Chapter Text
Kokonoi Hajime, the self-proclaimed treasurer of Tenjiku. Every year the top sports groups of the school would get a special grant, and Kokonoi would always have a hand in its dispersal of needed supplies.
Yet for some odd reason, Kisaki has a mild feeling that Kokonoi isn't running toward him at top speed to talk about fiscal matters.
"Have you seen Inui?" Kokonoi keels over onto his knees, panting through his words.
Although Kisaki had considered not sabotaging the love life of these two, the way that the situation is all laid out here for him to ruin? It's irresistible.
"I have," Kisaki says with a curt smile, though his eyes are a little too wide for it to be genuine. "He was over at the takoyaki stand, sharing a box with, who was it?"
Kokonoi looks at him with wide eyes, as if Kisaki was about to deliver him a divine message from the top of mount Olympus. Behind him, Kisaki can make out the contestants of the last race. Hanma is a pillar amongst them, standing out even in the midst of the crowd.
Despite being a length away, he can tell when Hanma spots him because his limbs start waving around like mad in the air. He can only imagine the shit-eating grin Hanma has on before he's dragged with the swarm. Kisaki shakes out the thought of even hoping that Hanma does well.
All of a sudden, Kisaki feels a little guilty about even thinking about trying to sabotage Kokonoi's already measly love life. He straightens his posture, brushing off imaginary dust from his trousers. "Sorry, nevermind, I must be thinking about someone else."
Kokonoi looks at him with such perplexion in his features it drives a knife straight through Kisaki's gut. "I, no," He fiddles with the picnic blanket, avidly avoiding the eye-contact Kokonoi tries to start. "I haven't seen him today."
And for a moment Kisaki wonders if he's allergic to being a good person because the moment he finishes his sentence, the searing pain in his elbow returns. A pounding headache follows after it and Kisaki wonders if he's ever going to catch a break. The gasp he let out is entirely involuntary.
His pain takes most of the blame for it, but Kisaki isn't so sure that he wouldn't have gasped anyway. Before the flash of pain that has him curling up to himself with Hina patting his back, Kisaki is sure that he was about to offer to help Kokonoi.
...Is he getting soft?
"Kisaki," Emma croons to him, keeping her voice low as if too many decibels might break him. Kisaki isn't sure if he should be upset at being treated like a child, or a little thankful that somebody could treat him so softly.
He recalls the other times people have treated him with such delicacy, but all that comes up in his mind is Hanma. The thought is banished, Kisaki chalking it up to the fogginess from the pain. "You should go to the nurse, Koko says he'll take you."
His mind sharpens in less than a second, and he jolts to his feet, stumbling a little before leaning on Kokonoi. Time alone with Kokonoi would be the perfect opportunity to solve the enigma that was his love life. "Right, yes," He mumbles, more to himself than the group, "Let's go."
To say Kisaki didn't think his plan through was an understatement. In fact, he hadn't thought about how to start the conversation, let alone try and fix the issue. The silence of the walk across the field is piercing.
"So," Kisaki jolts at the sudden conversation. "What, uh, what happened?" Kokonoi's free hand gestures vaguely to his elbow, and Kisaki realises too late how long he's been leaning on his arm. He can't detach himself from Kokonoi fast enough.
"This morning," Kisaki starts, before pondering if "I woke up to a lunatic hovering above me in bed, and I attacked him and fell." was an appropriate response or not. He decides it isn't. "I fell."
"Oh. That sucks."
"Yeah."
Kisaki wonders if there's a nice hole-digging competition nearby for him to jump into the winning plot and never come out.
They make their way to the infirmary, Kokonoi taking a quick look from side to side. He checks the inside once before letting himself in. Though there isn't a nurse inside, there isn't anything stopping them from entering as well.
It's a little worrying not to have the nurse's office running during sports day. He supposes at least a handful of students have a skill in first aid, taking the constant brawls into consideration.
He walks in after Kokonoi, taking a glance around before sitting down.
The infirmary was hardly foreign to Kisaki or anybody for that matter. He had been here with Hanma all too many times, not always for himself. Hanma had even picked out a single resting bed that he would always use, the same one Kisaki sits on, one that he had even carved his name into the metal frame.
He added Kisaki's name the second time they went together. Kisaki's hand runs over it mindlessly, not having to look to know where the carving was.
"Do you need painkillers?" Kokonoi peeks his head out from the side of the curtain, startling Kisaki out of his thoughts. He shakes a pack of gauze at him, and Kisaki nods.
"Panadol, if there is any," He responds, moving his hand from the frame to his lap. "I've got a headache."
Kokonoi slinks away back behind the curtain, and Kisaki goes back to gathering his thoughts. If he wants to try and play a hand in fixing whatever the hell was going on with Kokonoi and Inui, he had to find out what exactly was stopping them in the first place. Forbidden love perhaps, but that wouldn't make sense. They were together in their former team, Black Dragons.
It could be something deep, something personal. Kisaki can't help but let a reserved, barely-even-there smile slip out. He had to know, he just had to. When Kokonoi pushes past the curtain once more with a cup and a myriad of other supplies, Kisaki speaks up. "Why were you looking for Inui?" He asks in deceptive innocence.
Kokonoi freezes in the midst of putting down the supplies, a subtle red flourishing across his nape. The gauze pack is loud when it tears open, but Kokonoi speaks over it anyway. "None of your business."
Snappy. It's hard to contain the curiosity that runs like fire on gasoline through his veins. "Shame," Kisaki parrots Emma's earlier tone, "I was actually wondering about you two myself."
The room is silent without Kokonoi's response. Kisaki takes it as a sign to keep talking, letting Kokonoi take his arm for the antibiotic ointment. The rough handling says more than Kokonoi will. "Even when we were in separate teams, Hanma was never quite as cold to me as you two are with each other."
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Kokonoi snaps, tugging the gauze harder than he should be. Kisaki doesn't mind.
"Well, don't you like him?"
"So you and Hanma are together?"
Kisaki waves a dismissive hand in the air, one that wasn't suffering under Kokonoi's tightening grip. "Old news, old news," He says, a nonchalant tone in his voice that betrays his quickening pulse. If this was the price to pay then so be it, Kisaki thinks. "My question first. It's obvious Inui likes you. Seems like the feelings are mutual, no?"
Kokonoi releases the grip on his arm, tying the gauze on his elbow suffocatingly tight. He thrusts a pack of Panadol painkillers into Kisaki's chest and gets up to fill the cup. Well, it hardly counts as a cup. It's one of those eco-friendly cone cups that slip out of your grasp if you take your eyes off of it for one second.
"It doesn't matter," There's a quiver in his voice when Kokonoi responds from the sink, "You're wrong. He doesn't like me."
"What makes you say that?"
"He never even looks my way!" Kokonoi raises his voice, pivoting his foot to face Kisaki. "Not once, not once has he come up to me. Do you know who he does go to? Draken!"
Kisaki nods at this, resting one his chin on his hand with a contemplative look while Kokonoi continues. He wonders if this is how therapists feel.
"Of course he did. Everybody loves Draken!" Kokonoi drags out the 'o' in 'love', one hand on his hips while the other holds firm on the conical cup. "You know what? Fuck him. Fuck him and everything I did for him, who cares if I love him?"
The cup overflows, and Kokonoi pours some of it out into the drain. There's a slight imprint on the sides of it from how tight his grip is. "If he actually cared, he'd be here with me today!"
And now would be perfect timing for Inui to barge through the doors, confessing his heart out with a speech pulled straight from a shoujo manga.
The doors stay closed though, while Kisaki gets mildly waterboarded as Kokonoi tilts the cup to his mouth. It seems he's forgotten that the water was for the painkillers, which sit unopened on the bed.
"Whatever, I don't need him, I can find someone else. I'm happy for you, by the way."
The cup finally empties, and Kisaki has to turn away to splutter and cough. Remind him to never go to the office with anybody but Hanma. His voice is hoarse when he speaks, "Happy for me?"
"Yeah, everybody knows how Hanma looks at you. It's kinda gross, like you're the only person in the world. Congratulations on finally getting together, though."
"Everybody?"
"Anyways, hope you feel better," Kokonoi says, hesitating before raising his hand to ruffle Kisaki's hair. Neither of them are sure that it was the right move. Kisaki really wishes that Inui would burst through the door. "I'll... see myself out."
"Wait," The atmosphere is unbearable, but standing by and watching Kokonoi and Inupi swim in circles for an eternity is even worse. Kisaki had to say something. "Inui was looking for you this morning."
"He was?"
"Yeah. I told him you," Kisaki trails off before he snitches on himself. "I spoke to him while I was walking up to the field."
Kokonoi seems to contemplate this for a minute, before clearing his throat and opening the door. He glances at Kisaki once, twice, before finally speaking. "Thanks, Kisaki."
Kisaki nods in response, but Kokonoi is already gone. He stays on the bed for a while, wondering whether insinuating that Hanma and he were dating would come back to haunt him or not. God, how many people was everybody? He fills up another cup, unable to dry swallow the Panadol, and leaves the nurse's office.
It's nearing noon now, most if not all the stalls having been set up already to create something reminiscent of a festival marketplace. There's an entire new row of stalls, one of them for face painting. Kisaki recognises the group getting matching animal face paints to be Takemichi's friends. He decides it's better if he goes in the other direction.
He tries to crane his neck, tries to look over the growing crowds to see if the crepe stand has finished setting up. It's for nought, Kisaki could stand on his tippy toes all he wanted, it didn't change that he hardly broke average height. Who the hell even were half of these people? Not high school kids, surely.
Frustration gets the better of him, and he backs up to leave, only to collide into something that most definitely was not a crepe stand.
If Kisaki felt small in Drakens shadow, he was infinitesimal in this persons shadow. Though he would recognise him without looking, Kisaki still crosses his fingers and hopes it's Hanma when he turns around.
"Are you lost?"
It was not Hanma. It was very, very much not Hanma and Kisaki wishes he could say it was a stranger instead. Kisaki curses himself for causing enough trouble that he would recognise just about anybody and everybody in the school, including their siblings. Today, it was Taiju Shiba. More muscle than man, a brute of a human being, Kisaki knew of him well.
He had graduated not long ago, but his younger siblings were still in school. Taiju would be here to support them, no doubt.
Once upon a time, the Shiba family was more than enough entertainment for Kisaki. Overhearing a quarrel between the younger two siblings, Hakkai and Yuzuhu, and their oldest brother, Taiju, opened an opportunity for him to cause a tidbit of trouble. To tell the story from the beginning would take too long, but point is that his plan didn't work out, and now the Shiba siblings were closer than ever.
That was a problem. Why? Because their six-foot-four-inch tall big brother was glueing Kisaki to the ground with a stare that might drill two perfectly round holes into him. Kisaki can't tell if he's frowning or if his face has molded into a perpetual look of anger and frankly, he doesn't want to stick around and find out.
He looks around, checks for any chance of an escape route but it's impossible. The crowds have thickened, creating a moving wall around the two.
Kisaki wants to swallow past the lump in his throat and open his mouth to say no, he's not lost, but it's too late. He's swept off his feet, Taiju grabbing him by the hips and holding him up high above the crowd.
"Hey, whose kid is this?" Taiju yells into the crowd, completely unfazed when Kisaki starts panicking and kicking at his arms. "Anybody?"
Anything Kisaki says is drowned out by the sound of Taiju's unbelievably commanding voice. His thrashing ends up with his glasses sliding off of his face and straight onto the ground. As loud as the crowd was with Taiju's voice added, the crack it makes when somebody steps on them is clear as day.
"Oh, shit," Kisaki looks down and stops thrashing for a moment. A blur of lilac stands below him holding two crepes and most importantly his beloved and completely broken glasses. Regardless of his lack of vision, it's hard not to recognise Mitsuya Takashi. "Hey, wait,"
He doesn't seem to notice Kisaki suspended in the air, nor anything he's trying to say. Only nudges Taiju on the side to get his attention, eyes still fixated on the glasses. "Taiju, was Kisaki here?"
"Who?"
Mitsuya finally looks up at him, his eyes widening when he sees Kisaki held high in Taiju's hands. "Taiju," He says, his eyes creasing as if this was a humourous occasion and not a traumatising event for Kisaki, "I think you're holding him."
"What? No, I'm not." Taiju looks up and lowers Kisaki down but not enough to put him on the ground. "I was helping this little kid find his parents."
Mitsuya tries to speak again, but all that comes out is laughter, and Kisaki had wanted nothing more but to disappear at that moment. "Taiju," He manages to speak in the midst of his own laughter, "That little kid is in your sister's year."
Taiju turns Kisaki around, who is still two feet above the ground, and seems to assess his face. His gaze doesn't help in removing Kisaki's sense of impending doom.
"Oh." He lets go of Kisaki's waist, dropping him down to the ground without an ounce of care. The pat on Kisaki's back is stronger than Drakens was and almost tips him over. Taiju squats down, brushes dirt off of Kisaki's trousers and ruffles his hair. "Sorry, kid!"
"Here, Kisaki." Mitsuya puts a hand on his shoulder, and Kisaki turns his head to face the devastating state of his glasses. The guilty smile on Mitsuya's face is salt in the wound. "Sorry about that."
Taiju gets up and raises his hands when Mitsuya raises a brow at him as if to say, in my defence, he looked totally lost.
"Hanma was looking for you," Mitsuya says, cringing when Kisaki looks down at his glasses and deflates. "He's probably still at the crepe stand. Taiju and I can double back and get you to him if you'd like."
Kisaki shakes his head to decline, doing his best to fold his glasses so he can put them in his pocket. "It's fine. Thanks, though."
Unfortunately, Taiju has had a taste of being an older brother once more already. It proves to be too much nostalgia for him and Kisaki gets picked up once more, his legs resting on Taiju's ridiculously beefy shoulders. He's convinced this guy eats protein powder for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
"Those little shits never let me hold them like this anymore," Taiju complains, letting out a heavy chuckle when Kisaki holds onto Taiju's hands for dear life. "Alright, to the crepe stands!"
The helpless look in Kisaki's eyes isn't enough when he looks at Mitsuya, who only offers him an amused smile. "It's easier if we go with it, he seems happy."
He burrows himself into the crown of Taiju's hair and hopes it's enough to stop anybody he knows from recognising him. Kisaki closes his eyes and allows himself to get away with being a little comfortable.
He lets himself get carried, lets himself listen. It's easier to tell each individual sound of the crowd apart when he does. They pass by a group of children he presumes to be fishing for those rubber ducks. The splash of the water and the sound of the motor that keeps the water moving is a telltale sign.
Kisaki can overhear couples swapping food and siblings bickering over which prize to share. There's a pang of longing behind his ribcage, and he buries himself further.
It's useless to take part in such things, Kisaki tells himself. School was to prepare him for the future and causing trouble happened to be a fun side-effect. That was the only side effect he should have.
"Kisaki?"
Hanma's voice has him peering up from hues of blue hair. It's upsetting that Kisaki doesn't have to look too far down to make eye-contact with him.
"Hanma." He greets, the authority in his voice voided by the fact that his legs are dangling off of somebodies shoulders. "You were looking for me?"
Hanma lets out a breathy laugh, bewilderment covering every inch of his face. "Yeah," He says, holding up two cones of crepes. "I was."
Taiju puts him down, much gentler than he had before, and ruffles his hair once more before leaving with Mitsuya. Kisaki can feel the amusement dripping off Hanma.
"It was against my will, by the way," He explains before Hanma can say anything, awkwardly taking the crepe he holds to him. The cone is hot pink. "They offered to after they broke my glasses."
"How did that happen?"
"Mitsuya stepped on them."
Hanma bursts into laughter at that, as if he had been told the funniest story in the world. Kisaki starts walking towards nothing, trusting Hanma to follow eagerly behind. He does. "No fuckin' way. How'd they fall off in the first place?"
"I'd rather not say." Kisaki takes a single bite and grimaces. Cinnamon and apple. "What did you get?"
"Hm? Strawberry cream."
"Swap with me."
They swap.
"How were the races?" Kisaki asks, biting down on a much more pleasant combination of strawberry and vanilla.
Quite lucky, he thinks, to have a favourite combination so popular. Strawberry-themed foods felt so right on his tongue. Strawberry cake, strawberry icecream, the strawberry chupachup lipbalm that he hides under a plantpot by his bed.
Hanma shrugs, his tongue darting out to clean whipped cream off his lips. "Went alright. Ran Haitani's a fuckin' monster on the track, but I came second in the fifteen-hundred."
Kisaki hums in approval as he tries to make out what he can of the stalls. He never realises how bad his vision can be until he loses his glasses. "Good, good job."
His poor vision doesn't stop him from being able to see the beaming grin on Hanma's face in his peripheral. "Heard you've been pretty popular today, Kisaki."
"Huh?"
"DJing with Rindou, picnic with Emma and Hinata, a little mingling with Kokonoi."
Kisaki can't stop the groan that passes his lips and shakes his head. "Please, as if I would have done any of that willingly." He pauses and stops in his tracks. "Oh, wait. I did go with Kokonoi of my own accord, actually."
"Why?"
"Come on, somebody had to fix whatever the hell was going on with him and Inui."
Hanma huffs out a laugh, "Too true, too true."
They continue walking once more, passing each stall without so much as a second glance. Hanma finishes his crepe, licking off whipped cream residue from his fingertips before speaking, "You didn't watch any of my races."
Kisaki looks at him with a frown, only a quarter of the way through his own crepe. "So?"
Hanma takes the lead in walking, tossing the hot pink remnants of dessert into a nearby trashcan. "I dunno, I was kind of hoping you would be there to watch me. We haven't spoken since we got here."
"I was getting dragged place to place, I couldn't have watched you if I wanted to."
"You went with Kokonoi because you wanted to."
"Wait," Kisaki stops Hanma with an outstretched hand. They stop right by a small drinks kiosk on the outskirts of the innermost circle of the stalls, where most people gather to watch the races. "Are you jealous?"
Hanma rolls his eyes and cocks his head back as if to hold back a snort, "I'm not jealous."
"So you're not bringing up the fact that I didn't go to your races because you're jealous?"
There's a cheer in the distance. It's the only thing Kisaki believes he's actually hearing. Hanma Shuji, one of the most revered athletes in the school who has a swarm around him every day, being jealous of him? Did he get transported into a different timeline? If anything, Kisaki is the jealous one after having had the worst day possible after Hanma left him to fend for himself.
Not that he would ever admit it, though.
Hanma shrugs and glances around before looking down at Kisaki with a pout on his face. "I'm a little jealous." He mutters, putting on the most unconvincing puppy eyes Kisaki has ever seen.
And they work. Kisaki sighs, pulling Hanma down to eye-level by the hem of his shirt. "Look, we'll run the three-legged race together. After that, I promise I'll watch all the other shit you signed up for, okay?"
The pout on Hanma's face doesn't let up, and Kisaki eyes him quizzically. "What? What are you looking at me like that for?"
"Promise me with a kiss."
It takes no longer than three seconds for the tips of Kisaki's ears to flush bright red, and no longer than five for the rest of his face to follow. "Absolutely not."
"Not a single race," Hanma draws a finger across his cheek as a mock tear with a grin, "Left me all alone today. Left your very handsome boyfriend, Hanma Shuji, without any support."
"Boyfriend?"
"Oh, Kokonoi didn't tell you?"
That little shit. Hopefully, Inui is somewhere clinging onto Drakens arm while Kokonoi watches from far, far away. Kisaki folds his arms, still holding half a crepe, and glares at Hanma. It doesn't take the grin off his face that pisses Kisaki off so much.
He looks around, checks to make sure nobody is looking their way, before tugging Hanma down one more time.
The kiss is clumsy and lasts only moments (you can't blame him, it's his first one), but when Kisaki pulls away, Hanma looks more than elated. He lets go of his shirt, embarrassed, and turns to move away.
Hanma is faster than he is when he brings them together for the second time and Kisaki can taste the cinnamon on his tongue. He hates it, hates the way it sticks to the sides of his mouth and makes his throat itch and yet Kisaki doesn't pull away. The crepe in his hand goes forgotten as it drops to the ground, Kisaki abandoning it in favour of holding the arms that slide their way across his waist.
"Hey, lovebirds!"
Kisaki is out of Hanma's arms in the blink of an eye. He clears his throat and fixes his already tousled hair as if nothing happened. Izana strides up to them with a smile, Kakucho tailing behind him. The icepack on his ankle is gone.
"Sorry, did I interrupt?" He says, tilting his head to the side with an innocent blink. Izana always had a curious way of being incredibly innocent, yet so obviously knowing at the same time.
Kisaki shakes his head frantically, picking up what was leftover of the crepe from the ground and shoving it to Hanma. He may orchestrate fist fights and sibling rivalries, but Kisaki was not about to litter.
"No, no," It's hard to ignore the shit-eating grin on Hanma's face, even when he's not in view. "Not at all. Is something wrong?"
"Quite the opposite," Izana chirps, pulling Kakucho from behind him to stand side by side. "Kakucho will be able to run in the hundred-meter! Won't that be fun, Kisaki?"
Kisaki frowns. He wasn't participating in the race, why would it be fun?
"You and Kakucho running together," Izana leans on Kakucho, who has yet to speak and stands rigid as a rock. Kisaki is sure that if Izana goes any further, the flush in Kakucho's face might be a sign of him about to bluescreen. "It'll be so cute!"
"Running together?" Kisaki questions, unable to turn to Hanma for help before Izana takes hold of his wrist and pulls him along. "Wait, I thought I said I wasn't running it?"
The stalls get smaller and smaller and the track bigger, all the while Hanma is taunting him with a wave as he stays where he is.
"Hanma!" Kisaki calls, trying to pull himself out of Izana's grip, "Hanma, tell him I can't run it!"
Hanma only waves faster.
"Hanma Shuji, don't you dare let me run this race!"
He winks.
"HANMA!"
At least the trainers Izana let him borrow are comfortable.
Kisaki stands at the starting line of the hundred-meter track, lost like a fish out of water. Rindou Haitani is giving him a thumbs up from his left, as well as what he presumes to be a pep talk. He can't hear anything at all over the sound of his own heart pounding at the walls of his ribcage.
Kakucho is tying his laces on his right and Kisaki wishes he could do the same to distract himself from the track. He swears it gets longer by the second. Anyways, Izana had given him velcro trainers, so tying his laces was out of the picture.
They don't light up, so Kisaki supposes it could be worse. The sports uniform isn't even his, but somehow Izana found one that fits him perfectly. The only downside is that it's the summer uniform, leaving his fake tanned, spindly limbs on show.
Walls of people line the sides of the track, whistling and shouting over the bass-boosted music. He wonders who Rindou made take up the DJ stand this time. There's no familiar flash of yellow from the crowd to calm Kisaki as his stomach turns itself inside out. Kisaki curses Hanma for showing up in his room at all.
The crowd goes quiet and Kisaki is sure his heart has just fallen through to his stomach and even farther when the blow of a whistle sends him running across the track.
It's only the hundred-meter race, he tells himself, only a hundred meters and then he can kill Hanma. It's only the hundred-meter race, but his calves burn and his lungs ache and he can barely see in front of him without his glasses yet Kisaki can tell he's been overtaken by the rest of the competitors.
It's only the hundred-meter race, but Kisaki swears his legs are going to betray him. The end is near. Not for him but for the race, though it damn well feels like it's the end for him. He's the last one to finish, Kisaki can tell because the crowd is getting louder in his skull in anticipation for the race to end.
The last line is in arms reach, so close Kisaki can practically call the race over. All he needs to do is cross it and it will all be over. He can go home, read a book, run a bath, and catch up on the plant blogs he reads every night before bed.
It's one final push and heaven will be a feasible goal, Kisaki can call it a day and plot his revenge on Hanma.
He trips.
God knows how he trips, he's wearing velcro shoes for fucks sake, but he trips nonetheless. Right on the finish line, too, right when all eyes are trained like dogs to a bone on him.
It's like watching a movie in slow motion. Kisaki can count every millisecond as his face gets closer and closer to the ground. He closes his eyes, braces himself for the impact, bandaged elbow swinging uselessly in front of him to try and break his fall.
Kisaki doesn't hit the ground, though. A hand shoots out under him, bringing him back up to his feet or at least away from the ground as he stumbles, clutching onto the arm as hard as he can.
It knocks the wind out of him, the speed at which he's brought back up against the speed at which he was about to eat shit in front of the entire school.
"Falling for me that hard, huh?"
Hanma's voice catches Kisaki off-guard and he clambers his way off of him. The cheesy pick-up line doesn't help the nausea that makes Kisaki's vision sway a little as he tries to stabilise himself. "Where were you?"
"Got you a little something," Hanma brings out a pair of glasses from his pocket, shaking them in the air with a pleased look on his face. They're a complete copy of his old ones, albeit shinier and missing a few scratches. "Had to run and get it while you were running. How'd it go, by the way?"
"Fuck off," Kisaki scowls at Hanma, plucking the glasses from between his fingers. The prescription is perfect when he puts them on. "How on earth did you get these?"
"What, you think I'd stop after getting a copy of your keys?"
OK, well, that's not creepy at all. Kisaki can't bring himself to complain though, he's just glad he can make out the sin and punishment marked out on Hanma's hand.
"How many of my things did you make a copy of," Kisaki mutters, pulling the collar of his shirt in a feeble attempt to cool himself down. It's a rhetorical question now, but Kisaki will be making sure he knows what things of his Hanma has replicated later.
"The three-legged race is in fifteen minutes," Hanma reminds, handing Kisaki a waterbottle from his apparently bottomless pockets. "We don't have to do it if you don't want to."
Kisaki takes the water bottle from him, popping the cap off and downing half the bottle in a single go before wiping spilt drops of water off of his face. "Who else would you run with?"
"Kazutora, probably. Ran hates my guts, so it's a no go there."
"Kazutora?" Something Kisaki doesn't want to call jealousy bubbles up inside of him. Hanma and Kazutora had gotten close when Kisaki had been in a different gang. Too close in Kisaki's humble opinion. He pulls a face at the mention of him. "No, forget about him, I can run it. Besides, he's banned from these events until October, remember?."
Not his fault, to be fair. Kazutora's scuffle with Mikey was more than Kisaki's own plan, but that was besides the point here. The very idea of Hanma running with somebody else tied to his leg like a parasite would put a stain on Kisaki's conscious forever. It was not going to happen, not here and not now and not anytime in the future.
Not that he sees Hanma when he thinks about the future.
Izana calls them both over for a picture, Kisaki and Kakucho standing side by side in awkward stances. Hanma hovers behind Izana, giving Kisaki a teasing grin and Kisaki wonders why he hasn't killed him yet.
Taking photos isn't the way Kisaki had expected to spend his fifteen minutes of freedom, but it'll have to do. He just hopes it doesn't go on Izana's instagram.
"Hey, how come you aren't doing this with Mikey?" Hanma asks, leaning over Izana's shoulder to look at the photos. "Isn't he your little brother?"
"He ate my fucking leftovers."
Yeah, okay, fair enough. Kisaki didn't have a sibling of his own and with the way he's seen siblings act around each other around him, he wonders if it's for the better.
Eventually the photoshoot ends and Izana comes skipping up to Kakucho and him, shaking the phone in his hand. It's got one of those liquid cases on it, with small fish and glitter swishing around in it.
Izana hooks his arm over Kisaki's shoulder, pulling him in like a vortex to show him the pictures. One of them has a filter on it that puts neon cat ears and whiskers on him. For some reason, there isn't a photo where Kakucho has the same filter. Kisaki considers learning how to delete someone elses instagram on the off chance that Izana posts it.
The fifteen minutes is over after what had to be hundreds of photos (about ten) from Izana. They're back on the tracks, and Kisaki finds himself looking over at the other contestants as Hanma binds their legs together. No surprise to see the Haitani brothers running together.
He spots Emma and Draken behind them and watches as Emma goes beet red as he ties them together.
What is surprising is seeing Kokonoi on the other side of the track, standing deathly still as Inui kneels to tie their legs together. Kisaki gives himself an internal high-five.
When Kokonoi sees him staring, he somehow grows impossibly more still. Kisaki gives him a thumbs up. He's not convinced it helps.
"Alright, ready to go." Hanma says, giving the knot a last tug before getting up. Kisaki starts to have second thoughts when he realises how big the height difference is, unsure if they'll be running together or if Kisaki will be merely dragged along the track while Hanma runs. "We can still back out if you want."
Kisaki shakes his head, ignoring the rule of hooking arms and choosing to cling onto Hanma like a koala instead. "No, it's fine. Nothing I can't handle."
Hanma won't let him fall, right?