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8
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Byakuran is eight when he first catches sight of him.
He’s an odd sight, for certain. A single kid propped up against the monkey bars in a playground emptied of kids by hushing mothers returning from market trips. Byakuran vaguely recalls the way sunset orange had been reflected in forlorn browns as he gazed off into the distance, taking in the setting sun with a small smile that’s not reflected in his eyes. He vaguely remembers thinking – ‘How pretty.’
“Hey!” Byakuran calls out without thinking.
The brown haired boy doesn’t move from where he’s balancing. He must not have heard him.
Byakuran pursues his lips and stalks forward. He slides a finger up the boy’s back from the base of his spine, whistling in time with the stroke.
“H-HIIIH!” The boy screeches. Byakuran winces.
“You.” Byakuran huffs. “I’m talking to you. It’s rude to ignore people when they’re talking to you, don’t you think?”
The shorter boy has leapt away from the supports of the monkey bars, fingers curling into the sleeves of his shirt, an utterly comical look of aghast painting his face as he looks up at him. Byakuran snorts. A mocking smile remains on his face as he flaps his hand, resisting the urge to reach out and pinch. (This boy sure has some marshmallow cheeks.)
“Wipe that look off your face. You look ridiculous.” He says in a teasing lilt, grin spreading across his face.
Brown-haired kid looks affronted. Marginally, at least. He mostly looks frightened.
“W-Who are you?” Brown-haired kid stutters.
Byakuran blows him a raspberry. Brown-haired kid’s brows crinkle lightly.
“Like you, I’m one of the ones waiting for my parents to bring me home. Byakuran’s the name.” He extends his hand to pick up the other’s. Brown-haired kid backs away with eyes the size of dinner plates and brows so knitted together they could be a unibrow. Byakuran scoffs and forcibly takes his hand in his own. “I won’t bite, kid.”
“B-Bite?” Brown-haired kid must be a doofas, because no one has ever parroted Byakuran this much other than his nursery school teacher.
“It means I won’t hurt you.” Byakuran sighs, exasperated. “Gosh, how slow can you be?”
Brown-haired kid winces. And Byakuran wonders if he should be feeling guilty for that.
“What’s your name?” He asks, leaning against the monkey bars. “I won’t tease you even if it sounds stupid, promise.” He adds, seeing the way brown-haired kid winces at that.
“…I-” Brown-haired kid looks ridiculous again with his large eyes swiping the area. “I don’t… I don’t…know…?” He suggests.
Byakuran looks at him incredulously.
“You’re so mean.” Byakuran settles into a pout. “Just because I look stupid doesn’t mean I am, you know? ‘I don’t know’ can’t possibly be your name. Don’t tell me… ‘Shirai Naito’ is your actual name?” He guesses.
“No.” Shirai Naito shakes his head fervently. “I’m definitely not Shirai Naito! Naito is another word for stupid, so my name mustn’t be that!”
“You say that as if you’re able to choose your name.” Byakuran gives him a look. This guy… He’s pretty weird, huh.
“You choose what my name is.” Brown-haired guy insists, finally having the guts to stand up for himself.
“That makes no sense.” Byakuran tilts his head.
“Nothing makes sense.” Brown-haired kid shrinks back into himself, as if remembering himself. Which, you know, sort of contradicts everything he’s saying.
Byakuran takes a huge inhale and scratches the side of his head. If the kid doesn’t want to tell him his name (which may or may not hurt his feelings slightly, because really? It’s understandable how his peers bully him because he’s too smart and too pretty, but to hate him to that extent off the bat? It sucks because he thought this guy’s a fellow bullied, pretty boy, but) he won’t push it, he guesses. Doesn’t mean he won’t make a game out of it though.
“Dick.” Byakuran states. “You’re Dick henceforth, because you’re a dick to me.”
Brown-haired kid looks at him, cocking his head in an unfairly cute manner. God, maybe this kid’s justified in being doubtful of others. He must be bullied as much if not more than Byakuran in school for his prettiness.
“Is Dick a good word?” He asks, innocence lacing his every word.
“What do you think?” Byakuran lifts a brow at him.
“Yes, it is?” Dick suggests hesitantly.
“You’re Dick henceforth then.”
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“What’s your name?” Byakuran asks, sinking into the swing opposite the monkey bars. “Mine’s Byakuran.”
“Dick!” Brown-haired kid replies cheerfully from where he stands next to the monkey bars. “My name’s Dick!”
“You can’t be serious.” Byakuran blurts out before his mind could even catch up with him. “Dick. Really?” He gazes at the boy with poorly disguised sympathy. This must be one of those. Another one like him, who got cursed by parents with a fondness for stupid names. (Who names their son after a flower anyways?) “You need a new name.” He concludes grimly, an exhale on his lips.
“What? Why?” Large brown eyes blink at him innocently.
“Just because.”
Byakuran doesn’t want to rain on his parade if his parents had been telling him ‘Dick’ is a good word all this while.
“Well then, what do you want to call me?” Dick questions with a shrug.
Byakuran looks around and sees a squirrel crawling up a tree behind Dick.
“Natsu.” He says. And no, he’s not inspired from the parallels he draws between the cute little animal and the cute little boy. “Because your hair’s shaped like spiky nuts. Do you even see yourself?” He teases, a grin playing on his lips.
.
Byakuran takes Natsu home because Natsu says he does not have parents, and Byakuran’s own parents are being too much of workaholics to care to pick him up.
He pulls Natsu into the safety of his house, shoves him into the bathroom to take a bath, and returns to drop off a set of his own clothes – only to hear disturbing gulping sounds from inside the bathroom. Byakuran throws open the doors just in time to see Natsu lying flat on his front, completely submerged in the bath tub.
“Natsu-!” A cry and a quick tug at that thin arm pulls the fluffy brunet out of the tub.
Byakuran peers down, wide-eyed, at the red rims of brown eyes and he wonders if this is how the female protagonist of every movie feels – his heart’s beating so fast he might even mistake this for love if he isn’t alarmed by how stupid Natsu is.
“Hey…!” He resists the urge to physically shake the other boy. “Are you okay…?”
Natsu takes a huge watery breath. Chokes a little. Byakuran extends his free hand and holds back, not knowing what to do. What the hell was Natsu even doing putting his head in the waters?
The brunette coughs again. He looks up at him with bright eyes, almost looking proud of himself.
“I took a bath, Byakuran!”
Byakuran whacks him over the head with a fist.
“OW!” He screeches.
Byakuran’s head catches up with him a little while after. He understands enough from Natsu’s words to facepalm himself, one hand still perched on the other’s shoulders to firmly keep him out of waters.
“Gosh, you must be an imbecile. I don’t think I’ve ever met one in my life before today.” Byakuran lets out a breathless chuckle. The incredulous sort when someone just had all their expectations of how much stupid the world can contain betrayed. Byakuran eyes the other, exasperated. “How can you not know how to bathe?”
And Natsu blinks up at him, snot trailing down his nose, and his voice warbles as he answers.
“T-That’s not how we take baths…?”
“Your intelligence is utterly astounding.” Byakuran mocks him with a wide smile and huge words he’d never be able to understand.
Still, he takes Natsu by the hand and leads him out of the tub, keeping his eyes firmly away from the other’s privates.
“You’re hopeless. Let me show you how to take a bath.” He blows a strand of hair out of his own face.
.
“I took a bath by myself!” Natsu announces proudly, standing outside of his washroom wrapped up in a large fluffy towel.
“I…can see that.” Byakuran tries not to sound too weirded out by the other. “Come on, let’s play some games.”
“Games…?” Natsu tilts his head questioningly.
Byakuran takes a huge breath and tries not to let his pity show for the other. He must have been soo deprived, if he never had games in his childhood. And Byakuran’s lucked out, because he can finally have a punching bag for himself in gaming.
“What rock have you been living under till now?” He grins. “Let me show you how the master play.”
.
“I won!” Natsu flops back onto his bed, controller flying to god knows where.
Byakuran carefully keeps an even face, taking in the other’s delight.
“You’re good.” He says, voice brittle but wry smile peeking through.
“It’s all thanks to you, Byakuran.” Natsu smiles, all sweet and large eyes impossible to get mad at.
Byakuran finds that part of him utterly unfair.
He scoffs, nudging the other.
“What’s that even supposed to mean? Come on, let’s turn off the lights. We’ve got to go to sleep.” Byakuran turns off the lights and the television. He pulls the comforter over the strange boy he’d picked off the streets, tucking the both of them into a bed he’d always thought is too large for a boy his age. It feels slightly warmer, with the knowledge that Natsu’s there by his side.
The brunette’s stupid smile is still blissful when he lies down.
“What’s with that look?” Byakuran exhales through his nose, exasperated. Natsu is so strange. “Just go to sleep already.” He kicks him lightly for extra measure.
“Heheh. It’s nothing.” Natsu giggles. He snuggles in closer, ignoring the way Byakuran tenses briefly. “It’s been a while since you last found me.”
“What are you saying…” It makes no sense.
But Byakuran curls up around this kid’s warmth anyways, because it’s better than emptiness.
(Natsu is gone in the morning, and together with him, the memories of a brown haired boy drowning in a summery sunset evening. Byakuran wakes up feeling emptiness, wondering where the remnants of warmth had gone.)
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14
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Byakuran is fourteen when his black and white, Monday to Sunday routine is interrupted by a boy in a pink cardigan who strides right up to him after cram school on a Friday.
“Byakuran!” Cries the brown-haired kid, a little midget at least one head shorter than Byakuran (and damn it Byakuran doesn’t pity him for still being in that voice-breaking, muscle-aching interval of puberty). “You’re Byakuran, aren’t you?”
And large brown eyes shine up at him, already knowing their answer.
Byakuran is startled. He takes a step back, hoping no one in his school would associate him with this little pink fashion disaster. But alas, he sees fangirls turning to whisper and jealous boys already plotting out missions to uncover his gayness. Byakuran wishes to be in their shoes, because – actually, now that he takes a second look, this boy’s sort of cute if slightly ditzy.
“Eh~ I don’t think we’re close enough to be dropping the honorifics? I don’t even know your name.” Byakuran fake-chuckles, the way he always does to worm his way into girls and guys’ hearts.
The little brown furry doesn’t change his beat. To be fair, he’s already bedazzled by Byakuran’s charms from the beginning.
“I want to be your friend, Byakuran!” Brown furry exclaims. “Let’s go out together!”
Byakuran’s flabbergasted. His grin’s hanging on the edges like old doors from latches. His expression smooths out into a strained smile.
“Come again?”
“Let’s go out together!” Insists brown furry.
Byakuran feels a little part of himself die at how the murmurs increase in volume all around them. Oh, this guy’s just giving them all the ammo on Byakuran, isn’t he? He wonders if he could snatch Brown Furry away from whoever is hiring him to do this so he could turn him on the mastermind.
“You are awfully charming, Stranger-san, but I’d have to turn you down.” Byakuran lets him down as nicely as possible in public. “I’ll see you another time—”
“I know of a nice place with some s’mores coffee and toast!”
“I think we’ll get along nicely!”
Byakuran hooks his marshmallow mate by the arm.
Blinking, surprised, for a second, the brunette beams and leads the way.
“I’m Natsu! Just plain old Natsu! Nice to meet you!”
.
He’s totally been had. Byakuran is a hundred percent positive of that.
“Let’s be honest, shall we?” Byakuran begins the conversation with a strained smile, totally not being jealous of Natsu – who has his mouth firmly plastered around the coffee Byakuran bought for him. (The little nuisance doesn’t have a single cent on him.) “Who was it who divulged my marshmallow weakness? And if not, how long have you been stalking me?”
Natsu’s mouth hangs open for a short moment of time. Byakuran takes the opportunity to latch onto his own straw as long as possible.
“What does ‘stalking’ mean?” Large brown eyes blink.
“Oh, god. You can’t be serious.” He takes a peek at the other from under his facepalm. Natsu looks genuinely blanked out. “It means you follow someone around without them knowing. Sometimes, even when it makes them uncomfortable.” Byakuran takes care to stress on those words.
“Oh. Then I’ve been stalking Byakuran for—” Natsu blinks rapidly. He counts off his fingers to six.
“Six days?” Byakuran relaxes. That’s not too bad. An accumulated habit would be worse off—
“Six years!” Natsu lifts his fingers proudly.
“Haha… That’s funny!” Byakuran applauds to go along with the joke.
Natsu smiles sweetly at him and tilts his head.
Byakuran’s smile twitches.
“I hate you.” Byakuran summarizes, because this right here before him is a little pathological liar, apparently. Couldn’t he at least know the identity of his (stalker) fan so he could (not) not report him to the police? “Wouldn’t it be laughable if I’ve essentially followed you to what may or may not be a planned kidnapping and end up dying in some miserable place on some distant mountain?”
Natsu peers at him with innocent eyes.
“I see.” At least he had one last cup of s’mores.
.
“I’m going home.” Byakuran had said, picking up his bag.
“Let’s go to the arcade next!” Called out his apparent fan-not-kidnapper. Byakuran totally does not flinch at the hand that links with his. “Although it’s fine if we head over to yours too! Bomberman is fun from time to time too!” He beams as if he had not just blurted out an expired game no teenager their age should have.
“O…kay…” Byakuran gently pushes his hand away. He is totally not creeped out by the fact that the other knows what kind of games he has at home – and can he take that as a threat to continue being stalked unless he goes on an impromptu date with this guy? “To the arcade it is then.” He agreed lifelessly.
The arcade trip is a lot more fun than he thinks, with the brunette surprisingly bad at things like whack-a-mole and basketball throwing games. He’s downright horrid at dancing games, which Byakuran used to stun the entire arcade with his skills. He may or may not be pleased by the way the brunette had clapped, innocent delight in every bit of his expression for Byakuran, even when Natsu has clearly lost. On a side note, Byakuran resolves to call out his stalker one of these days to challenge him at the shooting games again.
It’s a surprising break away from the black and white, studying routine of his mundane days, one which he admittedly might have needed. (Nothing tells you he needs a break than the routinely cycling thoughts of shooting down everyone in the vicinity. And not necessarily with heart bullets.)
“Who are you really?” Byakuran asks again, chin propped up by palm, as he watches the brunette gobble up a strawberry crepe across him.
Brown eyes blink, cheeks puffed up with crepes.
“You’re not just an average stalker, are you?” Byakuran asks, sly smile on his face.
Natsu hastily chews and swallows audibly.
“Who I am…? Such a question…” He smiles, lips still smeared with jam and all. “I’m obviously Natsu, your friend, aren’t I?”
Byakuran cracks up at the answer. This time, he’s surprised his laugh isn’t all that mocking.
(Even if he forgets thereafter still.)
.
16
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Byakuran is sixteen when he decides life isn’t worth living. (Between the black and the white and the meaningless ongoing chatter of the every day life, is there really a meaning to this repeating routine? Does he need to say more--?)
He’d just flung himself out across the platform when he saw a brown haired boy with a horrendous idea of fashion peering out at him from behind thin wire framed glasses, looking utterly horrified.
Byakuran doesn’t know why, but it cracks him up – this guy sure looks comical against the backdrop of black suits and skirts and dark umbrellas and—
--and he knows no more.
.
Byakuran is sixteen when he decides life isn’t worth living. (Between meaningless chatter and never ending goals set for him not by him and a life played as the second game of his parents, is there a need to say more--?)
He’s a step away from the platform when his hand is dragged back by a brown haired boy in the most atrocious pink cardigan he has ever seen and the most dramatic glasses which must be a crime to society. Really.
“Will you go out with me?!” The boy blurts.
And Byakuran wants to die so much more – oh, and don’t worry, because it seems like the world’s doing him a favour by killing him with the wait to committing suicide. Like, really? Can’t this love confession wait until he’s down below the rails and flattened? Then this guy here can go and mourn all he likes with the one thousand, two hundred and fifty-six students of his school. Byakuran really wants to groan.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he smiles and he nods and he allows himself to take this boy on a final trip to the café nearby and have one last cup of s’mores and have one last strawberry crepe and have one last trip to the arcade and—
“S’mores are to die for.” Says the brunette gravely, dragging him back to the café for his new actual last cup of s’mores.
Byakuran is convinced he knows what he’s planning. Or at least, what he was planning.
“S’mores are to die for.” Byakuran agrees, choking on a chuckle that makes the black and white of his world spin. Maybe he just needed a break from everything and it’s this guy – this horrendous, freeloader with a serious need for a new fashion sense – that gave him just that. Byakuran could give him entire marshmallow rains and it still doesn’t seem enough to express his gratitude.
He reaches out deliriously, still high on sugar, and presses his lips against the unmoving, plush ones of the other boy before they separate.
The pink clad brunette makes a strangled sound and struts off, stiff as a board, eyes wider than dinner plates.
Byakuran does not die that day.
.
17
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Byakuran is seventeen when he encounters his first stalker.
He’s hiding. Badly. With a neon pink headband and pink cardigan and all. Byakuran reckons he’d do better camouflaging himself as street lights than trees.
“You seriously need to get a life if you think I’m the most stalkworthy person around here.” Byakuran deadpans to the not-tree in the garden. He sighs, exasperated. Cards a hand through his hair in frustration. The grin that tugs on his face is not at all sincere. “What did I even do to earn your affection?”
“K-Kiss.” Squeaks the brunette. “You kissed me.” Says him under Byakuran’s waiting gaze.
Byakuran pursues his lips and frowns.
“You’re in serious need of a therapist if you’re that delusional.”
.
“Someone kissed me after I saved his life the other day.”
Byakuran is seventeen and he wonders what he’s doing, playing therapist to the brown-haired kid he’d found on the school rooftop.
“I don’t get the meaning of it.” Confesses Natsu, as he had introduced himself as.
“Well~~~ For starters, I’ve got to say congratulations.” Byakuran pats his knee fondly. “You’ve lost your first kiss when the rest of us are busy losing our virginities at this age. You deserve a medal for preserving your innocence up till now!” He totally wants to skip the subject that’d be raised by the brunette’s confused frown and curious eyes. “As for your guy!”
Byakuran raises a pinky, smiling mischieviously.
“Don’t you think that guy has fallen in love with you after you saved his life?”
“W-What?!” Yelps Natsu, nearly falling off the bench.
Byakuran bursts out laughing.
“It’s called Stockholm swooning, you know? Where the female protagonist falls in love with their kidnappers because they mistake the pounding of their hearts for love. Or something like that.” Byakuran ends off contemplatively, wondering if there really are scenarios like that in real life.
“But he’s a guy and I didn’t kidnap him!” Exclaims Natsu, exasperated.
The brunette pauses briefly under Byakuran’s look.
“Alright, I might have kidnapped him a little.” Natsu concedes. “But it’s only a little!”
“God, you’re hilarious! Natsu, you’re so hilarious!” Byakuran smacks on his own thighs, cracking up. “Next thing you know, you’re only falling in love with this dude ‘only a little’!”
“I do love him a little! Or – I mean, a whole lot!” Natsu screams, flailing. Byakuran wonders what the hell he became all nervous for, correcting himself like that. “But that doesn’t mean I want to date him! O-Or – at least-! The circumstances… don’t allow us to date…” And Natsu’s wilting, like the pretty little flower he is. Byakuran prods him with the heel of his shoe.
“Is this twilight rather than the beauty and the beast?” Byakuran asks.
“Do you love me?” Asks the brunette suddenly.
“Sorry, Nuts, but we’ve only just met an hour ago and we’re still on the verge of breaching the friendzone into the brozone.” Byakuran flutters his lashes, all apologetic-like.
Natsu groans for god knows what reason and buries his face deeper in his hands.
.
“I want to be your friend!” Cries out the brown haired boy who stands outside his school that day.
Byakuran thinks he’s absolutely out of his mind, but he accepts it instantaneously at the first cry of ‘s’mores’ he hears. Natsu is a weird guy who smiles whenever they share a moment between them or two and Byakuran thinks he could grow to like this sort of havoc in his life overtime, but it doesn’t matter, because at the end of it, Byakuran still forgets.
(Except Natsu doesn’t.)
(Natsu never does.)
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19
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In another universe, Byakuran puts on the ring, and all Byakurans instantly remember.
In university, Byakuran falls to his feet right before his full body length mirror – and by gods, he thanks the almighty heaven that his roommate, a sarcastic little shit by the name of Irie Shoichi (god, it makes so much sense why he’s able to maintain his A now), isn’t there right now to see Byakuran brought down to his knees by his own reflection. He doesn’t need anymore rumours of him being a narcissist going around (though he reckons Sho-chan already has enough to prove it).
Byakuran remembers a brown haired boy who had sat and basked in the light of a setting sun.
Byakuran remembers a brown haired boy who had approached him off his own accord.
Byakuran remembers a brown haired boy showing off his bathing and gaming skills proudly.
Byakuran remembers a brown haired boy who had waited outside his school gates all day.
Byakuran remembers a brown haired boy who grabbed him by the hand and hauled him away from the black and white.
By gods, Byakuran remembers the brown haired boy who had saved him from an untimely death.
Byakuran remembers a brown haired boy who he had kissed and who tasted like marshmallows.
Byakuran remembers a brown haired boy who confessed his love to him without him knowing at that time.
Byakuran remembers a brown haired boy whose smile is like a million rays of sun beams, who’d settled for the little things he could receive and never more.
And Byakuran remembers Sawada Tsunayoshi. But does that matter? It doesn’t, because Sawada Tsunayoshi is an existence who never transcended the planes the way his (their) Natsu did. Maybe Sawada Tsunayoshi is Natsu’s original name, but it doesn’t change the fact that Natsu’s the one who he had shared those moments with; who’d stayed by him even after watching him jump.
‘You’re unreasonable.’ Argues the Byakuran’s of half the universe, because they are apparently lucky enough to have a Sawada Tsunayoshi in their worlds but still stupid enough to not appreciate his presence.
‘Well, you’re dumb.’ Argues back the Byakurans of worlds without Sawada Tsunayoshi – worlds where Natsu travels freely, safe from the danger of a double existence within the same world – worlds which have to share one single Natsu. And that’s fine by them, because at least they have Natsu-Natsu, not Sawada Tsunayoshi-Natsu.
Man, that’s confusing.
Byakuran resolves to put his arms around Natsu the next time he sees him – and it must be so tight that he can’t even escape to another world again.
But first.
Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap.
“Irie, your roommate’s naked and prostrating himself before a mirror. Should I be concerned?”
Snap.
The shutter of Spanner’s camera goes off.
Byakuran has to get rid of evidences.
.
The actual process is simple enough. Grab Natsu. Hug him. Kiss him. Easy, right?
Not.
.
‘I see him. I totally see him now and—he’s gone.’
‘Got my hands around him—nope.’
‘How goddamn hard is it to catch one little phantom who keeps coming up to us?’
‘Tables sure are turning. Our lack of practice with stalking is showing.’
‘Or HIS practice with stalking is showing.’
‘GODDAMNIT SOMEBODY JUST PLANT A KISS ON THAT LITTLE PESK—’
Got him, he relayed, palms pressed up against both sides of his cheeks and lips pressed flushed against those soft marshmallow-like lips. Natsu makes a little strangled moaning sound at the back of his throat, fingers initially pushing him back curling into his sweater, brown eyes squeezed tight in shock, feet lifting off ground with how hard Byakuran’s holding onto him. And – and –
And even though it’s their first time meeting each other, Byakuran could literally hear the purrs of all the other versions of him who’d already fallen in love with this man before him. He could feel his own heart racing and warmth surging, adoration flooding his mind.
Ah. God. He really has it bad for him.
Byakuran pulls back when the lack of air is too much.
Natsu is flushed and flustered, wide eyes boring up at him and lips parting, speechless.
A momentarily flicker of fear from the onlookers at the back of his mind makes him tighten his hold on him.
Byakuran cradles his face tighter and drops pecks all over his face.
“I love your eyes. They’re so large and brown. They’re like the brown of our s’mores coffee.”
“I love these lashes of yours. I stared at them when you were asleep. How can someone be so pretty-looking?”
“These cheeks. God. I love these cheeks. I could just eat them right up.”
“Your hair’s so soft. They’re the best. You don’t look like a porcupine. Or a spiky nut. Or a fluff. You’re just…you. How can you be so perfect?”
Byakuran pulls back to stare down at flushed features, taking in Natsu’s expression which had contorted to just being speechless. Stunned. Lost. All at once.
“How can you be so perfect?” Byakuran tugs him up closer onto himself, puts Natsu to stand on his feet, and he plants another warm, comfy kiss against his lips that just sends more love thrilling through his veins.
“You—You remember.” Natsu gasps, looking up at him as if he can’t believe it.
Byakuran smiles and can’t resist the mirth that enters his gaze.
“Now that I do, can we officially begin our relationship? Even though this is the first time I’ve ever met you.” He throws in contemplatively.
Natsu is speechless. Byakuran counts down from three seconds, and he beams when Natsu tiptoes to throw his arms around him, pulling the two of them together.
Their laughter joins the sunset glow basking them in its midst.
.
20
.
“Would you believe me,” Byakuran begins. “If I tell you that in some worlds, we date?”
Sawada Tsunayoshi’s gaze is decidedly a deadpan. (Brat can’t hide it no matter how much exasperation he always layers it with.)
“No, it’s true. What motivation do I have to mess with you?” Byakuran chuckles, spinning a pen.
“You mean besides your life’s motive to make my entire life a joke?” Tsunayoshi is so done with him, which is alright and fine. “If there is a version of me who actually gets together with you, I wish him the best of luck in dealing with you.”
“A-ha!” Byakuran laughs, finding it funny.
It’s one to god knows how many, really. One Sawada Tsunayoshi – or Natsu as they call him – to be shared amongst the many Byakurans lacking a Sawada Tsunayoshi. The last he checked, Natsu had cycled through the amazon of Byakurans once and is half way on his route back from the first Byakuran he encountered. He’s got admirable talent in becoming a Mare sky, Byakuran will give him that.
(Once upon a time, there was a world where Byakuran had fallen in love with Sawada Tsunayoshi.
That Byakuran gave his ring to Sawada Tsunayoshi in view of what his alternative selves would do and was subsequently torn apart to be remade into Ghost.
Natsu is the remains of that Sawada Tsunayoshi who’d be saved by Byakuran. A seed really, to plant the love of Sawada Tsunayoshi into the rest of the system.)
“You’ve won the game, other me.” Byakuran chuckles into his palm, outsmarted by none other than himself.
“What was that?” Tsunayoshi looks up from his paperwork.
“You’re beautiful, dearie.” Byakuran replies.
Tsunayoshi chucks a pen at his head.