops, though, when he sees the biker has turned back to face him, an intense look on his face as he looks at him. His lavender eyes are darting back and forth as they map out his face, his lips moving silently, the biker clearly trying to find the words to say something. Taka looks at him, eyebrows furrowed, but he doesn’t get a chance to ask what is wrong before Mondo speaks. And the words he says...

“Look. ‘Fore we go back. I, uh... I gotta say somethin’. An’ ya can fuckin’ deck me if I’m outta line, but I wanna clarify somethin’ I said earlier. Or rather... fix it.” Mondo pauses here and takes a deep breath. He looks Taka deep in his eyes and— while he can tell the biker is nervous— he looks deadly serious. “Taka. If you... now, I ain’t sayin’ ya are, or that I think ya are, but... but if you were... ya know... gay. I wouldn’t mind. I... I ain’t... but ya mean more ta me than any fuckin’ bullshit goin’ on in my fuckin’ head. So... I ain’t sayin’ ya are. But... if... then yeah. Y’ain’t gotta be afraid a’ me. Never. Now... let’s go ta see the haunted house. Okay?” 

Taka can feel himself freeze at the words Mondo says. They... they had sounded so sincere... so... so true...

But...

‘Get the hell away from me, you f*g!’

Taka smiles, the expression only slightly strained, and nods his head at Mondo. 

And then the pair are walking, stopping at the bathroom briefly, having to head inside to find one with a mirror. Mondo glares at him with some annoyance when he sees that his eyeliner is, in fact, all smudged (he hadn’t lied, though... he does think it looks fine...), but the look doesn’t last, the biker just sighing as he turns back to the mirror and assesses the damage.

After a moment of staring at his reflection, Mondo bends down to wash his face carefully, washing away the remaining tears and smeared makeup. He then takes out some eyeliner from his jacket pocket and reapplies it carefully with skilled, dexterous fingers. Mondo can’t fix the dark, almost smoky looking makeup around his eyes that he’d apparently put on that morning, but he still looks as amazing as usual with just the eyeliner. When he finishes that, he adjusts his hair, combing through the messy strands with a comb he also has in his pockets, taking out the braids and redoing them carefully, to make it look presentable, at least. 

He then turns to Taka and gestures him to come closer and— when he does— the biker moves to adjust Taka’s hair, which had deflated a little during their, er... argument. Without hairspray (the one thing the biker doesn’t seem to have in his pockets...), Mondo can’t do much, but he is able to take his comb and make the hairstyle look at least a little like it previously had, if a little flatter. 

Once Mondo has determined they look presentable again, the pair leave the bathroom, Mondo snickering as Taka gives a mock glare at a crude joke the teen had tentatively made, their shoulder bumping together as they walk.

They head to the haunted house after that, the line long but not unbearably so. Once they get in, they find that it is so dark that Taka can’t help how his hand instinctively reaches out to grab Mondo’s, to his embarrassment. Mondo doesn’t comment on it, though, just twines their fingers together before Taka can pull his hand back, the grip nice and tight, and takes his bag from him so he doesn’t drop it when he, er... doesn’t scream. 

And then, when they exit the house— Mondo looking at him with a mildly concerned look, Taka definitely not still residually afraid— they just... don’t let go. Not for a little while, at least, not until Mondo sees something in a booth and their hands disentangle naturally, Taka smiling shakily as Mondo picks up some anime thing from a show that he doesn’t know the name of and starts rambling about it. 

And then... later, when they pass Sakura and Hina, Mondo stiffening... he watches as Mondo straightens his back and marches over to the pair, who are eating some donuts together, a look of determination on his face, Taka following after hesitantly. 

The look doesn’t fade even when Sakura stands, glaring down at him (because, he realizes with a start, Sakura is taller than Mondo, something he’d not noticed before, strangely), the biker just looking up calmly. Taka listens as Mondo mutters softly to the girls, his heart swelling as Mondo... Mondo does what Taka had asked and apologizes.

“Look. ‘Bout earlier. I... shit. I was a fuckin’ jackass. I shouldn’t a’ reacted how I did an’ I was fuckin’ shitty ta ya an’... an’ Asahina-san. I... an’ it’s no fuckin’ excuse, but I hadn’t been expectin’ it, an’ I just... I dunno. But I wanted ta let ya know I ain’t got anythin’ against it. An’ I’m actually fuckin’ happy fer ya two, if you're both happy. I know we ain’t exactly friends, but... yeah. Just... I am sorry. Legitimately an’ fully. Y’ain’t gotta forgive me, and I don’t expect ya ta, but I don’t want either a’ ya thinkin’ ya got someone against ya or anythin’. In fact, I’ll fuckin’ make sure anyone who tries ta mess with ya two ain’t able ta fuckin’ breathe properly fer a month. So... I’ll stop fuckin’ ramblin’ an’ let ya get back ta your date, but... yeah. I’m sorry.” 

Sakura looks at Mondo critically for a while, her mouth pulled down into a frown, the look frankly terrifying on the muscular girl, but Mondo doesn’t look away. He just keeps his gaze steady on her, looking into her eyes, face open and honest for once. Hina— who had stood halfway through Mondo’s speech and has been hovering around Sakura’s shoulder— doesn’t say anything either and just looks between the two anxiously, biting her lip gently. 

Finally, after an undetermined amount of time passes, Sakura nods, a small half smile on her lips. 

“It takes a lot of courage to apologize for a wrongdoing. I accept,” she says simply, her smile growing when Mondo gives her a shocked look, before letting out a shaky, relieved laugh. She continues before he can say anything, though, shaking her head slightly. “But you are wrong about one thing. I do consider you a friend, Mondo. That is why your actions earlier had hurt as much as they did. I know that you have... a lot of repressed feelings, but that still does not excuse such behavior. And, while I do accept your apology, whether or not I actually forgive you depends on what Hina thinks. After all, it was not just me you hurt.”

With that, the girl stops talking, looking down at Hina, who looks a bit surprised to be the center of attention, since Mondo is also, now, looking at her. 

After a moment, the girl beams, and bounds over to Mondo, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tight. Taka almost laughs at the flummoxed expression that rises on Mondo’s face, the teen slowly lowering his hands (which had been hovering awkwardly in the air for a few seconds as he tried to figure out what to do with them) to tentatively pat the girl on her back. When she pulls back, she’s still beaming, looking very happy. 

“I’m glad you apologized, Mondo! I also consider you a friend, and yeah, it had hurt to see you react... like that. But I’m glad you apologized to us, and I forgive you!” Hina exclaims, before pausing. A frown appears on her face, and her eyes dart to Taka, concern filling them. She then looks back to Mondo, a look of determined strength in her eyes as she glares at the biker. “On one condition! You have to apologize to Taka too! Since you... you yelled at him!” 

Taka doesn’t quite know how to describe the feeling in his heart as Hina says those words, glaring up at a fearsome biker twice her size without any hint of fear in her stance, but it definitely... it definitely is fond. He sees Mondo’s mouth open, a look of distress filling his eyes as he looks over at Taka, and Taka... Taka decides to take pity on the biker, stepping forward to fully enter the conversation. 

“I appreciate the concern, Hina, but Mondo and I have already resolved our issues!” Taka turns to look at Mondo, then, staring him straight in the eye as he says his next words, smile bright and his eyes shining. “And I have forgiven him! Completely! And he... he and I... we are good.”

He says the last words softer, meant for Mondo only. And when he sees the way Mondo’s eyes light up, his smile bright and happy on his face, looking at Taka like he’s the only person in the world... well...

He finds that he truly means it. 

Hina squeals again, breaking their gaze, and Taka almost laughs as he sees the girl hug Mondo again, the biker still looking awkward at the embrace. 

“Yay! Okay, then I forgive you too! Oh, I’m so happy! We should spend some time together sometime, just the four of us! Like a girl’s night in, but with two boys! We can make popcorn and braid our hair and paint our nails and everything! It’ll be so much fun!”

Taka actually does laugh then at the look on Mondo’s face, which has contorted into an expression of mild horror. But when Hina pulls back, her smile bright, he forces a smile and shakily says, “uh... yeah! Sure... uh...” which just makes Taka laugh again, earning him a glare from the biker. 

As Hina is turning away from Mondo, however, she catches his eye, winking subtly, giggling lightly. And that just makes Taka laugh some more, realizing her sneakiness. It... it’s honestly the most he’s laughed in a while. He can hear Mondo grumble, but then he feels a warm arm wrap around his shoulder. And after that... nothing else matters. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. See ya two later, I guess. Taka an’ I’ll let ya finish your, uh... your date in peace. Stay safe, ya crazy kids...” 

With that, Mondo steers them away, the biker talking about everything and nothing as they wander through the festival, stopping at the booths their classmates have put out. As they walk, Taka feels proud of his fellow classmates for the work they have put into the festival. Even if Mondo scowls harshly at Hagakure’s ‘prediction’ that he will finally get a date before the end of the year (offended at the finally part more than anything), and loses quite a bit of money to Ludenberg’s card game (which is entirely his own fault, since Taka had told him multiple times he should just quit while he was ahead, but no. He had to go double or nothing against the Ultimate Gambler and was shocked when he lost. Idiot, Taka thinks fondly). 

He does seem to like the portrait that Yamada does of them, though, the Ultimate Fan Artist capturing their likenesses very well, Mondo smiling softly at the painting as he tells the artist ‘heh, thanks man!’ Taka feels his stomach clench when he sees the hand painted image of Mondo looking down at the painted image of Taka, his lavender eyes somehow containing the emotions that Taka can’t even begin to explain. Yamada had even painted them as they usually look, not in their costumes, which Taka oddly appreciates even more. Taka takes the time to privately thank the artist as well, who just puffs up and cries “but of course! I am the world’s best fan artist, after all!” 

Taka doesn’t quite understand why him being the best fan artist matters, but he lets the rotund teen have his moment either way. He has more than earned it... even with the hefty fee he charges, though he waives part of it as a thanks for Taka organizing the entire festival. Taka tries to explain that he had just been doing his job, but Mondo loudly talks over him, thanking the artist before grabbing the painting and marching Taka away. Taka tries to glare at Mondo, but he can’t quite manage to mean it. Not when Mondo grins brightly at him, that mysterious emotion swirling in his eyes, making him feel hot and cold and all kinds of wonderful inside. 

The costume contest— which is one of the last scheduled events at the little makeshift theater area— is fun, too, seeing all of the wonderful costumes his fellow students at Hope’s Peak had come up with. Taka even wins ‘Most unusual,’ voted by the panel of judges, which included Naegi and Kirigiri, who had surprisingly volunteered when he’d asked for judges the previous week. He finds it a bit strange, since he hadn’t even entered, but gratefully accepts the ribbon (and coupon for a free meal at some eatery nearby, which he gives to Mondo as repayment for his lunch), smiling awkwardly. Mondo snickers at him, but still beams at him and gives him one of his patented ‘hell yeah!’s. 

Eventually, the festival ends, the night coming and the students heading off to various parties. Taka stays behind to help clean up, Mondo electing to stay with him even though Taka says he can go. Judging by the tightness that he can still see in Mondo’s eyes, even hours later, he can privately tell that the teen is still a little shaken from the events from earlier, his eyes and hands just a bit too intentional for him to ignore. He wants to apologize for the things he’d said, for scaring Mondo like that, but...

But he had meant it. And he still does. It would have destroyed him to stop talking to Mondo, would have felt like tearing out his heart and stomping on it, before tossing it into a garbage fire and then dousing it with acid...  but he’d have done it. He’s spent so long building up his strong moral code and his sense of right and wrong that the idea of going against that is, quite frankly, unthinkable (especially considering that he- that Taka is... well). And if Mondo... if Mondo actually were homophobic...

But thankfully, he’s not. He’s not, and while Taka is still a little uneasy about it all, especially Mondo’s surety that such a thing may happen again (though hopefully not on the same subject), he doesn’t hold any ill will towards the biker. He made a mistake and while he had hurt people, he’d done the honorable thing and had owned up to his mistake and apologized to those he’d hurt. Apologies can’t fix everything, and he is positive that the cracks from this argument will never fully be able to be healed to their former state, but... but maybe the cracks can be filled with titanium gold, and their friendship can be made all the stronger for the struggle they have faced. 

As such, later, after they head to Mondo’s room and watch some more Disney films (Lady and the Tramp, this time. Taka is definitely starting to see a pattern), Taka finds himself settling against Mondo, his head resting comfortably against the firm chest, both dressed comfortably in their night clothes after they’d taken their respective showers earlier. And— as Mondo talks quietly through the movie, telling tidbits of his life as he goes, talking about how he and his brother used to watch this movie over and over as children— part of him is glad they had their argument. It had hurt, terribly, at the time, and he can’t quite say he ever wants to repeat it (for both of their sakes), but… well. It had allowed him to see a side of Mondo he’s never really seen before. Not fully. Something insecure, and raw, and painful, and yet— like every other part of the biker— so utterly beautiful it makes him want to cry. 

And while... while he still can’t tell Mondo his secret, can’t even admit it to himself (not fully, not consciously), it does help him to know that Mondo... Mondo values him and his friendship more than any possible bigotry and bias he may have. That, if he were... gay, that he wouldn’t have to worry about losing Mondo. Because the thought of losing Mondo... it... it...

“Hey, Taka?” he hears a soft voice call to him, causing him to look up, the biker’s face awash in the pale moonlight streaming in passed the curtain that Mondo always leaves part of the way open these days, the light from the movie dancing on his face. His heart— like it is wont to do— stutters at the soft, hesitant expression he finds there. Swallowing the thickness in his throat, Taka turns back to the movie, watching as the dogs parade around, though his focus is entirely on the teen beside him... 

“Yes, kyoudai?” he mutters back, every nerve open and raw as Mondo trails gentle fingers up and down his side, causing gooseflesh to rise in their wake. He freezes minutely when he feels Mondo practically nuzzle the side of his face (his hair still a little damp from the shower he’d taken earlier, only a bit regretful to wash away Mondo’s carefully constructed pompadour), soft and tender. He doesn’t say anything about it though, just stays still and keeps his eyes firmly on the small screen, waiting for Mondo to complete his thought. 

It takes a few minutes, but finally, he does. 

“I know, uh... I know ya said this earlier but... are we really good? I mean, it’s just that, I know I was a fuckin’ asshole ta ya, and I don’t blame ya if ya... if you're still mad at me, and I will respect your wishes, whatever they may be, and-”

“Kyoudai,” Taka interrupts, a frown rising on his face as he looks back to the rambling biker, hating the insecurity he finds there. I wonder if this is how Mondo feels when dealing with me and my issues, he thinks to himself softly. 

He does make his lips turn upwards, though, not wanting Mondo to think he’s upset at him. 

“I told you already. We are good. I... I forgive you, Mondo. Kyoudai. What you did... it hurt, but you apologized and that is what matters. And if such a thing happens again, well... we will deal with it, together, should it occur.” He pauses. And smiles. “But kyoudai... I will not leave you. Not unless you truly, truly want me gone. You are my best friend, my kyoudai, and that is what matters most. And you... for what it is worth, kyoudai... you matter to me, too. Very much. I would hate to lose you, not without trying everything I can to fix it. So... so don’t worry, okay? I am here. We are here... together.” 

Taka is still looking at Mondo and, as such, sees the way his eyes turn suspiciously bright, the biker letting out a shaky laugh at the words as he turns away, trying to compose himself. Taka doesn’t rush him. 

“You... you’re incredible, kyoudai. I’m glad ta have ya,” Mondo states softly. And then... then he...

With a pounding heart, Taka watches with wide eyes as Mondo leans in, slowly and... and...

Kisses his cheek...

Taka can feel his entire body heat up at the sensation of warm, dry lips pressing against the sensitive skin of his cheek, a soft gasp escaping him at the wonderful sensation. Mondo pulls back far too quickly, cheeks flushed bright red and an embarrassed look on his face, but he doesn’t have the mental capacity to think about it too much. He’s still short-circuiting from the kiss...

(God… if only Mondo had aimed a bit to the left...) 

When the movie finally ends, he and Mondo stand as one and stretch, Mondo groaning at the pop in his back. Taka smiles fondly at the soft curses the teen lets out, far less upset at the foul language that he would have been not even a month ago. How far they both have come...

“Y-you, uh... ya wanna, uh... sleepover, kyoudai?” Mondo questions hesitantly, his eyes darting between Taka and the bed, almost nervously. Taka pauses a minute, remembering what happened the previous time they’d slept in the same bed and desperately hoping there won’t be a repeat... but, ultimately, he knows what his decision will be. 

“Of course, kyoudai. After all, we need plenty of sleep tonight! We have a busy day tomorrow!”

Taka will never admit it, not to the biker, but Taka takes great pleasure from the baffled look Mondo gives him. 

“Er... maybe I’m just an idiot, but what have ya got planned fer tomorrow?”

Taka smiles brightly, moving to turn off the lamp as he sees Mondo settling into the bed. 

“What, you do not remember?! Kyoudai, I am hurt! We are going to be going out for a ride on your... hog, remember?”

The gobsmacked look on Mondo’s face is the best thing he’s seen all day, and it makes his heart swell impossibly to see. 

“S-shit, really?! I figured... figured ya wouldn’t wanna, anymore... but hell yeah, bro! If ya wanna... if you're okay with it... then hell fuckin’ yeah!” 

They get into bed together after that, the pair slotting together naturally, like they have done this all their lives, not just a few random times over the span of two weeks. 

And finally, finally, as he drifts off to sleep, head pillowed on a firm yet highly comfortable chest... lazy fingers running through his hair carelessly... soft humming coming from above him...

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt more at peace. 

Chapter Text

“Mm... g’mornin’, kyoudai,” Taka hears a rough voice call as he slowly wakes up, his eyes blinking grittily as gentle sunlight assaults him, making his head begin to ache angrily. He lets out a soft noise of protest, shutting his eyes immediately, willing the headache to go away.

“Mmmm... must it be?” he replies, burrowing his head further into the warmth below him, his head still pounding, but the warmth around him feeling so, so nice. He hears (and feels) a soft chuckling, as fingers come up to gently card through his hair, making him let out a quiet, content hum. 

“Yeah, sorry. Ya wanted ta do homework an’ shit ‘fore your thing with Hina, ‘member? ‘Sides. I, uh... got some things ta get. If, uh... ya still wanna go out tonight. Y’ain’t gotta, but if ya do... well...” 

That makes Taka wake up more, pushing the headache down, his sluggish mind remembering the plans he and Mondo have for that day. He knows that they do not plan on going for a ride on Mondo’s motorcycle until that evening, at sunset if Taka recalls correctly, but he also remembers that Mondo had said he’d get Taka some safety gear first. Plus... he does want to finish up his homework... he’s been so busy with the festival that he’s practically behind!

(Meaning, of course, he’s only two weeks ahead of his assignments, not three. He’s practically failing already!!) 

“Mmm... yes, I know... I’d still like to go, kyoudai... but, mmm... don’t want to... get up...” 

Mondo chuckles again, and Taka feels something press against the top of his head. It takes him a moment to realize that it... that it’s...

Mondo’s lips...

“Heh, yeah. Me neither. But it ain’t gotta be a problem. Got shit ta do. We can, uh... we can sleep over again tonight. If ya want...” 

That makes Taka wake up even more, his eyes blinking sleepily as his heart clenches softly. Sleepover again? That night? They’ve slept over the previous two nights already... at this rate, Taka will never sleep alone in his own bed again...

(Not that that is a bad thing...)

“Y-yes... yes, kyoudai... I think I’d like that!” 

He can almost feel Mondo’s smile as it presses into his hair, before the biker pulls away, his body stretching as he goes. Taka can feel it lengthen against him and it makes him feels... ah... what it makes him feel isn’t exactly important, now is it...

“Then we should get up. C’mon, kyoudai. Got the whole world waitin’ fer us.”

While he understands Mondo’s words and the reason behind them, he can’t help the noise of disappointment that releases from his mouth as Mondo gets up, head aching as he opens his eyes for good. Despite that, he can’t quite help how he tracks the teen with half lidded eyes as he pads through the room. 

Taka intends to get up as well, to get his day started like he always does, but the aching in his skull makes him feel a bit more sluggish than normal, making him want to linger in the bed. He gets headaches like these every so often, usually after periods of great stress or strife in his life. As such, it does not surprise him that his head is choosing now to ache, given everything that has been going on recently. In fact, he’s more surprised that he’s not gotten a headache sooner if he’s being honest! Usually, he doesn’t allow the pain to stop him even a second, pushing through it with barely any resistance, but here, now... surrounded by the warmth and comfort that Mondo’s bed provides... nose assaulted by the scent of Mondo... he just...

He doesn’t realize he’s staring at the biker absently until Mondo turns to him, his shirt already shirked off, his chest bare, giving him a peculiar look. It still takes Taka a moment to realize what he’s doing (and the implications), but before he can turn away in shame, his cheeks bright red, he hears Mondo’s voice cut through the early morning haze. 

“I don’t mind. Ya... ya watchin’. I mean... shit. Ain’t gotta feel awkward ‘bout it. Happens.” 

His heart and head pounds at the murmured words, watching as Mondo turns back to his dresser, redness spreading down his chest and Taka... Taka wants to look away, still, wants to... to be proper, but... well. He had been given permission... and it’s not like he’s ever been shy about the naked form before...

Taka— knowing it’s wrong but deciding to use his headache as an excuse for his impropriety— lets his eyes look their fill as Mondo removes his sleep pants, his body on display, only a thin piece of underwear blocking... a-ah. His mind keeps screaming at him to look away (especially when that thin piece of underwear is— ah, well. Let’s not dwell on that particular mental image again, shall we. It’s not like he’s ever had a problem with male nudity… and it’s not like Mondo is facing him… and he does have permission…), to not let Mondo know, but... well. Maybe he’s feeling a little daring, his mind still aching, the residual stress and anxiety from the previous day making him lethargic and slow. And maybe... maybe he feels like pushing the boundaries. Just a little. Just... just a hair...

As such, when Mondo turns again, halfway through dressing, Taka— his face flushing softly, his head pounding with his rising embarrassment that cuts through the lethargy just a hair— doesn’t look away. He just keeps on looking, eyes oddly intent, even if they’re a little bleary. And Mondo... he...

He just flushes, and turns back, saying nothing. But not before Taka can see the hint of a smile on the teen’s face, something decidedly pleased about it. But surely that just a hallucination brought on by the rising migraine... clearly... 

Eventually, Mondo finishes dressing for the day, his usual wife beater and loose black pants with an ornate belt in place, his duster still hanging by the door (Taka has been insisting the teen start hanging it up properly instead of throwing it carelessly on his chair, which Mondo has taken to doing begrudgingly), which Taka knows he’ll throw on before exiting. It’s truly incredible how well he’s gotten to know Mondo’s routine after only a couple short weeks... h-ha...

He blinks when he sees Mondo move, the biker striding casually over to the bed, half sitting as he looks down at Taka. After a moment’s pause, he feels a warm, gentle hand brush over his forehead, pushing aside the fringe that is gathered messily there. Taka can’t help how he closes his eyes at the sensation, humming softly with contentment, the hands soothing his pounding head a touch. Mondo chuckles, though when he speaks, there’s a hint of concern in his tone. 

“Heh... ya sure are cute, all sleepy like this... shit, though, y’ain’t sick, are ya? Ain’t usu’ly this, uh... what’s the word ya use... lethargic, or shit? If you're not feelin’ well...”

Taka blinks at the worried words, his nose wrinkling at the meaning. With only a little (okay, a lot) of resistance, Taka pushes away Mondo’s hand and sits himself up, stretching his arms over his head as he goes, ignoring the ache in his skull. He can feel Mondo’s eyes on him, and he has to suppress the small smile that wants to rise on his lips at the sensation. He doesn’t even know why he cares, really...

(Liar...)

“I am perfectly fine, kyoudai! I simply am tired, that is all! I do not get... sick,” he says after a moment, turning a faux indignant look to Mondo, hoping Mondo doesn’t see the wince he gives as his overly forceful words cause a spike of pain to radiate through him. Mondo blinks at him, before snorting, smirking at him slightly. 

“You're so full a’ goddamn shit, Ishimaru. Everyone gets sick. Y’ain’t that special.” 

Taka sniffs indignantly at Mondo, getting out of the bed and walking— only slightly unsteadily— over to the dresser, where he’s started leaving an extra uniform. Just to- to prevent any more awkward encounters like that first day, of course... he pushes passed the thought and begins undressing, ignoring the feel of cool lavender eyes upon him. For the most part, at least.

“Not Kiyotaka Ishimaru! My dedication and enthusiasm keeps me from illness! Besides... it’s not like I can afford to be sick! S-since I would hate to miss school!” 

From the look Mondo gives him, he can tell the words unsaid have been understood perfectly, the biker frowning with... with his sympathy in his eyes. But it’s not like Taka is lying, per se. He has sometimes gotten the sniffles, maybe a cough, but nothing that has ever fully debilitated him. Not enough for him to waste away in bed all day, at least! And nothing that he couldn’t handle on his own... like this headache! No use concerning Mondo over something so simple! Even if it does hurt pretty bad...

It’s as he’s pulling on his undershirt that he feels Mondo come up behind him, gentle fingers brushing his side, causing his stomach to clench as he gasps softly. 

“Yeh, don’t surprise me. But, uh... if ya do get sick... ya’ll tell me, yeah? I don’t want ya ta suffer alone. Y’ain’t gotta deal with nothin’ alone anymore, Kiyo. Not when I’m here. Got it?” 

Taka looks over his shoulder, his eyes meeting concerned lavender, and Taka... 

“I promise, kyoudai. You will be the first person I tell. Now! I must finish dressing! I have wasted enough time lazing about!” 

Mondo chuckles at his impassioned words, the biker moving away as he continues to get dressed, fingers only slightly clumsy with the feeling of eyes watching him. 

When he’s finally done, he hears Mondo hum appreciatively, causing Taka to look at him in confusion, head tilted. Mondo smirks at him, shrugging lightly. 

“Ya look good, Taka. Like yourself again. Your costume yesterday was nice an’ all, but this... this is my kyoudai. My Taka. S’all.” 

His cheeks flush again at the compliment, but he smiles in thanks, looking down at his uniform, biting his lip gently. 

“T-thank you, kyoudai! I must admit... while it was, er... interesting, to wear that costume yesterday, I am happy to be back in my uniform! It is much more comfortable!” 

Mondo chuckles again, rolling his eyes at him when Taka turns back to face him curiously, a grin on his pale lips. N-not that Taka is staring or anything…

“‘Course ya’d say that. Your uniform looks uncomfortable as shit, but ‘course ya like it. Ya fuckin’ nerd.”

Taka pouts at the comment, crossing his arms indignantly.

“It is not uncomfortable at all, I assure you! Perhaps, if you were to try to wear the uniform the school provides-”

“Oh, please. Not this shit again. I ain’t wearin’ that shit. Not a fuckin’ nerd.”

That makes Taka scowl falsely, his hands falling to his hips to show his supposed displeasure. He then glares at Mondo with faux offense, ignoring the ache in his head as he does so.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing! What is wrong with being a ‘nerd?’” Taka asks, lifting his hands to put air quotes around the word nerd, something he knows that Mondo hates when he does, calling it ‘fuckin’ lame.’ That just makes him want to do it more, to be honest... he’d never known he could be so petty! It’s fun! When it’s only playful and not at all serious, of course.

He can’t help the smile that rises on his face at Mondo’s frozen look, though, the teen clearly realizing that Taka has him trapped. After all, he calls Taka a nerd all the time, and if he admits that there is something wrong with looking like a nerd... aha.

“Aw, shut the fuck up! Maybe a nerd like ya can pull off the nerd look, but I ain’t like that. My gang’d fuckin’ kill me if they ever caught sight a’ me in that lame getup. Now, the fuck is the point of this conversation? Fuckin’ asinine. Hurry the fuck up an’ get outta my room, ya fucker.” 

Despite the heated words, Taka can see the smile on Mondo’s face, the sparkle in his eyes belying the harsh insults. And besides, the fact that Mondo had used the word asinine, a word that Taka is certain Mondo had never heard before meeting him, let alone used... well. It makes something warm and fuzzy develop in his stomach, making him smile brightly at the teen. His head is still aching from the steadily growing migraine, but the longer he’s awake, the easier it is to handle. He should head to the dining hall and get some tea soon, though... that usually helps when he starts to feel like this. If it gets really bad, he can head to the nurse and grab some pain medication, which he ran out of a little while ago and hasn’t been able to replace. But doing that means leaving Mondo...

“Hm... fine, if that is what you wish, kyoudai! I will head and make myself some tea, then! Will you… ‘text me’ when you are ready? For later?” 

Mondo blinks at him, before smiling brightly as he nods, an excited light filling his eyes at the reminder of later. 

“Hell yeah! I’ll prolly be busy most a’ the day gettin’ the shit we’ll need together, but I’ll text ya when it’s all ready. Should be ‘round 4:00 or such, right ‘fore sunset. I’ll see ya later, yeah? Have fun studyin’ an’ shit.” 

Taka smiles brightly at Mondo, his feet bringing him forward without conscious thought, his arms rising to wrap around Mondo’s neck almost on instinct. He’s not entirely sure why he does it, other than he’s just... not feeling his best and he’s always been a lot clingier when under the weather (one of the main reasons he hates being sick, to be perfectly honest). He’s not often the one to initiate contact, too awkward and insecure for it more often than not, but when he hears Mondo’s startled inhale of breath, followed by his warm arms wrapping tight around him... hm. It might behoove him to do things like this more often! 

“I shall see you later, my kyoudai!” Taka exclaims as he (very reluctantly) pulls away from the embrace, smiling brightly. He flushes, yet again, when Mondo lifts a hand almost absently and brushes back his fringe again, which keeps falling into his eyes. Hm... he should probably cut his hair soon, this is starting to get a little ridiculous... but, well. If he does that, then Mondo won’t have any excuse to do this, now would he? Still... it’s starting to get unprofessional...

“Heh, yeah... see ya later, kyoudai. Don’t, uh... don’t forget your gift, ‘kay? ‘S on the dresser.” 

With that, Mondo pulls back, soft blush on his cheeks, to head into the bathroom. Biting his lip, Taka looks to the dresser, seeing the box containing the replica motorcycle Mondo had purchased for him at the festival, his heart swelling as he remembers. He ignores the memories of the other events of the day, not wanting his pleasant warmth to be tainted by the memory of their fight. He’s forgiven Mondo. It’s fine. He’d even managed to finish the leftover food during dinner the day before, so he hadn’t had to feel bad about wasting food. 

Pushing all negative emotion out, Taka walks to the dresser and picks up the box, cradling it in his hands carefully, feeling almost reverent as he does so. He’s never been given a gift before. Not really, not without any other motive behind it other than because- because the gift giver wanted to give it. His father tries to get him something on holidays and birthdays (when he remembers), but it’s always something practical. A new lamp. A replacement backpack. Things that have use; have value. Not a figurine that, ultimately, serves no purpose but to... well, look nice. And to remind Taka of the gift giver whenever he sees it...

Heart swelling, Taka heads reluctantly to the door, looking over to the bathroom one last time. 

“Goodbye, kyoudai! I hope you have a good day!” Taka calls out, unable to resist the one last goodbye. He hears some fumbling from behind the door, before he hears Mondo reply with a warm ‘see ya, kyoudai!’ Smiling brightly, he opens the door and heads out, box still in hand. 

“Oh!” he hears a soft voice peep the minute the door clicks shut behind him, making him look up in fright, head aching with the abrupt motion. He settles somewhat when he sees that it’s only Fujisaki, her eyes wide as she looks at him. 

Feeling strangely like he’s been caught doing something he’s not supposed to— even though he isn’t!— he feels a bright blush bloom on his face, his teeth biting his lip nervously. 

After a minute passes and Fujisaki is still staring at him with wide eyes, he shuffles awkwardly, wanting to say something but just... not knowing what. He often feels like that, in the girl’s presence. It’s not that he doesn’t like her, not at all! Just... well. For the most part he just... he just feels bad. 

Taka tries not to think of it often, but when he looks back to how he’d treated her, at the beginning of the year... the way he’d ignored her tentative overtures of friendship... well. Now that he no longer hates himself quite as much as he used to (because while the feeling is still there, nestled deep in his heart, Mondo and his gentle compliments are doing wonders for his self-confidence), he can see that he’d been unduly cruel to the girl. She’d been offering him overtures of friendship and he’d allowed his own issues and insecurities to cloud his judgement, leading him to reject her without any real reason. After all, she had never, at any point, done anything to indicate she was being deceitful in her advances, and yet he... he had still... well. 

Mostly, it makes him feel ashamed. Especially now that his main reason for rejecting her is obsolete, given that he has allowed himself to have friends, even though none of them technically know about his secret. Not even Mondo, really, though he knows more than the rest. And while part of him does feel anxiety at the thought of them all— even Mondo— abandoning him should they find out the whole truth... it’s not enough to make him ruin what he has. Not like it was at the beginning of the year, with Fujisaki and Naegi. 

Because of this shame he feels, he feels a bit of awkwardness whenever around the young programmer now, and he just... he doesn’t know how to make it better. He doesn’t know if it wouldn’t just be better to leave the girl alone, his mind always telling him that she’d be better off without you, she doesn’t need an idiot like you, leave her alone, which makes him feel even worse, to be honest. He just... doesn’t know what she would want most. He can’t get a read on her, either, her wide eyes full of emotion that he can’t hope to understand...

Another moment passes in awkward silence, before Taka decides to man up and speak first. 

“A-ah... hello Fujisaki-kun! Er... how are you this morning?!”

He tries not to cringe at his stilted sounding words, sure that the awkwardness is radiating off him in droves. He can’t help it though, he’s just an awkward person by nature... plus, he’s already not feeling one hundred percent... 

Luckily, Fujisaki snaps out of her daze at his words, blushing lightly as she stammers a reply back. 

“O-oh... good morning, I-Ishimaru-san! I am doing well. Um... and you?” Fujisaki asks, her eyes darting to the door he is standing in front of, almost unbidden. Mondo’s door...

Flushing, he looks down at the ground, feeling strangely caught again, even though he’s done nothing wrong! H-he and Mondo are friends, kyoudai, and there’s no rules against it, so there’s nothing- nothing weird about them sleeping over! E-even if they do sleep in the same bed... while cuddled together... Mondo kissing his hair and pressing hands tight to his skin… watching each other as they change… i-it’s nothing strange! R-right...? 

Knowing he has to answer soon, or else things will get even more awkward, he looks up at the programmer with a strained smile, shrugging lightly. 

“A-ah! I am doing well! I was just, er... grabbing my souvenir from the festival yesterday!” he exclaims, his sluggish mind thankfully picking up on what he can say. And it’s not, technically, a lie! ...not really... “I left it in Mondo’s room after watching a movie last night and I wanted it back! Aha...” 

The girl stares at him with wide eyes again, before blinking, looking away with a soft blush. She looks back after a minute, a small smile on her lips. But... but is it just him, or does something about it look... strangely... sad...? 

“Oh, that makes sense. You... y-you and Owada-san have gotten really close, recently, haven’t you...?”

Taka feels his heart race at the girl’s soft words, something akin to panic rising inside him. She- she isn’t... she’s not implying anything, is she? H-he... he’d told her why he was in Mondo’s room, and while, yes, he’d technically been lying, the girl didn’t seem to distrust his word... o-or- or did she? Did she- does she think that- that he and Mondo... that they were-

He’s startled out of his panicked thoughts when Fujisaki continues, her voice soft and... and... does she sound... sad? 

“T-that’s good! I... I’m glad you’ve been making some friends, Ishimaru-san! You... you deserve them...” 

Taka’s heart clenches at the quiet words, the girl looking down at her feet as she crosses one arm over her chest, clutching her other arm awkwardly, like she’s feeling uncomfortable. And Taka... Taka...

Taka frowns deeply, the rushing of shame that fills him too much for his aching mind to handle. He can’t say for sure, since he still is so woefully inept at all things relating other people, but he thinks that maybe... well. Maybe Fujisaki is feeling sad right now. And maybe... maybe it’s because of how she’d been among the first to extend the hand of friendship to him, and he’d ultimately rejected it. And while he has seen her ‘hanging out’ with Naegi sometimes, or sometimes Kuwata, more often than not he finds her by herself, sitting alone. Not really talking to the other girls, but not spending much time with the boys, either.

And now... now, here he is, with four new friends under his belt, and a few others he is friendly with, even though he’d been so cruel to the first to offer him such a branch. In his tired, aching mind, with the rushing shame filling him, he can’t help how devastated the thought makes him feel. H-he... he’d been so rude to her! And maybe she doesn’t actually care, maybe he’s misreading the whole thing, but the more he thinks about it all, the more and more guilt comes to eat away at him. And he thinks about how he... he has to make this right! Somehow... somehow, he has to make this right...

“A-ah! Thank you, uh... Chihiro...?” She’d told him he could call her that once, yes? Shoot, don’t think about it, keep going, stupid- “W-would... would you like to join me for breakfast?! I-I need to put my souvenir in my room first, b-but after-! We could... could eat... together...?” 

Ah! Why had he asked that?! Stupid! He’d let his feelings of guilt and the sluggishness of his mind get the better of him, and now he’s making an utter fool out of himself, bothering the poor girl when she’d not done anything to indicate that she’d want such a thing— other than look sad, which the emotional girl always looks! His face is bright red, and his head is throbbing, his embarrassment and awkwardness reaching peak levels. 

To make matters (somehow) worse, Fujisaki is just staring at him again, her eyes wide, and as the seconds pass, Taka starts to feel more and more self-doubt, his hands shaking as thoughts assault him. Oh... oh dear, what if he’s offended the young girl? What if Mondo and Kuwata had actually been right and she never had wanted to spend time with him, the girl merely trying to be polite at the beginning of the year? Yes, she had looked sad earlier, but how can he know what that look had meant? Maybe she was sad to be in a conversation with him and is now feeling even more upset! Oh no! Oh dear! He is such an idiot, so pathetic, and stupid, and he doesn’t deserve the friends he has-

“Y-yes! I would... I would love to eat breakfast with you, T-Taka! I-if you really want to... y-you don’t have to, though, it’s really okay...” 

Taka is jolted out of his spiraling thoughts (again) by the girl’s voice. He looks up at her, his eyes wide, and sees her looking at him, a small smile on her lips that fades the more that her doubts come in. By the end of her sentence, she is looking at the ground again, her arm tight around her waist, looking self-conscious, which is a feeling he knows all too well. He’s still feeling it now, in fact... but the more he watches Fujisaki (or is it Chihiro? He... h-he doesn’t know...) as she fiddles with her skirt, the more the feelings start to, well... settle inside of him. 

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever stop feeling so self-conscious and so self-depreciating, but he does know that he doesn’t feel quite as miserable as he once had, weeks and months and years ago. At some point over the last two weeks— he isn’t quite sure when— he’s... he’s started to trust himself more. To trust his friends more. Mondo at least partially knows his secret— his original secret— and while the others don’t, he doesn’t... well. He doesn’t worry as deeply as he once had about losing everyone if it should ever be revealed, trusting in Mondo enough to truly believe that he’d not let something like his grandfather and his history get in the way of their brotherhood... at least... he hopes...

(And... and as for his second secret... his newer secret-to-even-himself secret… well. Hina knows that, and he’s fairly certain Sakura does, too. And Mondo... Mondo may not know, but he’d said that- that he wouldn’t hate him if he- if he were-)

So, with shock, he finds that it’s almost easy for him to push aside the gnawing self-doubt and self-loathing and smile at the girl, the look a little strained but kind regardless. And when she looks at him through her eyelashes, he nods as quickly as his still aching head will allow, suddenly needing her to understand that he does mean what he is saying...

“A-ah... y-yes! It would be a great honor for you to eat breakfast with me! I have a- a later appointment at 8:00, but until then I should have plenty of time to eat with you, if you so desire! And... a-and perhaps if you’d like... p-perhaps we can even study together? N-not right now, if you do not wish! B-but maybe...  sometime? I- I know you’ve asked that, before...” 

His words are more awkward than he wants them to be, and he’s just about to scrap the whole thing, feeling discouraged at the open shock on Fujisaki’s face (and he supposes it is Fujisaki, still... he really shouldn’t feel as disappointed by the thought as he does...), but before his thoughts can spiral any further, he watches with amazement as the girl smiles, wider than he’s ever seen it. And while her eyes are still misty and she has an air of sadness still clinging to her, Taka doesn’t think he’s amiss to say that she... well, that she looks almost happy.

“O-oh! I would... I would love to, um... Taka! I-it’s... is it okay for me to call you that? I- I probably should have asked first... s-sorry...”

“No need to apologize, C-Chihiro!” Taka blurts out, stumbling over her name, not wanting to offend her by not using it, if she wants to call him by his nickname... and then a thought comes to his mind and he gently bites his lip as he carefully places a hand on her shoulder, hoping it to be reassuring, like it is to him when Mondo does it... “Of course you may call me Taka! We... we are friends, after all! ... r-right?” 

The words come out a lot more confident than he truly feels, even if he stumbles at the end, but Chihiro doesn’t seem to mind. She just smiles widely again, nodding her head. 

“Y-yes! W-we are! At least... I see us as friends. Um... t-thank you, Taka. For... for inviting me... it- it means a lot...” 

Taka smiles at the hesitant girl, squeezing her shoulder gently before pulling it back. 

“You needn’t thank me! In fact, I should be thanking you! You were always so kind to me, at the beginning of the year... a-and I realize now that I was... er... kind of cruel to you... b-but! I wish for us to start over! If... if you can forgive me, that is... because I am- er. I am sorry! For my behavior!”

Taka cringes at the awkward words, cursing himself for his foolishness. A-ah... why had he said that? He means them, yes, but... b-but he hadn’t meant to sound so uncertain, so... awkward. And the worst part is that part of him wants to keep going, to ask forgiveness for everything, for ignoring her, for thinking unfairly about her, for being so needlessly cruel by rejecting her kindness... but he knows that he can’t. Knows that if he keeps going, he’s has a high likelihood of sabotaging any friendship they might have before it even starts. And he... he finds that he truly doesn’t want that, truth be told! He’s always liked Chihiro and her quiet nature quite a lot. N-not like that, of course! But, well... like a friend. It’s why he’d been so distressed at the beginning of the year at the thought of bullying her into spending time with him, to be honest...

His heart starts to beat fast when he notices Chihiro looking at him with her wide eyes again, before her eyebrows furrow, her head tilting with confusion. A-ah... that doesn’t look good... 

“U-um... okay? But I- I didn’t notice you being cruel to me... w-what do you... what do you mean?” 

...ah! Oh dear! 

Taka bites his lip at the almost upset look on the girl’s face, her eyes more watery than usual, and he feels even worse. Oh dear... he’d thought she’d recognized what he’d done... thought she could tell that he’d been purposely avoiding her, though not for the reasons she probably would have assumed... but- but now he realizes that she hadn’t, and now... now... once she realizes the truth, she is going to... to hate him... 

W-well! That doesn’t matter! Because now... now, he has to own up! Be honest! It is the moral thing to do! 

Even if she does hate him after...

“A-ah-! W-well... you were so kind to me, you know. Asking to study with me. Wanting to talk with me. Other than- than Naegi-kun, no one else really made the same effort. Not at first. And I... I ignored you. I was cruel, because...” Taka pauses, his stomach churning as he thinks about what he’s about to confess. But... but maybe he owes it to her, to let her know that it wasn’t her fault that he is so messed up... “well. Because I’d never had a friend before, and I was afraid that if you got to know me— truly know me... well. That you’d hate me. Everyone had always hated me before, and I... I was too afraid to try and think that you would be different. But it wasn’t fair to you! You’d done nothing to make me think such a thing! A-and now that I have- have Mondo, I know that friendship isn’t something to be afraid of! It is important! And you... well. If you are still willing, even after what I have said, I would love to be friends with you! B-but it’s okay if you have changed your mind! No pressure!”

There! He’d confessed! His insides feel like they’re about to squirm out of his body, and he feels like he’s about to pass out, but he’d done it. And now... now it’s up to Chihiro if she accepts or not. And if she doesn’t... w-well! That is her decision! She has a right to... to not forgive him for his deplorable actions! 

God, his head is hurting...

It takes a few moments for his words to sink in, the girl still frowning at him in confusion for several second after, but once they do, she blinks. And then she looks down, a frown on her face. And then...

“O-oh... I hadn’t noticed. I always just thought you were, you know... too busy. But... but I think I understand what you mean. I... um... I never had too many friends, either. I still don’t, not really... Makoto talks to me sometimes, L-Leon too, but I don’t know if they really want to or if they just do it out of obligation... and some of the girls also try and talk with me, but I always feel so awkward around them... that, um... that’s kind of why I had wanted to spend time with you, actually. You seemed nice, and you always looked at me when I spoke, asking questions and things, like you were actually listening to me... even when I talked about boring stuff... I didn’t know you thought I would hate you, though! I promise you, I wouldn’t. I- I was more worried that you would... that you would hate me. B-but if... but if you want to be friends with me, then I’d love to be friends with you, too, Taka.” 

The girl is looking up at him now, smiling softly, her eyes shining lightly. And Taka... Taka feels himself smile back, the smile growing the more time that passes. He hadn’t really expected her words, but they touch him deeply. After all... he knows exactly how she feels. It’s how he’s always felt since he was a child. And as he looks at her, something inside of him settles, and a rush of happiness and enthusiasm floods through him, momentarily distracting him from the pain he still feels in his head. After all. He’s just made another friend! He thinks! 

“Yes! I am so happy to hear that! Then it is settled! We shall be friends!” he enthuses, grin bright and happy, pushing aside the nervous churning in his gut. The churning vanishes completely, though, when Chihiro... Chihiro giggles, something he doesn’t think he’s ever heard the girl do before! It’s wonderful! 

“Oh... okay! I will do my best to be a good friend to you, T-Taka! Um... I might not be the best friend, since I’ve never, um... never really had a friend before... so let me know if I ever do anything that bothers you, okay? I want to be a good friend...”

Taka feels his heart clench at the soft words, and— emboldened by the rush of endorphins still assaulting him— he clasps her shoulder again, shaking his head once firmly. 

“You needn’t worry about such a thing! You will be a great friend! You already are! You will not bother me, I promise! Okay?” 

Chihiro looks up at him again with her wide eyes and she... she smiles. And she nods, a light blush on her cheeks. 

“O-okay! O... okay.” 

Taka smiles at her one last time, before looking down at the box he’s still holding, biting his lip gently. 

“Anyway! I still need to put my souvenir in my room, and then we can go to breakfast! Alright?” Taka asks, looking at the girl. She smiles, nodding quickly. He nods back, before moving back and heading over to his dorm, one room down. He fishes his key card out of his pocket and opens the door. 

He finds himself pausing before heading in, though, and looks back over his shoulder. Seeing Chihiro standing there, still holding her arm awkwardly, he... he realizes he doesn’t want to leave her alone. Not so soon after becoming friends with her... when he thinks of himself, he thinks such a thing would have hurt him tremendously, had it happened with Mondo after the sauna. And Chihiro... well. She does so remind him of himself...

“Chihiro! Would you, er...” he pauses here, not sure what exactly he means to say. But when she looks up at him, eyes still wide, head tilted, he knows he has to say something. Well, here goes nothing... “ah. Would you like to come in, while I put my souvenir away?! That way, you don’t have to wait for me outside! I mean, if you-”

He doesn’t even get a chance to finish his self-conscious words before Chihiro is nodding, smiling brightly. Smiling brightly back— pushing down the nerves— he holds open the door to her, trying not to think about how this is the first time he’s ever had a girl in his room before. W-well! At least he always keeps his room nice and tidy! 

Taka enters the room after Chihiro, shuffling a bit awkwardly as he realizes he’s not quite sure what to do now. All of his other friends have been more outgoing than him, even Sakura. It’s never been up to him to keep the conversation going before... ah. Hm. Well! It seems he will just have to learn! 

At least right now he does have something to do. After his moment of awkwardness, he strides into the room, heading over to the counter space that he has his kendo sword leaning against. He doesn’t have any personal items there, as he doesn’t really own anything that would be deserving of such a prime place in his room. Well... he used to not have anything...

“Y-your room is nice, Taka. I, um... I like your posters,” Chihiro calls to him, causing him to look over his shoulder at the girl. She looks very uncomfortable, her eyes darting around but seeming reluctant to look at anything for too long, like she doesn’t know if she has the right. Ah! Oh no!

“T-thank you! You may look around, if you’d like!” he offers, though he blushes when he sees Chihiro blush. A-ah... perhaps that wasn’t the right thing to say...? He doesn’t know, it’s not like he’s ever had a friend over before! Well... other than Mondo, of course, but the biker never really seems to care about social niceties and such. And his parents never had friends over either, since they were as much of social pariahs as he was...

“O-oh... okay! Thank you!” 

With that, Chihiro starts moving slowly, taking a closer look at the posters he has on the wall. A-ah... so it seemed it was the right thing to say... 

He watches the girl as she looks at his few wall hangings for a moment, glad he has nothing strange on his wall (like Mondo does, with his large wall hanging with his gang’s name on it... Taka had found the cloth backdrop a little strange at first, not really sure of its purpose, but now that he’s gotten used to it, the plain design is more endearing to him than anything else now). For him, he mostly has cheap motivational posters he’d found on sale at the general store, ones that had once helped to inspire him when he was feeling the most hopeless. He doesn’t need them as much, not now, but he has some sentimental attachment to them, he must confess. He also has some school guide posters, with equations and facts on them. 

She moves on quickly from looking at the posters, to looking curiously around the room. Honestly, for the most part, his room is pretty barren... of personal items, at least. Obviously, he has his textbooks and other school supplies carefully aligned on his desk, neat and tidy like always. He also has his kendo and exercise gear, as well as an iron and ironing board that he’s borrowing from the school, after asking the headmaster to borrow one following the last disaster at the laundry room. He had only meant for one day, to make it easier on himself, but the headmaster had laughed and said he could keep it the rest of the year if he’d like. Beside that is a rack where he hangs up his arm bands, to keep them straight. 

However... other than that, he doesn’t really have much in his room that is personal or sentimental, most of his valuables either having been sold years ago, or left at home, to keep them safe (like his mother’s old, hand-written cookbook, which he’s read enough times to have memorized by now, anyway). He realizes now though that— in his room at least— there’s nothing he has that is truly personal and his, to be honest. Well. Except for-

“O-oh... is this your mom? She’s- she’s really pretty...” 

Taka feels himself freeze at the words, his eyes wide as he looks over at Chihiro, who is holding the picture frame he keeps at the edge of his desk, usually facing away from his bed since seeing it often pains him. A-ah... he’d... he’d forgotten about that...

Putting the box that he is still (for some reason) holding down, he walks over to Chihiro almost in a trance, looking at the picture over her shoulder, even though he’s long since memorized it. He still can’t help the way his heart clenches at the sight of it, even as a small smile rises on his lips. 

The picture lovingly framed shows a rare truly happy and peaceful time between his mother and him. He’s around five in it, Before everything changed. His face is rounded and chubby with baby fat, his eyes squinting as he grins brightly for the camera. His mother is laughing, her scarlet red eyes he’d inherited also squinting as she looks at the camera, the fatigue and sadness that was always on her face After not present then. They are pressed close together, his mother holding him in her arms with their cheeks squished together as they both laugh, for reasons he doesn’t quite remember. It’s spring, the cherry blossoms in full bloom, falling gently around them as they laugh. His father had taken the picture, he remembers, the man happy as he caught the moment of joy. It... it’s a good picture. A nice picture. A nice memory.

It’s his favorite picture of him and his mother, honestly. They’d never been the type to take many photos Before and could never afford a camera to take any After, even if they’d wanted to. Part of him— he is ashamed to admit— is happy for that fact. He likes the fact that his mother will always remain like this in his mind. Happy, and laughing, and healthy. Not the wan, sickly figure he remembers her being, right before her death. He feels awful thinking it, but... 

“Y-yes...” he finds himself muttering, realizing he’s been quiet for far too long. “Thank you.” 

Another awkward silence overtakes them, before Chihiro looks back at him, biting her lip gently. 

“Are you... are you two close?” 

“... yes. We... we were.” 

The silence returns. 

“... o-oh...” 

Taka takes a deep breath, his heart aching softly as he turns away from the picture and looks at Chihiro, smiling softly at the girl, feeling bad about the worried expression he finds there. Biting his lip, he shrugs slightly, looking back at the picture. 

“She, u-uh... she died. When I was eight. Cancer. We... ah. W-we couldn’t afford her treatment. I... I had to watch as she faded away, unable to do anything to help. And one day she just... never woke up. No matter how much I... w-well. I-it... it was not an easy time, to say the least. Especially for my father...”

And that’s a huge understatement. His mother’s death had... broken the man, in every way. He’d been slowly getting worn down ever since his grandfather’s fall, but he still would find time to laugh and smile. With his mother there, things were good, as long as they all had each other. 

But when she died... he often thinks it was like he’d lost two parents that day, not one. His father had just... faded. He worked, and he ate, and he slept, but... it was like he was a ghost. Drifting through the world; there, but also not. The man had barely spoken for several months after the funeral, looking through Taka like he wasn’t even there...

Taka had had to learn to take care of himself after that, despite the acute grief he’d felt himself. He’d had to learn how to make his own meals and cut his own hair, and find ways to comfort himself, so that he didn’t bother his father. So that he wasn’t a burden. So that he... he wasn’t... wasn’t so useless...

But he doesn’t blame the man! God, no! He loves his father, more than anything! And the pain that he had felt... that he still feels to this day, the pain of losing the one person you love the most in this world... w-when he even thinks of losing Mondo like that... he can’t even imagine what that would be like. What he would become, if he- if he had to... and he’s only known Mondo for a handful of months, been friends with him for even less. His father and mother had been married for over ten years, knowing one another for six more. They’d met in middle school and had quickly became the absolute best of friends, even before they’d started dating, he knows. He can’t... he can’t even imagine what that would feel like, losing someone like that, and he doesn’t blame his father for the sorrow he feels. Especially since he knows his father blames himself for it all. 

Still... it doesn’t make it hurt any less...

“O-oh... I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to bring up a bad memory...”

Taka blinks as he looks at the girl, who looks so guilty it makes his chest ache. He smiles at her shakily, shaking his head firmly, ignoring his aching head yet again, even though it is starting to hurt a lot more now...

“Ah, no, Chihiro! You needn’t apologize at all! I don’t mind thinking about her! It helps keep her memory alive! She... she and I were always close, you know. Remembering her... it’s the closest I can get to her, without her being here. So, please don’t worry. I said you could look, and I had meant it! Now, I should probably finish putting away my souvenir!” 

He doesn’t entirely mean the words he says, though he truly wishes he does. He loves remembering his mother, loves remembering her kind smile and her beautiful laugh, but it hurts, too. It... it always hurts... s-still. He hadn’t wanted Chihiro to feel bad, so he doesn’t feel too guilty on his partial fib. 

Taka forces himself to smile shakily at the girl again, before heading back to the counter he’d left his box at, pushing all the negative thoughts and feelings back into the corner of his mind that he usually keeps them in. He has more important things to do, now... 

As careful as he can, he opens the box and reaches in to take the motorcycle out with reverent hands, his breath hitching when he sees it again. It’s as shining as it had been the previous day, the black paint glistening in the pale sunlight flowing in from the windows, fully distracting him from the sad moment earlier. It is— by far— the nicest thing he has ever owned, and he feels a rush of affection to Mondo for giving him such a precious gift. Especially one that has such meaning...

“O-oh... that looks really pretty...” 

Taka looks over at Chihiro, who has wandered over to him after having put his mother’s picture back, looking at the motorcycle with curious eyes. Taka smiles as he looks back at it as well, the affection and warmth swelling, not minding her curiosity at all. 

“Mondo gave it to me! I’ve never been given a gift before... not one that has no practical value, at least!” he finds himself explaining, smiling softly as he remembers. With deft hands, he takes out the stand the motorcycle comes with, placing it carefully on the counter, directly in the center. He then places the motorcycle on top, adjusting it slightly until it’s just perfect. And then he beams, seeing it alone on the counter, a clear reminder of the person who had given him such a precious gift. 

“That sounds very nice... Mondo sounds like a good friend.” 

Taka looks at the girl again, still smiling. He nods emphatically. 

“Yes! He is the best friend I could have hoped for! He- he has helped me so much over the past few weeks!” Taka exclaims, bright and happy. Chihiro smiles brightly at him, the happiest he’s seen her yet. 

“Well, I’m glad! I’m glad you have someone like him, Taka... it makes me happy.”

Her soft words make him feel even happier, especially since he can tell she’s being sincere. He doesn’t reply, though, not with words. He just smiles, and lets his smile speak for him. 

After a moment, he looks at the clock, and winces slightly as he sees the time. 

“A-ah, we should head to breakfast! I had wanted to study before meeting Hina, so we should eat quick! Would you like to join me while I study after we eat?” 

Chihiro nods, saying she would love to, and with that, they exit his room and head to the dining hall together, chatting softly about this and that, the conversation only slightly stilted at first until they find a rhythm and things get easier. Taka is finally able to drink a cup of tea and eat some food, and while it doesn’t cure his headache entirely, it makes the pounding easier to manage. He can feel his mind and heart settling as he smiles at the girl across from him as she enthusiastically talks about programming, comfortable at last now that she is in her element. 

Later, in the library, as Chihiro sits quietly across from him as she works on her homework, Taka takes a moment to feel glad that he’s done this. That he’s extended the branch he’d initially denied, asking Chihiro to be his friend despite their rough start. He has a feeling this friendship will be a bit more work for him, that he’ll have to put in twice as much effort as his other friendships, but he doesn’t mind that at all. In fact, he has never minded putting effort into things! As long as he knows that Chihiro does, in fact, want to be friends with him... well. Then he doesn’t mind having to put in all the effort in the world. She is a wonderful girl, and he thinks that- that if he... well. If he weren’t so focused on school, she might be the kind of person that he’d want to be with. Romantically speaking. 

(And if he weren’t already so in love, that is...)

But as it stands, friendship with her is more than he could have hoped for, after all he’s done. And, with this success under his belt, he starts to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t do the same to Naegi. Or... Makoto, as the boy had once told Taka to call him. Despite his still low self-confidence, he’s sure that the kind-hearted boy would understand his reasons, same as Chihiro had. Maybe they could become friends, or maybe not, but at least he might be able to get over his guilt at how needlessly callous he’d been. Because now that he’s allowing himself to think on it... he realizes that it has been eating at him for months now. Late at night, when sitting beside Mondo, he’d been churning with guilt over how he could have something nice like this, and yet have been so cruel. 

Speaking with Chihiro— the one he, arguably, had hurt the most— apologizing and befriending the girl... it had made a weight he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying lift from his shoulders, leaving him lighter and freer than he’d previously been. And yes, he still has Makoto to speak to, but... he’s hopeful. Hopeful he will be able to make another new friend, hopeful that things will finally, finally be okay. He’s been pushing all of his hope away, even with how close he and Mondo have grown, terrified of it all falling down around him. 

But now? In this moment? 

Now, he and Mondo have survived their first big fight as friends. Now, he has managed to befriend not just one, not just two, but four additional people, mostly on his own. Now, he has started to make amends for the cruelty he feels he has committed, rectifying the actions he’s done that he regrets. Now...

Now, he has things to look forward to. Before, he’d lived each day as it came, not looking forward to things, too afraid that things would fall apart for him to even dare hope for anything more. He’d kept to himself, contained in his small bubble, too terrified to ever leave it. 

But now... now, he has a swimming ‘date’ with Hina (as she calls it), after which he will probably join her for lunch, with Sakura, Sayaka, Chihiro, and Makoto likely joining them, too (not Mondo, sadly, since he had mentioned that he likely wouldn’t have a chance today, given how he’s preparing). Now, he has a few additional study sessions set up with Chihiro, who seems enthusiastic about the idea.