Chapter Text
The next few days settle into a rhythm that Sougo is 100% not obsessed with. Nope. Not at all.
Morning: Arrive at school. Spot Kagura stuffing her face with sukonbu like it’s her job. Insult her in increasingly creative ways (today’s highlight: comparing her hairstyle to a sea urchin that lost a fight with a lawnmower).
Mid-morning: Kagura explodes, threatens homicide, maybe throws a desk.
Lunch/recess/after school: Kamui appears out of nowhere like some orange-haired ninja, drags Sougo to a secluded spot (storage closet, rooftop, behind the gym—variety is the spice of punishment), and “disciplines” him with kisses that are getting dangerously less angry and more...lingering.
Sougo is handling this perfectly. He’s a professional. A stoic sadist. Totally not replaying every kiss in his head during math class while doodling little hearts in the margins of his notebook. (He burned that page later. Evidence destruction is key.)
Today, though, he’s escalating. Phase Three demands an audience. If private kisses are good, public(ish) ones have to be better. Right? Right.
The opportunity presents itself during lunch break on the rooftop—the class’s unofficial hangout spot because the door lock is broken and no teacher bothers to fix it. Half the class is up there: Gintoki sprawled out napping with a Jump magazine over his face, Hijikata chain-smoking while pretending not to stare at Gintoki’s exposed stomach (gross), Kondo trying to flirt with Otae and getting brutally rejected for the 47th time this week, Shinpachi yelling at everyone to “act like normal high schoolers for once!” Takasugi brooding dramatically in the corner while Katsura rants about some revolutionary anti-school-uniform conspiracy, and Kagura demolishing a family-size bag of snacks.
Kamui’s there too, of course, leaning against the railing like he owns the sky, chatting lazily with Takasugi. Sougo’s heart does that stupid skip thing. He ignores it.
Target acquired: Kagura.
Sougo saunters over, hands in pockets, trademark sadist grin in place.
“Oi, China. You know, with the way you’re inhaling those snacks, I’m starting to think you’re preparing for hibernation. Gonna burrow into the ground and sleep till next spring?”
Kagura pauses mid-chew, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk on steroids. “Huh? What’d you say, sadist? Wanna die?”
The rooftop quiets a bit. Everyone knows this song and dance by now. Shinpachi sighs heavily. “Here we go again...”
Sougo leans in, voice dripping with mock concern. “I’m just worried about your health. At this rate, you’ll roll down the stairs instead of walking. We should get you a leash—oh wait, that’s for dogs. For you, maybe a harness?”
Kagura’s face turns the color of a ripe tomato. “YOU—!”
She launches herself at him, fists flying.
Sougo dodges effortlessly, laughing that low, mocking laugh he perfected in middle school. “Too slow, piggy! Maybe lay off the carbs!”
The chase is on. Kagura barrels after him like a raging bull, knocking over Kondo (who somehow lands face-first in Otae’s lap and gets kneed for his trouble), tripping Shinpachi (who faceplants into his bento with a tragic “My tamagoyaki!”), and nearly trampling Gintoki (who wakes up yelling “Oi, watch it! Some of us are trying to photosynthesize here!”).
Hijikata stubs out his cigarette, muttering, “Idiots. All of them.” But his eyes flick to Gintoki with that familiar mix of exasperation and something softer.
Gintoki catches it, smirks under his magazine. “Jealous, Toshi? Wanna chase me next?”
“Shut up, Sakata. Or I’ll chase you with my Bokken.”
“Kinky.”
Takasugi watches the chaos with his one visible eye gleaming in amusement. Katsura, mid-rant, pauses to nod approvingly. “This is exactly why we must overthrow the tyrannical school system! Look at the oppression—the strong prey on the weak!”
Takasugi exhales smoke from his kiseru (how does he even sneak that in?). “Zura, the only oppression here is your endless talking. Shut up or I’ll overthrow you into the vending machine.” But his voice comes out soft, his gaze adoring.
Katsura gasps dramatically, almost amused. “Kiheitai betrayal! How cruel, Shinsuke—”
Sougo, meanwhile, is having the time of his life dodging Kagura. But he’s herding her subtly—toward the railing where Kamui’s standing.
Showtime.
Kagura finally corners him against the chain-link fence. “Got you now, bastard!”
Sougo smirks, unfazed. “Oh nooo, whatever will I do? The big bad bully’s gonna beat up little old me?”
That’s when Kamui moves. Smooth, silent, inevitable. He steps between them, catching Kagura’s incoming punch with one hand like it’s nothing.
“Onii-chan?” Kagura blinks, deflating instantly.
Kamui ruffles her hair roughly, but his voice is fond. “Cool it, Kagura. He’s not worth the detention.”
Kagura pouts. “But he—!”
“I know.” Kamui’s eyes slide to Sougo, sharp and promising. “I’ll handle it.”
The rooftop goes “oooh” like they’re watching a drama. Shinpachi buries his face in his hands. “Why is our class like this...”
Kamui grabs Sougo’s collar—not roughly, but firm enough to make Sougo’s pulse spike—and drags him toward the stairwell door. “Come on, brat.”
Sougo lets himself be pulled, hiding his triumphant grin. Phase Three: Success.
They barely make it down one flight of stairs—still technically “public” since the door’s propped open and voices echo up—before Kamui pushes him against the wall.
“You never learn, do you?” Kamui murmurs, close enough that Sougo can smell the faint citrus from his shampoo.
Sougo tilts his head, defiant. “Maybe I like the lessons.”
Kamui’s mouth curves in that dangerous, beautiful smile. “Idiot.”
Then he kisses him.
Not soft and not angry. Hungry. Like he’s been waiting for the excuse.
Sougo’s brain short-circuits. He kisses back this time, properly, hands finally brave enough to fist in Kamui’s uniform jacket. Kamui makes a low sound in his throat, pressing closer, one hand sliding to Sougo’s waist.
Up on the rooftop, the chaos continues without them. Gintoki sits up, scratching his head. “Where’d those two run off to? Probably fighting again.”
Hijikata grunts, lighting another cigarette. “Let ‘em. Saves me the headache.”
Kondo, recovering from his brutal rejection, perks up. “Young love! So passionate!”
Otae smacks him with her tray. “Shut up, stalker.”
Takasugi chuckles darkly. Katsura nods sagely. “A revolution of the heart! True comrades fighting side by side—”
“They’re not fighting, Zura. They’re probably making out.”
Katsura gasps. “Scandalous!”
Back in the stairwell, they break apart for air. Sougo’s dazed, lips swollen, staring at Kamui like he’s a miracle.
Kamui thumbs Sougo’s lower lip, gentle now. “Stop picking fights you want to lose.”
Sougo huffs a laugh, breathless. “No promises.”
Kamui rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling for real. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah.” Sougo says softly. “But you keep coming back.”
Kamui pauses, then leans in for one more quick kiss—soft, almost sweet. “Shut up.”
They head back up eventually. Sougo’s uniform is rumpled, hair messy. Kamui looks perfect, the cool bastard.
The class pretends not to notice. (They absolutely notice.)
Kagura throws a chip at Sougo. “Next time, I’m not holding back, aru!”
Sougo catches it, pops it in his mouth. “Looking forward to it, China.”
And just like that, the cycle continues.
Sougo thinks he could get used to this lovely little slice of life.