Chapter Text
“Mineta Minoru?”
He smiles, feeling the muscles of his cheeks stretched to its fullest, his eyes closed to one of crescent moons. Graduation had come for his class, all in their usual uniform with the addition of a floral brooch, pink and bright. From the moment it was attached in clumsy haste, he avoids staring at it. Difficult when everyone wears the accessory, some of his classmates happy to show it off to others including Mineta.
He takes prideful, long strides. It made up for his much smaller stature than his peers. His steps stopped at a podium where an older man stood, a kind expression as he awaits the routine done repeatedly for the dozens of previous students that stood in this exact moment. Mineta extends his right hand, looking up as a book is carefully placed for him to receive. A slight struggle with Mineta’s stature and the podium being a barricade between the two. Then, with the object’s safety secured in the palm of his right, his left extended forth, transferring its balance in the middle of both hands.
Straightening his back, Mineta puffs up his chest, preparing his gratitude with a beam.
“Thank you very much!!”
The voice rings clear, much more louder than he thought of himself capable. Hurriedly, he bowed in respect to the principal, before walking away, counting the steps and ignoring the aching sensation of his cheeks.
Surrounded by adults he could barely recognize, a slight weakness to his legs threatens a trip mid-step. This was far from the rehearsals taught, all eyes at the center. He had went beyond for this day, unwilling to appear scared or glum. The right amount of smile, the right cheery energy, everything to appear just perfect for the crowd. Anytime a student responded too late or had a waver in their tone, it brought a tad bit more relief (and reluctant smugness) at how nicely his turn had gone.
Besides a few minor quirk malfunctions from students, everything went smoothly, even as they’d gone down the stage and back to their respective seats. Proclaiming their ‘Thank Yous’ in unanimous vigor, singing along to merry songs, then comes the gift of flowers. A final act of respect for each of the teachers. He’d see representatives for each teacher walk up, presenting the bouquet as well as their thanks. Larger hands accepting the sweet gift, some shedding tears of their own.
Each tick of time serves to flare impatience, Mineta wanted to stop smiling, feeling boredom. A twitch of fingers. Slight leaning of his upper weight to his thigh. He imagined lifting rocks again, something spectacular to occur that would give life to such a serious event.
Then, ever so slightly, there comes a tilt.
Slow, barely noticeable with everyone walking to their respective seats in routine.
But,
‘But that means..’
He whipped his head, smile gone. Uncaring in search of answers to his worries.
To his farthest left, where a faculty of teachers sat prim and proper in their finest suits and black dresses. Yuno leans against the wall, her appearance less of a pale apparition. Prickly pins stuck him in place, even as his eyes rapidly scan for someone, anyone to see an intruder next to his homeroom teacher.
Not a blink or a turn of the head to her direction.
Among the crowd, her only obvious features was the tattered robes, somewhat messy hair.
“Oh!”
A slight echo to her voice, powering over the ceremonial event easily.
She fixed her position, almost appearing to glide to his direction, panic erupted. Mineta abruptly stood up, anxiety at the potential destruction she’d commit here. Eyes. In all direction. Unspoken demands for him to sit back down, erase any attention on his movements. He ignores them, briskly walking to the closest exit, avoiding any contact at such a disrespectful leave, he tuned out everything except for the sight of a door. Miraculously, he mustered enough strength to push them open, leading to a loud creak, even feeling his principal's speech paused midway with its shrill screech.
The skies a clear blue, welcoming the boy’s fervor with spring breeze. Sakura petals littered the floor, everywhere he looked starts feeling a little too pink. It held a picturesque yet eerie feel, with the lack of anyone occupying the space beside himself. Panicked thoughts jumbled and swirled about for a cohesive form of action. All leads to the image of being doomed.
It’s miraculous to even stand here uncaught, even as an internal clock tick impatiently for Mineta’s next move. He sucks in a breath, before rushing past smaller disconnected buildings, rows of plants, the small security post, whatever that could provide cover. There’s a small hope he holds; the upper hand in mind mapping this exterior for all the times he’s explored and played with classmates.
In his haste, nearly diving head first into the smaller spaces between the tall courtyard walls and a small play area.
Dirt, ripped cobwebs, dusts coated his fingers and clothes. He pushed onwards, occasionally ripping the few balls of hair stuck in between them. With the amount he pulled, a lighter feeling struck him. Sucking the energy out, trying to pull his consciousness away. Wiping the sweat of his forehead, the reason became clear with the smudge of red coating his hand.
No, he refused to pass out. Not right now. Even as a pulsing headache formed in the panic, pulling a vision that seemed to swirl the world in to itself. He needed an out, one that won’t risk people’s lives.
Almost immediately after, his legs gave out. Mineta nearly yelping aloud. His hands shakily stretched out, numbness spreading from his feet upwards his body.
“You know what you’re doing is a waste of time, right?” She spoke lightly, standing just at the crack between the school walls and buildings. She towered over him in this angle, the outer glow paired with sunlight made her shine ominously as the visible part of her face peers down at his helpless form.
“You can’t hurt people.” A biting edge to his plead, one that surprises Mineta himself.
Yet Yuno tilted her head, the same plastic smile as she laughs, airy and melodic in its tune while she carefully knelt down, a softer expression worn.
“I think we had a bad first meeting. Can I re-introduce myself?”
Mineta merely stayed quiet, watching, silently.
“My name is Gasai Yuno, but you can call me Yuno. What’s yours?”
“..Why are you here?”
Her eyebrows furrowed, painting a mask of feeling troubled, “That’s no good, if you want to know about me, shouldn’t it be fair for me to get to know you?”
“...I don’t want to be friends with a villain.” Even in the fear, he found courage in voicing that aloud. Though it sounded wrong-- a kind of mistake Mineta truly, deeply regretted for as he braces for a knife or axe to strike his head. A twist of a smile to sneer as those irises sharpen to one of malicious intent.
Instead, she sighs, finally looking away, towards a distant memory, her lips a thin line
“Am I that scary to you?”
“You killed, ” flashes of those visions past through, one particular one had him wondering how feeble he appeared in Yuno’s eyes. Blurred vision as his voice wobbles, “killed people. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“Hm?”
Her voice lowered in pitch, a cold washing over the afternoon air.
“Guess that makes it easier for me then.”
In a split second, her face appears before him. So eerily pale. He could see the way her face split, half unnerving glare, other half appeared to be sliced clean by the concrete.
“I don’t belong here, we both know that.”
Mineta struggles to fight through waves of discomfort, wanting to look away.
“But we’re both tied to one another,” to prove her statement, she simply swiped her left arm upwards, phasing in and out of walls, in which Mineta’s own mirrored suit. Bringing his hand to hit the surface, body weight uneven leading him to fall. Pressure slammed from his chin hitting the dirt, adrenaline rushing through his body preventing pain from properly forming.
“So let’s work together, okay?”
Everything about this screamed danger, everyone of Mineta’s nerves urged refusal. Yet under the mercy of her facade, there was little that could be under his own control. He thought of the parents and classmates, teachers, his only family sitting obliviously as a ceremonial act is underway. The chances of one of them wandering by, possibly caught onto the unpredictable case of Yuno Gasai, ending with her puppetry pulling Mineta to claw and punch at them, ending in a bloodied mess.
With such stakes in mind, Mineta clenched his fist, feeling each muscle squeezed at his own volition.
“Okay.”
Yuno smiles in return, sweet and saccharine. It was a wonder how she could do so easily. In a matter of seconds, she made her farewell, graciously leaving him to recover. Sitting between the tiny cracks, everything sets in.
Wind weaving through trees. Patches of dirt in his now wrinkled shirt and pants. The aching in his jaw starting to pound in a rhythmic beat, its intensity bloomed as he gingerly touched at the edges of his chin.
He tries very hard not to think of the agreement and what it entails.
Instead he picks at the dirt and dust on his clothing. He knew how stupid he’ll look, ghostly laughter too akin his classmates haunt his stillness, paired with words of disapproval spoken in artificial cheery voices.
…
Faintly, the sound of his name being called slips past his ears. No effort made to move, his teacher, kind and patient as ever, repeatedly call for his name. Her voice appeared closer at times, farther in plenty others. Silently, he pleads, curling into himself much smaller, hoping for her to give up---
“Minoru.”
Nearly jumping, it was a much deeper tone. His dad, staring down, squinting at the balls that roll around, one that was sticking at the walls dropping to roll to Mineta's shoes. In the spaces between lies a tiny trail of blood. Silence stretched on between them both as Mineta awaited anything that his father could do. Would he yell? Leave him here? Are they finally going home?
“..What the fuck.”
It was spoken so softly, weak in the presence of everything else running in Mineta’s head. The man audibly sighed, as he scratched his neck, a deep frown accentuating the wrinkles already visible in his age.
“Can you move?”
He nodded, standing up. A pause as he took each step, letting the noise residing in his legs leave in each stomp.
“Good. Let’s just go.”
Mineta couldn’t agree more, eagerly taking his dad’s hand. Only the contact mattered, a numbness overtaking anything else.
They made a short stop in the bathroom. Rushing water filled his ears as tissue after tissue peppered his forehead. The faint red soaking each tissue had his full attention. Its metallic smell unwelcoming. So, Mineta only focused onto the hands; large and trusting and familiar.
Even as he ignored the shivers and erratic breaths, ignored the heated conversation between his teacher and father by the building's gate, even as he found unfamiliarity in the route taken. Beeping machines, sharp odors akin to the freshly mopped floors in his class, an unfamiliar palm firmly pressed to his forehead, a stethoscope placed on his chest.
Then a poke on his cheek, the warmth encompassing his hand gone.
It snapped him out of the blank haze, glancing at his dad’s bored stare. The man gestured to the row of gachapon machines, ranging from popular anime characters to the famous heroes of Japan. The very same ones he's always wanted to used
“Pick one.”
Brief hesitation, as he slowly steps forth, looking back to confirm that he wasn't alone, then to stare at bright colorful characters and banners decorated within each machine. He eyes the one filled with heroes, only a handful he recognizes. Relenting, he followed his father as he traded cash for coins, coming back to the very same spot. His dad explained a half-coherent instruction, Mineta only following through with memory of seeing others playing the machine.
In the end he got a figure of a heroine he had no recollection of. Molded into a smaller caricature, her main features being the red mask she adorns, blue eyes and spiky, dark purple hair. She wasn't as bright and colorful as the other heroes. He looked to his dad, showcasing the figure; not quite proud, more curious.
All he earned was a hiss, worry sparked at the reaction.
“That’s Midnight.” A pause. “..You wanna try another machine?”
Mineta stared at the tiny figurine, shaking his head.
“She’s pretty.”
It sounded too fake in his ears; monotonous. But it was enough to prompt both of their leave back home.