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For all that Aiura Mikoto is consistently aware of (she sees things coming, she can read people more precisely than a book at first glance), there is still always a unique thrill that runs its way through her each time that Saiki Kusuo approaches her.
It’s like a short burst of electricity that courses through her veins and then burns at her palms and fingertips, and lights up her smile and her eyes. Her voice always grows a little louder, and a little warmer, too, but she doesn’t mind. She’s never seen any reason to hide from him.
Aiura’s absently studying her nails when her head lifts and turns slowly towards his approaching frame when he corners her in the hallway before their last class of the day. The rest of the class stands around, waiting for their teacher to arrive and open the door, when Saiki steps in front of her.
She grins, her hand falling back to her side and settling familiarly against her hip. “Kusuo,” she greets, regarding him expectantly.
We need to talk. After class.
Confusion, curiosity, and enthusiasm all wash over her, and, perhaps inevitably, her grin widens. Saiki does not smile back, but this hardly surprises her. Her head tilts forward, and, to little avail, her eyes search his for the answer to a question she hasn’t even asked yet. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” she prompts.
I’ll tell you after class. He turns away as their instructor arrives, and all of that anticipation and excitement that had risen within her is joined by frustration.
It seems rather typical of him to leave her hanging like that, but that doesn’t make it any more bearable. She finds it both wildly amusing and infuriating.
Aiura is fairly certain she has never been well known for her patience. She doesn’t stop thinking about their impending conversation while their teacher goes over the answers to a test from the week prior, and every glance at the clock on the wall seems to make time pass even slower.
A thousand different things (‘What if he’s going to tell me he feels the same way?’ or ‘Maybe it’s a psychics-only thing’) had already passed through her mind as possibilities for what exactly he needed to discuss with her.
Aiura sits with her cheek resting in her palm, her pencil tapping rhythmically against the edge of her desk, and she doesn’t dare to look in his direction.
Kusuo, she thinks, instead, trying to reach out to him. He hears everything, doesn't he?
Pay attention to class. She smiles to herself, mildly triumphant. Apparently, yes, he does.She brushes off his instruction.
What did you want to talk about? Aiura wonders if her impatience is just as palpable to him.
I’ll tell you after class, is again his response.
Why does it have to wait?
It’s better to talk about it face to face.
Instinctively—she doesn’t mean to do it, and she doubts anyone’s even noticed when she does, but she still wishes she hadn’t—her head jerks to the side to gaze across the room at him inquisitively. I don’t get it.
To Aiura’s surprise, Saiki looks back at her, but does not communicate any thought in response.
So, she tries again. If it’s so important, then I don’t understand why you’d bother wait—
Pay attention. He turns back towards the front of the room.
Feeling defeated, but still expectant, Aiura does the same.
“I want to use my abilities to help people, because—unlike you—I’m not only concerned about myself. Sorry, but I’ve gotta go. I have to get to my fortune-telling job.”
Aiura turns on her heel and heads away from him. She wonders if he watches her walk away, or finds himself already lost in the complexities of his own mind, searching for another argument he can use to prove her wrong at school the next day.
There were few things she would not do if he asked, but to stop using her powers publicly was not one of them.
She smirks to herself as she steps outside. Even if he was harder to understand than others, some things were still unmissable. And, Aiura ponders, she doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know that he’s still annoyed with her and that this is not the real end of that conversation. But, if he brings it up again, she thinks to herself, she’ll have no problem telling him that that annoyance is very much a mutual feeling.
But, after parting with Saiki on that note, Aiura still walks home with a sour taste in her mouth and a weight on her shoulders that she doesn’t want.
When she gets back to her house, she walks into her room and drops her bag on the floor. She looks at the time again—it’s running short, but it’ll be fine—and begins to change out of her uniform and into something nicer.
She admires her own reflection for a moment after she does, smoothing her dress and appreciating the way that its dark silk contrasts with her light hair.
The frustration still lingers in the back of her mind is replaced with confidence as she smiles at herself in the mirror once more. Then, she puts her crystal ball and a few other things into a handbag, and then walks right back out the door.
“Thank you, but…” She trails off, distracted by a minute flash of anger. “I’m still pretty mad, though.”
Better than risking your life.
She watches as he walks towards the exit.
“Wait!” Aiura starts, and her voice is louder than she means for it to be. Saiki stops in his tracks, waiting, but he does not turn around. She continues: “I’ll walk with you.”
I wasn’t going to walk.
His response feels so typical—so familiar—that she doesn’t feel at all put off by the shortness of it. She smiles, her anger melting away and thus proving itself to be short lived.
“Well, let’s walk until we have to go different directions.”
He turns around then, expression as withdrawn as ever. They glance at each other, and he waits. Aiura sighs. “Let me just get my stuff and clock out. One second.”
I’ll meet you outside.
He turns around again, and walks out the door. She hangs back, smiling to herself whilst scooping up her jacket and bag, her crystal ball, and the rest of her belongings.
Her heart pounds in her chest all of the way out of the room, and when she tells the shopkeeper that she’s heading home, and when she finds Saiki standing outside the main entrance, just as he’d said be.
“Thanks for waiting for me.”
His only acknowledgement is another halfhearted glance in her direction. They step out fully onto the sidewalk, their footsteps sounding evenly as they venture towards their respective homes. The sun is setting, and it’s getting cooler, but Aiura feels warm, the heat in her cheeks stemming from fondness and her own short lived apprehension.
She feels warm even though they stand just far enough apart so that their arms don’t brush against each other as they walk, or just far enough apart that it’d be too obvious if she turned her head to look at Saiki right now.
Her thoughts float away on comfortable tangents as they walk, and Aiura smiles to herself, still looking ahead. Her expression stays relaxed. There’s no point in or discomfort that comes from hiding her feelings when he’s nearby—she does not need to remind herself that he could know every slight digression of her thoughts if he felt like it. Once upon a time, it had mortified her, even if only briefly. Now, she could take a strange comfort in knowing that she has no choice but to be honest with him.
Even when they majorly disagreed, and even on the days where that notion frustrated or angered her to no end, she was thankful for her own inevitable openness.
They finally pause at the street corner where they have to part. Her lips purse as she begins to step to the left, he to the right.
As his path diverts from hers, Saiki raises a single hand—some semblance of a wave, and of a goodbye. Aiura’s hand twitches, moving upwards to do exactly the same, before it instead jerks downwards.
Wait, she thinks, hoping he’s heard.
His footsteps cease. What?
She walks away from the edge of the sidewalk and back over to him. He turns around, neutral. She smiles.
“Do you know what I’m thinking?”
You already know that I do. Aiura frowns at his vagueness. Saiki clarifies: You’re thinking a lot of things. But, I don’t know which of them you want to tell me yourself.
Her hands land on her hips, and her head tilts boldly to the side—an easy, familiar stance. He waits.
“I didn’t want to fight with you, earlier,” Aiura explains. “I would really do almost anything for you.” There’s no hesitance in her words, she sees no point in holding back on something he probably already is aware of. “And, well, you probably know that! But, you asking me to stop doing something really important...you know, like to not use fortune-telling so openly—when I do that to help people—is super difficult for me because I care so much about what you think.”
Her lips press into a thin line again, looking at him with wide eyes, wishing he’d say something to cut her off or just tell her to forget the whole thing, or even that they could talk about it another time.
But, he doesn’t, so she speaks up again, “And, if it were anyone else, I would have just kept doing what I wanted—”
That’s exactly what you did today, he finally interjects.
Her face falls. His does not change.
“Fine, yeah, it is, because I do get why you asked, but I meant it—you were being selfish! And, just because I like you, and you show up to save me, doesn’t mean I’m going to stop doing what I think is right, either.”
You like me?
She stares at him, incredulous, and her brow furrows in irritation as she scowls. Her voice raises, albeit not voluntarily. “You already—you’ve known that I like you!”
I know. He blinks. The corners of his mouth quirk, only for half a moment, before falling back into neutrality. I wanted to hear you say it again.
Aiura’s mouth opens to say something, but she trips over her own words, and she at first settles for glaring at Saiki with that same uninterested, impartial look on his face. “You still haven’t changed my mind,” she finally decides.
Stubborn.
She crosses her arms, lips parting to retaliate and tell him all over again how selfish she thinks he's being, but he cuts her off again before she can even get the word out.
Goodnight, Aiura.
He takes a step back, and vanishes as she too late reaches forward to grab his arm, halting him from leaving so soon.
Her jaw sets as he slips through her fingers, and her unrelenting glare is set on the sky, instead of him.
It's not the first time they've disagreed about the obligation to do good. Each time, Aiura feels like they're walking in slow motion towards each other—taking the longest route possible in some attempt of coming to an agreement. Or, maybe time will run out before they can. She’s not sure which would come first.
We're not done talking about this, she thinks, wondering if he's still listening, even from blocks away. Aiura pulls her bag closer to her body, and continues her walk home, going the opposite direction that Saiki just had.
His voice suddenly echoes through her head familiarly, and her journey home temporarily slows. I know.