Chapter Text
“You should come and eat with us.” “Us?”
“My friends.” Chiaki felt bad for him. She always felt bad for him, but normally she at least tries to hide it. Now, her pity is abundantly clear and will only become clearer when she pulls up to her Ultimate friends with “talent-less" Hajime under her arm. He bristles at the thought.
“No.”
“Hajime.” Chiaki says his name with that intense look, that speaks volumes more than she would actually say. He needs friends. His glare crumbles away easily, like it always does under even minute opposition from Chiaki. Fine. He’ll humor her.
“Alright, I’ll go. But don’t force anything, okay? If they don’t like me, they don’t like me.” He snaps, putting emphasis on his words. He doesn’t need her to force his relationships, he’s fine doing that on his own.
“Okay. Let’s go.” Chiaki states, simply, spinning her keys around her finger. Hajime balks at this. Oh. He actually has to go through with this. Chiaki turns on her heels and walk out of his room, her shoes clicking against the hardwood floor as she heads for the garage door. Shit.
“W-wait up!”
His feet skid against the floor, racing after her when his brain finally processed what he signed himself up for. He probably left a scuff mark on the floor, but he doesn’t worry about it; he’ll have plenty of time to clean it before his parents get home. If they even notice it when they get home.
Chiaki has already made her way into the garage, Hajime right behind her, as the two walk over to her tiny box-like car - which Chiaki lovingly named “Usami”. She slides into the drivers sit easily, while Hajime awkwardly fiddles with the seat. He pushes it all the way back, and painstakingly shimmies into it. The car wasn’t made for people with long legs, as Hajime always has to fold his legs in such weird ways just to get them inside comfortably, but he’s used to that by now. She cranks up the car, and the two head to the fast food place where Chiaki’s Ultimate friends are said to be.
He’s used to driving with Chiaki, after all she usually drives him home after school since he hates riding the bus. So, everything about this is pretty familiar to him. Though, usually there’s not a small neon box hanging from the mirror by a pink cord. Hajime reaches out and pokes the mystery object, and it begins spinning, the cord tangling up.
“It’s a Tamagotchi.” Chiaki answers, the two so familiar with one another that Hajime doesn’t even need to voice his questions anymore. His actions speak loud enough.
“Tamagotchi? Weren’t those digital pets you had to take care of and stuff?” Chiaki hums in agreement.
“Souda gave it to me.” “Souda?”
“You’ll meet him. He’ll probably be here, since Sonia’s here.” Chiaki speaks, but only half the words make sense to Hajime. Sonia? Souda? Hajime knew that Chiaki had a lot more friends than just him, but he’s never had it so blatantly spelled out for him. Hajime flicks the box again, it bounces around sporadically.
“Does it work?” He asks, hoping to change this painful subject to something that doesn’t involve talking about how much better Chiaki is than him.
“No.” “He gave you a broken toy?” Some friends.
“...Souda didn’t know it was broken, he gave it to me right after he found it.” Hajime snorts at the thought of this guy running up to Chiaki, bright eyed and excitable, handing her the only old gaming-adjacent thing he could find and then being met with Chiaki’s usual blank stare as it doesn’t work. This Souda guy must be a real character to not even look to see if the Tamagotchi works before giving it to Chiaki.
“They’re probably embarrassed that they gave you something that doesn’t even work, I can’t imagine they’d mind if you threw it away.” Chiaki shakes her head furiously.
“No. He offered to fix it, but I like it as decoration.” She shrugs. “...I probably wouldn’t play it if he did fix it anyway.”
Hajime stares at the Tamagotchi dangling helplessly from the mirror with a sort of strange endearment. He frowns. He wouldn’t mind playing it. Maybe he could ask this Souda guy to dig up a Tamagotchi for him. Hajime shakes those thoughts out of his mind. What is he thinking? He’s not friends with these people, Chiaki is.
Usami daintily slots into the parking spot outside the brightly lit taco joint. Hajime’s legs feel 100 times heavier as he glances through the restaurants front windows to see a big table full of colorful teenagers laughing amongst themselves. He can’t do this. Chiaki shuts off Usami, and turns towards him. She’s smiling. That same patient smile she gave him whenever he had a panic attack before the final last year.
“Hey. It’ll be alright. I believe in you, you can do this.” She says, and he believes her. Hajime knows this shouldn’t be that big of a deal, it’s just hanging out with some strangers! Nothing to it, right? But Chiaki just keeps smiling at him, not a hint of condescension on her face. She doesn’t expect him to handle this, or think that he’s being over dramatic, she just believes in him. Believes he can do this. So he will try.
Hajime sighs, running a shaky hand over his face and undoes his seatbelt. The two shimmy their way out of the car, Chiaki clearly being more successful at it than Hajime - who almost collided with the cement trying to get his leg free. The walk to the front of the restaurant feels daunting, and Hajime’s legs practically work on autopilot as his brain turns to a static mess of anxiety. The happy teenagers from the window become clearer and clearer, and Usami becomes more distant. Chiaki pushes open the door, the noise from inside the restaurant pouring outside as she waves Hajime in. He goes, and Chiaki follows behind him.
“Chiaki!” A voice screams, and Hajime’s eyes snap over in its direction to find that it belongs to someone from the table full of the happy teens from before. The teens who are now staring at Chiaki and him with wide eyes. He knew they were Chiaki’s friends, they were just too interesting not to be.
“Sonia.” Chiaki responds, though not nearly as enthusiastic. Sonia pushes herself up, her chair skidding behind her, and glides over to Chiaki. She looks almost ephemeral, with the way her bleach blonde hair and pasty pale skin almost seem to blend into one another - Hajime reckons her to a ghost, before immediately badgering himself for even thinking something like that about another person.
Sonia’s acknowledgement sets off a chain reaction, as the other teens start clambering in excitement at Chiaki’s arrival. Sonia pulls up a chair for Chiaki and waves at it dramatically, like calling a nobleman to his throne. She nudges a pink-haired boy aside - who moves, almost too eagerly - and Sonia presents another chair to Hajime as well. Chiaki takes it easily, mumbling greetings to each of the individuals at the table. He falters for a moment, before taking the seat as well - unable to say no to such an exaggerated offer.
“We were beginning to worry you weren’t going to show, Chiaki!” Sonia chirps, eyes practically sparkling as she takes her seat next to Chiaki.
“Don’t tell me, was this barf bag keeping you busy?” A tiny girl pipes up, taking an overly loud sip of her milkshake. The redhead next to her scoffs.
“Hey, you don’t know if he made her late or not.” She says, swatting at the small child’s arm - who only giggled uproariously at the chiding. “But, did you?”
“I...I-I” Hajime splutters. His words getting tied up in his throat.
“You did didn’t you? Oh, you should know better than to distract someone whenever they’re busy. What kind of person does that?” This red-haired girl spits, her words shooting daggers into Hajime who goes silent in response.
“Uhm...Everyone, this is my friend, Hajime. We’ve known each other for a long time, and I wanted you all to meet him.” And become friends. Hajime can practically feel the words on the tip of Chiaki’s tongue, but they never come out. She’s keeping her end of this strange deal after all, and not trying to force this.
“Oh! Greeting, Hajime, my name is Sonia Nevermind!” Sonia says, leaning against the darkly dressed man beside her as she speaks.
“And I am Gundham Tanaka, a name which I hasten you to remember because soon it will be the name that you all hail!” The man beside Sonia screams, his voice resounding off the walls of the tiny taco joint. No one seems phased by this outburst, as Hajime stares with wide eyes at the ostentatious man in front of him. I guess this is normal.
The table goes quiet. Everyone staring down the boy sitting next to Gundham, who is picking at his food absentmindedly. Sonia clears her throat. He does nothing.
“Fuyuhiko. It’s your turn.” She states. The boy jumps up at his name being called.
“Turn? What turn?” He spits, words like venom as his eyes pierce through Sonia; who doesn’t even flinch.
“Young master, I think it’s your turn to introduce yourself since we’re going around the table.” The girl beside Fuyuhiko pipes in, her tone completely even.
Young master? What in the world is going on. Fuyuhiko groans, his fork clattering loudly against the plate. Those piercing eyes move over to Hajime, who practically stands at attention.
“The names Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu.” He says, eyes trained on Hajime. For someone who speaks with so much anger, Hajime thinks he looks almost... cute? He swallows that thought almost immediately, burying it in the back of his mind.
“Don’t fucking mess with me, and we won’t have any problems. Alright?” Hajime nods, and Fuyuhiko smiles. It’s cute.
The others continue to introduce themselves. Next to Fuyuhiko is Peko Pekoyama, his bodyguard. Then it’s a punk-rocker named Ibuki Mioda, who introduced herself with an over exaggerated hello. Beside her is that red head, apparently named Mahiru Koizumi. And her mean tiny-child of a partner, Hiyoko Saionji. Then it was Akane Owari, who Chiaki had to introduce because Akane was too busy shoveling food into her mouth. And finally, beside Hajime, was the Kazuichi Souda - who looked extremely annoyed to be sitting where he was, despite moving happily when told.
“It’s...It’s nice to meet you all.” Hajime croaked out. His words being swallowed up by noisy table discussions, everyone taking Hajime’s words to mean that they could once again talk amongst themselves. Barely seconds ago it was like he was under a spotlight, with everyone’s eyes firmly planted on him. It was an intense heat, and now it’s gone.
Now things are exactly how Hajime had expected them to be, with everyone resuming their usual activity and leaving him adrift - like an unwelcome bystander, eavesdropping in. Of course he doesn’t want that intense attention again, but being ostracized like this only makes it so much clearer how unwanted he is.
All of the Ultimates talk loudly to one another. All except for Fuyuhiko, the baby-faced boy from before, who sits quietly - sipping his soda through a straw. Hajime stares at him, finding solace in the fact that it’s not just him whose mouth is shut. Though, he does wonder why that is. Fuyuhiko knows these people, Hajime doesn’t. You would think that someone would be talking to him, even if it was just his bodyguard. Yet, Peko seems to be calmly conversing with an extremely loud Ibuki, and Fuyuhiko doesn’t seem annoyed by that or fighting for her attention in the slightest.
Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to anyone? He seems like a quiet guy, if his introduction says anything. So it might just be that he prefers silence, Hajime thinks. Though, if that’s true, what does that say about Hajime. He likes talking, so he has no excuse not to start up a conversation with someone. The thought makes his heart speed up and shoulders tense. Shit. Has anyone noticed his silence? If Fuyuhiko really does have an excuse than Hajime must look socially awkward; which he is, but he doesn’t want other people to think that. His eyes dart around the table, rolling around like dice, looking for any wandering eyes.
He finds some. His gaze meeting a pair of golden eyes, belonging to Fuyuhiko himself. The boys eyes practically burn into Hajime’s, a blank expression on his face. Did he catch me staring? He wonders, fear creeping up into his heart. Hajime freezes up, expecting hell itself to open up and swallow him whole for daring to even look at Fuyuhiko. It doesn’t, instead Fuyuhiko cracks a smile, breaking the eye contact to stare down at the table. It’s small, but it’s definitely a smile. Hajime sucks in a breath through gritted teeth. Today must be his lucky day, as Fuyuhiko definitely doesn’t seem the type to smile like that at anyone.
“Everyone ready to go?” Mahiru asks, earning a chorus of yes’s from the rest of the table. The table soon begins dispersing from the restaurant, with Chiaki disappearing out the door long before Hajime even got to it. The group breaks into a weird little line of twos and threes, all of them walking from the taco joint and towards the parking lot. In this line, Hajime is dead last, watching the others loudly conversing with one another from a respectable distance. There was no use trying to keep up, he’d only be intruding on their conversations and Hajime would rather not have to be a third-wheel right now. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, shuffling in the direction of Usami.
“Hey.” A hand pulls at Hajime’s arm, and he turns sharply to face the owner: Fuyuhiko. His ears are pink from the cold, and he’s staring up at Hajime with that familiar intense expression. “You never said what your talent was?”
Hajime’s mind blanks and he stops dead in his tracks to process the words Fuyuhiko said.
“Neither did you?” He counters. Fuyuhiko scoffs.
“Well, no one else did. So. I didn’t think about doing it.” “So why should I?”
“Because I don’t know yours.” Fuyuhiko spits, glaring at Hajime as if he’s being rude for not sharing his ‘talent’. He looks past Fuyuhiko, eyes locked onto some point ahead of him, as he gathers up the courage to say what he knows he can’t avoid.
“I...I don’t have a talent. I’m in the reserve department.” Hajime mumbles out. The silence that follows is poison to Hajime’s ever descending ego, as he continues to look at anything that isn’t Fuyuhiko’s face.
“Oh.” “Oh?” Hajime’s eyes snap over to him.
“Yeah, oh. What? Did you expect me to start bad-mouthing you or somethin’. I’m not that kind of guy.” Fuyuhiko says, arms crossed. Hajime smiles.
“Of course.” He says, a weird sort of fondness creeping into his voice as he stares down at the cute freckled-face of Fuyuhiko. Who squirms under his gaze.
“Uh. I’ll just...be going then. See you around, Hinata.” He calls, turning on his heels and jogging towards the Peko shaped blur across the parking lot. Hajime lifts his hand to wave goodbye, but Fuyuhiko is too far gone. He drops it, a choked kind of laugh forcing its way out his throat as he watches the other move farther and farther away from him.
Strangely, Hajime doesn’t really hate the idea of hanging out with Chiaki’s friends anymore.