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It wasn’t supposed to be like this, it wasn’t supposed to end up like this. It wasn’t supposed to be — Natsuhiko knew where he drew the lines — he knew, he knew where his limits were. But, he forgets, for a moment that is, that he’s only human. He’s bound to make mistakes and he’s bound to ruin how things usually were. For the first time — in all his years, he’s let his heart out — he doesn’t want to, doesn’t like the feeling of being responsible for it. He doesn’t want to play star — he didn’t want to play that part. Don’t look at me like that . Natsuhiko knows it well, to just play messenger man, he’s tired of this life.
That’s why he recklessly let himself get involved with these maniacs.
Natsuhiko doesn’t know when it started Or how it possibly began — but he knew he liked this girl He’s never bet before when he was out cutting class and snagging the latest pastry at the cafeteria.
It was around the second term of their school year, or so that’s how he recalls it to ber, he’s a little disoriented on when it happened — all he knew it was an unexpected moment. He was only holding the bread in his hand when he went to the hidden behind the old building in Kamome Academy — it was by the old tree that hasn’t been trimmed by the Academy’s garden keepers; he remembers the odd feeling in his chest.
She had green hair in a bob cut that shapes her face just perfectly despite its asymmetry — the way her bangs are cut sort and covered the top half of her forehead, her eye-catching extended locks of her hair by the side of her head that extends up to her chest, layered with a shorter one ending by her collarbones. He doesn’t forget to note the tiny braid just atop her ear — she looked like she had a wreath around her head. But, what took his eyes’ interest the most is her melancholic, lonely look — the way her eyes were half-lidded, staring down onto the dirty pond that once had koi fishes. Such lonely, woeful eyes had caught his heartstrings and dared to tear apart — she was mesmerizing.
Natsuhiko remembers that moment — he thinks he’s in love, but, he knows, it’s some odd sense of infatuation — he’s never seen her and so he believes she might have been in a different level — a third-year perhaps.
His assumptions are correct.
He doesn’t recall how it came up to this point — he’s gotten himself involved with her, impulsively acting upon his desire; who is she?
Nanamine Sakura, a third-year student at Kamome Academy.
He likes her, he thinks, or he believes it to be. She was utterly mesmerizing — and he fell harder with the way she spoke — such an old soul that resonated from her tone, it’s almost as if she wasn’t born from this era. He wonders why, he wonders why — but he’s a little to madly in love with her to draw where the line should be.
He likes her, he definitely believes — hanging outside more with her, visiting the library every now and then to meet her at the furthest bookshelves. She’s still aloof as they first met, but they’ve gotten a little more comfortable with each other; it feels like a fantastic friendship. Natsuhiko never was this eager to meet someone the following days.
Natsuhiko wants her, it’s developed to that point — he’s finding someway, somewhere to draw the line — but he can’t think of it well. He doesn’t know when it happened, how much time has passed — he’s sure, though, his exams have passed that time. Then, he goes along to the floor where the classrooms of the third-year students were.
“Hey, you know where Nanamine Sakura’s room is?”
He doesn’t know why it only crossed his mind now to visit her class — too preoccupied with the thrill of meeting up secretly on breaks and all that — he likes it, feels it’s new and unique.
He stands like a fool while the third-year students give each other looks of concern.
He doesn’t understand — the silence was making him uneasy — and he hates uneasy — hates the feeling of negativity and guilt and concern — he hates that feeling, hates feeling.
Before he could ask again, one student breaks the silence.
“She… she’s passed away — months ago, even. She hasn’t been a student here for so long.”
Natsuhiko doesn’t even give a reply — he’s quick to react, his legs begun to run off — somewhere, somewhere — to the library, yes!
He goes there, maybe the third-years loved to play pranks. So he’ll meet up with Sakura instead, the third-years were a bully to their underclassmen anyways, right? And so he arrives at the library, he runs to where they usually meet — earning a sharp glare from the librarian — no running! Her eyes screamed at him and he could only apologetically bow and scratch the back of his head sheepishly.
“—…” He doesn’t know how to call out to her — suddenly his throat went dry and he couldn’t show the same expression anymore — he’s horrified, unsure how he looks right now. He doesn’t want to be uncertain of how he looks — moreso in front of the girl he likes. He doesn’t want to freak her out that her classmates joked she was gone. Doesn’t want that at all.
“Natsuhiko.”
Her voice calls out to him — it’s a little bit airier now, almost like an echo — almost inaudible. Natsuhiko turns and looks back where his gaze meets Sakura’s ever so melancholic eyes, it was the same as always.
“My lady…” The words come out forced, a little hoarse — he realizes his mistake.
But, before he could ever cover it up, he sees the corners of her lips curve ever so slightly in a solemn smile. “I’m sorry.”
That moment, he knew were to finally draw the line.
He remembers — that day was the same day he got himself deeply tangled with her matters.
Will you stay by my side? There is something I must do, it will be dangerous, turn your back and leave and never see me again, if you so wish to stay with me — you will be in a world of horror and pain.
Natsuhiko doesn’t know what came to his mind, but, for the first time, he reaches to hold her hand, for the first time Sakura allows him to hold her.
She’s cold .
I want to stay by your side, I’ll protect you.
Not bound by any fate or contract, just humanly emotions. Natsuhiko doesn’t regret it — this is a trial of love, after all.
Afterward, he hears Sakura’s plan — her goal — and he realizes that the world he’ll soon be in won’t give him a ticket way out. It’s all or nothing and he isn’t backing out, ever.
He meets Tsukasa .
He draws a line immediately after meeting him.
He’s not an airhead, despite how he appears to be, not at all — he’s a little more perceptive than he makes himself to be. The moment Nanamine Sakura introduces him to Tsukasa — he’s already decided what fear is. He doesn’t really know how it started but the moment his eyes fell on Tsukasa’s gaze, he just knew he had to draw the line fast — he doesn’t know how near, all he knows he doesn’t want to be too deeply involved with that kid.
But if it’s for Sakura, he wanted to be by her side — to protect her.
That was all — until days pass and he unraveled more of the atrocities that Tsukasa does.
He’s unsure now if it’s fear that he feels or an odd sense of adoration — almost like a guardian. He’s never felt this way so he’s unsure.
It’s as if he’s growing numb to the day-to-day misfits that Tsukasa does. One death after the other, Natsuhiko doesn’t know when that runt will stop, all he knows is that he’s fallen anesthetized with what he sees. But he doesn’t want to run away, never had thought of it, the more he spends his days with that manic of a kid, he just wants to stay a little while longer.
He doesn’t know when, but, at some point, the line shave blurred without him noticing it — perhaps it started when he began to feel fine, or even nothing, when Tsukasa would satiate his tendencies. He doesn’t know, all he knows it apparently led to something.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, he believes. The line was still further away — he knows, but for some reason — a spiral of conflicting emotions run up to his head — he loses his composure, and, for the first time — he’s shown what he feels.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this — after all, if things get messy — he might just dig two graves: one for himself and one for Nanamine Sakura. He can’t have that, he’s promised to protect her, after all. Stupid, childish devotion to love — but that’s how humans are, he believes.
He doesn’t know what triggers this moment, he doesn’t but it’s weighing heavily on his chest.
“I think what’s difficult is that—I feel like you’re trying to get into my head.” Natsuhiko is first to break the silence.
Sakura looks at him with evident perplexity, usually stern and stoic features morph into one of genuine puzzlement and bemusement. Sakura had always known Natsuhiko isn’t one to make the atmosphere heavy, nor is he ever the type to indulge in it — often unintentionally making light of a situation. But she regains composure, or at least she attempts — but her confusion was made evident throughout the occupants of the Broadcasting Clubroom.
”Ee—eeh~?” Tsukasa’s tone falls higher by an octave — they know of this tone, this sing-song manner of speech. The way his eyes widen and his grin is wretched wide. “Little Natsuhiko is becoming an independent kid!” Tsukasa stands then floats towards Natsuhiko who sat across him. One foot stepping on each thigh as he squats down, face only inches away from the other. “Na-tsu-hi-kooo—!” Tongue rolls out and sharp canines show.
Natsuhiko doesn’t move an inch — isn’t fazed by what impending horror is to come next. “Runt, get down you’re heavy.” Natsuhiko feels guilt creeping up but he suppresses it, else it’ll show — this is what this little runt feeds off: the negativity of others.
“Hey, hey, you know I don’t like this,” Tsukasa states, a smile on his lips.
“Yeah? I don’t too.” Cold, sharp — he’s never felt like this.
There’s coldness in his response, they should know better than to talk back to Tsukasa like that — but today isn’t a good day, or so it will be worse.
Tsukasa makes way, moving out of Natsuhiko’s lap — but that doesn’t stop him from feeling an immense amount of hysteria. The moment Natsuhiko stands from his seat, slinging his schoolbag over his shoulder and walking out of the broadcast room — Tsukasa already prepares his next move until Sakura runs up to the boy, wrapping him in her embrace.
“Tsukasa, let him go — it must have been a rough day for him.” Sakura whispers, cooing him with her melancholic tone.
Tsukasa only stays still — the shadows that emerge do not increase but it does not retreat. “Tsukasa, let him go — it must have been a rough day for him.” Sakura whispers, cooing him with her melancholic tone.
Tsukasa only stays still — the shadows that emerge do not increase but it does not retreat. “Saakuuraa… don’t like it!” Tsukasa whines, his finger curls — hands fisting and fingernails digging into his palm.
He’s only a child, Sakura believes — hates when things don’t go the way he wants, hates when people ignore him and hates when people who he has under his control try to defy him. He’s only a child, Sakura believes — she wants to believe it so before anything more awful happens.
“I know, tomorrow will be better — Natsuhiko is just human.” Unlike us. “I’m sure tomorrow he’ll be back being the dumbass he is, you don’t have to worry about it.” Sakura so ties to hide the trepidation thundering in her heart — she’s practiced far too long to detach herself with such humanly emotions, she’s prepared herself for this kind of life — built this persona to maintain her place in Tsukasa’s life — by his side .
If anything, if anything, she wants to protect this boy — protect him at all costs despite the inconvenience that he does and stirs up in her life. But most of all, she wants to protect Natsuhiko — prevent him from delving too deep into their work, their world . Sakura feels an odd sense of apprehension — Natsuhiko must have been confused, influenced by some sort of emotional distress. Sakura doesn’t know what, but she wants to help him — doesn’t like it when he isolates himself — Natsuhiko isn’t like that.
She’s worried for him — but she can’t let it show, else, Tsukasa would slip right in front of her eyes — slip away from her reach.
Tsukasa finally moves, hands reaching to hold the arm around him — Sakura is cold — just like him. “Okay.” Tsukasa nods and Sakura gives him a reassuring squeeze before she lets go of her embrace.
A delicate smile graces her lips, ”Even if Natsuhiko left, how about we continue our Katanuki game?” Sakura shows the materials and lays them on the table.
A youthful gleam, akin to stars bursting novas, was evident in golden-amber hues. “Katanuki! Katanuki! I’m not gonna go easy on ‘ya, Honey! I’m gonna make a reeaaa—lly~! Pretty one. Just you wait!” Tsukasa obediently finds a nice spot to sit and begins working.
Sakura feels an odd sense of pain ache in her heart — that’s the thing.
There’s no such thing as understanding between humans and supernaturals, only she could ever understand and hold Tsukasa down. Not even his brother could calm Tsukasa because she knows, she knows how painful it must be to live in your brother’s cages. Sakura doesn’t understand when it started — but she knows, it was somewhere when she drew the line: where she knew she’d have to detach herself from the world, isolate herself from the other ghosts and supernaturals lurking. She’s unsure of how things got to this point, where the line is now — the lines are blurred but she doesn’t mind, after all, this is how supernaturals live — ghosts of promises and feeding of whatever wishes were left undone: they were just carcasses of unmet desires.
Her hands curl in slight tensity, holding the tip of the ribbon wrapped around her waist — but her back is turned and she doesn’t show Tsukasa her anxiety. She can’t.
“Tsukasa, are there any snacks you want?” She asks.
No response — Tsukasa was hyper fixated on making his work.
Solemn gaze and tender features, he’s just a kid . That’s what she believes.
”Tsukasa, come on, you might get hungry later on, it’d be best if I prepared some snacks on hand.” Sakura persists, sitting beside the boy — she’s ensured she’s calm, that her heart isn’t stirred and her soul is soothing. She was aloof, solemn, maybe even a little too melancholic sometimes — but never in disquietude and never should be. Tsukasa wouldn’t like that.
Tsukasa doesn’t stop but there’s an indication he listened and he hums, “The—n~!’ His tone chirps and he successfully carves three legs on his Katanuki, “Donuts! I love donuts!”
”Alright.” Sakura stands from her seat and proceeds to create donuts.
He’s just a kid — a kid who’s morphed himself to be the shadow of his brother.
No one understands him but her.
Tsukasa knows, though, whatever it is that they hide — he hates it. Hates when they hide something obvious — Tsukasa knows, that, Sakura’s in distress — she’s a little disoriented and unfocused. Of course, because Sakura would never give him Katanuki, she would give other forms of distraction — anything but this. Tsukasa knows how Sakura must’ve thought she did a smooth move, the right choice, for distracting him with Katanuki. Tsukasa doesn’t bring it up that moment, no, because he respects her — or at least to an extent.
Hours pass, he’s finished his beautiful carving — at the same moment, Sakura comes with a plate of donuts, setting it on the table.
“Honeeeyyy! I did it, look, look! D’ya think I’ll get the top prize? Do you, do you?” And there’s this childish grin so wide on his lips that Sakura would melt at the sight of it.
She lets out a chuckle, “I’m sure. Anyways, here’s the donuts — you must be hungry.”
“Sakura.”
Tsukasa’s tone is different.
Sakura stiffens — her shoulders rise ever so slightly and, almost hesitantly, she averts her gaze from the donuts and then to Tsukasa’s eyes.
They are wide, devoid of any emotions — though his grin remains unchanged, the arch in his eyes are different now — they are only full of ire, utter disrespect, and disgust.
“We don’t get hungry, right?” Tsukasa notes. “Hoo — nney! I never knew you’d be thiii — is dumb! Buu — huu… did Natsuhiko rub off on you? Maybe it’s a bad idea we let him join the club...” Tsukasa’s train of thoughts is going somewhere, somewhere, Sakura doesn’t know — she should, she has to, that’s how she can maintain the line she drew between both of them and Natsuhiko.
“I…”
“I don’t like it that my very own assistant is doing her own way without my permission, hm, hm!” Tsukasa floats towards her, one hand cupping her cheek and the other twirling one of her long sidebangs, “Nuh-uh, really don’t like it! Sakura, what did you think you’d achieve by disobeying and trying to trick me, hm?” His lips curl into a dangerous smile that leaves Sakura in a state of stupor.
“Tsukasa, I — I just don’t want our team to dissolve… Natsuhiko is just human, I deeply apologize and am regretful for my actions — but there’s nothing more that I want but for you to not worry about what happened earlier...” She tries to make a coherent response like usual — and though the words were what she wanted to say, her voice was wavering and her eyes have lost its usual aloof nature, all wide-eyed and wavering.
Tsukasa is silent, he blinks twice, for a moment he lets go of cupping her cheek — his hand retreating from holding her hair.
Sakura thinks her words reached him — like certain instances — but she’s wrong.
Tsukasa reaches to wrap his hands around her neck, gripping it tightly, his fingertips pressing by her voicebox. His gaze is looking right through her fear-filled ones; he looks at her like she isn’t anyone he’s seen — like she was a mere inconvenience. Her hands reach to grab his wrist — attempting to pry him off, she hates that she’s resisting and not accepting the deserving punishment. Hates how she’s resisting with futile effort.
“Don’t act like a hero, you know better than to do useless heroic acts of protection. Stop this.” He means it, means it like every word he’s ever said.
Sakura knows better, she’s just a contract bound ghost — nothing more and nothing less. She knows better, after all, this is what she’s practiced all her life for. She doesn’t understand where the lines blurred, how it crosses to the point she’s miscalculated her actions.
Maybe it all started when she had given Natsuhiko the option to be a part of her life.
The guilt begins to surface — it’s a little unfamiliar.
It’s the next day — Natsuhiko feels inconsiderably guilty — his head is throbbing, he doesn’t go to the classroom just yet, doesn’t want that he’s looking like a bag of shit. He looks awful, he doesn’t look refreshing at all. He knows, he saw his reflection in the mirror this morning, he looks like he had only five minutes of sleep. There’s an unsettling feeling in his stomach and he decides to skip the first period — he runs up to the Broadcasting Club room, he wants to make up for what he did. He knows what could have happened — knows how violent and unpredictable Tsukasa could be — he’s worried, deeply worried about what Sakura might have endured.
Now that he thinks about it more, he’s more than worried — he’s —
The door swings open and he sees Sakura simply reading a book working on threading new rumors while Tsukasa plays around and floating.
“Good morning, Natsuhiko.” Sakura replies coolly sparing only a disinterested glance then continues focusing on what she was reading.
Tsukasa floats to him, wrapping his entire body around him, “Natsuuuhiko~! You’re early! Did ‘ya miss us, did you did you?” She has that child-like grin, his fangs baring and all and his eyes gleaming. “But it’s sooo early, the bell just rang not too long ago, you should be in class!” Tsukasa says with a laugh.
Natsuhiko feels cold blood running in his veins — everything was exactly normal, like usual, as if his burnout yesterday didn’t even happen.
“I … uh, I just missed you guys — and—” Tsukasa wraps himself tighter playfully, “Hey, runt, get off!” He pauses attempting to shake Tsukasa off — he was like a cat. “The first-period teacher’s boring, don’t wanna listen, I can just borrow notes.”
Sakura sighs, closing the book, she grabs an item from her desk, moderately soft with a little hardness and throws it to Natsuhiko — Natsuhiko falls unbalanced and Tsukasa immediately lets go of him and floats while Natsuhiko falls on his bottom. ”Go back to class, you’ve missed out too many periods this week, the teacher will notice.” Sakura notes then sighs in exasperation, Tsukasa only nodding in agreement.
Natsuhiko pouts, “Fine, but I’ll be here by break besides, now that I have seen My Lady, I am full of motivation to ace my subjects!”
“Eee — eh, you say that aaalll the time but you still get red marks.” Tsukasa points out and Natsuhiko feels daggers pierce him.
“You got me there, runt — but it’s just a drive! We shall meet again!”
Natsuhiko leaves the clubroom, running back to his classroom — a hand clutching on his shirt as he feels an undeniable heat suffocating his lungs. He knows what could have happened last night.
Sakura never wore ribbons around her neck — Tsukasa might have hurt her — but he doesn’t want to take note of it, after all, she tried all her best to be calm just a little while ago, he couldn’t afford to break her effort to keep the atmosphere — he didn’t want to be at fault.
He knows he’s blurred the lines — but now he’s drawing over it once again. He knows better where to draw the line now — he can’t make the same mistake.
The broadcast room is quiet, Tsukasa is humming until he floats just beside Sakura who was focusing on the new possible rumors. His hands reach to touch the ribbon around Sakura’s neck and for a second it looked like she wanted to flinch but she remains calm, winning over her fear with her duty.
Sakura knows better now — she’s blurred the lines once and now she’s reassured herself of where it is now.
These feelings — they can’t ever bother her again. Not anymore.
Not when she’s bound with Tsukasa.
This is where they draw the line, Tsukasa makes sure they follow it obediently now.