Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"A-Ah... This is the broadcasting committee speaking. Today, the student council is-- ah!!"

Shinobu's heart jumps out of his chest as there's a knock on the door to the soundproof room and it opens to a pair of shiny red eyes peeking at him. The initial shock dies down a little when he recognizes the rather sharp-looking features of the broadcasting committee chair.

"N-Nito-dono?!"

"Whoa, sorry to pop in on you like this, Shinobun! I didn't think anyone would be here. By any chance, were you practicing tomorrow's announcement?"

"...I know not what you speak of, Nito-dono! I certainly was not attempting to copy the wonderful tones of your voice as it resounds over the loudspeaker!"

"Haha..." Nito gives him an embarrassed smile. "You know, Ra*bits is going to have practice in here in about 15 minutes, but if you like, we can have a speaking lesson afterward?"

"With Nito-dono...? I... I would be honored!! Excuse me!" Shinobu puffs up his chest, bows, and makes his quick exit. As he runs down the hallway, he barely notices that his heartbeat hasn't calmed down, not even a bit, since he saw Nito's face.

Chapter Text

Adonis isn't sure how or why he was roped into this, but he finds himself at a supermarket, standing in front of a long display of dog biscuits as Akehoshi pokes around at the packages. Somehow, when Akehoshi really begs him to go somewhere together, Adonis can't find it in himself to refuse. They're classmates, after all.

"How about this one? The box is shiny!"

Adonis scrutinizes the box in Akehoshi's hands. "Bacon flavor. Good." He gives a short nod. "Make sure to continue feeding Daikichi such meat. He should grow big and strong and assert his dominance."

"Do you think I could get big and strong if I ate these too, Occhan?"

Adonis frowns at the mention of his rather unflattering nickname "Occhan". "Those are for dogs. Besides, you are already a great existence at Yumenosaki, Akehoshi. You are already strong."

"So no eating these?!"

"...I don't think that's a good idea."

Akehoshi hums a tune on his way to the checkout, and as Adonis watches his classmate dig in his pockets for a couple of coins for the dog treats and pull out a 5 yen coin, he sighs and gives Akehoshi a 500.

"You may be strong, but I suppose I will have to protect you a little longer..."

Chapter Text

Performances make Koga feel alive. It's a place for raw emotion, fierce battles, blood spilling as two units clash against each other in a battle of wills. It's the perfect stage to assert his dominance. That's why there's no way, he thinks as he stares at those miniscule, perfectly calculated movements, those flowing dance steps and itchy lace outfits. There's no way I'll lose to some pretty princess like this. He's dead, a doll.

“What's up with this dance? Trying to make it big at Disneyland? Where's the passion?”

The black-haired one looks ready to bite back, but his leader, the one called Itsuki, stops him.

“Kagehira, no need to concern yourself with this trash.” Itsuki steps forward, eyes narrow. “You should be grateful I even bother to grace you with my presence, wild dog. Step aside so I may do battle with your leader.”

“Tch, you don't need to face that weedy vampire. I'm enough danger for you, princess.”

“...So be it.”

The song changes, the red lights washing Itsuki in an eerie glow. The slow, flowing movements of Valkyrie grow faster, wilder. For a moment, Itsuki locks his gaze with Koga, and the icy glint in those eyes, like a murderous beast, sends a shiver of excitement down Koga’s spine.

He feels a smile tugging at his lips, his fingers tightening their grip on his guitar. “So you are alive after all, you bastard…”

Chapter Text

Hajime finds himself on the roof quite often in the afternoon after putting everyone's costumes in the wash. Especially on beautiful sunny days like this, it's a pleasure to be outside in the gentle breeze, surrounded by the fresh smells of clean laundry. He hums one of Ra*bits’ songs as he clips some sheets onto the laundry line. The stillness is comforting, and by the time he's hanging up the final sheet, he's already full-on singing.

That is, until he sees the taut string of the laundry line bounce dangerously and a voice yelling “uwah!!” from the other side, and his voice catches in his throat. Fearfully, he peeks around the sheet in front of him.

“H-Hello…?”

It sounds like someone is struggling, and soon Hajime catches sight of one of the sheets on the ground, tangled up and writhing madly.

“A-ahh! Wait! Please wait! Let me help!”

He scurries over to untangle the sudden visitor. It takes a moment, but soon he finds a boy inside, not too much taller than himself, with fiery orange hair, a crumpled piece of paper in his hands, and a generally disgruntled look on his face.

“Who…?”

“Me? Does it matter who I am?” The boy asks, standing up hurriedly and squinting at the paper in his hand. “Ahh, I lost it! If it wasn't for the sudden, vicious attack from that alien capture net!! Are they trying to prevent this masterpiece from becoming a reality?! Those bastards!”

“W-w-what…?” Hajime can only stutter, but his eyes fall to the paper in the stranger's hands. “Are you… writing something?”

The strange grins. “Oh, interested? I'll tell you a secret, but don't let them hear. This is gonna be Knights' next great weapon.”

“Weapon…?”

“Yup, and I gotta get it out before they take it! Inspiration calls!”

And just as suddenly as he appeared, the stranger turns and runs off in the other direction. At the very last moment, however, he turns around and locks eyes with Hajime.

“By the way, Hajime Shino, that's a beautiful singing voice you have there.”

With a loud laugh, he finally disappears, leaving Hajime with nothing but a crumpled sheet and a deep blush spreading across his face.

(He later learns from Tsukasa that it was Leo Tsukinaga, the leader of Knights, whom he had met. Isn't he embarrassing, Tsukasa says between bites of a cookie. He's not so bad, Hajime replies. He seems like a very kind leader.)

Chapter Text

For the fifth time this week, Tomoya finds himself hurrying down the school hallways. It’s become a thing for him to be terrorized on a daily basis, except this time he has the long hem of an extremely gaudy princess costume to worry about tripping over as he escapes. He’s not sure how he ended up in this dress (the masked pervert probably hypnotized him, if he thinks about it rationally), but it sure has been a liability since he bolted out of the theater clubroom.

He’s about to round a corner when a flash of light shines in front of him and his heart jumps out of his mouth as he finds he’s face to face with the edge of a blade.

“A-ahh, w-wh..?” he can only manage to squeak out.

“I have sensed oncoming footsteps and impending danger. Those who threaten this school, be gone!” A harsh voice rings out, and Tomoya squeezes his eyes shut. He’s going to die, he’s really going to die!

But he hears a soft sliding sound instead, and he fearfully opens one eye to see a taller figure tuck the horrifyingly realistic sword back into its sheath. “Please, excuse me,” the voice says, softer. “I did not intend to raise arms against a lady. It is indeed a shameful act.” He kneels down and once again reaches for his sword.

“K-Kanzaki-senpai!” Tomoya shrieks out. “You don’t have to commit seppuku right here! …Wait a second, I’m not a--” he starts to say, but he’s interrupted by a singsong “Tomoya-kun~” coming from behind him.

Kanzaki straightens up and bows his head. “Excuse me. It appears you know my name. Perhaps you are from the ‘regular course’?” He pronounces the word as if it was completely new to him. “You must be lost, my lady. Please allow me to escort you.”

“Hold on, I’m really not— Wahh!”

And before he can say anything, Kanzaki has swept him up into a princess carry and started running down the hallway. Tomoya slaps his hands to his beet red face, praying no one is around to see this disaster unfolding.

But Kanzaki is fast, and just as quickly as he was picked up, Tomoya feels his feet touch the ground again by the school gate. It’s quiet, and his pursuer is nowhere to be seen.

“Thank… you?”

“My pleasure,” he says, bowing sharply. “Please take care, young lady. It was an honor to serve someone of status such as yourself.”

And in one smooth gesture, he genuflects, taking Tomoya’s hand in his and pressing his lips to the fingers of his glove. “I must excuse myself.” He flashes a smile before rushing off, ponytail flying, and the words ‘I’m not a girl’ die in Tomoya’s throat.

Chapter Text

“Izumi…”

Izumi sits on the edge of the fountain, brow furrowed.

“Izumiiii…”

A soft, sweet voice calls out his name.

“Izummiiii… Blllrrgb…”

“W—Umi-kun?!”

Izumi whips around, shoves his hand into the fountain water and grabs the collar of a boy’s uniform. Slowly, a blue-haired boy appears from the water, dripping wet, a wide, blissful smile on his face.

“You finally turned around, Izumi.”

“I thought you were going to drown, idiot.”

Kanata giggles and leans forward, his elbows resting on the side of the fountain. “That would be very sad, I suppose.”

“Right, don’t scare me like that. I don’t have the time to be constantly watching you.”

Kanata leans his head to the side. “You seem to be worrying about a certain ‘situation’ all by yourself lately.”

Kanata’s right, but that contented smile looks so odd right now, like some strange alien from some strange happy planet far away from here.

“It’s none of your business,” he finally says, but his tone is soft. There’s no use worrying his friend, no use taking away that little smile. “It’s Knights business. You have your own issues in Ryuseitai after all, right? Go clean up there first.”

“Izumi,” Kanata says, voice light as a cloud, lifting up that last syllable in his name in some weird, whimsical intonation. “Sometimes, it’s not good to get stuck in your own ‘world’. Humans are ‘sensitive’ to each other after all.” He shakes his head, some of the droplets flying off his hair. “Right, Izumi? You were in your own ‘world’, but when I was ‘sinking’, you still reached into mine.”

“Hmph… That’s so dramatic.” He lets out a gentle sigh. Defeated again. That smile is infallible.

“Fine… but let’s dry you off first.”

Chapter Text

“Do this… and do this… and the angle is… 360 degrees! Yay!”

Mitsuru’s smile is so wide, Tori doesn’t even think his best judging stare could convey his frustration at this moment. Sure, his classmate isn’t known for being able to use his head, but honestly?

“It’s not a full circle, you blockhead! Don’t look so happy!” If Mitsuru doesn’t understand, then it’s Tori’s duty to step up and educate him. And besides, even if he was slightly coerced into it, he’d still promised to help with homework. Images of his beloved student council president smiling at him and praising him come to mind. If only the president were here to see him now, doing his altruistic study service.

“Here, I think you divided instead of multiplied here…” he continues, tracing his finger along the outside of the triangle diagram.

“I gotcha! Multiply!”

“Alright.” He starts to write out the equations as Mitsuru busily taps on his calculator. Geez, this should be simple stuff, he thinks as he glances at Mitsuru’s paper again. “No, no, it’s cosine, not sine there. Look, this is the angle you want.”

“Okay, the pointy one!”

“They’re all pointy…” Tori sulks. As much of a service he may be doing, it’s exhausting when everything he says seems to go right over his classmate’s head. He shakes his head and scratches at the next geometry question.

A few minutes later, after an odd silence hangs in the air, Tori turns to check Mitsuru’s work again. Half-expecting some simple arithmetic error, he scans down the lines and…

“It’s correct?”

His voice comes out higher than he’d intended. Everything is written in terribly messy handwriting, but Mitsuru had actually done all the steps in order.

“How…?”

Mitsuru meets his look of disbelief with a benevolent smile. “It’s because Hime-chan is so good at teaching, I understand it right away! I don’t use my head that often, but you make it look easy. I want to be as smart as you someday.” He punctuates it with a nod, as if agreeing with himself.

Tori can’t believe it. Is his face actually heating up? “W-Well, I don’t know if you can make it to my level so easily, but it’s my pleasure to help commoners such as yourself. Be thankful!”

“Yup!” Mitsuru nods again. “It’s good to say thank you to the people who help you. I am thankful!”

“Right, well, you’re welcome!” Tori replies quickly, and turns back to his work. The words of politeness seem weird in his own voice, his own mouth.

With some renewed energy, he moves on to the next question, changing up his explanation and checking for Mitsuru’s rare look of understanding. He’s not sure where he learned such patience, but if he puts it all into perspective, maybe it isn’t so bad he let his classmate affect him like this.

(Later, through tears, Yuzuru comments on how much his dear Bocchama has grown, to which Tori feels a pride that quickly turns into annoyance as Yuzuru tries to feed him more vegetables.)

Chapter Text

“I want to die…”

The words were like a curse, magic words to darken and shut down this too-bright world around him. They were ever-present on his lips, sweet poison waiting to be swallowed.

It’d become so much of a habit, repeating these words over and over as the people around him move on with their normal, daily lives. Why couldn’t he be normal too? Why did he have to be in this idol school? Why couldn’t he be shorter and have a girlfriend and trade mascot keychains with his friends behind the gym? And even then, why couldn’t he shine as bright as the people around him, now that he’s stuck in the idol course? His days were rife with “why”, and yet he was never led to an answer.

It was a long while before Midori finally felt a crick in his neck and lifted his head from his desk to loosen it. It was dim in the classroom, late afternoon, the others at practice or club activities or something else. Not even Morisawa-senpai had come bursting in to wake him up and drag him to practice. It was peaceful, and quiet… and frankly depressing. What the hell did he even want?

He groaned audibly, and that was when he caught sight of something stirring and felt his entire system freeze. Screw earlier, he’s not ready to die yet, not in his own desk at school! His heartbeat quickened and he looked around for the movement, and finally he saw the curtains move, saw a figure standing by the window, orange hair illuminated in sharp contrast by the light of the low-hanging sun. Midori held his breath. The figure was looking outside, sad smile outlined in deep shadows.

“Hinata-kun…” he said, nearly subconsciously.

“A-ah… Midori-kun?” Hinata replied quickly, hurriedly turning to meet his eyes. “Sorry, didn’t notice you there!” He forced cheer into his voice, but it wasn’t his usual brightness. Midori could see it in his eyes. Hinata had the same dark aura, the same heavy burden weighing down on his shoulders.

“What are you doing here? I thought you would have practice?” It was a legitimate question. Midori just wanted to sulk in peace.

“Well, I just… forgot something. And I ended up admiring the view outside the window. It’s really nice today, not too sunny, not too cold either.”

Midori stared at him suspiciously. “I think it’s pretty bright, though…”

Hinata’s smile fell, but only a little. “Well, if anyone asks, especially Yuta-kun, tell them I was looking for my headphones, alright? It’s easily to misplace these guys. Anyway, I’ll see you around, Midori-kun.”

“…Wait.”

Hinata’s eyes were wide. Midori looked down at his own hand, somehow gripping the boy’s sleeve.

“Midori-kun?”

“If… If…” The words were fighting to come out of his throat. But he desperately hoped, wished, maybe he found someone else who isn’t normal. Someone else who’s a little bad at living.

“If you want… here.” He took off one of the many keychains on his bag and placed it in Hinata’s hand. “Maybe… Potatomaru can help you… find your headphones, or something.”

Hinata’s smile looked brighter than the sun. Really, he wasn’t normal at all.

As his classmate left, Midori felt, ever so slightly, the dense, heavy knot in his chest beginning to unravel.

Chapter Text

“Maa-kun, you don’t understand a thing.”

Mao feels his heart deflate. Ritsu’s said this to him more times than he can count, and for no particular reason. And, also for no particular reason, Mao feels utterly useless.

He sits outside of his own room, the closed door between him and Ritsu. He can imagine Ritsu in his mind’s eye, splayed out under Mao’s clean white sheets, lying diagonally on the bed, pillows under his hands and feet but not his head, which was surely face down, black hair splayed everywhere. He can imagine Ritsu curling up, wrapping the sheets and the comforter around his tall, thin body, biting down and nibbling on the edge of the fabric (Mao can feel his skin crawl) and Ritsu’s pretty fingers tracing circles along the bedframe.

He leans his head against the door. He’s seen Ritsu like this so many times, and his first instinct is always to drag Ritsu out of bed, carry Ritsu on his back if he has, and drag the both of them to wherever they need to be. But this is a day off, and Mao has no excuse to get Ritsu to move at all.

If he can’t pull Ritsu out of bed, and if he can’t have a talk because he doesn’t understand, then what can he do? Mao stares down at the ground and thinks and thinks.

Finally, it occurs to him. Silently, so Ritsu couldn’t hear him, he gets up and goes to the kitchen. He taps through his phone for the recipe, though he’s made this many times before on many occasions-- a simple soup, delicious and easy to prepare. As he works, his energy returns to him, and he hums the chorus to a Trickstar song under his breath.
Half an hour later, his ingredients are stewing in the pot, and he hears a stirring and the creaking of the floor. Just as he’d expected, Ritsu appears in the doorway with his uniform all crumpled and his hair a total mess, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“Did you nap well?”

“Maa-kun, how am I supposed to sleep when it smells so good in here?”

Mao chuckles. “Sorry, sorry! I just thought I’d do something while you were asleep.”

“A busy little hard worker you are, as always…” Ritsu says, letting a tiny smirk creep up onto his face. In a fluid motion, just like he’d done a hundred times before, Ritsu slipped into one of the seats at Mao’s dinner table. And in just as fluid a motion, Mao sets a dish in front of him, full of his signature homemade soup.

They eat mostly in silence. Mao watches Ritsu slurping up the soup without hesitation, and he feels himself relax. He’s always liked watching Ritsu. And to him, it seems Ritsu’s mood has lightened up a little.

“Maa-kun, what are you smiling at, huh? Are you finally falling in love with me?”

“Don’t be like that. Didn’t we decide we’re dating already? I’m pretty sure love comes before that happens.”

“Ufufu, how young and innocent you are…”

“Hey, you’re only a year older than me.”

Mao reaches for Ritsu’s empty bowl, but it’s swept out of his way before he can take it. Ritsu chuckles and takes it to the sink to wash it, and Mao stares at him in wonder. Mao’s about to stand up to help out when Ritsu returns, walks straight up, and plants himself down on Mao’s lap. They look into each other’s eyes for a moment before Ritsu leans down and places a soft little kiss on his cheek.

He feels Ritsu’s warm arms around him, Ritsu’s warm breath on his neck. He closes his eyes, inhales deeply, doing his best not to flinch this time.

“You’re actually right, Maa-kun,” he hears the voice near his throat murmur, followed by another gentle kiss on his skin. “I’ve loved you for a long time.”