Chapter Text
“I am Ryusui Nanami, I am fifteen years old, I am in my first year of high school, and I am completely in love with my brother's classmate: Ukyo Saionji.”
“Tomorrow” never came, nor did the day after that, or the next.
A month flew by at breakneck speed.
Ryusui hadn't had a single opportunity to strike up a proper conversation with Saionji. Not only because being in different grades meant they didn't share schedules, but also because Ryusui himself couldn't form a single coherent word in front of him. The rare times he ran into the white-haired boy, he was barely able to stammer a quick greeting before fleeing desperately, feeling his face boil and his bones melt. This had never happened to him before, never. One could say he had a fair share of experience talking to people he liked, but this case was entirely different.
This was love.
And just thinking about it made Ryusui feel like his brain would melt right out of his ears from sheer nervousness. He couldn't even picture those green eyes without his hands starting to sweat.
The bell rang, piercing the silence of the hallways and announcing lunchtime.
Ryusui stretched his arms, arching his spine like a lazy feline and letting out a yawn.
“Ryusui! Move it, let's go to the cafeteria!”
Ah, yes, the cafeteria—a hall staffed with chefs who prepared the finest dishes to satisfy the palates of everyone who went there, dishes that rivaled top restaurants just to keep the children of high society pleased.
Ryusui opened one eye. Chrome was there, standing in front of his desk with that inexhaustible energy that defined him, practically bouncing in place. Behind him, Senku walked with his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, which seemed like a second skin to him.
Over that month of classes, the three of them had formed an unexpected trio.
Chrome was pure enthusiasm; he had made it to Medusa High entirely on his own merits. He had no connections or wealthy relatives, only his grand intellect and boundless passion for geology and mathematics, which had earned him a spot there. Ryusui admired him for that.
And Senku… well, Senku was Senku. Ryusui had been surprised to learn his father was an astronaut, Byakuya Ishigami, who was currently on a space mission, but above all, Senku was someone Ryusui deeply respected for his ability to see the world as a complex set of variables, while still possessing—even if just a little bit—a heart.
Ryusui would make sure to be his biggest financial backer in the future.
“HA HA! Zero to sixty in two seconds, Chrome?” Ryusui murmured, standing up. “Your impatience defies logic. I like that!”
“Logic dictates that hunger is an imminent biological necessity, or we die,” Senku interjected, looking at his watch with disinterest. “And according to my calculations, today is the day the cafeteria serves that special stew your brother likes so much. Indian curry, right?”
Ryusui tensed slightly at the mention of “his brother.”
Automatically, his brain began to process the information: Sai means Ukyo. Ukyo means Saionji-senpai.
Ryusui's pulse accelerated without his permission.
“Sai?” the blonde asked, trying to make his voice sound casual as he packed his notebooks and walked with them toward the exit. “Do you think the third-years will go to the main cafeteria today?”
Senku let out a dry chuckle, narrowing his red eyes as he looked at Ryusui with amused suspicion. “Oh, I see. Are you going to stalk your senpai again?”
“It's not stalking!” Ryusui protested, feeling his ears begin to warm up. “Besides, I must greet Sai. It is my duty as a brother!” He snapped his fingers loudly, causing a faint echo in the nearly deserted classroom.
Chrome burst out laughing, slapping Ryusui on the back so hard it nearly sent him stumbling forward. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Chrome possessed immense physical strength from his explorations in the mountains.
The truth was, it wasn't a secret—at least not to them.
Just a couple of days ago, in the central hallway, Ryusui had been walking with the two boys after classes ended for the day when they ran right into Ukyo.
“Nanami-kun!” Ukyo had greeted with that vibrant voice that Ryusui felt turned his bones to jelly. Ukyo's green eyes lit up upon noticing the group. With a soft smile that seemed to radiate its own light, he approached them. “I see you've made friends! How are you? Sai told me you've adapted quite well to the classes!”
Had the afternoon sun decided to settle on Ukyo so perfectly, making him look like a radiant angel of light, just to torment Ryusui?
Ryusui's brain decided to submit its resignation as a thinking organ immediately. He stood there with his mouth half-open, eyes locked on Ukyo's smile, while his nervous system sent completely contradictory signals to his vocal cords and his bright red face. “I... the... ah...” he managed to articulate, his voice sounding a couple of octaves higher than normal. “The... the... day! Yes! The day! Class! Class?”
Ryusui realized nothing he managed to utter made any sense, but his mouth simply refused to cooperate, continuing to spit out random monosyllables. A deep blush stained his cheeks while his copper eyes desperately searched for an escape route, but they were hopelessly trapped by Ukyo's kind, curious gaze.
“Are you alright, Nanami-kun?” Ukyo asked, tilting his head with genuine concern. It was entirely unfair how his white hair swayed so softly, giving him an endearing air that shattered Ryusui inside.
"HE IS SO CUTE! I'M GOING TO DIE!” Ryusui screamed inside his mind while making an absolute fool of himself.
“NO! BYE!” Ryusui exclaimed, turning around with a clumsiness wholly uncharacteristic of him and blasting down the hallway at an alarming speed, dragging Senku and Chrome along with him.
And from that day on, both of them knew.
The trio arrived at the cafeteria with hunger gnawing at them, but Ryusui's gaze wasn't focused on the menu of the day, nor was he looking for an available table to sit at. His eyes anxiously searched for any sign of white hair and the green gaze that stole his breath. The third-year tables were packed with people, but Ukyo was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Sai.
"Sai isn't here? How strange,” he thought. And it truly was strange; Sai never missed the days they served his favorite food. The aroma of the special stew, rich and heavily spiced, flooded the entire dining hall, but to Ryusui, that smell only served as a reminder that something wasn't adding up.
“He's not here?” Chrome asked, looking toward the third-year tables. “Man, you really have no luck today.”
Ryusui's shoulders slumped, feeling a hollow sensation in his stomach that had nothing to do with a lack of food.
“Maybe he's busy today,” Senku commented, scanning the room as they made their way toward an empty table. “Or maybe he just has more important things to do than wander around the cafeteria waiting for a first-year student to talk to him,” Senku mocked with a teasing half-smile.
“Yeah… maybe.”
“Where could he be?”
“Don't get discouraged! I'm sure you'll get another chance to talk to him!” Chrome gave him another back-slap that knocked the wind out of him before going off to grab his lunch. Ryusui rested his cheek on one hand, watching as more and more students filled the room.
"Another chance…” he thought, staring at the main entrance with the hope that, at any second, that white mane would cross the threshold. But the doors remained closed, and lunchtime suddenly felt much longer than usual.
“Please turn in your forms for the cooking class.” Professor Shamil's voice carried the same monotonous authority as it had in the morning, as if no time had passed since dawn.
Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. One by one, classmates stood up to hand in their completed forms at the teacher's desk. Ryusui handed his in and returned to his seat, still lost in his thoughts, his gaze fixed out the window. The classroom was nearly empty, save for him, Senku, Chrome, and three other classmates whose names he didn't know.
The door slid open with a soft thud.
“Excuse me.”
Ryusui tensed instantly. That voice. It was as if the air in the classroom had suddenly become electric.
“Ah, Saionji, are you here to collect the forms?”
Ryusui whipped his head around so violently he felt his vertebrae crack from the movement. Even Senku gave him a weird look. Ukyo looked impeccable in his third-year uniform, carrying an aura of calm that seemed to part the air as he walked.
“It's him! It's him!” his mind screamed. “He's here! Act normal, Ryusui! ACT NORMAL!”
“Yes, Sa—” he corrected himself. “Nanami asked me to fetch them; he's waiting for me so we can finish organizing everything,” Ukyo replied calmly, entirely oblivious to the chaos he was causing inside Ryusui.
“Thank you for your help. I don't know what we'd do without you,” Professor Shamil sighed, gathering the papers from the desk.
Ukyo let out a small laugh, tucking a stray lock of white hair behind his ear. “No problem, I'm happy to do it.”
“That's all of them. I must head to the faculty room,” Shamil announced, briefcase in hand as he moved toward the door. “I leave it in your hands.”
“Of course,” the white-haired boy nodded, and with that, the teacher disappeared through the doorway, leaving him alone in the classroom with the first-years.
Ryusui's heart was beating so violently he feared Senku and Chrome, sitting just a few feet away, could hear it. Ukyo was right there, in the flesh, right in front of him. This was his chance.
“It's now or never! Breathe, Ryusui, just breathe! Don't do anything weird! Just go and talk to him!”
Ryusui walked toward the desk with a feline stride and that air of self-assurance that made him feel like the owner of the world. He stopped right in front of Ukyo, invading his personal space. The older boy looked up, surprised, and Ryusui flashed him a sly smirk—the kind he knew was completely devastating: slow, predatory, and dripping with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.
“Hello, Ukyo,” he whispered in a low voice, letting it vibrate in the air. His eyes raked over the senpai's figure with a slowness intended to make him visibly nervous.
Ukyo tensed. His cheeks, previously pale, flushed a deep crimson that spread all the way to the tips of his ears, while his green eyes darted erratically. He knitted his brows in a pout that, instead of intimidating, was utterly adorable.
“H-hello, Ryusui,” Ukyo stammered, clutching the papers against his chest like a shield. “Y-you should call me by my last name, that's what's proper at school!”
Ryusui let out a soft chuckle. He took a step closer, close enough for Ukyo to feel the heat radiating from his body. The height difference vanished as Ryusui leaned in, cornering him against the edge of the teacher's desk.
“I'm sorry, senpai,” he whispered, now so close their breaths mingled. “But I simply have no self-control when it comes to you. I love seeing how flustered you get when I call you by your name... you look so good when you're nervous.”
Ukyo let out a muffled groan of frustration, averting his gaze toward the window to hide the chaos in his eyes. “You're a fool…” he murmured, but made no move to back away.
The blonde didn't let him escape. Gently, he reached out and, with the tips of his fingers, took him by the chin, forcing him to turn his face back. Their gazes locked: Ryusui's, intense and direct; Ukyo's, glossy and trembling.
“After school, we're getting coffee. My treat,” Ryusui said with crushing certainty, his thumb lightly brushing the white-haired boy's jawline. “I won't take no for an answer. Sound good?”
Ukyo felt his defenses crumble entirely. The space between them seemed to burn. His eyes dropped to Ryusui's lips, then darted back up, and a barely audible whisper broke the silence. “Y-yes...”
“Hehehehe…” Ryusui laughed under his breath, eyes gleaming, gaze lost on the ceiling, and his mouth slightly open, practically drooling. A female classmate passing by his desk to hand in her form paused, stared at him with profound judgment, and walked away as fast as possible.
“For those who haven't turned them in yet, please bring your forms to the student council room. I'll be waiting there. See you later.”
“See you later? Wait...”
Ryusui snapped back to reality instantly. Ukyo was heading toward the door with a stack of papers tucked under his arm.
“He's leaving! It's now! Breathe, Ryusui, just breathe! Don't do anything weird!”
Then, as if destiny were handing him the perfect opportunity to speak to him—and compensating him in some cosmic way—a white handkerchief with a whale pattern slipped out of Ukyo's back pocket. It drifted to the floor with bizarre elegance.
“DESTINY HAS GIVEN THIS TO ME! IT'S A SIGN!”
“Saionji-senpai, you dropped this.” A classmate from the front row, completely unaware of the cosmic importance of the object, leaned over to pick it up.
“NO! STOP! THAT'S MINE!”
Ryusui didn't think; he just acted.
He launched himself from his seat with such violence that the chair shrieked and flipped backward, making a metallic clatter that echoed through the entire room.
He went into a desperate sprint, eyes locked on the small piece of fabric. Time seemed to dilate; he saw his classmate's hand descending, slow, agonizingly slow, closing in on the immaculate cloth. His own footsteps thundered against the floor, but he couldn't care less.
He took one final leap, a harsh, decisive stride that ended in a violent landing. His right shoe came down with the force of a meteor, slamming against the floor with a sharp CRACK! right on top of the smiling whales.
The impact was heavy and loud. The boy who had been about to pick it up froze, his eyes wide as saucers, staring at Ryusui's foot.
The classroom fell into a dead silence, broken only by the sound of the shoe's sole exerting absolute pressure onto the delicate fibers of the handkerchief.
Ryusui, chest heaving and gaze locked onto his target, slowly lifted his foot. The handkerchief remained stuck to the floor for a second before being freed, revealing the print of his sole: black, deep, crisp, stamped with the precision of a criminal tattoo over the pure white fabric.
He leaned down slowly while a triumphant, yet terrifying smile spread across his face. He peeled the cloth from the floor and stood up, facing his destiny.
Ukyo, alerted by the chaos, had turned around slowly. His green eyes scanned the scene: from the overturned desk to his kohai.
The blonde extended his hand toward Ukyo with a gesture that was meant to be gentlemanly but looked like an act of pure vandalism. The poor fabric was practically ruined, the black, perfect footprint standing out against the white color like a brand.
“Here, Ukyo,” he said, his voice raspy from the adrenaline. “You dropped this.”
Ukyo, for his part, just stared at the object with a mix of confusion and absolute, unadulterated disbelief. He looked down at Ryusui's shoe, then at the handkerchief, and finally raised his eyes to the boy's face, which wore an expression of absolute elegance and arrogance, as if he hadn't just thrown himself forward with reckless abandon.
“Th… thank you?” Ukyo managed to articulate, his voice a mere thread that barely broke the silence.
A literal abyss opened in the classroom. Behind them, a dull thud echoed: Senku had slammed his face flat against his own desk.
“Ryusui…” Chrome's voice, thoroughly bewildered, drifted over. “Why did you step on it?..”
—
Ryusui screamed into his pillow, kicking the air with his legs as he twisted into a ball of pure teenage anguish. Francois remained standing beside the bed, one hand on the silver tray and an expression of stoic calm, though their free hand hid the amused smile forming on their lips.
“It's the end, Francois!” Ryusui howled, emerging with his hair a total mess. “I'm sure he hates me!”
“I do not believe that will happen, Ryusui-sama,” Francois replied with their usual courtesy. “That seems like a rather hasty conclusion.”
“I stepped on it and then handed it to him! You should have seen his face!” Ryusui buried his face again, whimpering. “Now I'll never be able to ask him out! Everything is ruined!”
Francois set the tray down on the nightstand and sat at the edge of the bed, looking at him with the infinite patience that could only be gained from years of experience. “If I may offer a word of advice… it seems to me that the way you are trying to secure a place in Ukyo-sama's life is not the most… conventional. Or at least, it is not bearing the fruits you desire.”
Ryusui looked up, sniffing, his eyes bright with frustration. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean, young master, is that perhaps you should try to approach him in a less… aggressive manner before thinking about asking him out. Don't you think?”
Ryusui sat up abruptly, indignant. “Why do you say that? I've always done this and no one has ever turned me down!”
Francois let out a barely perceptible sigh, maintaining their professional smile. “I understand that perfectly. But, if I may make an observation… Ukyo-sama is not like the other people you have approached, is he?”
Ryusui fell silent, processing the words. His shoulders slumped. He ruffled his hair in desperation and sighed. “You're right…” he murmured. “What should I do, then?”
“My advice is simple: become his friend, Ryusui-sama.”
Ryusui's eyes went wide. The revelation hit him with the force of a lightning bolt. To be Ukyo's friend. A trusted person close to him, someone he could confide in and spend time with. “His friend…!” he repeated, a smile returning to his face. Just thinking about it brought his determination rushing back. “Francois, you're a genius! You'll see! I will become the best friend Ukyo has ever had!”
“I do not doubt it at all,” Francois smiled knowingly.
“By the way, Francois…” Ryusui narrowed his eyes with curiosity. “Have you seen him before? Ukyo?”
Ryusui paused for a second. It caught his attention that Francois referred to him simply as "Ukyo-sama" and not “Saionji-sama” or even “Mr. Saionji.” Francois, who never missed an opportunity to use the strictest honorific titles, seemed to make an exception for the white-haired boy. It was as if, to Francois, Ukyo was someone who belonged to their inner circle, almost like another member of the family.
“Of course I have. He is a frequent visitor to the estate. He is a friend of Sai-sama.”
Ryusui froze, his brain working at a thousand miles an hour. “And why have I never seen him before?! If he's my brother's friend, I should have seen him in the hallways or around the house!”
Francois hesitated for a second, and for the first time in years, their face showed a hint of regret. “Because Master Ukyo only visits… Sai-sama's room and study.”
“Sai's room?!” Ryusui leaped out of bed, eyes practically shooting sparks.
Ukyo had been just a hallway away this entire time!
“I could have met him sooner!” he lamented mentally. "No, now is not the time for regrets! It's time for action! I will become his friend! Just you watch!”
"Ah... I shouldn't have said that,” Francois thought, watching as the young master began planning a stealth assault on his older brother's bedroom.