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The air conditioner won’t stop whining in the study room. It’s going and going, grinding against itself, louder, then quieter, then louder again. Seiji grits his teeth but can hardly hear the squeak of his molars colliding over the harsh, metallic sound. As his breath falls with a huff from his lips, he resigns himself to the fact that the sound isn’t going to stop and he won’t be able to practice his English phrases like he wants to.
It only gets worse when they show up. One, he recognizes from class; she’s pretty, really pretty, with that natural pout to her lips and tawny blonde locks… Camie, that’s her name. The other one’s new; Seiji would’ve remembered those massive shoulders and that blindingly-bright smile. Now if that isn’t the most confusing set of consecutive thoughts he’s had today, he doesn’t know what is. He’s not here to ogle , he’s here to learn how to be a hero, and yet...
“Inasa!! Please help me with my English homework. Please, please? It’d be so chill of you,” Camie pleads.
“My English isn’t so good, Camie!” the guy - Inasa - says. “I’m only a first year, and my family is from the rural coastal area anyway! We don’t use a lot of English!”
“Aw,” she sighs, practically wilting as she lets her arms hang in front of her.
“We can try anyway!” Inasa suggests, and Seiji scoffs quietly under his breath, shifting further behind his stack of textbooks in the corner of the study room. Now he has to try to study with the air conditioner and these two yapping.
“No, no, see, Ina baby, you gotta use there for the possessive!” the blonde lectures, pointing at the words their and there clearly written on the board. “Like, see? There smile is happy. Not their. ”
Oh no. That’s totally wrong. These two clearly got in based off of their quirks and not their practical exam scores. Great . That girl’s gonna make their class standing sink among the other two classes and he can’t have that. They have to be the best- he has to be the best.
If he can’t convince these two to drop out, then he might as well help them.
“It’s T-H-E-I-R, not T-H-E-R-E.”
The blonde nearly jumps out of her loafers. “Ohmygod don’t scare me like that, fam! Gonna give your girl a damn heart attack over here!”
Seiji tries his best not to roll his eyes. “You’re wrong.”
Camie smiles, sets a hand on her hip, and rocks it so far to the side he’s surprised she hasn’t popped the joint out of its socket yet. “Oh yeah? Come and show me!”
Seiji sighs, grabs his English textbook, and moves across the room to the seat beside theirs. Dropping it with a thump, he opens it to the page their homework is on before flipping back to the answers.
“See? You’re wrong,” he says, pointing to the answer. “Their with an E-I-R is possessive. Means something that belongs to one person or to a group of people.”
“Oh!” Camie said. “... I don’t get it.”
Seiji wrinkles his brow as he looks at her. It’s not like he really knows, either. English is hard, harder to learn than Japanese. He shrugs, collects his textbook, and moves to the back of the classroom. Unfortunately, he has a shadow; one with dark brown eyes that look like they might swallow him up if he looks for too long.
Camie perches on the edge of the desk in front of him, leaning over until her hair spills over her shoulder in a cascade of toffee-colored locks. She’s getting so close, why, why, oh god, did he put on any deodorant today?
A long, slender finger pokes the kanji at the top of his paper. “Seiji. Seiji Shishikura?”
“Yeah,” he says breathlessly.
“Sup, fam?”
It’s tofu yakidon for dinner again tonight. He grilled the tofu in the kitchen last night and made enough for a few nights. Seiji’s not a bad cook for a seventeen year old who’s never done anything for himself in his life. He supposes he has his father to thank for that, who’s always worked hard to take care of their household while his mom is off being a bigshot surgeon. He’s always been closer to his dad. The man is kind and forgiving, which Seiji needs plenty of both.
He waited way too long to take a shower, but he didn’t want anyone else in the shower when he was in there; it takes too long to get his binder just right when he puts it back on and he doesn’t need to explain that to his friends, not yet. It often means he’s late to dinner and eats alone, but it’s preferable to being out when he’s nowhere near ready yet.
Tonight, he’s not alone in the kitchen. Tawny, blonde hair swings from side to side in a high ponytail as Camie rocks from one foot to the other, swinging her hips as she stares at her phone screen. In front of her, there’s a pot on the stove.
It smells awfully strange in the kitchen. Like bad eggs.
Wrinkling his nose, Seiji asks, “what’s that smell?”
Camie shrugs. “Dunno. Didn’t start ‘til after I put my ramen on.”
Seiji rummages around in the shared refrigerator and sets his containers of stir-fried tofuand noodles on the countertop. There’s a third, full of raw, diced onion that he’s already got open, ready to fry on the stovetop to top the yakidon with. He grabs his favorite frying pan from the rack - it’s clean for once, thank God - and sets it on the stovetop.
That’s when he sees it. Camie’s ramen, sitting there, floating in a pot of still, unmoving water, and a timer counting down to zero. What the hell is she doing?
The timer beeps and she takes the ramen off the stove and pours part of her broth in before sitting down at the nearby table and sighing happily. “Bon apetit, baby,” she murmurs - Seiji can only guess it’s to her ramen because it’s definitely not to him - before stabbing it with her chopsticks. The brick of noodles is unyielding and Seiji can’t help but frown. Curiously, carefully, he sticks a finger in the leftover broth on the stove.
It’s stone-cold.
He’s so glad he didn’t turn on the stove. That weird smell? That’s…
“Camie, did you turn the stove on?”
“Yeah, uh-huh, sure did! The package said to turn it to high and cook the ramen for two minutes, but obviously they wrote the directions wrong…” she sighs, “so much for my dinner.”
She dumps the bowl and the pot in the sink before filling it with water and putting a new pack of ramen inside. Reaching for the knob, she fiddles it, and -
“Camie, don’t, don’t, don’t do that!” Seiji yells, reaching for the stove and turning it off.
“What’s wrong, Meatball?” she asks with a pout.
Seiji groans and covers his face. Of all the things she could remember him for… it’s his fucking quirk? Great. He’s thinking of her hair, golden brown and perfect, and she’s thinking about how he globs people into indiscriminate lumps of flesh.
“You turned the gas on and let it run for two minutes, that’s why it smells so bad in here.”
“Oh!” she says. “But the knob’s pointed to high.”
“Yeah, so there’s a high amount of gas being released… did you ignite it?” he asks, pointing to the word IGNITE on the knob.
She stares at it intensely. He can see the gears turning as her cheeks get redder and redder until she covers her face and squeaks, “ohmygod.”
Oh. That’s kind of cute. Whoops.
“It’s fine, just a mistake,” Seiji says, failing to add that almost got our dormitory blown up.
“No, seriously, that was like, super dangerous fam. I could’ve blown everyone up!” she whines, shaking her head behind her covered hands.
“It’s really not-”
“You saved me, Seiji,” she sighs, and before he can protest, she wraps her arms around his middle and squeezes him tightly. “Thank you.”
“I- I-” Seiji stutters. Camie’s laugh tinkles like a bell in his ear and makes his heart swell- the hell is this?
“C’mon, Meatball. I’ll buy you takoyaki since you kept me from blowing myself up.”
Seiji’s heart is thumping as he knocks on the door of Camie’s dormitory room. It’s strange enough just to be in the girl’s dormitory; he’s never been in here before. Most girls make him uncomfortable, remind him too much of his past and ever-distant dreams… but Camie doesn’t. Camie seems to be oblivious and her naivety is like a pillow: safe, warm, comforting.
She’s comforting , and he never thought that she, of all people, could be that for him.
“Hey, Meat! Oh! Your yukata is so cute,” Camie squeals, pulling him into her dorm room. It’s way cleaner than he expected; a large floral tapestry covers almost an entire wall, making the room feel like it’s in a whirlwind of rosy peony petals. Seiji feels like it sucked the wind right out of his lungs - he’s seventeen now, girls aren’t supposed to make him nervous. He guesses it’s because he doesn’t spend so much time around them anymore.
Maybe it’s just Camie’s yukata, which seems slightly too small, or maybe she just wanted to have a small sliver of creamy skin peeking out from the neckline. It’s a minty green color with white flowers created from the dyeing process. It’s really lovely, the way the green plays with the little flecks of hazel in her eyes.
“Just a sec, I gotta put a second coat on.”
“Huh?” Seiji says, as his mind hurtles back from outer space into his body.
“A second coat of nail polish,” she giggles.
Seiji pinches the bridge of his nose and grumbles, “and you waited until five minutes before I arrived to put it on.”
“Well, I started like two hours ago before I totally screwed the pooch and had to start over, fam.”
Seiji wrinkles his nose at her atrocious language before sighing, “you’ve been putting it on for two hours!?”
“I just wanna look good for my main man,” she says, pouting as he touches her finger to her lips.
“I’m- I’m not- just let me help you,” he mutters, sitting down on the floor across from Camie, kneeling carefully on his knees so as not to wrinkle the dark, black fabric of his yukata. They’re supposed to go to the cherry blossom festival the next city over today, but he supposes it’ll have to wait until this is done.
Camie sings, “kay,” before holding out her hand, fingers spread widely apart to reveal the pretty rose gold of her nails.
It dawns upon him that he’s going to have to touch her hands. Camie’s hands. Seiji would be lying if he had said he’d never thought about this before. He rolls his lower lip between his teeth and scowls at himself as he gently takes her hand in his, avoiding the still-soft nail polish.
“Never seen a guy frown when they held my hand before, meatball,” she says softly, her impish nature twinkling in her brown eyes like topaz.
“I’m just concentrating,” he mutters, dipping the brush into the pot of polish before dragging it carefully over her fingernails. Now this is something he can enjoy; there’s a tantric nature to it, and he quickly gets lost in the dip, dab, stroke, dip, dab, stroke, until her entire left hand is finished. He fills in each nail perfectly , and it’s so easy and the way the polish settles and congeals together is so satisfying.
“Wow, Seiji. Thanks, dude,” she says, holding out the hand, turning it this way and that so the golden polish catches the light. “Hm? Getting a little fresh there, buddy!”
Seiji hasn’t even realized that he let her hand drop in his lap as he grabs a paper towel. “Oh. uh. Sorry about that. I’m afraid I was a little entranced by the ritual of it. Painting your nails, I mean,” he murmurs, trying not to let the heat in his cheeks fill his whole face as he tries to push her hand away. Last thing Camie probably wants is to be touching him like that. He knows how he feels; how she feels is a completely different story and he doesn’t even want to start getting his hopes up.
“No, it’s okay,” she says softly, letting her hand rest innocently on his knee. “You’re my main man, ‘member?”
Seiji tightens his lips and nods, frowning as he stares at her fingers. His hand shakes a little as he dips the brush into the pot, and before he realizes it, Camie’s laughing again, sweet as bells, and just for him.
“Seijiiiiiii…” Camie whines, cuddling into his side. They’re supposed to be doing homework, or at least, that’s what she invited him over for. Propped up on her pillows, he’s quite comfortable as he peruses through the articles they have to read for Hero Studies course tomorrow morning.
Camie, however, has other ideas. Dressed in her sleep shirt and a pair of shorts, she looks more ready for bed than for studying. It’s totally distracting, too, and she knows it.
“Mm?” he asks nonchalantly. Her hand trailing up the outside of his thigh is anything but.
“Seiji.”
“What?” he laughs, as the fingers trailing up his hip reach his side and make him squirm. She rakes her fingernails over his t-shirt, smiling at his ticklishness.
“Put your tablet away and pay attention to me, Meaty.”
“Not gonna if you call me that atrocious nickname,” he grumbles, tucking his nose a little deeper into his tablet.
“Shishikura,” she whispers, gently pushing his tablet away until he’s forced to either drop it or set it aside. He obliges, disdainfully, until she crawls into his lap, hooking her hands around his neck and letting her forearms rest against his chest. Now she has his attention. She may not be the sharpest crayon in the box, but she definitely has a way about her when it comes to romance.
And touching.
Seiji shivers and she laughs. That damn laugh will be the death of him.
Tilting his head back on the pillow, he looks up at her, letting a lazy grin grow across his face. “Utsushimi,” he replies softly.
Long, golden eyelashes flutter over her brown eyes as she closes them, leaning forward to close the gap between them. Seiji takes a deep breath and holds it as he braces himself.
There’s just one thing Camie’s not good at when it comes to… this kind of thing.
The tongue is there before Seiji can even make lip-contact and it sends him reeling internally. This can’t be the way everyone kisses, right? Camie was his first kiss, but Seiji knows he’s not her first. She’s simply better with people; where he’s gifted with wisdom and a natural ability to soak information like a sponge, she’s great at interacting, debating, discussing, hugging, touching, stroking his hair-
He’s getting distracted. The hands at his sides make him shudder as they tease at the edges of his binder, promising what’s to come later. Tilting his chin down, he breaks the kiss. It’s so sloppy he has to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand.
“What’s wrong, ‘Kura?” she purrs, scooting just a little closer.
He doesn’t know how to say this. The last thing Seiji wants to do is hurt her feelings but he’s not a tactful person, no matter how hard he tries. He knows this is gonna come out wrong.
“Camie.”
“Ugh, not Camie. That means you’re grumpy,” she pouts, twisting a finger in his long, purple locks.
He rocks his head side-to-side lazily on the pillow. “No, I just wanted to ask if I could ask- no, show. Yes, show you how I wanted to try this.”
“Say it, Seiji.”
He grumbles. “Fine. Kissing.”
“You wanna teach me how to kiss? Okay, baby. Gimme your best shot,” she says coyly, pressing her forehead against his, letting her lips hover over his as her impossibly-long eyelashes tickle his cheeks.
“Right,” he says, his voice wavering slightly. He has to swallow the little lump of anxiety that’s developed there, travelling down to his stomach to rest heavily at the bottom. He huffs a little breath before reaching up for Camie, touching gently at her jaw, tilting it down to reach his lips. “Let me do my thing here.”
“Kay,” she giggles, before he presses his lips gently to hers.
It’s nice; without all that tongue, he can really appreciate just how soft her lips are. They’re so full and so round and they do this wonderful thing where they stick to his a little as he pulls away, only to go in for more. He starts with chaste little kisses, simply appreciating her taste and feel before going in for a little more.
Camie’s breath falls a little heavier against his cheeks as she squirms closer in his lap, kissing him back with quiet fervor. It’s so perfect, the way she responds, like she’s taking what he’s giving her and volleying it right back.
Seiji slips his tongue in her mouth and she practically purrs as she meets him with her own. He can feel her breath catch in her throat as they gently tangle tongues before he retreats with her subtle, minty flavor still on his tongue.
“Wow,” she whispers.
He laughs as he takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, and looks up at her as she’s practically glowing.
“That was really somethin’, Meatball.”
“Camie Utsushimi,” he whines, covering his face. She peppers the backs of his hands with little kisses and Seiji’s pretty sure he’s in love.
“Irashaimase!”
The crowd hushes as the principal’s voice booms over the loudspeaker across the open garden of the school. Shiketsu’s gardens are quiet and tucked away, far from the creeping eyes of the media who lie like predators just outside the gate, eager to snap photos of the graduating, up-and-coming heroes. Thankfully, they’ve quieted. Whether it’s a quirk, or because they’re being polite for once, Seiji isn’t sure.
“Quit spacin’ out and pay attention, meaty!” Camie whispers, her quickly-expiring irritation replaced by nerves as she smoothes the black of the Shiketsu kimono over her lap. Her golden obi hugs her slender, strong waist as she sits perched on the edge of the chair, for fear of smashing the beautiful handiwork her mother had achieved that morning.
He looks over to smile at her; he can’t help it, not with the way she looks today, all blushes and smiles and excitement dazzling him from within liquid pools of amber. Seiji reaches out to tuck an errant lock of golden-brown hair back into her bun. The rosy hue of her cheeks deepens as she smiles shyly at him.
There was a time when she was only bright and loud like a sunflower, charming and cheery, but lacking depth. He’s known her for three years now, and loved her for one, and it’s so different. Knowing her now, he knows that she’s a lily; brilliant and beautiful, with a kiss of beautiful color at the base of her petals that only he can see.
That’s the part of her he loves most.
Their row is called forth to walk and accept diplomas from their principal. As they rise from their seats, she sways in front of him like a palm tree caught in the wind; that obi is beautiful, but he’s pretty sure it’s tied too tightly. She’s been breathing funny all morning.
“Mama made me wear these stupid sandals and I can’t walk in them, Kura!” she grumbles under bated breath as he shuffles along behind her.
He sets his hands on her hips, murmuring, “just move with your feet flat. You can’t walk heel to toe in zori.”
He hopes she can’t hear the smile in his voice. It’s been charmed there by the way her hips sway as she tries to move, and the way an errant cherry blossom tangles in her hair. Seiji thinks that maybe he’ll just leave it there.
“Go ahead. Shuffle. Try not to lift your toes.”
She picks up the pace, shuffling quickly down their aisle of chairs. Once they meet the end and step in line, she bumps him affectionately with her hip.
“Sorry, meatball. I’d kiss you, but your mom will kill you if you have lipstick on your face in her pictures.”
“That’s okay. If she kills me, I’ll die doing what I lo….. Like. To do.”
Quirking an eyebrow, she hums a sultry mhmmm before taking to the stage.
Seiji doesn't know what he's doing here anymore.
The top button on his shirt is too tight and his sock is crooked in his shoe, making the seam press into the bottom of his left big toe and Camie is late and he’s just sitting here like an idiot in this restaurant where the ceiling is too high and the music’s too fancy and he doesn’t belong.
The waiter has come by again, beginning to fail at the whole nonchalant thing he’s been trying to pull off as he smiles sympathetically at Seiji.
“More water?”
Seiji nods, his glass is topped off for the third time, and his stomach turns uncomfortably.
This was a terrible idea. How completely cliche of him is it to confess his feelings over a candlelit dinner at an Italian restaurant? Possible the most cliche, ever, and Seiji knows he’s never been one for cliches, yet here he is, in his slightly-too-tight shirt and crooked socks and his binder’s gonna squeeze the very life out of him and he needs out.
“Seiji!” Camie calls breathlessly, rushing up to their table with flushed cheeks and a smile, “I’m so sorry. Patrol got dragged out when a villain showed at like, the last second.”
He breathes a sigh of relief and smiles. Just her presence alone is comforting, and her smile lights the coals in his chest that were slowly fizzling out. He stands up out of his chair to press a kiss to her cheek and pull her chair.
“Was worried for a second there you forgot me,” he chuckles.
Camie huffs her indignance and grumbles, “I’d never forget you, meatball.”
“So when you stood me up at the movies last week, that was…?”
“I fell asleep on my couch! I can’t help if this bod needs its beauty sleep, fam,” she says, pressing her hands on her hips and turning her head dramatically, her golden locks catching the light before she turns to smile at him wickedly. Her full lips stretch just a little and she’s probably the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen.
Seiji opens and closes his mouth before grimacing and covering his face.
Yes, this is a terrible idea.
“Seiji, babe. What’s up with you?” she asks, reaching over the table to snatch his hand.
“Nothing,” He groans, dragging his hand down his face.
“Such a liar, and a bad one, too,” she giggles. Looking around, she takes in the candles, the fine-pressed uniforms of the waiters, and the flowers on the table. When she looks back at him, her smile is even more wicked.
“Why are we here, Seiji? This place is so not you.”
Biting his lip, Seiji looks at the pristine, white tablecloth, and then back up at Camie.
I love you. Just say it! Say it! SAY IT.
“You say that as if I don’t ever crave Italian.”
“Seiji. You’re a vegetarian. You can have like… pasta. With red sauce,” Camie says blankly. “You wanna try that again?”
Seiji crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, staring at the plush carpet beneath their feet.
“Let’s get out of here, c’mon,” she says softly, rising from her seat and taking his hand.
There’s a takoyaki stand just down the street. It feels a little silly to be sitting on the curb, eating steaming-fresh octopus from a little paper carton in clothes as nice as these. The top buttons are undone on his shirt, his sock’s finally on straight, and Camie’s by his side.
He’s comfortable. Safe. There’s nowhere he’d rather be, or anyone else he’d rather be with. It’s kind of funny- when they started high school, he wanted nothing to do with her, and now he wants everything with her.
“Camie,” he mumbles, setting his empty paper carton to the side.
“Mm?” she asks, popping a takoyaki in her mouth.
“I… thanks for this. For dragging me out here. I was kind of losing my mind in there,” he says, taking her hand and brushing his lips against her knuckles. Her eyelashes flutter and she giggles as she chews rapidly, swallowing as fast as she can.
“Mm, Seiji, of course, babe. I know you. You didn’t wanna be in there,” she croons, wrapping her fingers around his hand and holding it tightly.
“I brought you there because I wanted to tell you something, but now I’m… I can’t,” he frowns. It feels like the takoyaki is coming back to life in his belly, squirming and wriggling and writhing. It’s making him a little sick.
Camie’s quiet for awhile, just sitting, watching the people walk by. Seiji feels like he’s going to drown in the silence that lays over them like a thick, wool blanket. She takes her purse and moves it to the other side so she can scoot right up next to him and rest her head on his shoulder.
“You can do it, Seiji. It’s real easy. Just three little words.”
“How do you even know that’s what I wanna say?” he scoffs.
Turning her face toward him, she smiles, and he can feel her breath on his cheek.
“Easy peasy, meatball. I know you. You never half-ass anything.”
Seji huffs a little laugh at that. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“So?” she asks. “What did you wanna tell me?”
“I love you,” he says, the words tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall. “I love you and everything about you. You’re funny and sweet and pretty and I’m not good at this.”
“That’s fine,” she says softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “S’one of the things I love about you, Shishikura. You’re so honest.”
“Good. I mean, thank you. I think?”
She rolls her eyes and laughs, the sound a sweet melody of bells in his ear.